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How Not to Look Old: Fast and Effortless Ways to Look 10 Years Younger, 10 Pounds Lighter, 10 Times Better » PDF Books Planet - Download Free Digital Books in PDF, EPUB and MOBI Formats For Free! 10 Best Hairstyles To Look 10 Years Younger - Styleoholic Search for: BEGIN TYPING YOUR SEARCH ABOVE AND PRESS RETURN TO SEARCH. Based on stylistic comparisons such as striations inside body contours and the presentation of horns in twisted perspective, several Paleolithic art experts, including the first curator of the Chauvet Cave, Jean Clottes, have accredited the Portuguese friezes to the early Solutrean of about 20,000 years ago3.
In Portugal, the government did the opposite a€“ plunging ahead with a project destined to destroy the nationa€™s oldest cultural heritage by completing a 300-million-dollar dam whose reservoir will flood a valley packed with dozens of art sites spread over at least 17 kilometers. Yet construction continues - even on holidays - and the water is about to rise another hundred meters.
A male ibex with his head shown in two positions, as if he were turning to watch the female behind him. As we drove up to a sentry box perched on the lip of a road into the vast, unnatural gashing of mountains at Foz CA?a, it was hard to tell if the young guard blocking us in a crisp red and gray uniform represented a well-heeled security service or an elite military unit - but it was plain that bluff and sweet talk wouldn't get us far.
The next time the car eased over the knuckles of a road crisscrossed by up-ended strata, past empty huts built just of stacked slabs, and jostled between overhanging and plunging cliffs until an avalanche of tailings from an old quarry almost blocked the path.
Here was one of the places of grandeur where our ancestors had first grasped visions and then concretized them by hewing - and sometimes painting - images into rock panels.
As I pushed forward and the river grew shallower, turtles became so numerous that their stacks toppled like circus acts from the brinks of submerged cliffs. As a draftsman, I could feel empathy for the beast flowing into the hands that had etched her. This first frieze stood at a fitting point, practically where the reservoir yielded to the original rapids and long pools of the virgin river. Far away across the moonscape of rutted ramps, knots of men stood before tunnels as fleets of dump trucks, made so tiny by distance that they only gave away their magnitude by over-sized wheels, eased to the brink of platforms, and added avalanches to tailings. Above us, the titanium-white cleanliness of the cement plant's towers stood in bold contrast to the devastation, like a phalanx of gigantic chess-rooks bunched for the kill. According to press articles, the dam-builders had recognized him as the true discoverer of Portugal's first reported Paleolithic engravings, at nearby Mazouco, even though the doctoral student's mentor, Professor Vitor Oliviera Jorge, had stolen his thunder.7 They had given Rebanda a job as their obligatory salvage archaeologist when the new doctor somehow couldn't get a position on a faculty. In return, all he'd had to do was wait till their concrete curtain had gone up and its reservoir had risen into a sea so voluminous and costly that its drainage would have been unthinkable. My goateed interlocutor smirked as he told me I could try looking for the doctor at the complex built for the previous dam, 15A kilometers downstream. But I'd hit pay dirt: the fact that I might hear Rebanda's mea culpa was more than Ia€™d hoped for.
Sebastian elected to wait outside and embarked on Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth as I knocked at the locked door. Still, I complimented her on her English, sympathized with them for having to put up with this hierarchical bother, and kept spinning innocuous questions, while she kept waiting for me to go. When Rebanda's secretary came out again, to see if she could get either me a€“ or her boss - to give up as the wait grew embarrassingly long, I asked her what the round silos with tipped roofs on the hills had been used for. But the next time, after they had gotten used to my rounds, I stepped inside and admired a sequence of two eight-foot-tall maps full of pins.
Something was wrong: in addition to the constellations of pins extending for 17 kilometers upstream from the construction site, there were dozens downstream, along the reservoir behind the dam just outside!
Finally, so many hours had passed, and she'd informed the doctor so many times that I was still hanging around, that I was forced by the sheer need for new scenery to vary my route, and drifted through empty rooms. The only thing the reports agreed on was that Rebanda had somehow discovered the flooded portion of Canada do Inferno by the previous autumn22 a€“ asking the EDP to lower the Pocinho reservoir by just 3 meters in November 1994 so he could study the engravings.23 a€?They told me it was too expensive,a€? Rebanda had told the New York Times. So who had shot these photographs, which looked like they had been taken when the sites were dry vegetated hillsides instead of among the muck and bare banks below a fallen waterline? I realized that the photos of the dry sites might have been taken before the Pocinho Dam, which had flooded them, had even been completed a€“ over 12 years before! UNESCO had suggested Clottes, who, in an uncanny convergence of good and bad karma, was taken on a whirlwind tour of the tip of the iceberg at Canada do Inferno, then immediately whisked to a press conference in Vila Nova do Foz CA?a on Dec 16th, 199428 a€“ just two days before the discovery of the Chauvet Cave that catapulted him, as its first interpreter and protector, from the summit of the French archaeological establishment to world fame. But Clottesa€™ judgement was mixed, confirming that the art could be dated on stylistic grounds to the early Solutrean or even late Gravettian of twenty to twenty-four thousand years ago while suggesting that flooding the valley might be the best way of protecting it, since Portugal was ill-equipped to protect such widely dispersed panels from vandals!29 a€?There is no easy solution,a€? he told a reporter. What the press forgot to emphasize with quite as much fervor was the fact that Clottes had prefaced his Solomonic verdict by saying, a€?Whatever happens, the engravings must be preserved and not be damaged.a€? Clottes might have felt that he could safely pass the buck because no art conservationist could honestly guarantee the engravingsa€™ fate once they were subjected to currents carrying abrasives, burial under the petrifying alluvia that accumulates behind dams,33 and the worlda€™s most destructive solvent a€“ water, which would dissolve pigments and destabilize rock that had proven its resistance to aerial conditions over tens of millennia.
While chatting up the gaunt fellow traveller at the construction site, Ia€™d pretended to make small talk by asking engineering questions, including one about the depth of the sediment that had accumulated behind the Pocinho dam. The irony of it was that Clottesa€™ efforts to be honest without irritating his hosts had been the spark that the French diplomats had dreaded. Despite the fact that the great prehistoriana€™s reputation would remain largely intact, and with good reason, in much of the rest of the world,34 the Portuguese intelligentsia began to shun him. A€ propos of CA?a, two Portuguese rock art researchers, who couldna€™t stomach Clottes after his press conference, ironically echoed him by telling me, confidentially, that flooding the engravings could still be a blessing since it would save them from graffiti and those boogeymen of archaeologistsa€™ dreams, prowling collectors. My guess is that he was so beleaguered by advisers that he was just trying to get out of an awkward situation as quickly, judiciously and diplomatically as possible. I mentioned to Rebanda that I had just attended the lecture on Chauvet, that I even had a videotape of it right there in my camera.
So it's true, I thought, drowning the site was Rebanda's solution to the problem of ownership of photographic rights. But then, what about Rebanda's self-serving talk of photo credits, not to mention the engravings already submerged by the dam at the doorstep a€“ and his belief that the engravings were doomed to be flooded? Strangely enough, I could again see it being both ways, since the roots of tragedy are self-deception and entwined motives. He must have realized that I was rooting for him to pull himself out of his tailspin, because suddenly he decided. Upon leaving, Sebastian asked to check out the Pocinho dam, so I drove round an interchange into an empty parking lot with planters. As the sun slanted over the plateau into the wilderness of the CA?a valley, I decided to sneak into a side-valley to the north of our campsite that Rebanda's map had cluttered with pins.
Then, after breaching a wall of rushes, we broke to the reservoir's edge - and were met by a horned skull stuck on a stake. Suddenly, I remembered what Rebanda had said about the engravings' association with witchcraft. Being obstinate (or perhaps because of the prehistoric setting), I started whittling stone, knapping a microlithic surgeon's kit, and then bent single-mindedly to my task - failing till I was disgusted with myself and worried for my victim (which I had bizarrely associated with Rebanda). This time there were two guards behind an overhanging military fence crested by barbed wire. The guard who beckoned us in was rearing a guard-dog puppy, which scampered around, tumbling over ledges and using its chin to lever itself over steps. Our guide was a decent young man who couldn't help feeling uneasy blocking access to these bold masterpieces at the source of all our arts. Still, these guards were actually tame as the locals poured down to catch a glimpse of the animals through the fence.
After he'd hastened to take up his time-clock again, I wandered if there might not be even more testimonials of man's attraction to this classical Eden with its islets and fords in the flowery river, and browsed through a plowed orchard, along a contour which I judged would have been the valley floor half a million years ago. We knew the next dawn would be our last, so we broke camp in blue light to explore the teeming side-valley beyond the first auroch. Not Portugal's - OURS - because this art is so old, despite its elegance, that we share the blood and genius of those distant ancestors who awoke to the universe, whether our cavalcade of ancestors migrated around the Old World or came across the Bering Straits 14,000 years ago. Footnotes have been added to the internet version of the article to provide historical perspective and more detail about sources than the versions that were published & distributed in 1995. 1 The three discoverers of the Chauvet Cave were Eliette Brunel Deschamps, Christian Hillaire, and Jean-Marie Chauvet. 2 The IPPAR announced the existence of the valleya€™s engravings on November 19, 1994 but a video was made of them in 1993.
10 Bahn 1995 for a re-capitulation of the same accusations against the IPPAR & Rebanda. 33 Bednarik & Jaffe have been the most outspoken spokesmen about delusions concerning the protective qualities of reservoirs a€“ which not only inundate art panels with water but deep alluvial deposits that make their later recovery dangerous and impractical.
34 Interestingly, a few years after this appeal was written, Clottes came under fierce attack and even ridicule by many representatives of the French intelligentsia, including some of the countrya€™s most prominent prehistorians, after he and David Lewis-Williams published a€?The Shamans of Prehistory: Trance and magic in the painted cavesa€? in 1996.
As soon as their results indicating that the art might be only 3,000 to 6,500 years old (if not even younger) were announced a€“ which actually made the engravings even more astonishing, potentially rewriting the history of rock art or even making Portugal the last bastion of the Paleolithic tradition a€“ the most important Portuguese right-wing weekly screamed that the direct-dating results proved that stylistic daters like Clottes had perpetrated a a€?FRAUDa€? (O Independente, 7 July 1995). It should also be noted that the individuals who participated in the debate were often somewhat unwittingly drawn into playing secondary or tertiary roles in a struggle between the Portuguese Ministry of Culture and Ministry of Industry.
40 In November 1995 - six months after this call-toa€“arms was published and circulated to Prehistoric Art Emergencya€™s volunteers (who Ia€™m glad to report included a young actor, Yann Montelle, who went on to earn a doctorate in prehistory) - a book edited by Jorge called a€?Dossier CA?aa€? appeared with 20 contributions by him or his wife.
44 After writing this article in May 1995, it occurred to me that I might have missed one of the main reasons for eliminating Rebanda from Portugala€™s archaeological milieu a€“ the fact that he was so effective at finding rock art that drew international attention, first to Mazouco, then to CA?a.
49 When I wrote the article, I assumed that the two young men were Rebandaa€™s subordinates and referred to them as a€?draftsmena€?. 50 After initially denigrating both the art and the idea of extracting it, the EDP later adopted the idea as one of its three strategies for overcoming opposition to the dam project.
Written by Christopher Morleya€™s daughter Louise before her death in 2012, and brought out between covers now by her children, to the benefit of we who care about the founder of The Baker Street Irregulars!
Leavitt still claimed in the 1960s that Fuller had been an early BSI, albeit one largely ignorant of the Canon (a€™Thirties, p. But readers will learn a good deal from this book about Morley himself, and his Three Hours for Lunch Club preceding the BSI and giving it much of its early tone and personalities. Louise Morley Cochrane closes this lengthy letter by remarking: a€?The letter was not signed. Through the generosity of Christopher Music BSI, editor of the new Amateur Mendicant Society history From the Lower Vault (reviewed below by Donald Yates BSI), I have just read the late Russell McLauchlina€™s 1943 book Roaming Holidays: A Preface to Post-War Travel. McLauchlin, a Cornell man, became a lawyer after the World War, but instead pursued newspaper journalism as a career. Of Sherlock Holmes in this book therea€™s next to nothing, but of Baker Street Irregularitya€™s spirit, there is more than a little.
And a€?if I have any Anglo-Saxon blood at all, it is such a tiny drop that I do not know its origin.
Alfred Street by McLauchlin, three years later (Detroit: Conjure House, 1946), does get very specific about Sherlock Holmes in one chapter. And when Starrett created The Hounds of the Baskerville (sic) in Chicago in the mid 1940s, Detroit heard the view-halloo as well. The paper, focusing on SCAN and the King of Bohemia in rhyme, was McLauchlina€™s hilariously titled a€?I Cana€™t Endorse This Czech,a€? which Edgar W. Alfred Street is where McLauchlin had grown up at the turn of the century, and the book is a superb picture of a certain era in American life.
And in the chapter a€?Alfred Street and Baker Streeta€? we learn how McLauchina€™s devotion arose. Not for worlds would I criticize that splendid society, being one of its most devout members. The young men, who lived on Alfred Street in this centurya€™s early years, held the faith as firmly as ever did Christopher Morley or Msgr. I knew a great deal about Sherlock Holmes, some years before I learned to read, and so did all my Alfred Street companions. So we used to clamor for stories of Sherlock Holmes and my father, a great enthusiast, was always happy to comply, often relying on his own powers of invention for thrilling plots of an impromptu nature. And something like that went on in every household where Colliera€™s was delivered by the postman.
The second reason, of course, was William Gillette, whose appearance as Sherlock Holmes, from his play of that name, was familiar by this time, and carried forward by Frederic Dorr Steelea€™s illustrations of those Return stories in Colliera€™s Weekly.
Few works in our literature capture as this book does the time and ethos of the early Irregulars as they first encountered, and learned to not only love, but study, the Sherlock Holmes stories.
Reviewed by Jon Lellenberg, a€?Rodger Prescotta€? BSI, the conductor of this website and of the BSI Archival Histories. It was in 1984, at the BSIa€™s 50th anniversary dinner, that Bliss gave a talk about the Murray Hill Hotel era that began my own and othersa€™ interest in the BSIa€™s history. Bliss was a stellar collector and bibliographer, making him sometimes a compelling commentator on the Canona€™s creation and its creatora€™s life. Sonia Fetherston, the author of this biography, despite not knowing Bliss, has constructed an informative portrait, deeply researched and thoughtfully written. At the same time, Ia€™d love to know more about Blissa€™s first trip to London, when he was in his mid twenties. But these factors do not subtract from an exceptionally valuable contribution to BSI history. In 1955, living in Dearborn, Michigan, just outside Detroit, I read a newspaper article about the Mendicants and soon was in touch with Russ McLauchlin.
When I left the Detroit area in 1957 to accept a position in Michigan Statea€™s Department of Foreign Languages, I discovered that an early member of the Mendicants, Page Heldenbrand, had established a Holmes scion there that he had designated as the Greek Interpreters of East Lansing. Inspired by the work of Jon Lellenberg (the BSIa€™s Thucydides), Music has just brought forth his From the Lower Vault, which draws upon the Donovan file and Harrisa€™s papers and reminiscences to give us a sense of how a Sherlockian society comes into being, and displays the sparkling wit of Russ McLauchlin and Bob Harris in its pages, where all of McLauchlina€™s high-spirited periodic dispatches to the membership (his Encyclical Letters) are reproduced. A recent incarnation is Baker Street Irregular by Jon Lellenberg in which a leading Sherlockian scholar and retired senior Pentagon staff officer takes his young New York lawyer, Woody Hazelbaker, through the major events in American history from the early 1930s to 1947, focusing on the beginnings and course of World War II, with an emphasis on the ever-increasing efforts at espionage and counter-espionage and the personalities involved. Now Lellenberg, having written an entertaining spy novel about the Baker Street Irregulars, takes a new approach (at least for this reader) by producing a a€?companion volumea€? to Baker Street Irregular, addressing the background of the events and personalities in the original story with commentary and notes, both personal and objective.
One topic given special attention, for example, is the long-lastingA  effort on the part of many to enlist the aid of the United States for Great Britain at war with Hitler prior to Pearl Harbor. One thing becomes very clear as one reads Sources and Methods a€” the author had a wonderful time writing this book. Ambassador Ralph Earle II is a€?Joyce Cumings,a€? BSI, a veteran himself of the Defense and State Departments and of the diplomatic life, and a Washington D.C. For the student of BSI history, the personnel of Christopher Morleya€™s Three Hours for Lunch Club tend to divide into three categories: ones who went on to significant roles in the Baker Street Irregulars, such as Elmer Davis, W.
Yet Bill Footner deserves more attention than I, and I daresay you, have given him previously. For this book, Christopher Morley penned a five plus page tribute to Footner, dated December 19th, 1944.
By 1921, when the Three Hours for Lunch Club was being convened, Morley included Footner in this magic circle.
Its protagonist is a member of The Three Hours for Lunch Club, at the time it had taken Hobokena€™s Old Rialto and Lyric Theatre to stage period melodrama like After Dark and The Black Crook, relying on Hobokena€™s reputation as a free-range speakeasy zone to help attract Manhattan audiences over, with fair success for a year or two.
The Foundry is an old brick building of a pleasing quaintness of design, faintly German in flavor.
The affairs of theA Three-Hours-for-Lunch Club and the Hoboken Theatrical Company were inextricably commingled, and the two organizations shared the Foundry between them.
The contrast of the elegant furniture with its rude surroundings tickled the fancy of the members. Morley, however much he enjoyed Bill Footnera€™s mystery novels, had a realistic view of their limited place in the genre. Without trying to put it so picturesquely a€” who can compete with Christopher Morley in such a vein?
For those interested in the BSIa€™s history, there are no surprise answers in New York, City of Cities, but it offers greater understanding of the setting in which the BSI was born.
And so on, if Morley had cared to set readers an examination: the possibilities in the City of Cities were endless. It is a distinct pleasure, particularly in these dumbed-down days, to encounter a solid work of old-fashioned, literate, witty disputation in the Canon; or rather, to honor Sauvagea€™s insistence, the Conan. The manuscript of Sherlockian Heresies survived for many years as part of the paternal archive saved by the three Sauvage children, and a happy accident brought them into contact with the editors.
Sauvagea€™s critical strictures in Sherlockian Heresies are not nitpickings; this is not a chapter of faults, so to speak. There is much more to challenge the engaged readera€™s beliefs and assumptions, and he takes serious issue with the findings of even the greatest among us in the past. Varian Fry was not just forthright and successful, he was such despite the direct opposition of the U.S. The Baring-Gould a€?editiona€? of his Annotated Sherlock Holmes is an offset-printed paste-up of various London: John Murray publications, and the texts reflect British usage as a result of this. George Fletcher is a€?The Cardboard Box,a€? BSI, and claims to have retired as director of Special Collections at the New York Public Library. In this, the first decade of the 21st century, anyone who can connect to the worldwide web can be deluged a€” and paralyzed a€” by a flood of virtual news, information, misinformation, blogs, opinions, images etc., on nearly any conceivable topic.
Both the Senior Editor, Harry Thurston Peck, and the Junior Editor, Arthur Bartlett Maurice, of the American Bookman were obsessed with the doings of Sherlock Holmes. The result of the mania shared by Peck and Maurice was a devotion to tracking and commenting upon various strands of Sherlockiana, Doyleana, and numerous other detective appearances coeval to their publication.
This is an excellent route to appreciating the growth and development of Sherlockian appreciation essentially from the beginning.
Why, the a€?Editorial Adventure Storya€? by Trumbull White, in which he narrates his long quest to acquire a yet-to-be written manuscript co-authored by Conan Doyle and E. Bret Hartea€™s first volume of Condensed Novels was entirely admirable, not quite so much may be said for the second.
As an antiquarian bookseller, I cannot but be painfully reminded of an incident nearly forty years ago. Meanwhile, other not-to-be-missed nuggets in this compilation include a very late (1927) article by Conan Doyle which relates to his interest in Spiritualism.
Last, but certainly not least, this reprints various contributions by Vincent Starrett in advance of his immediate classic The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes.
It is difficult to imagine the state of Sherlockian studies or the history of the Baker Street Irregulars without thinking of Vincent Starrett. This collection begins with his earliest columns in the Chicago Daily News and continues when it moved to the Chicago Tribune. The book is necessarily episodic, but nevertheless it is possible to read it straight through with pleasure as well as by dipping into it at random.
This is a book for anyone who enjoys reading Vincent Starrett, but it may also serve as a resource to events in the Sherlockian world between 1942 and 1967. A book that allows us to read something new by the Dean of Sherlockians (as Starrett was often called) is worth a place on our shelves. If you have any questions, contact the NC Department of Revenue Taxpayer Assistance Division Toll-Free: (877) 252-3052.
What makes this recycling program different from past recycling programs is that the cleaner is not required to restrict which poly type products can be deposited or required to go through the returns to take out small pieces of paper or other items that a typical consumer may deposit in the bins.
I come from a 20 year background of Sales and Financial Services and I dona€™t even remember how many countless conventions I have attended over the years. Our heartfelt sympathy goes to Cindy Cheatham, Shallotte Cleaners, in the loss of her stepbrother, to W. Congratulations to Millie Thomas, daughter of Marvin and Robin Thomas, Swannanoa Cleaners, Asheville, and to Elizabeth Cheatham, daughter of Allan and Cindy Cheatham, Shallotte Cleaners, Shallotte, on their graduation from high school. Matt Sigmon of Matt Sigmon Productions gave a good talk on a€?Why You Shoud Have a Presence on the Web.a€? If you dona€™t have a website, he can get you started.
Lastly, Bill Bohannon, owner of Hollin Hall Dry Cleaners in Alexandria, VA, gave a very interesting talk on cost analysis. Dancing and bidding continued furiously until the Silent Auction closed at 10 pm and the compilation process began so that the winners could pay for and claim their prizes Sunday morning. It was truly difficult for a lot of us to give up the beach to shower and dress for the Sunday evening festivities. Following a brief intermission, we benefited from a recently discovered talent of NCALCa€™s newest member (yep, he joined Sunday night), Alan Hargis, who is a licensed auctioneer. Chris Edwards, NCALC VP Governmental Affairs, reported that the DSCA Stakeholders Meeting was held June 2, 2011.
Ita€™s hard to attend a show in the middle of the week, but fortunately I was able to because of my wonderful co-workers.
Kreussler K4 Solvent a€“There was a lot of excitement around the Kreussler booth because of the new K4 Solvent.
Electrolux a€?Lagoona€? Wet Cleaning system has an exclusive endorsement from Woolmark if you use their complete cleaning and finishing equipment. Spector Textile has designed some new route bags, marketing material to capture new customers, and promotions for new route customers. CompassMax Maineline, a pos software company, demonstrated new updates to their software with assembly integration enhancements, mobile coupons, smart phone applications for employees or customers, and cloud computing hosting services. GreenEarth Cleaning has been around, but what was interesting to me was the professional marketing program that comes with being a GreenEarth affiliate.
A.L Wilson has developed step-by-step videos on their website on how to correctly use their individual products.
We started the show on one side of the convention center and decided to walk one aisle at a time, hoping to complete all the aisles in one day.
Monday morning opened with industry icon, Sid Tuchman, receiving DLIa€™s Diamond Achievement Award. The show floor contained about the same number of exhibitors, but many appeared to have reduced their booth space. A couple of hours later the front spawned another tornado over Wilson that lifted the roof off Exclusive Cleanersa€™ 8000-square-foot American Drycleanera„? magazinea€™s Grand Prize award-winning plant and collapsed one side wall onto Exclusivea€™s delivery vans. Fortunately, no one was injured in any of these severe weather issues, and all of the victims appear to have dodged the bullet in terms of loss or damage to customersa€™ goods, which can lead to loss of customer confidence.
It was truly difficult for a lot of us to give up the beach to shower and dress for the Sunday evening festivities.A  However, the lure of the Presidenta€™s Reception and a magic show by Captain Jim the truly peg-legged pirate in the courtyard brought us all together for an entertaining hour prior to dinner.
Metalprogetti had an all-in-one automatic sorting conveyor, bagging machine and racking.A  Basically, once you loaded the garments onto the sorting conveyor, the conveyor sorted the garments for each order. Unipress and Sankosha both had new redesigned pressing equipment.A  Some equipment taking less space and others offering a new way to keep the heat away from the operator were being demonstrated. The consolidation of the ADCO and Laidlaw chemical lines was obvious.A  It seems that the ADCO line will be a premier line, while Laidlaw was presented as a service type line. The next Clean Show date is June 21-23 2013 in New Orleans.A  Make plans to be there to be among the first to view the latest advances in drycleaning technology.
In this article you will find 20 of the best DIY beauty and health recipes prepared with coconut oil. Fortunately, this natural ingredient will moisturize your hands and make them soft and smooth.
You can use coconut oil in your homemade recipe to effectively get rid of this stubborn tissue. This is the cheaper and healthier alternative, instead of buying commercial anti-wrinkle creams.
It will clean your entire body without the harmful chemicals contained in the store-bought soaps. When used in combination with gut healing program, this treatment can give amazing results. In order to post comments, please make sure JavaScript and Cookies are enabled, and reload the page. Not only were frescoes of rhinos, horses and lions over 30,000 years old found in a cave in the Ardeche on Dec. Although theya€™re probably right, ita€™s worth noting that these same specialists used similar criteria to ascribe the animals of Chauvet to the same period - until carbon 14 results pushed their age back over 10,000 years, shattering the notion that prehistoric art had evolved linearly, like technologies. In France, the Ministry of Culture placed its new treasure under the most draconian protection, despite the fact that the country already has the lion's share of Paleolithic art. Standing right in front of some of the most spectacular engravings, the Secretary of State for Culture dismissed them as being nothing more than a€?childrena€™s doodlesa€? a€“ whereupon the students from Foz CA?aa€™s high school turned the official into a laughing-stock by presenting him with a schist slab covered with their own scribblings4.
It's now or never, the author of the following article decided in April 1995, as he set out to evaluate the engravings, find out the truth, and propose solutions. My 13-year old son and I had flown to Porto in Portugal and driven far up the Douro valley into the northeastern mountains, prepared to maneuver around obstructions whether by negotiation or hiking through the back door.
Still, here was our first encounter with the powers that be, so I took this opportunity to probe, and get a first step up the hierarchical ladder. So I explained how Sebastian and I had come so far to see the Paleolithic glories that Portugal would be displaying with pride, spoke of credentials, and placed us (and our pen) in his hands.
Still, we had our bearings, and drove off into the late afternoon to penetrate the heart of the forbidden zone.
We were getting closer, very close now, and could spy loops of a trail among the folds of a distant ridge. And here too was the arena where one of the greatest feuds between discoverers and custodians of the past had exploded since the conflict between Othniel Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope over the fossils of extinct giants in Sioux territory during Custer's battles. With swifts swirling in up-drafts around our heads, we scrambled and picked our way among sheer precipices and ledges.
Its tight horseshoe of cliffs and rubble made the perfect hiding place for our car and tent from the gray guards roaming the surrounding crests with binoculars. Sebastian snuggled tighter into his sleeping bag, so I set out to reconnoiter alone, systematically working quadrants and contours between our quarry at Fariseu and Piscos brook. Somewhere among the jumble of a thousand rock faces would be an ancient image - perhaps masked by lichen or so faint one had to trace its parts before seeing it whole.
The numbed waters suddenly spangled upstream with glitter and so many flowery white tresses of water plants that the currents looked like sudsy pastures. After all the noisy demonstrations against the dam in Lisbon, how were they to know how much clout a nosy prehistorian might have?


Whatever was going to happen to him afterwards in the backwater of Portuguese archaeology had surely been inconsequential, since experience proved that nobody made much fuss over sites that were out-of-sight and out-of-mind - especially with archaeologists beholding to dam-builders and political appointees for access and records. According to the insinuations, he could have continued his documentation right up to the headwaters as his masters worked their way upstream step by step.
I sensed that this crowd felt their doctor deserved to be the one to tell fellow archaeologists that they might as well ask to visit Atlantis. Sure enough, there was the 12 year-old Pocinho dam sweeping the valley with a clean curtain.14 But the silos of this former construction site's cement plant were speckled with rust, the ranks of its offices and dormitories were deserted and almost every window was broken. Fortunately, Sebastian was becoming ever more engrossed in Verne's book, spelunking towards the planet's core, so I began to gravitate down halls for exercise and companionship, coming to the door of the room where the secretary was braiding the blind's cord while two laconic draftsmen labored over tracings of horses, ibexes and aurochs.
It has been insinuated that Rebanda probably discovered Rock 1 at Canada do Inferno as early as November 1991.18 In Dec.
So, quixotically, he had proposed building a dry-dock around the outcropping, and, failing that, underwater exploration.
If so, the power utility may have known of incredibly rich sites years before the first blueprint for the new dam! Clottes was the worlda€™s reigning prehistorian a€“ the man who had risen to the pinnacle of the French archaeological establishment and held the only keys to the holy grail of art caves - the unbelievably strong and ancient Grotte Chauvet. After inspecting the 15% of the art that remained above water at the site in the rising dama€™s shadow, because the EDP had hardly felt it necessary to lower the water for the visit of the foreigner sent by the now antagonistic IPPAR, Clottes stepped before a highly polarized press corps. The dam-builders and their government backers felt vindicated while much of Portuguese public was crestfallen or furious. The dam had become a poisonous political issue in a national election with the President and his fellow Socialists attacking the center-right Prime Minister for its willingness to sacrifice both the nationa€™s patrimony and vineyards to a flaky building scheme. As if the owners of villas built around the new lake would really allow it to be drained 100 meters to its bottom - where almost all of the known panels would soon be drowned a€“ once every decade!
Suddenly, the Portuguese public felt that the dam-builders were not only destroying the nationa€™s most ancient claim to world grandeur and civilization, but that they were in league with a man who would never have been so cavalier with Paleolithic masterpieces in his own country! When I later asked Portuguese archaeologists if they were going to attend an up-coming conference organized by Clottes, they recoiled.
First, because Clottesa€™ retinue of hosts, diplomats and reporters was rushing him and putting him in a bind a€“ even if his stature, pride, and role as UNESCOa€™s expert on rock art had led him into it. They even echoed his faith in getting dam operators to regularly empty the vast lake a€“ despite the glaring evidence of the EDPa€™s behavior at CA?a itself. No sooner had Clottes triggered a public outcry, than he began to explain away his tepid defense of the CA?aa€™s importance by saying that he had not been shown enough art to form a true idea of the valleya€™s richness.35 But the truth is, he was shown Rebandaa€™s trove of drawings from submerged sections and sites upstream36 and could have been more demanding.
After all it was a lot of money, the government was inflexible, the controversy had become a campaign issue a€“ which meant that his advice would seem like foreign meddling - and the elections were still far off. When, in fact, the long-term rights for the cave in France would belong to its Ministry of Culture a€“ which was already attacking its discoverer, Chauvet, for the pittance hea€™d received for his pictures. But I could hardly hold my tongue: why on earth had he invited people from this caste of academics back into his life - and the valley - when at least one of them had apparently abused him?
The picture was compelling: SimAµes and her husband angelically insisting that the world must be told, while the hireling screamed demonically over the fire, accusing university archaeologists of trying to hog the credit yet again. If Rebanda had known SimAµes and Jaffe were going to paint him into a corner, wouldn't he have raced for the exit? Both Rebanda and SimAµes de Abreu could have been traitors and saviors at once, and as long as I was with this archaeologist, I felt bound to encourage the savior in him. It must have seemed like an insult to him after all his efforts, so with an anarchic gesture, he announced, what the hell, he'd photocopy their fax when it came, so we could enter a second.
Huge black derricks hulked atop the dam beside a row of gate-lifting pistons that looked like Big Berthas. We bagged the warning or omen, caught and released a giant water beetle - the kind that injects deliquescing enzymes into living frogs, then sucks out their juice - and worked our way along what was actually the upper tier of a disappearing cliff.
When art panels are located in the CA?aa€™s side valleys, they are apparently concentrated on northern slopes. I was a willing guide as we skewered corn kernels on hooks, lashed lines around a log and threw the lethal leashes into the dark. They were a hundred yards apart, making perpetual rounds as they kept time clocks happy by cranking them every few paces with keys chained to the fence.
It was probably his first job after military service, but he was intelligent enough to realize that hea€™d been hired as a pawn in a vast conspiracy to keep Portugal's greatest cultural wonders out of sight and out of mind, till they could be obliterated. One, because any plan to remove the friezes not only meant assigning a value to them, but keeping the controversy alive. The mountainous dirt road forked, meandered and even skirted an imposing castle,51 but several classes of children were making the long dusty pilgrimage on foot while carloads of adults in their Sunday best made the excursion to see the only engravings to have escaped the censors - either because the site at Penascosa was so far from Lima Montiero's spyglass or because the valley was gentler here and had always been farmed. I hadn't passed the first olive tree when I happened upon a well-knapped hand-axe, and then another! On-line commentary entitled a€?Some corrections about the CA?a petroglyphsa€? in TRACCE no. While Chauveta€™s name was given to the cave itself, the names of his co-discoverers were given to two of its large chambers.
Mila SimAµes de Abreu and Ludwig Jaffe were the founders of the APAAR (AssociaA§ao Portuguesa de Arte e Arqueologia Rupestre), which has been a member of IFRAO (International Federation of Rock Art Organisations) since Sept.
In an on-line commentary, Jaffe denounced what he perceived as a continuation of the scandal under new management: a€?In December 1994 IPPAR passed the responsibility for the rock art in the Coa valley to Mario Varela Gomes and Antonio Martinho Baptista.
Their critics often subscribe to the doctrine that modern ethnographic evidence cannot be used to interpret ancient cultures. Although Bednarik was one of the earliest crusaders for CA?a - calling for the EDP to stop building the dam in Nov.
The leftist press and Portuguese archaeological milieu reacted with just as much reflection, ignoring both Bednarika€™s qualifiers and his pioneering role in organizing the world campaign to fight for the whole valleya€™s salvation (see Dossier CA?a p. Of the 66 contributions written by individuals, not one is by Nelson Rebanda, whose ghost a€“ to anyone interested in intellectual property a€“ haunts every line. After the CA?a scandal served its purpose as an electoral issue that helped the Socialists to win power, the new government kept its campaign promise by protecting the CA?a Valley but used the goodwill engendered by the decision to blunt criticism while flooding other huge assemblages of rock art.
3; Catherine Vincent, writing in Le Monde on March 11, 1995, goes into much more detail about one particular vineyard, Ervamoira, that would have been lost, along with its exceptional Port wine. The first was to prove that the engravings were not Paleolithic a€“ an effort that entrapped researchers who wanted to apply experimental direct-dating techniques. No one else could have written it.a€? We can agree, grateful for such intimate looks into the BSIa€™s foundera€™s life and thoughts. It records Morleya€™s growing sense of mortality in the late 1940s and early a€™50s, a glimpse of which we had previously on p. McLauchlin (1894-1975) was the Detroit News cultural critic for many years, and the book consists of 21 short broadcasts he did over radio station WWJ in the winter of 1942-43, when such things were scarcely imaginable at a time of global total war. In a€?The Waters of the Earth,a€? for example, he says something very akin to Christopher Morleya€™s remark about the Atlantic I recently reported; McL. There is no traditional reason why Scottish blood should leap when the name of England is spoken.
McLauchlin grew up devoted to Sherlock Holmes, but in the 1930s and a€™40s he was close to Vincent Starrett in Chicago, not Christopher Morley in New York.
McLauchlin wanted to do the same there a€” but appears to have worried about his status for doing so.
He brings to life a time and a place for readers today whose later lives and experiences have been very different.
This true faith, I am happy to say, has made much progress in late years and, in our own republic, it has solidified into an active fellowship which calls itself the Baker Street Irregulars. Not only did we consider him a flesh-and-blood mortal, but we had the vague idea that he lived in Detroit and that we were likely to see him walking down the street. One was the Return stories appearing at the time in Colliera€™s Weekly, leading to their parents buying bonus volumes of A Study in Scarlet and The Sign of the Four: a€?this economical acquisition of a pair of masterpieces naturally prompted the close perusal of the same by our elders, producing much Sherlockian conversation around every fireside on the street. He was careful to inform us that all his storiesa€”even his excursions into fancya€”had been collected and written down by a certain Dr. In April of 1903, when McLauchlin was eight years old (he remembered having been five), Gillette brought his play to Detroita€™s Opera House, a€?and every young gentleman on Alfred Street demanded, with the utmost in passion, to be taken to see him, even if the family were in consequence obliged to temporize with the butcher.a€? The effect was instantaneous, and permanent. He came into the BSI in 1944, and almost at once received one of the first fifteen Titular Investitures from Edgar W. He provided encouragement to the young, and was generous not only with his time and knowledge, but with physical items, duplicates he had acquired in his collecting.
Ita€™s a shame it shows signs of having been cut down by the publisher to make a a€?marketablea€? book well under 200 pp.
The groupa€™s original sparking plug was the ebullient, effervescent Scot, Russell McLauchlin, for many years the entertainment critic at the Detroit News.
I had been a Holmes admirer from an early age, but my contact with his life and times had up until then been limited to the pages of my copy of the Doubleday Complete Sherlock Holmes, which my mother had given me on the occasion of my graduation from junior high school in Ann Arbor, Michigan, in 1944.
After a single meeting, the membership unaccountably dispersed and nothing more was heard of it, although the young Heldenbrand had subsequently become an active participant in the activities of New Yorka€™s Baker Street Irregulars. Also prominently displayed are the inimitable contributions of the comic genius of the late Bill Rabe BSI, whose gift for offbeat humor was unmatched.
Yates (a€?The Greek Interpreter,a€? BSI) is retired chairman of the Romance Languages Department at Michigan State University, and today presides over The Napa Valley Napoleons of St.
He does this in an orderly and well-organized but highly personal way; for each chapter he begins with a synopsis, then a€?Sources and Methodsa€? (a phrase fraught with meaning, or meanings, from his Pentagon days), followed by People and finally Places and Things. This is shown through Woodya€™s eyes in New York and Washington in 1940 and a€™41, and his close encounters not only with prominent history-book Americans like Dean Acheson and Wild Bill Donovan, and British agents in the States at the time, but with Baker Street Irregulars as well like Elmer Davis, Rex Stout, and Fletcher Pratt, who did play such clandestine roles before America itself entered the war at the end of 1941. Born in Hamilton, Ontario, in 1879, he came to New York at the age of nineteen to be an actor; got occasional parts in legitimate theater, and occasional vaudeville turns as well, and achieved a certain sort of immortality by doubling as Alf Bassick and Sir Edward Leighton in a road company of William Gillettea€™s Sherlock Holmes. Footner had published at least two more mysteries by then (Thievesa€™ Wit and The Owl Taxi), and would write many more. A great central hall with a gallery all around, and the mighty traveling crane still hanging overhead; and room after room of different sizes and shapes, and all on different levels. Morley gave New York, City of Cities nearly a page and a half in the December 11, 1937, Saturday Review of Literature. New York City Guide (1939), 680 indexed pages packed with an amazing amount of information about New York in these decades. Footner is interested in the feminine side too, Hattie Carnegie and Elsa Maxwell, and the anonymous corps of stenographers, shopgirls and waitresses without whom the city would grind to a halt faster than you could say Fiorello La Guardia, as well the haute monde.
He can and does wax poetic at points, for example his description of night falling and the citya€™s lights coming on at twilight as seen from the Rainbow Grill, sixty-five floors atop Rockefeller Center, still new at the time. The Waldorf-Astoria gets two pages, but many New York hotels, and their bars and restaurants which were vital to the citya€™s life, get unaccountably short shrift.
It may even help explain why, in the year of its publication, there had been no BSI annual dinner, and wouldna€™t be one a month later in January a€™38, either a€” not until 1940, after Edgar W. Of course, there is no overlooking the fact that the author left this book unfinished at his death twenty-two years ago, so that, rather like the appearance of the Hound in its own day, it is of necessity a retrospective work rather than a harbinger of restored better times. The Sauvage I knew, from the final dinners at Cavanagha€™s to the end of his life, was an older cosmopolitan New Yorker: a world-traveling journalist with a command of the most limpid, idiomatic prose in American English (and, I am confident, equally adept in at least two or three other languages), who spoke with a pronounced Maurice Chevaliera€“like French accent, something that was and is simply not noticeable in New York. Mesdames McKuras and Vizoskie are to be congratulated heartedly for their excellent work of investigation, reconstruction, editing, and annotating. 1924), and thus was one of that vanished breed able to read certain of the adventures as they were published.
The only area approaching this minor art form is his distaste for those aspects of American punctuation that put terminal punctuation inside closing quotation marks; then again, the editors did not permit this to survive their work, so the minor issue is moot in this publication. What he consistently demands is that it be the Conan, and he writes often and strongly of Conanicity and the like. For that matter, he is doubtful that the actual residence was even on Baker Street, let alone its putative location on that street, whether the bifurcated thoroughfare of the Victorian era or the long single stretch of the decades since. Of course, I agree with the editors that Sauvage primarily used the Doubleday edition, with its errors and Americanisms, occasionally turning to the Baring-Gould Annotated for commentary. Previously Astor Curator of Printed Books and Bindings at the Pierpont Morgan Library, before that he was the director of Fordham University Press, where he published the Baker Street Journal for some happy years.
A hundred years ago, a principal delivery system for those kinds of material was the monthly magazine. In fact, Peck claimed to be a€?the only true Sherlockiana€?; whereas, the annotators of this collection allege (p. They demonstrate the state of mind of a youngish Starrett trying to work from his reportera€™s notebooks, showing his growth toward writing his biography. Joyce (a€?The Yellow-backed Novel,a€? BSI) is a rare books dealer, and a long-time member of Chicagoa€™s bibliophile society, The Caxton Club.
Novelist, short story writer, poet, critic, columnist, bookman, he was the voice of literary Chicago in the middle of the twentieth century. Starrett was a man of his times and commented in passing on his times and the people who moved in it.
A dozen appendices record such topics as a Chicago Daily News article about the discovery of the real author of a€?The Case of the Man Who Was Wanted,a€? a list of pastiches involving Sherlock Homes and Gilbert & Sullivan, a list of Basil Rathbonea€™s movie roles before Sherlock Holmes, Ronald Knoxa€™s a€?10 Commandments of the Detective Story,a€? an essay on Sherlock Holmes by Christopher Isherwood, and Jay Finlay Christa€™s abbreviations for the stories.
There is one column, for June 24, 1945, for which this reviewer wishes to have been told more by the editor. Farrington & Company, in conjunction with NCALC, introduced a poly bag recycling program at NCALCa€™s 105th annual convention in Atlantic Beach on Memorial Day weekend. Farrington & Company, presented this new program to the membership at the Sunday morning business session. Farrington & Company will pick up recycled material at no charge when making regular scheduled deliveries to its customersa€™ locations. Farrington & Company will be placed in the hands of companies that will recycle them into other plastic items such as fencing, soft drink crates, and other plastic products. Farrington & Company customer service department at 1-800-722-0374 or see their local Farrington representative. Farrington & Company who sponsored the Presidenta€™s Reception and Consolidated Laundry Equipment Company who sponsored this yeara€™s Banquet. I plan to continue my education by attending classes at the Dry Cleaning and Laundry Institute beginning in July.
The kiosk could automatically notify the customers when their orders were ready.A  If for some reason the customer left the orders in the kiosk, the system would automatically reload the orders on the conveyor and send a message to the customer to let them know that the orders were left in the kiosk. Happy Homemaker offers you two options, one is for every days use, and another for intense care for extremely dry hair.
18th1, but Europea€™s biggest open-air gallery of Paleolithic animals was reported just a month earlier in the CA?a Valley of northeastern Portugal2.
Regardless of how old the CA?aa€™s art turns out to be, it is unique in its richness above ground and astonishing in its illustrations of movement - with animals tossing their heads with the same stop-action dynamism found at Chauvet and only millennia later in photography and Futurist painting.
The Chauvet Cavea€™s prehistoric bestiary was proudly splashed across magazines around the world. Soon, the guard turned into a regular lad, wrote down the chief engineer's name and pointed beyond the ramp-laced moonscape - into the wilderness. In this walled garden, the conflicting passions of archaeologists had exploded around a campfire, set a president and prime minister against each other, and cowed the emissaries of UNESCO. Lizards skidded into fissures, a rusty blade wedged in a nook beside a sliver of cliff garden spoke of an emigrant who had never returned, but the walls seemed barren. Over and over again, the scene seemed set, the rock stretched, but its lines were just fractals.
I yanked myself up to a platform less than a step wide and a ten-foot long cow - an auroch! By holding the animal's form and movement vividly in mind, the maker had poured himself into its body and experienced a power beyond abstraction, beyond even tool-making, to thrill to the new power of passing through the looking-glass into another being. A stream, running pure as its springs over crisp cresses between alternating bull rushes and crags, almost made it to the river unaltered, but met it just below the threshold and sank into an estuary.
We had arrived at Pandemonium and would try to insinuate ourselves into an audience with the Chief Engineer himself. Only one was so spotless and redolent of perks, though, with its rolled lawn incongruous in the desert, that we knew right where to head among forking roads. I was hardly surprised when these well-fed pros passed the buck to the only gaunt and partially toothless fellow traveler among them.
So they decided to play it safe by dumping me on their pet nemesis, the organizationa€™s own archaeological a€?hirelinga€?, Dr. He could have added to his hoard of exclusive photos and measurements, imposed interpretations, and generally lorded it over his peers - for who could have naysayed him with his treasures locked a hundred meters deep in so many great watery safes?10 And to think that all the dam-builders' pet archaeologist and his accommodating superiors at the Portuguese Institute for Architectural and Archaeological Heritage (IPPAR)11 in Lisbon - to whom Rebanda had reported his discoveries at least twice12 - had had to do to pull off this economically patriotic (not to say mutually beneficial) stunt was keep their mouths shut!
After having suffered at the hands of his mentor, Professor Jorge, why had Rebanda put himself at the mercy of two similar academics and representatives of an international body to boot - Mila SimAµes de Abreu and her archaeologist husband, Ludwig Jaffe, who represented the International Federation of Rock Art Organizations (IFRAO)?
At least such nuisances would keep him from getting up to more mischief by turning up new discoveries. But, finally, a secretary answered my summons and let me into a vestibule empty except for a display of postcard-sized photographs of some of the engravings, and a cartoon caricaturing the scandal - which I reckoned had been knowingly posted to co-opt criticism. I couldn't quite make out the man's features through the crack, but it was obvious he was gushing recriminations - and no wonder: the entire archaeological profession had ganged up on the pariah.
We all knew I had crossed a threshold, but, after all, I had paid my dues, and in any case, I padded off to the foyer again.
Yet they'd prattled to the press that they had found the art a year ago, and then more like two years ago, and now, word had it, a€?onlya€? three years ago25 - when it was always somehow too late to stop the process leading up to construction, which had only started in September a€™94.26 The gall!
Instantly, I whipped out paper and scribbled the fastest copy of the main map that my hand could draw.
After SimAµes de Abreu and Jaffe had unleashed the scandal by revealing the conspiracy to flood Europea€™s richest assemblage of open-air Paleolithic art, the IPPAR and Portuguese Ministry of Culture had scrambled to get their own expert witness a€“ and, in a further twist, had asked UNESCO to recommend an expert to challenge the power companya€™s growing efforts to prove the art wasna€™t Paleolithic but recent27 a€“ in which case, the EDP seemed to think that the public would drop the subject as being the relatively recent work of peasants drawing their cows.
For all their heightened sensitivity to having CA?aa€™s fate evaluated by a foreigner, the Portuguese press viewed Clottes as a referee and expected a verdict.
Then, as fate would have it, Clottes was back in the headlines within the week, announcing drastic measures to protect Francea€™s new crown jewel, Chauvet. And as if anyone could even find new art during the two weeks a lake might be emptied (every hundred years) while everything was coated with algae and grime! Opposition editorialists had a field day with Clottesa€™ apparent hypocrisy and dismissiveness towards Portugal - and demonstrators flooded the streets. Two, because people are often driven to produce their greatest work and worst mistakes by similar drives.
Rebanda was even fooling himself on this score, I thought - after all, the Foz CA?a photographs would probably end up belonging to Portugala€™s own ministry or even the EDP. Scientists - like lawyers - ply an adversarial trade, but the chance to put Portugal into the archaeological heavens a€“ and to boost their own reputations with it - had given many researchers more ulterior motives than usual.
Personally, I couldn't see anybody bedding down for the night and traipsing out the next morning with people who had announced that they were going to expose him. In essence, my heart a€“ if not my mind - had taken his side for the moment; he was the underdog, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and I was concerned that he might even attempt suicide.
If I didn't mind coming back at 9 the next morning, he apologized, the approval should be there. But basically the dam was a streamlined machine without much need for local intervention or maintenance. My unequivocal certification of their global importance only made him uneasier, as he didn't know whether to feel flattered or upset. We peered into a dovecot, a squat white tower lined inside with empty compartments like a city after a plague. Suddenly, a deeply hammered auroch on the rock stood out boldly as a road sign - alerting us to an entire herd. The geology, erosion, & silica skins protecting engravings all seem similar on both slopes, so I theorize that this positioning is not simply a taphonomic illusion created by the disappearance of engravings on the southern slopes.
I wasn't expecting anything when I ambled down at dawn, but there it was: a big mound under the bank! From what I could tell, even his draftsmen had decided to take the day off 49, once they realized the coast was clear.
By God, I thought, if the flooders don't save them, I hope the townspeople storm the valley!
If the guards hadn't been under strict orders not to sell admissions, they'd have made a killing; but then any financial association with the art is anathema to the dammers: the next thing they knew, they'd have a revolt on their hands!
And like the first guard, when he realized that I had somehow gotten authorization despite my evident opposition to the reservoir, he let out his pent-up indignation - for we were insiders. As we passed the threshold between the deadened depths and virgin current with its billowing water-foliage, we had to skirt and climb over a sheer wall blocking the side-valleya€™s entrance. The intertwined couple, spanning the length of a single real horse, was still necking in Eden after twenty millennia. Rock Art and the CA?a Valley Archaeological Park: A case study in the preservation of Portugal's prehistoric parietal heritage. Although it is true that one must be extremely circumspect about doing so, such evidence often opens new perspectives that have more in common with the subsistence systems of ancient cultures than does our own, and the two authors showed considerable originality and courage in exploring it. 1994 - most Portuguese archaeologists with access to the CA?a sites now shun him as thoroughly as they do Clottes and Rebanda. 539, for a resolution, written in defense of CA?a, by Bednarik, in a book filled with vitriole against him).
These retractions confirmed that some of ZilhA?oa€™s criticisms of the direct dating attempts were well founded, but dona€™t necessarily reflect on other matters raised in his disputes with Bednarik and Jaffe. In the English sections, Jorge generously credits numerous associates and generations of Portuguese prehistorians by full name, while studiously avoiding any mention of Rebanda except where it is unavoidable, and then only with his last name between brackets. The second was to make casts of panels for a museum a€“ which may have damaged some panels. The book had been proposed by Morleya€™s visionary friend Buckminster Fuller back in the mid-1970s, in order to record a€?the friendship between two quite disparate personalities of the twen-tieth century, and the influence they had on each other in the course of their lives.a€? Morley, a man of letters if one ever lived, described his friend in 1938 as a€?an engineer, inventor, industrial designer, a very botanist of structure and materialsa€? and a€?a student of Trend,a€? and the experience of knowing each other was a bit like C. Leavitt as an a€?Holmesian aboriginea€? during the early years of that decade, and he appears on Morleya€™s mid-a€™30s membership list for the BSI (p.
It is the inferiority complex of the newly cultivated, the intellectual climbers, that gives them their passion for dressing up and going to public festivity. 430 of Irregular Crises of the Late a€™Forties, in a March 1950 letter of his to Doubledaya€™s Kenneth McCormick about Morleya€™s fears for his health. Smitha€”Morley remarking to Fuller in 1944 about having sent Smith (perhaps prophetically) a copy of The Martyrdom of Man, a€?the wonderful book so highly praised by Sherlock Holmes.a€? But even in his final years Morley went on writing poetry, his daughter noted. His vignettes are based a good deal on pre-war travel of his, from his home statea€™s and Canadaa€™s lake districts and wildernesses to sites in Europe, not only ones like London and Paris, but obscure ones as well both then and now. Ia€™m obliged for my language and all that my language implies, including Shakespeare and Dickens. Still, what sort of audience did he and it expect for a book about travel in a world convulsed by war? Smith looked up McLauchlin and the Amateur Mendicants on trips to General Motors headquarters in Detroit, and was greatly impressed, reporting to Christopher Morley in March 1947 that the AMS were a€?easily, under Russ McLauchlina€™s guidance, the most erudite of the Scions. The nature of young boys is largely unchanged, no doubt, but the sense of innocence at that time, where a€?the wara€? meant the three-month Spanish-American War, or even somebody elsea€™s Boer War, not the carnage of World War I or II, stirs a yearning in the readera€™s breast. Youthful ears overheard these discussions and the name of the detective grew familiar.a€? a€” a pattern doubtless replicated in many American homes then where early Irregulars were children. Watson, who enjoyed the incalculable advantage of being the great mana€™s friend and room-mate. Later he lived in Pittsburgh, where in the 1970s he mentored its Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Bliss evoked that earlier Baker Street Irregularity when giants in the earth became Irregulars, writing so much to edify and entertain everyone else in it. I was one of his beneficiaries in both ways, but it was his time and knowledge I appreciated most, working with him on his superlative contributions to Baker Street Miscellanea when I was one of its editors, and on an essay by him for my 1987 book The Quest for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Rufus Tucker (a€?The Greek Interpreter,a€? 1944), an economist who lived close by but worked in Manhattan at General Motors Overseas with Edgar W.
Randall (a€?The Golden Pince-Nez,a€? of Scribnera€™s Bookstore on Fifth Avenue) first attended the annual dinner in 1940, not 1941. Not a term I would use, though all the other fine things she says about him there and on the page following are accurate. The fact that by 1981 he could remark upon the swollen size of the BSI dinner, that it had reached a€?the maximum number of people but a minimum amount of fun,a€? made him not a curmudgeon, but a sober observer of an historical reality that neither Julian Wolff nor his successors have been prepared to address. These days the BSI prints books in runs of only 100 copies, a far cry from the 750 it once needed to print for my last three Archival History chronological volumes, all of them sold out today. He was soon joined at the helm of the Mendicants by attorney Robert Harris, and together they guided the sciona€™s activities with the rollicking blend of Baker Street nostalgia and encouragement for tongue-in-cheek scholarship that has somehow always effortlessly imposed itself on such gatherings. Russ invited me to the groupa€™s next meeting and asked if I could compose something with a Sherlockian connection to read on that occasion. I, for one, convey to Music my profound thanks for his masterful job of editing, a product of his dedication to the cause that motivates us all a€” keeping ever green the memory of Sherlock Holmes and Baker Street. Each and every one of these subsets is a source of data covering many, many subject areas, and the whole creates a rich canvas for readers. The tense and uncertain atmosphere of those days comes across with clarity, and is a good example of Lellenberga€™s sense of atmosphere in evoking BSI history unknown to today's Irregulars. And like many would-be actors who come to New York, he did a lot of other things as well to make ends meet, including turning to writing. One reason why his detective tales have always been for me the perfect laxative is that I usually read them when I should be doing something else.a€? Morley had read them all, from Footnera€™s first one published in 1918. At this time it had not been altered from its original state beyond what could be accomplished by sweeping and scrubbing. The members never tired of conducting visitors through the endless, empty rooms, running up and down the odd steps, and climbing the casual ladders while they pointed out the future library, billiard-room, the private dining-room, etc., etc. He limits himself for the most part to Manhattan Island, and goes about in his sleuthy fashion, inconspicuously conning and eavesdropping. Ia€™m currently preparing my long-overdue a€?sources and methodsa€? companion volume to my novel Baker Street Irregular, and felt forced to go back to an early section identifying and discussing the books about New York per se which informed my novel a€” three about the city itself (all but one published in the 1930s), and seven more about life there in the 1930s and a€™40s. With that, and New York, City of Cities (1937) by Hulbert Footner, a detective-story writer friend of Christopher Morleya€™s and a fellow member of the Three Hours for Lunch Club, the prospective Irregular novelist may be able to do without the eleven books above.
The Algonquin, despite manifold literary and theatrical associations, gets not a single word.


Smith had arrived to take over the labors of dinner-arranging, notice-mailing, and negotiations with waiters that Morley eschewed.
I heard that Bill had gone (suddenly, without long misery, as he would most have wished) and I carried onto the hearth the great oak stump I had chosen.
Given an assignment some six decades ago on postwar American exports to Europe, Sauvage interviewed a certain gracious senior official of overseas operations for General Motors at his office on Broadway at 57th Street. One such magazine, The Bookman, appeared with different content on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean.
Bret Harte represented the United States in the role of Consul to a couple of European cities. He not only wrote one of the best biographies of Sherlock Holmes in The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1933), but kept green the memory of the Master in his weekly a€?Books Alivea€? column for the Chicago Tribune. At the very end (before a most able index) there is a chronology of the Life and Times of Vincent Starrett, with dates and events in the world beyond Starrett as well as those in his own life. Bang purchased One Hour Koretizing.A  The good news is that none of the customersa€™ goods in either store were ruined.
Just look at these pics (“wrong and right”) of adorable celebrities and find something new for your style. While the paintings in the French cave, which became known as the Grotte Chauvet, often have engraved contours, the Portuguese menagerie may also have been painted, but, being outdoors, their pigments have usually weathered away. As shadows welled from the valley, we turned from the scarps and trundled downwards into the cleavage, till the road turned into a path to the water through a profusion of poppies. Finally, I discerned a flock ambling down through dry brush, then a shirt flashed a white dot, and we converged within hailing distance on opposite banks. Even ideal panels on either side of a fig tree bulging titanically from a small cave were barren. A stand of poplar trees crackled like Chinese New Year with small birds, abundant as leaves. It was a good thing we had his name, Lima Monteiro, because the Securitas guard on this side meant business.
Our compact car slid in among Mercedes and I stepped into glare, drawing cool stares from fleshy faces. My interlocutor explained that the Chief Engineer was powerless to help me, so he couldn't be bothered to give me an audience. Of course, the stories went, the honorable witnesses had refused to become accomplices and had immediately denounced the whole plot a€“ writing open letters to the Portuguese President, Vice President and Director of IPPAR - with carbon copies for the press.13 If only his employers had known that Rebanda was so naive!
She announced that it was no use disturbing the doctor, who I could see through a jarred door talking to someone over the phone with peevish vehemence. Finally, I suggested that she didn't need to keep me company while I waited for the good doctor to get off the phone. That's strange, I thought as I wandered off again, mulling over a mental photograph of the site distribution.
And here were others, even closer to the construction site, at "RA?go de Vide", which had been submerged by the same old dam! Still, she caught me; whereupon I went on elaborating it, asking questions, and then padded back to the foyer again to continue my vigil. After all, the archaeologists and reporters had allowed the Tagus petrogylphs to be drowned with hardly a whimper. Not only did the contrast with his actions in Portugal now smack of a double standard, but there was a piquant irony. With stakes this high, both parties unleashed their opinion-making machines, making hash of Clottesa€™ carefully weighed words as quickly as theya€™d vilified Rebanda. Clottesa€™ words may have been earnest, but with stakes this high and politicized they were about as reasonable as Pontius Pilatea€™s attempts to keep the peace. I prefer to think the latter, and that his only mistake was thinking that people on both sides were lucid and reflective enough to interpret his verdict correctly. In Rebanda's place, I'd have calmed down and let the traitors fall to sleep, but then I'd have snuck away - trekking fast through the dark, picking myself up when I fell, but getting out - bloody knees and all - and calling that alarm first!
Furthermore, I had no doubt - whatever pacts he'd struck - that he would make up for them if only approached constructively. After we'd faxed it, I was sorry to see him having to still recall and refax, as he nudged the request repeatedly through the unyielding bureaucracy. Sebastian and I scrambled and tacked among the carious cliffs, till there was nothing left but rock overhanging the water itself. But a huge horse, leaning over the depths, was both more graceful and cryptic, for someone had wedged a rusty horseshoe into a crack between its hooves.
No sooner had I chipped the thin device and steadily shoved each curve straight, than the hook slipped smoothly free. Only Rebanda's long-suffering secretary had to keep her post and occupied herself by taking up the relay of calling and faxing. These red and gray devices were not only customized to match the guards' uniforms, but showed off the latest in high-tech materials and molding.
As we wound our way down towards the reservoir among towering red cliffs, he took quiet pride in pointing out the hidden elements of scattered engravings. But then Piscos Brook ran between trees, pastures and cane-groves, with cliffs full of shelters and stone panels at each bend.
La Pintura, The Official Newsletter of the American Rock Art Research Association (Member of IFRAO) Volume 21, Number 3, Winter. In the same book, which Jorge compiled to record the campaign he was spear-heading to save CA?a a€“ a laudatory effort, if there ever was one, that made Jorge synonymous with yet another of Rebandaa€™s finds - Bednarik is repeatedly dismissed as a a€?charlatana€? (pp.
Jaffe accused the trio, who had taken over responsibility for the archaeological resources of the valley, of endangering art panels and refusing to allow qualified foreign researchers or even Dr. Whatever the case may be, the problem of rock art conservation is still as far from resolution in Portugal as it is in most other places in the world. But it sheds some new light on Morleya€™s composition of Sherlock Holmesa€™s Prayer in 1944, which Fuller was one of the first to see, and provides interesting insights into Morleya€™s relationship with people swept into the early BSIa€™s orbit, like Don Marquis in the 1930s and Morleya€™s secretary Elizabeth Winspear at 46W47 in the 1940s, until she went off to war.
He was not a great nor even a very good poet, but he loved doing it, and despite his first strokea€™s handicap a€?he was still able to write enough poems to complete a final small collection called Gentlemena€™s Relish (1955).a€? One poem, first published in the Saturday Review of Literature on October 2, 1954, was a€?Elegy to a Railroad Station,a€? a tribute by an ageing man who still considered himself a Main Line Boy, to the Broad Street Station of his Philadelphia childhood that had been razed in 1953. I suspect that he and I are the only Baker Street Irregulars whoa€™ve ever been to TromsA?, Norway, above the Arctic Circle. Ia€™m obliged to England for the law under which I live, for the English common law, which was developed through many centuries, is the law of America today, although many heedless Americans do not realize it. He died in 1988, one of the BSIa€™s great personalities and scholars a€” the a€?Prince of the Realma€? of this booka€™s title, taken from my obituary for him in the Baker Street Journal at the time. He made a strong impression upon Smith and Morley to be included so soon in the first crop of Titular Investitures, and repaid their confidence in him through the decades that followed as one of the BSIa€™s leading collectors and scholars, writing for the Baker Street Journal, Baker Street Miscellanea, and his own annual, eagerly awaited, Baker Street Christmas Stockings which have been collected in book form.
He was a gentleman and scholar in the best sense of that expression, and a model contributor to the Writings About the Writings. For example, Peter Blau in his foreword refers to it containing the landmark talk that Bliss gave at the 1976 BSI dinner about BSI a€?poetess laureatea€? Helene Yuhasova, but it is not present. While Park Avenue north of Grand Central was fashionable, the Murray Hill Hotel was south of it. But this book has made it into a second printing, which shows people still care about the BSIa€™s history.
It was during this rebirth of the society, beginning in 1975, that Tom Voss joined the group.
Some travel-adventure books about Canada did not make a noticeable mark, so he turned to mysteries next, more successfully this time. But Morley had read it even earlier, he bragged: a€?I read it in MS, way back about 1916, when I was contact man for Bill at his publishers. No mere scrubbing could really clean up a place in which the grime of decades of iron-founding was ingrained.
He is in a sense a stool pigeon between the mystery (New York itself) and the inquisitive reader.
Footner, like every other whose heart is capable of stir, does not see only our great ladya€™s moods of cockeyed comedy and exhibitionism. Morley may have been too darned busy enjoying New York instead; and tracking down the answers to the a€?little examination paper on Mr. They have brought this book close to the form its author would have achieved had he been vouchsafed the time to do so.
The niceties of selling vehicles in Europe took ten minutes; the next two hours were devoted to Sherlock Holmes.
Individual Foreign Service officers assisted Fry at the risk of their careers, just as, at sea, the U.S.
Barrie, Jack London, Harding Davis, Anna Katherine Green, as well as his predecessors in Poe, Gaboriau, and Vidocq. As poor as any is a€?The Stolen Cigar Case,a€? in which Sherlock Holmes as Hemlock Jones deduces a condition of affairs which puts an end to his long association with Watson. 179, Starrett relates an anecdote at the Cliff Dwellersa€™ Club in Chicago which involved Arnold Bennett and Karl Edwin Harriman. Not every column mentioned Sherlock Holmes, but just as King Charlesa€™ head kept popping up in the manuscript Mr. Interestingly, the very first discusses the manuscript of a€?The Case of the Man Who Was Wanted,a€? suspected at that time to be an actual undiscovered Sherlock Holmes story written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Whenever a person or event might not be understood by todaya€™s reader, editor Murdock has inserted a footnote of explanation.
It begins almost a decade before Starretta€™s birth with the birth of Carl Sandburg, another noted Chicago literary figure and friend of Starretta€™s whose birthday is also that of Sherlock Holmes, January 6.
Hatch of Minneapolis, who supplied Starrett with some statistics regarding the detective story. Ia€™m obliged to EnglandA  for the law under which I live, for the English common law, which was developed through many centuries, is the law of America today, although many heedless Americans do not realize it. All that remains, where jagged outcroppings of schist jut from brushy slopes - exposing terminal facets perfect for murals - are hauntingly sinuous outlines of deer, horses, ibexes, and wild cattle called aurochs. The first flurry of press articles had mentioned that many of the engravings were already submerged by the cofferdam holding the river back for the more monstrous wall rising downstream from it. I sent greetings and the shepherd expostulated and gestured animatedly upstream towards towering slabs. For me, all of mankind's later accomplishments, all our later experience of good and evil only become possible after such art. The irrelevant exchange had sparked sympathy as we both waited - and waited, in similar irrelevance to someone too consumed to give us heed.
I would have to go to Lisbon, and no, it wouldn't do any good for him to fax; he didn't have an iota of authority. Despite all the insinuations about Rebanda and IPPAR, they were actually the first to try blocking the philistines with the clout of an institution as important as UNESCO. About thirty years before, Francea€™s equivalent to the EDP had taken the entire Ardeche Gorge, where the Chauvet Cave had just been found, from its entrance at Sauze to a rainbow-huge, natural arch - Vallon Pont da€™Arc, next to Chauvet - by eminent domain, to build a dam. These conscientious people know that theya€™re barely tolerated by the forces of Mammon - scraping crumbs from the tables of vast enterprises armed with dynamite and bulldozers - and make compacts all the time with them, telling themselves, for instance, that the alluvial strata that cement plants exploit are always too tumbled to contain intact Acheulian hearths. If only he'd announced the discovery, co-opted his employers, and splashed masterpieces across magazine covers while the art's existence was still fresh, he might have won honor, fame, a very small fortune (and maybe even kept his job). Within weeks, local academics had begun signing their names to Rebandaa€™s discoveries, tracings, and interpretations while forgetting to cite him. I'd have been the one to announce the existence of the largest gathering of open-air Paleolithic engravings in Europe to the world.
Slate slabs, thoughtfully laid into a wall as steps, led down through a canopy of fig trees into a cavernous wallow between cliffs. I woke Sebastian in time to see the beast lumber over the bank and glide away, and then it was high time we checked out our other line at the doctor's office. Noon passed as we still waited together like an old couple, talking about the doctor's misery, Australian rock art, translations; whatever. The guards stiffened as Sebastian and I had the gumption to breach a forbidden zone and stride blithely forward. There were so many warblers piping and whistling, there must have been a dozen species with overlapping territories. Botha€? - Baptista and Gomes a€“ a€?were closely involved in the rationale to submerge the rock art (to 'protect it from vandals'); in fact, on 8 November Baptista spoke of how sedimentation behind dams should protect rock arta€? - my italics. After our departure, Bednarik and three other researchers (Alan Watchman from Canada, plus Fred Phillips and Ronald Dorn from the USA), who believed that they had found ways to date rock art directly, studied some of the CA?aa€™s engravings during separate visits.
1995 that was led by Mounir Bouchenaki, the IPPAR formed a scientific committee consisting of Antonio BeltrA?n, Emmanuel Anati and Jean Clottes, who came back for a second round. Snowa€™s The Two Cultures coming together and exploding like the fissile spheres of an atom bomb.
The non-BSI journalist Henry Morton Robinson averred, in a December 4, 1943, Saturday Review of Literature article (which the BSI did not regard highly; it appears as ch. There are welcome references to Christ Cellaa€™s and Billy the Oysterman in Morleya€™s literary and social life, and to the Saturday Review of Literature where the BSI presented itself to the world.
EG the Phi Beta Kappa campaign for Defense (of Intellectual Freedom!) They have sent me a booklet: a€?Phi Beta Kappa Fortifies Its Sector in the Defense of the Humanitiesa€™ etc. Ia€™m obliged to England for about 85 per cent of the social conventions which make community living a pleasant thing. But the answera€™s in the reading of it: it was written and published for civilized men and women waiting and working for that war to end, with democracy victorious.
205, a€?received and transmitted such masterworks from and to the effete of the East, and commonfolk like ourselves elsewhere. Yet he was a man of the humanities too, and not of Sherlock Holmes and Conan Doyle alone: Japanese art as well, with a collection of prints that are at Pittsburgha€™s Carnegie Mellon Museum today. By the 1980s he was the chief representative of the BSIa€™s Murray Hill Hotel era and its values, but he was never a relic himselfa€”he was instead someone very much engaged with the present.
Sonia also does an excellent job on Bliss as a collector, and how he made his collection work for him, and thereby for the rest of us as well.
While vastly respected by Julian Wolff, our Commissionaire from 1961 through most of the a€™80s, I dona€™t know of him ever involving Bliss significantly in the running of the BSI.
Of some three dozen mystery novels, his final one, Orchids to Murder, was published by Harper & Brothers in 1945, following Footnera€™s death from a heart attack the previous November 25th. He was the first author professionally assigned to me when I started work at Doubledaya€™s, in 1913. Somebody had presented the Foundry with a set of elaborately carved and lacquered Chinese Chippendale for the dining-room. On racial issues, he is enlightened for his era, respectful of New Yorka€™s black community, and fascinated by Harlem and its society. In the poeta€™s truest vein is his description of the lights at dusk seen from the RCA building. Where is the extra show-window that rises from the pavement at night to fill the front doorway of the store? Navy actively cooperated with the Forces FranA§aises Navales Libres (Free French Naval Forces) before Pearl Harbor, in direct disobedience of official policy. Not that I would not love to leisurely flip through all of the four decades of The Bookman, but the essence of this volume is that Dahlinger and Klinger have already extracted the full contributions, and reorganized them chronologically and by genre (Chronicle and Comment, Letters to the Editor, Articles, Pastiches and Parodies, and Reviews), giving a contemporary flow to each section.
A lot of this material is familiar to in-depth students of the subject, but it is a quick, rewarding refresher course in the subject matter, with learned annotations, but with occasional nuggets that pop to the surface. One night, after a night of partying, Harte returned home to discover that he had lost his cigarette case. I would swear that elsewhere (in Born in a Bookshop?) the same anecdote is told involving Opie Read and Vincent Starrett. Steve Doyle and his Gasogene Press colleagues are to be applauded for producing this project.
Dick was writing in David Copperfield, the name of Sherlock Holmes would surface in Starretta€™s columns without warning. The last column completely devoted to Sherlock Holmes is a review of Pierre Nordona€™s Conan Doyle: A Biography.
In addition, there is a lengthy section at the end of biographical sketches (a€?Personaliaa€?) of Sherlockians and others whom Starrett mentions in his columns.
Unfortunately, there is no footnote or entry under a€?Personaliaa€? to explain just who Talbot C.
And so, forgive me, but in comparison to these ancient windows, cathedrals seem to have anti-climatic and overwrought power.
Except for the absence now of bigger species, this was how Solutreans had experienced the world - with whistling, mooing, barking, roaring and trumpeting not just on the Serengeti, but to the frozen north! So much will go unrecorded because of all this fuss.a€? a€“ So, Rebanda is resigned to the inevitability of the flooding, I thought.
If the dam had been built, a dozen known art caves would have been flooded or affected by rising water tables. So rather than condemn Clottes, perhaps the Portuguese should simply admit his diplomacy opened the debate, even if one might wish that hea€™d been a crusader. From Chauveta€™s pinnacle, its gatekeeper was probably right to dismiss the scratchings, which I too thought could have been the kneading of bears, but the contrast between the levels of encouragement was striking. Although they granted him the discovery of Hella€™s Canyon (in footnotes), other sites that Rebanda had already noted were soon claimed by competitors as Rebanda was effectively silenced.
And Vitor and his wife, Susanaa€? - was it my imagination or did her name stick in his craw?
Their stingy hypocrisy and philistinism revolted me: they wouldn't spend a penny on protecting such discoveries, but they'd drown the world up to its headwaters to keep driving Mercedes. Goldfinches sparked into the air, a crested hoopoo flashed orange and black, and the shaggy canes were a tumult of avian chatter. Jaffe was also the IFRAO representative of the SocietA  Cooperativa Archaeologica, Le Orme della€™Uomo, Italy (Bednarik 1994). But not before signing controversial non-disclosure agreements with the EDP, which was hoping that their techniques would yield dates so recent that they could be used to ridicule stylistic daters who had identified the engravings as Paleolithic (Baptista & Fernandes 2007, p. 13 in a€™Thirties) that a€?Buckminster Fuller, perpetrator of the Dymaxion car, hired a Central Park hansom and clopped to the [1934 BSI] dinner as Dr.
And this booka€™s discussion of Morleya€™s changing mood postwara€”noting that by 1947 he a€?was becoming more withdrawn and disinclined to company unless he himself had arranged the meetinga€?a€”helps explain the BSIa€™s existential crisis of 1947-48 examined in detail in Irregular Crises of the Late a€™Forties. Ia€™m obliged to England for the fine spirit which generally animates the whole diverse activity of sports. If an occasional paper looked particularly choice, one might even send a copy to the Mother Church in New York, but I recall no acknowledgment or reply.
2 in my Irregular Crises of the Late a€™Forties.) But Soniaa€™s biography is nonetheless the best and most valuable account we are likely to have of Bliss Austina€™s life, and what made him the man and outstanding Baker Street Irregular he was. We have important collectors today, but none of them are doing what Bliss did with his collection, so one hopes this book will lead to more from the same.
50-51, of the BSIa€™s existential crisis of 1947-48 is so abbreviated that readers should consult the detailed account in Irregular Crises of the Late a€™Forties in order to understand fully what was going on. Russ liked it and recommended that I send it to Edgar Smith, who was then editing the Baker Street Journal. We hadna€™t been doing too well with his early novels of the Canadian Northwest, and Bill wanted to develop a new vein. Walls and rafters were covered by innumerable coats of whitewash which flaked down like snow; and the windows bore a sulphurous patina that had so far refused to yield to soapsuds. This was arranged at the rear of the wide gallery upstairs, partly enclosed by handsome screens that matched the furniture; and in the little room thus formed a small company was gathered for the usual midday rites. They were of great importance to their author, for they gave him a chance to express certain stoic observations on the human comedy he had watched unflinchingly.a€? After Footner resettled in Marylanda€™s Eastern Shore countryside, he wrote nonfiction books about it as well.
He points out the positive effects of Robert Mosesa€™ redesign of the citya€™s layout, but also shows his readers the lasting negative effects of Prohibition and Depression. The effect was akin to my first visit to New York at age eight with my parents, and the overpowering Circle Line boat trip we took around the island: I still have the guidebook from it.
The nugget within the nugget is that Doyle refused to be engaged upon the project despite an essentially guaranteed advance payment of half a million dollars! If you have a blond hair, remember that a honey blonde color with sunny highlights brightens up the face and adds dimension.
Intermittent splashes smacked echoes off the walls, a frog croaked and some beast keened a cry we had never heard. When I asked if they could intercede on our behalf, she said one had to apply in person, in Lisbon, and have connections. In fact, paw prints indicated that we had missed cornering another feral dog or fox in its lair.
Surgically, it was a nightmare: I'd have to pry its head out, keep its neck extended, wedge open its powerful beak and finally thrust the treble barbs down its throat, so as to carefully extract their burr, without snagging them again! Finally, they agreed that one of them would walk parallel to us, down the fence-line, to let us in the distant gate.
At our feet, frogs skipped like pebbles and painted turtles rowed earnestly in tangled water blossoms - all for the taking. Unless you and I and all of us together add our voices to those of the Portuguese citizenry trekking down for a last look, and reclaim what is OURS!
The story of the denunciation is from Bednarik (1994) and Simons in the New York Times (1994). Watson.a€? No data corroborating this assertion is known to exist, or that Fuller even attended that dinner (or any other BSI dinner as far as I recall). He never went into the Knothole [his writing cabin at home] again, nor would he allow anyone else to sort his papers.a€? After a third stroke in 1955 a€?he required round-the-clock nursing care and remained bedridden for the rest of his life,a€? which came to an end on March 28, 1957.
And Ia€™m obliged to England for at least nine-tenths of the books which Ia€™ve ever read in all my life. You are now, yourself, at liberty to write that paper on the Scandal, and I shall look forward to it.
It soon appeared in the BSJ, and as if by magic a new world of bonhomie was opened to me, an association that has lasted a lifetime. When a second hiatus occurred, the accumulated papers comprising the Mendicantsa€™ archives that had been passed to Voss went into storage. Nevertheless, the members of the Three-Hours-for-Lunch Club loved their unconventional clubhouse. Christopher Morley, who modestly describes himself as steward in perpetuum to the Three Hours for Lunch Club, but is really the whole works. And in 1937, the same year that four of his mystery novels came out, he published another quite different book entirely: a€?a testament of his love of New York City,a€? Morley called it a€” New York, City of Cities. Fry, who ended his life uncelebrated, suffering from alcoholism and making a poor living teaching Greek and Latin to young boys at a New England prep school, had been more than heroic, rescuing upwards of 2,000 persons, until State had Vichy throw him out of France. He contributed quizzes to Ellery Queena€™s Mystery Magazine in the 1940s and compiled an extensive bibliography of writers of detective fiction that exists in at least two typewritten copies. Even the Chauvet Cave, which was unknown, might have been threatened by the changing water table!
Unfortunately, Bednarik, who is one of the worlda€™s most encyclopedically informed, accomplished, and bold prehistorians, walked right into the trap. Jorgea€™s utter dismissal of Bednarik was clearly motivated by the lattera€™s implicit condemnation of the way that Jorge had appropriated Rebandaa€™s earlier discovery at Mazouco, instigating Rebandaa€™s secrecy that was one component of the CA?a a€?cover-upa€? (Bednarik 1994, p.
When we became acquainted with Vincent Starrett after he published The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes in late 1933, we found him a more gracious point of exchange. Mike Whelan, the current Wiggins, uses that term, a€?for the young Irregulars of the a€™60s and a€™70s,a€? on pp. Prominent among these documents was an exhaustive record of the doings of the society that had been brought together by Mendicant Raymond Donovan, who had joined in 1948. As I have written elsewhere, Julian was the master of the one-liner, and the consummate detector of humbug and pretense. Van Allen Bradley (author of Gold in Your Attic), offered to sell me that original autograph letter. Later, Bednarik spear-headed another campaign to save a Portuguese rock-art assemblage from inundation a€“ this time behind a dam in the Guadiana Valley - and noted that a€?None of this helps the rock art of the Guadiana, condemned to inundation under billions of tonnes of lake sediment as the reservoir silts up over the next 70 yearsa€? a€“ again, my italics.
Fate dictated that the file should eventually end up in the hands of Music, who joined the group in 2001.
Some of the most disturbing and tantalizing things in his testament are unfinished scraps of overheard conversation. Sadly I could not afford the approximately $150 he asked for it, and it went to someone else. Do you think I'm such a fool as to invite the man who deprived me of the credit for my first discovery, to come see my greatest wonders if it wasn't because I needed all the allies I could get; if it wasn't because I even needed the universities to help save them. Ironically, the mandarin in Porto would come out smelling like roses for his campaign while the roles of several well-meaning prehistorians, if I may insist upon the word, were simplified so as to make them better scapegoats. With his opulence of physique and temperament he seems to belong to a younger age than ours.
First, because his dating system, which was based on determining the degree of micro-erosion undergone by a rock face, had been developed in Australia, where climate and geological conditions are different from Portugala€™s.
His heartiness, his nimble play with words, his penchant for the theater, all stamp him as a belated Elizabethan.
Rynex Technologies did announce an association with Christeynsa€™ detergents to develop and distribute chemicals for their re-introduced solvent. This odd statement flies in the face of Bednarika€™s consistent defense of both the CA?aa€™s art and other assemblages, suggesting that it was a ploy to get the EDP to allow them to test their methods. Even though both men concluded that their observations proved that the art was no older than the Neolithic, Bednarik did not repeat the notion, when announcing his results, that a relatively recent vintage diminished the arta€™s importance or the need to protect it a€“ quite the contrary.



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Comments

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    03.09.2013

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    03.09.2013

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