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Close Encounters

UFOs in Arlington!

 

Arlington’s X-Files, Pt. 1

At some time in our lives, most of us have seen something puzzling in the sky that left us looking for some type of explanation. From early Biblical accounts to present day sightings, it’s a phenomenon that has become part of our modern folklore and whether one is a believer or skeptic, it is a topic that will continue to be debated.

Arlington has had its share of sightings over the years, and even played a part in the much publicized “UFOs Over Washington” flap that took place from July 13 to July 29, 1952, over Washington, D.C., when, on July 13th, a green, oval shaped object was reportedly seen circling the Arlington and Washington D.C area.

Other notable reports of UFO activity in Arlington County include a May 5, 1990 report of an object that was sighted by an amateur astronomer using binoculars, a May 27, 1997 sighting of 2 rapidly moving discs, and a 10 minute sighting of a disc shaped object with revolving red and white lights on Sept. 19, 2000.

What About You?

Have you had a close encounter of the Arlington kind? Let us hear from you!

 

The Arlington Years: The Day the Music Died (almost)

The Arlington Years

Thoughts from County Native and Arlington Public Library Director, Diane Kresh

Fifty years ago today teen pop idol Buddy Holly was killed in a plane crash while on a brutal winter swing through the sub-zero Midwest.  J.P “The Big Bopper” Richardson (“Chantilly Lace”) and Ritchie “La Bamba” Valens, who flipped a coin with another would-be passenger to earn a seat aboard the small craft (a Beechcraft Bonanza) perished along with him.  The crash ended the brief but prolific chart-topping career of Holly who hiccupped his way through such self-penned pop hits as “Peggy Sue,” “Not Fade Away,” “Words of Love” and “That’ll Be the Day.”

Gangly with black horn-rimmed glasses (eyewear later adopted by Freddie of Freddie and the Dreamers (“I’m Telling you Now”)–see British Invasion, and the other Elvis), Holly’s appeal is wide-ranging.  The Beatles (their band name was in homage to Buddy’s Crickets), The Rolling Stones, the Smithereens, Linda Ronstadt (her cover of “That’ll Be the Day” first turned me on to Holly) each was influenced by Holly.  And his life-story inspired a better than passable bio-pic starring the terminally creepy Gary Busey in a once-in-a-lifetime Oscar-nominated role.

The geeky guy from Lubbock, Texas would have been 73 this year.  Fate was kinder to Buddy Holly than some.  He lives on through his music.  Period.  He never got overweight, checked into Betty Ford, played Vegas, got a mug shot, apologized.  We don’t know what his favorite food was or what his politics were.  And we don’t care.

Don McLean (“American Pie”) got it wrong.  Holly is long gone but his music lives on.

Snowy Fun and Games on "County Hill"

Presbyterian Church of the Covenant on Military Road

Presbyterian Church of the Covenant on Military Road, date unknown.

Excerpt from our Oral History with Clyde Shepard

Interviewer: What did the kids do around wintertime? Did you sleigh ride like we do now?

Narrator: Yes, in the wintertime, that’s exactly what we did. We’d stayed on that Glencarlyn hill down there where the Seven Eleven is. We call that the County Hill. Of course, you only had a car come by there occasionally. When I was very young, the cars would only come by every fifteen minutes, one car. It was a very dangerous thing we did, you want to talk about some of the things we did. I’ll say this, we used to catch on the back of the bus when he’d slow down and hit the tracks down there and we’d get a free ride, you know, we had gloves on, and we’d be on our bellies on the sleigh, right, and then we’d catch the bus and he’d pull us up and we’d slide back down and wait for the next car or bus. That’s one thing we did all winter long. We’d get a big fire on the top of the hill, there’s plenty of wood around. A big old barrel we had down there and we’d start a fire, we spent the winter nights, it seemed like to the winters were more severe back when I was a child. We had snow all winter long. Seems that way to me.

The Best Kind of Activist

Remembering Ellen Bozman

When Arlingtonians attend a Neighborhood Day celebration, shop at retail stores built in high-rises across the street from an Arlington metro station, or buy produce at the Arlington Farmer’s Market, they can thank Ellen Bozman.

Bozman, who moved to Arlington from Illinois in 1950, was a believer in good government and smart community planning. She was first active in Arlington’s League of Women Voters, pushing for school desegregation and becoming the league’s president from 1963 to 1965. Over time, Ellen was drawn into county work by her civic responsibility, culminating in her election to the Arlington County Board in November of 1973. She kept that seat, holding the chairmanship six times, until her retirement from the Board in 1997. One of her most long-lasting achievements was the success of Smart Growth, which surrounded metro stops along the Courthouse-Ballston corridor with urban retail and residential high rises while keeping areas further out more open and suburban. In 1986, Washingtonian magazine named her “Washingtonian of the Year.”

Bozman’s tireless work on behalf of all Arlingtonians continued even after her retirement from the County Board. Until her death on January 8, 2009, she was a board member for the Arlington Community Foundation and appeared at Neighborhood Day celebrations, of which she was the founder. Today, you can find out more about Ellen Bozman’s work on behalf of Arlington County residents in the Virginia Room. There are oral histories and county publications that document Bozman’s time on the County Board, and maps that document Arlington’s development over the second half of the twentieth century.

What About You?

What are your memories of Ellen Bozman? Let us hear from you!

 

The Arlington Years: My brush with Elvis

The Arlington Years

Thoughts from County Native and Arlington Public Library Director, Diane Kresh

Yesterday was the King's birthday. He would have been 74, which once seemed old. Maggie remembered seeing him (and paying no attention) on the Potomac River's Wilson Line, performing country-western tunes--before he got famous, that is. Gemma never heard of him.  But then again, she's 12 and only last year arrived in the States from India. She told me her favorite rock and roll singer is Hannah Montana.

When I was around Gemma's age, I asked the adult services librarian at Westover to recommend something for me to read.  Then, as now, my tastes were eclectic and sensing that, she thrust into my hands a copy of Richard Powell's "Pioneer, Go Home!," a satirical novel (think “Once Upon a Time on the Banks” or “The Funeral Makers” by Cathie Pelletier),  first published in 1959. In brief, the novel is the story of the Kwimpers (think the Clampetts and the Sycamores of “You Can't Take it With You”), who set out in their car from Cranberry, N.J. and end up settling in Columbiana, a fictional place that resembles the state of Florida, because their car runs out of gas on the highway.

Mayhem ensues. While waiting for assistance, Old Man Kwimper, his none-too-bright adult son, Toby, two twin boy orphans and a baby sitter (think Al Capp's Daisy Mae) invoke squatters' rights, build some shacks to live in  and proceed to annoy everyone: the locals, social workers, the government, even the Mob.  A classic story as old as storytelling--the iconoclastic rascal who outwits authority, stands up for the little guy and triumphs.

Within a couple of years, I was watching “Saturday Night at the Movies” on television and as the plot of “Follow that Dream” unfolded, it all seemed very familiar--the freeloading patriarch, the doltish son, the nubile baby sitter. The Kwimpers! Now transferred to the silver screen, cinematizing a tale of luck-over-law in the best tradition of Preston Sturges and Frank Capra. And who was cast as the slow-of-wit-but-pure-of-heart Toby Kwimper? None other than Elvis Presley in one of his better film roles.  And in a twist on life imitates art, Presley's own personal biography, from shotgun shack to Graceland, from the Wilson Line to a garage full of Cadillacs, is somewhat Kwimper-like in its demonstration of triumph over what had to be modest expectations, a rags to riches story worthy of Horatio Alger and Richard Powell. A classic story as old as storytelling and still as affecting and compelling.

Happy Birthday, Elvis.

The Arlington Years: At Your Service

The Arlington Years

Thoughts from County Native and Arlington Public Library Director, Diane Kresh


Several weeks ago I had the pleasure of attending the weekly lunch of the Kiwanis Club of Arlington, which was honoring a staff member of Arlington Public Library for her community service. Mariela Aguilar's selection by Kiwanis was, remarkably, the second time her life has intersected with the organization. As a young woman she came to the United States from Costa Rica to attend college in Florida. While she had lined up a campus job to offset school expenses, her slim finances did not allow for housing. The local Kiwanis club came through for Mariela with a small (but oh so significant) scholarship. She has never forgotten their generosity.

Kiwanis. Rotary. Lions. Optimists. Club names and symbols on signposts that greeted highway travelers at the limits of American's cities and towns or blazed across Little League hats and jerseys on the Arlington ball fields of my brother Michael's youth. Until I received the lunch invitation, I had more or less forgotten about them—except for driving past the seasonal Christmas tree stand or stumbling over the box to collect used eyeglasses at Central Library.

Another watermark on the continuum of volunteerism that uniquely characterizes America (and was so admired by Alexis de Tocqueville he dubbed us a "nation of joiners"), these clubs were begun by businessmen in the early part of the last century (Rotary is the granddaddy of them all, launching in 1905 and taking its name from the weekly "rotation" among the original conveners) in the industrial North and Midwest (Indianapolis, Chicago, Buffalo), likely on a tide of Social Darwinism.

Their members were businessmen (women were not admitted to Rotary, for example, until the 1980s); their passion service ("Service above Self"-Rotary), especially service to young people ("Friend of Youth"-Optimists); and their stated purpose, according to a Rotary wiki article, "to bring together business and professional leaders to provide humanitarian service, encourage high ethical standards in all vocations, and help build goodwill and peace in the world." Today's clubs are not only gender friendly but gender- preference friendly, their meetings apolitical, nonreligious, and open to anyone of any culture, race, and creed.

So whether the project be sponsorship of youth sports teams, writing letters to service men and women, administering eye exams in the public schools, organizing food drives, raising money to immunize children, and yes, selling trees at Christmas, this network of now international service clubs stands as proud testament to the value of community and the promise inherent in caring for one another.

Service clubs and their members are as necessary to the health and welfare of a community as public safety and roads maintenance. Beacons of civic engagement, their creed boldly declared through deed—to give a little means to give a lot to those most in need and least able to do for themselves, those hammered by hard times and harder luck, victims of abuse, neglect, and ignorance. In a few weeks, a former community organizer will take the oath of office as the 44th president of the United States. As the late great Chicagoan Studs Terkel, a proud heir of de Tocqueville's, observed, "the community in action [...] accomplishes more than any individual does, no matter how strong he may be."

Don’t Touch that Dial—A Yule Blog from the Director

Director's Blog

Do you hear what I hear?

As another holiday season has us in the grip (or gripe), I am reminded once again of the thing that still makes me tingle (and ring-ting-a-ling-a-ling, too). Seasonal music! The stuff that snuggles like a treasured knitted scarf. Those tunes that hibernate in your head only to spring, like Rudolph and his happy feet, at the first whiff (or taste?) of eggnog, pine and fruitcake.

Christmas music, long the Hallmark of Bing, Nat, Johnny, Rosie, Perry, Andy and Alvin got hip-ish when Elvis, the Beatles, the Beach Boys and others of their elk (er, ilk) started rocking around the Christmas tree. Then there were all of those Celtic, Brit-ic, medieval-ic rediscoveries. A British invasion of another sort. And today’s new age-ic global village brings its own brand of seasonal confection.

Now I’m not talking about Christmas novelty songs spawned by the likes of Dr. Demento, Stan Freberg and Root Boy Slim (“Christmas at K-Mart”). I am talking about the real thing here–timeless carols, “newly “interpreted” classics,” spiffed up and re-packaged to drive the dark away. Some of my happiest childhood memories are of listening to Christmas music. At our house in the mid-1960s, the latest Firestone Christmas music album was as eagerly anticipated as the Sears “Wish Book.” Hymns and jingles sung by the likes of Rise Stevens, Roberta Peters, Burl Ives, Robert Goulet, Mitch Miller and his gang, the Vienna Choir Boys, the New Christy Minstrels and the Young Americans. Stars of stage, studio and the small screen. Ghosts of Christmas past. For a buck a pop, these records, with their colored wrapping paper and big red bows screamed Christmas like nothing else. And I loved them.

Firestone stopped the series at No. 7. Maybe they felt they had nothing left to say? Maybe they felt that the whole series was a little played out (pun intended)? Besides, the times were changing. In the years covered by the series, 1962-1968, there had been three assassinations, marches for civil rights, an unpopular war, the Summer of Love. The world was too much with us. Time to put away childish things.

And yet, every year about this time I can’t help but scan the web for the latest in seasonal grooves. And then I find myself wondering, as I wander, what if Firestone were willing to issue an 8th and final “Best of Christmas” collection? Like Dylan’s basement tapes, masters from the vaults, what Christmas classics would I want to bring back, re-package, find new audiences for? So after some humming and hawing, my “Best Of” list, in Letterman order–plus two bonus tracks, in the spirit of giving. Firestone, are you listening?

10. “Good King Wenceslaus” – The Ames Brothers. From “There’ll Always Be a Christmas,” 1957, Taragon label. One of my all-time favorite carols and my all-time favorite cover. Dig the counter-tenorish “mark my footsteps my good page.” Nothing said Christmas at 6922 N. 29th St.like this recording. It still gives me chills.

9. “Personent Hodie.” Okay, I didn’t say I didn’t like this stuff, I only noted its proliferation. Lots of good versions, though I am partial to Anonymous 4‘s (“Legends of St. Nicholas”).

8. “Let it Snow” – Jo Stafford. Nothing says cool like Jo Stafford, who passed away this last July. Hip, sophisticated and oh-so-smooth.

7. “Sleigh Ride” – Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops. “Giddy-yap giddy-yap giddy-yap let’s go/Let’s look at the snow.” For a few hot minutes, I could imagine what it would be like to live in the New England countryside. And then I would come back down to earth. Great sound effects.

6. “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” – Ray Charles and Betty “Bebop” Carter. It just does not get any better than this.

5. “Caroling,Caroling/Happy Holiday” – Johnny Mathis. I’ll take anything by Johnny Mathis. He could sing the phone book and I would like it. An old style crooner with heart and soul.

4. “My Favorite Things” – John Coltrane. It gets on the list because of its lyrics (“snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes”). And Coltrane spent a career recording multiple versions. I never tire of it. A 1960 release that introduced the Coltrane quartet with drummer Elvin Jones, pianist McCoy Tyner and bassist Steve Davis. Yes, I never get tired of this record.

3. “The Christmas Song” (“Chestnuts roasting…”) – Nat King Cole. Mel Torme wrote it but Nat owned it. ‘Nuf said.

2. “Wexford Carol” – Cambridge (Mass.) Revels. From “Christmas Day in the Morning.” I have never heard a version of this song that I didn’t like but picked this one because of its old-timey feel and spirit. Percussive and pure.
1. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” – Judy Garland. Introduced by Garland in the holiday classic “Meet Me in St. Louis.” Judy at her most limpid and luminous; future first husband Vincente Minelli at his most Minelli-ish. MGM really knew how to make movie musicals.

Bonus Tracks:
“Christmas Time is Here” – Vince Guaraldi. From the TV evergreen, “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Still holds up after all these years.
The album “Light of the Stable” – Emmylou Harris. As crystalline pure today as it was when it was released almost 30 years ago. A classic from start to finish.

So click, spin or play your way into the holidays. And post a comment below with YOUR list of holiday favorites—be they musical, audio-visual, literary or memories of the most notable gifts ever given or received. Hanukah tunes? Eid? Kwanzaa?
And have yourself a merry little. . .



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