Brownian Motion

Abel Gance Lowell Ganz Babaloo Mandel Johnny Mandel Billy May Neil Hefti

Flipper Lassie Elsa Joy Adamson Cain Abel

The New York Times Printer Friendly Format Sponsored By June 14, 2006 Mike Quarry, 55, Light-Heavyweight Boxer, Dies By RICHARD GOLDSTEIN Mike Quarry, a leading light-heavyweight boxer of the 1970's and a younger brother of the heavyweight contender Jerry Quarry, died Sunday in La Habra, Calif. He was 55. The cause was boxing-induced dementia, his sister Wilma Pearson told The Associated Press. Jerry Quarry, who had also been afflicted with brain damage from repeated blows to the head, died in 1999 at age 53. On the night of June 27, 1972, the boxing doubleheader billed by Muhammad Ali as the Soul Brothers vs. the Quarry Brothers — Jerry was sometimes called the Great White Hope — filled the Convention Center at Las Vegas. It was the marquee moment for Mike Quarry, who challenged Bob Foster for his light-heavyweight title before the heavyweight nontitle bout between Jerry Quarry and Ali. Mike Quarry was undefeated in 36 fights, but he was knocked out by Foster's left hook in the fourth round. Jerry Quarry was knocked out by Ali in the seventh round. Mike Quarry was overshadowed by Jerry, but he had a formidable career. Known as a counterpuncher more than a slugger, he won 63 bouts (17 by knockouts), lost 13 and fought to 6 draws, fighting professionally from 1969 to 1982. By the late 1970's, the end of his boxing days seemed near. When he fought Mike Rossman on May 11, 1977, at Madison Square Garden — their third matchup — he sustained a deep cut around his right eye in the opening round. He could not see out of the eye and was taking a beating when his brother Jerry, working in his corner, stopped the fight after the sixth round. Mike Quarry was sobbing afterward, his chances of contending again for a light-heavyweight title seemingly at an end. "I'm finished for life," he said in his dressing room. Jerry Quarry said: "He's finished, all right. I'll never let him fight again. Not if I can help it." But Mike Quarry returned to the ring the next January. He fought nine times after that bout with Rossman and was knocked out three times. Quarry, a native of Bakersfield, Calif., put on boxing gloves at age 8 and was fighting in the amateur ranks in 1968 while a junior in high school. Jerry was a headliner and their father, Jack, had been an amateur boxer. "I've never thought about being anything else but a fighter," Mike told The Los Angeles Times then. "With our family, you just got in on the track and followed — or were pulled along." After about two dozen amateur bouts, Mike Quarry turned pro. In addition to his sister Wilma Pearson, he is survived by his wife, Ellen; his mother, Arwanda; his sisters Diana and Janet; and his brother Bobby, who also boxed professionally, The Associated Press said. Long after his career ended, Quarry said that the Foster bout should have been his last. "I had kind of a death wish," he told The A.P. in 1995. "Looking back, I know I should have quit after that fight. That's when my heart went out of boxing."

Pineapple Pete Piney Brown Milton Brown

Gaia The New York Titans The Tetons

Gilad Atzmon Gene Ammons Albert Ammons Bill W. Teddy Wilson Taft Jordan

King Arthur Duke Jordan Earl Bostic Gwen Frostic Jack Frost Snowball SNOWBALL (Johnny Mercer / Hoagy Carmichael) Lew Stone & The Monseigneur Band (vocal: Nat Gonella) Also recorded by : Louis Armstrong; Mildred Bailey; Kevin Borich; Hoagy Carmichael; Jim Cullum Jr.; The Dorsey Brothers; Art Hodes Trio; Keith Ingham; Ray Noble; Paul Robeson. Snowball my honey, don’t you melt away ‘cos daddy likes those dark brown eyes Snowball my honey, smile at me each day ‘cos daddy likes those dark brown eyes You’re my only sweetheart, little chocolate bar I’ll eat you up some day Your two hands and feet are just as black as tar But don’t you cry; why, say The good Lord said use an apple dumplin’ To make your head, you know it’s really somethin’ Snowball my honey, don’t you melt away ‘cos daddy likes those dark brown eyes

"After an exhaustive investigation, a judge found that the company had threatened to shut down the entire plant if the workers dared to organize, and warned Latino workers that immigration authorities would be alerted if they voted for a union. The union lost votes to organize the plant in 1994 and 1997, but the results of those elections were thrown out by the National Labor Relations Board after the judge found that Smithfield had prevented the union from holding fair elections. The judge said the company had engaged in myriad "egregious" violations of federal labor law, including threatening, intimidating and firing workers involved in the organizing effort, and beating up a worker "for engaging in union activities." Rather than obey the directives of the board and subsequent court decisions, the company has tied the matter up on appeals that have lasted for years. A U.S. Court of Appeals ruling just last month referred to "the intense and widespread coercion prevalent at the Tar Heel facility." Workers at Smithfield and their families are suffering while the government dithers, refusing to require a mighty corporation like Smithfield to obey the nation's labor laws in a timely manner." I would say that Herbert documents his charge of "sleazy and reprehensible" behavior by the Smithfield company pretty well. Since your post seems to imply some sort of moral equivalency between the company's behavior and the union's, what is your documentation?

Chicka-ma Craney Crow Ichabod Crane Ichabod Mudd Pud Hud Warren Rudd

Moon Mullens Wally Moon Deborah Walley Fats Waller Slim Whitman Tubby Hayes Little Lulu Miss Lulu White Tony Jackson

Becky Thatcher Tom Sawyer Huckleberry Finn Edward Kemble Thomas Hart Benton Barry Moser

Long Dong Silver Clarence Thomas The Sphinx

President Johnson Landslide Lyndon Ho Chi Minh

Guy had a gun, lost the gun to his intended victims, who then beat him? But somehow he escaped? Doesn't add up.

Erich von Stroheim Charlie Chaplin Eugene O'Neill

I'm interested in the New Orleans jazz trumpeter George Girard. Can anyone rccommend recordings by him?

Tris Speaker James McNeill Whistler Whistler's Mother

Cat Anderson Gato Barbieri Tiger Woods Prairie Dawn Dawn Wells Wells Fargo

I don't know Vega or her music, but I find it unsurprising that she doesn't correspond in the least to the aesthetic vision of Lion and Wolff, any more than books published today under the name of Alfred A. Knopf, who died in 1982, correspond to his aesthetic vision. I don't believe the era of the individual entrepreneur-visionary, in music or in other creative spheres like publishing, is over, but I do believe that expecting Corporate Blue Note to promote jazz musicians and jazz rather than adult pop music--which after all is where the $$ is--is wishful thinking.

Devil With the Blue Dress On The Angel Moroni Gugliermo Marconi

The New York Times Printer Friendly Format Sponsored By June 11, 2006 The City Life Edison, Unplugged By LAWRENCE DOWNES In a basement recording studio in the Bronx the other day, unencumbered by wires, cables, amplifiers or headsets, a huddle of musicians took their cue and eased into a song. It was a four-man band — trumpet, clarinet, banjo and battered tuba — and a singer, a young woman with saucer eyes, a blond bob and excellent diction. They played and she sang into the fat ends of two long metal horns, like backward megaphones, that funneled the sound to a wooden box, a wind-up lathe on which spun a shiny cylinder coated in brittle black wax. As a needle etched a groove in the cylinder, a surgically attentive man dusted away the shavings with a paintbrush and little puffs of breath. When the music stopped, he put the cylinder on another machine for playback. He turned the crank, placed the needle and a sweet, melancholy song flooded the room. It sounded like an unearthed relic of the Roaring Twenties, though the recording was barely a minute old. Down in the poolroom Some of the gang were talking of gals they knew Women are all the same, said Joe Then one dizzy bird said, Pal, ain't you heard the story of True Blue Lou. It was an electric moment, though electricity had nothing to do with it. The recording was the product of the collaboration of a radio host, Rich Conaty, who plays 20's and 30's jazz and pop on Sundays on WFUV; Peter Dilg, an acoustic engineer; and the pickup musicians who leapt at the invitation to make a brand-new, old-time Edison cylinder. Mr. Conaty, Mr. Dilg and the band are first-rank, certifiable enthusiasts. At lunch after the session, they plunged obsessively into Thomas Edison lore and Tin Pan Alley trivia. They lamented the supremacy of inferior recording technologies. They pined for Betamax and cassettes, for Bix Beiderbecke and Cab Calloway. Mr. Conaty, who plans to play the cylinder on his show tonight, has an audience that, practically by definition, is too young to remember Sophie Tucker, Ukulele Ike or the young and jazzy Bing Crosby. But the people who, like me, plan their Sunday nights around the show have discovered pleasures in the music totally unrelated to nostalgia. It's a revelation to hear music so fresh and strange, so witty and soulful, from people who are dead and gone. And there is another pleasure, too. It's the warmth of the technology. There are surely downloadable versions of "True Blue Lou." But unlike the MP3, whose magic is incomprehensible and thus boring, the wax cylinder is viscerally miraculous. It's staggering to think that lungs and plucked strings could vibrate the air, wiggle a stylus and capture a song for 100 years on a fragile thing that looks like a toilet paper roll. Compared with the iPod, it's a lot more human, a lot more accessible, a lot easier to love. Once you've seen and heard it done, there's no going back.

This behavior wouldn't be defended by any US school administration, public or private, and why should it be? Why should the school administration take the heat for retaining two teachers who showed such extraordinarily bad judgement?

Domenikos Theotocopoulos Dominique Sanda Natty Dominique

Mike Mainieri Peter Erskine Wayne Shorter Les Hite The Hite Report Alfred Kinsey

Popeye Snake Plisken Anne A. Conda Condoleezza Rice That Rice Woman Condoleezza Rice