Nine months ago I started a series called "Where the Streets Have Fun Names." Las Vegas is full of small housing developments, complete with their own creatively named courts and avenues, and I thought it would be fun to share screencaps of these quirky neighborhoods from Google Maps.
This is the third such post. At this rate, expect a new one in about 4.5 months.
Baseball season is in full [insert pun here], and I felt this area of town was appropriate. While the Las Vegas 51s are part of the Dodgers farm system, this set of streets makes a better tribute to the team from Brooklyn, now in its 50th year in Los Angeles. Here's the alphabetical breakdown.
Campanella Street: Catcher Roy Campanella played his entire major league career (1948-1957) in Brooklyn. Half-black, he was originally barred from playing major league baseball, but was part of the Dodgers' effort to break the color barrier. He and Don Newcombe (see below) helped make history within the Dodgers farm team in Nashua, New Hampshire; in 1946, it became the first pro baseball team of the 20th century to integrate its lineup. He was called up to the majors the season after Jackie Robinson.
Cominskey Street: I see two problems here. First, the guy's name was Charles Comiskey, with no N. Second, he is best known as owner of the Chicago White Sox (1901-1931) and namesake of its famous ballpark (1910-1990). Where's the Dodger connection?
Doggett Avenue: Jerry Doggett voiced radio broadcasts for Dodger games from 1956-1987, working alongside the legendary Vin Scully. Any relation to The X-Files characters Dana Scully and John Doggett is NOT coincidental; show creator Chris Carter is a Dodger fan. (And in case you're wondering, pitcher Mark Mulder has only played for Oakland and St. Louis.)
Dressen Avenue: Chuck Dressen managed the Dodgers from 1951-1953. He was on the losing end of the Shot Heard 'Round the World, by which the Giants miraculously won the National League pennant.
Erskine Avenue: Carl Erskine was another Dodgers lifer (1948-1959) who added to the annals of baseball literature in 2004 with his first-person account of the team's glory days.
Hodges Avenue: Gil Hodges, originally a catcher, was moved to first base to accommodate the superior play of Roy Campanella (above). He was a Dodger from 1947-1961. Wikipedia claims he had his best seasons when the Dodgers did not win the pennant, but was less solid when they did. This inverse relationship is described as one of the reasons he is not in the Hall of Fame.
Labine Street: Pitcher Clem Labine spelled relief for the Dodgers (1950-1960) and set a franchise record for career games pitched, with 425.
Newcombe Street: Don Newcombe pitched for the Dodgers starting in 1949, and still serves the organization at the administrative level. He joined Roy Campanella (above) and Jackie Robinson in breaking baseball's color barrier; they, along with Larry Doby of the Cleveland Indians, were the first black players named to the All-Star team.
Shea Street: Like Charles Comiskey (above), William Shea has a stadium named after him but is of no relation to the Dodgers. Though he did bring National League baseball back to NYC, 5 years after the Dodgers and Giants moved to California.
Yeager Avenue: Steve Yeager played for the Dodgers at least a generation later than anyone else here, from 1972-1985. He's also the nephew of test pilot Chuck Yeager.
Across the street is another subdivision that contains mostly beachy names like Desert Shale and Coral Rainbow, but has a small section of roads named for comparatively newer Dodger names: Cedeno, DeShields, Hernandez, Nomo, and Tapani.
Possibly a recurring feature here at Brevity. I was referred to this quiz by Matthew Baldwin, in which he takes 50 songs and rearranges their lyrics... in alphabetical order. He's removed all capitalization and the repeated use of any word. After all that, it's amazing how short (and similar to one another) the songs look.
Some people may be able to internalize a collection of words and visualize the song, but for the rest of us, it helps to look for titles ("yesterday"), uncommon words/names (like "scaramouche") or rhyming words ("higher" and "pyre") to figure them out.
Once you waste a couple of hours there, feel free to try my contributions below. It helps that each is wordy and includes at least one uncommon word. 1.
a again ahead and are barely battle battles beat between build but car catch causing clearing come comes counting cup deluge don't door dream drum end ever feeling freedom get heart hey hole i'm in is it's know let liberation lost many me my never no now of only over page paper possessions proof relief right road roof see shadows steps suspicion t.v. tales the them there there's they to today towing traveling try turn us walking wall war waste we when while win with within without won't world you you'll you're your
2.
a ability agility and are away be been better blessed blood bob born brother brow bucket but by can't 'cause chug-a-lug come confide continue cough dance dancin' daughter deliver distress do don't down drink everybody excess feelin' feeling fertility for free from get give giver gone gonna good goodness got greedy he heart hell her his hoosegow how hug i i'm i've if in is it juice kaiser keep kingpin know less let life like little long love lovin' low lucky mama marley material me miser mobility mom more my never no now of off on or papa pauper people piggies poet powwow prophet put realize receive reeling right river rock say scrub sea see she shiver smart stop swimmin' talk taught tell than the then there's time times to unimpressed up upriser walkin' wanna want warm water what when wisely wiser with wither won't yes you you'll you've young your
3.
a across all an and are as at be better black blessed blows boat built bury but by came church city cold come congregations could crazy crows crumbled did died dying earth edge empire endlessly exists eye falling fat father ferry final flapping flowed fog for found from fussing garrison geese get go gods good had having he hear here him home horses house how i i’d if in inherit is it jesus laughing learn left light like lived looked make man men murder my needle never night northern not october of offer old on one only our out place play poor prayed prayers priestly priests rite river romans round sad saw sea seagulls serve shall shire silent sodium sound spoken stone stones sun swear take teach teachers tear temple than that the their then these they this ‘til time to today told tonight tower town two up us used walking wall was way were what where which wind winter's words workmen world worth youngGuess the song titles in the comments.
UPDATE! Quinn the Brain used her, uh, brain to solve all three. So avoid the comments if you'd like to solve them yourself. Then, if you're done and hungering for more, I'd recommend clicking over to this forum thread I started to see if other members post some more.
Las Vegas culture, such as it is, creates an events checklist for the semi-ambitious resident.
Cirque du Soleil show? Check. (Mystere, O, and Zumanity.)
Speedway racing? Check. (NASCAR, still driving around in circles.)
Dinner-based production? Check. (Tony and Tina's Italian Wedding.)
Brush with D-list celebrity? Check. (Stupid Carrot Top.)
Hoops? Check. (UNLV vs. San Diego State, Minnesota, and 'Zona.)
Stage musical? Check. (Mamma Mia! and Avenue Q.)
Impersonator? Check. (Danny Gans and Trent Carlini.)
Red carpet movie premiere? Check. (88 Minutes earlier this year.)
Magic show? Check. (Lance Burton, Rick Thomas, and Brett Daniels.)
TV taping? Check. (NBC's America's Got Talent, just last week.)
Until Friday night, I'd never attended a boxing event. The sweet science has a long and storied history with the city of Las Vegas, but while fights aren't the high-priced attraction they used to be, there's still a place here for men determined to beat each other senseless.
The site was Cox Pavilion, just off UNLV's campus. Scheduled were a series of matches that were part of ESPN's Friday Night Fights. The undercard bouts were filled with comparatively young and hungry fighters, but the main event was the arrival of former heavyweight champion Chris Byrd, who slimmed down 2 weight classes over the past six months (from 211 to 175 pounds) to fight as a light heavyweight before he retires next year. I knew nothing about his opponent, Shaun George, but noticed that he looked a lot younger. (George is 30; Byrd 37.)
Opportunity appeared in the form of floor seats on the 4th row, just spitting distance from ringside. (Fortunately, no one on the canvas spit in our direction to prove this point.) We were in good company, surrounded by Byrd's friends and family members. Also present and seated two rows in front of us was ultimate fighter Randy Couture, who I didn't recognize but was very gracious in providing autographs and photo ops to fans and gawkers. (He was there just to have a good time, which is all you can ask for in a celebrity. Also, while casually dressed, he wears couture.)
A view from my camera phone. While the arena was far from packed, it was remarkable how quiet the match was. There were a few vocal fans who offered their coaching opinions, but you could still hear the pugilists breathe up there. Before the match I thought of things to yell (like "Eye of the tiger, baby" and "Sweep the leg") but abandoned them for fear of being, well, heard. So I applauded politely, and saved my loudest cheers for the Round 4 girl.
Both men got their share of punches, but you could tell that George had more energy and was tallying up the points on the scorecard. Byrd showed some fire toward the end, but a series of devastating punches floored him. He got up, but George kept at it, and his last punch left Byrd on the ropes, facing us. We saw what the referee saw: the former champ's eyes rolling, unable to focus on the man in front of him. TKO. Here's the ESPN recap.
So, boxing? Check. And I wouldn't mind checking it again.
[Final note: if you plan on visiting Las Vegas and would like to know more about any of the shows, venues, or events described in this post, let me know. Generally, I don't review local attractions, but I'll try to give you an idea as to what to expect.]
The summer movie season is upon us, and you can break down the cinematic offerings into four categories:
1. Big-budget successes (often called "blockbusters")
2. Big-budget failures ("bombs" or "international blockbusters")
3. Low-budget successes (also known as "sleepers")
4. Low-budget nonstarters (maybe "future DVD sleepers")
Earlier this week I saw an advanced screening of Son of Rambow, a British film that may or may not become a sleeper. It's low on budget but high on concept: in the year 1982, schoolboy Will Proudfoot has grown up without a father and with the strict guidelines of the Plymouth Brethren movement. Even without exposure to television, music, and other forms of entertainment, he manages to hide an overactive and illustrative imagination. A chance meeting with Lee Carter, a school thief and bully whose own parents are absent, leads to a viewing of a pirated copy of First Blood (then in theaters).
With his first worldly exposure being the original adventures of Rambo, the boy's mind is warped and in visual overdrive. He concocts a story about being the son of "Rambow" -- the spelling isn't explained, but I have a feeling that the filmmakers didn't want to get sued* -- who has to rescue his imprisoned father from evil forces. Lee, interested in entering a youth filmmaking competition sponsored by the BBC, borrows his brother's videocamera and makes Will both protagonist and stuntman.
As the stunts get more outlandish, they catch the attention of a bizarre French exchange student and his local disciples. As the moviemaking crew expands, the sets and story get more elaborate but the boys' friendship gets more strained. And all the while Will tries to hide his secret life from his deeply religious community.
I'm not sure why the audience was full of families, because I suspect the younger children were bored. The film doesn't try to be accessible to American audiences, which I suppose is part of its charm, but it's really a movie designed for critics to love. It's cute and clever in places, and there's enough of a payoff to call it a crowd-pleaser eventually, but many viewers will have lost their patience before then. Go see it only if you're in the mood for something offbeat.
* The filmmakers later received Sylvester Stallone's blessing.
Woody Allen, still the world's creepiest celebrity stepfather, has a new movie entitled Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Find a surprisingly amateurish trailer here. I have two thoughts...
First: in a cast that includes Scarlett Johansson, Javier Bardem, Patricia Clarkson, and Penélope Cruz, I'm most excited to see Rebecca Hall. She played the charming brunette in Starter for 10, probably the best movie ever set in the world of 1980s British college quiz bowls. (Hmm, "excited" seems like a strong word, seeing as how I'm talking about a Woody Allen movie. Rephrase: I am not averse to seeing this, mostly because of Rebecca Hall.)
Second: the title "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" sounds like some exotic Euro-name but is far more mundane: it's about Vicky (Hall) and Cristina (Johannson) and their trip to Barcelona. Either the director has given up, or he's onto something. What if more movie titles followed the format "Protagonist protagonist setting"? Below are ten attempts to re-title famous movies; each is solvable, though tougher than, say, "Roxie Velma Chicago." Try to identify them in the comments. And feel free to create your own.
1. Norma Joe Hollywood
2. Tatiana Paul Kigali
3. Alfred Robert London
4. Rose Jack Atlantic
5. Joe Irving Rome
6. Billy Madolyn Boston
7. Colette Remy Paris
8. Red Andy Maine
9. Malcolm Cole Philadelphia
10. Daphne Sugar Miami
For part of the Mother's Day festivities, we returned to the Planet Hollywood Hotel and Casino, this time to attend a taping of the NBC summer series America's Got Talent. At first we considered any combination of picnics, art walks, or community festivals to mark the day, but in the end we could not deny the sheer marquee power of host Jerry Springer and judges David Hasselhoff, Sharon Osbourne, and Piers Morgan.
We had good (free) seats in the auditorium right next to the main cameras, which was ideal: we were close enough for a great view, but still hidden under the cameras. (Many have the desire to be captured on television; I am not one of those people.)
Before anyone famous showed up, the production crew filmed the audience doing things like standing ovations, seated applause, concerted booing, and the ever-usable collective shock and anger. Presumably, they'll add these moments where appropriate during the editing process. But it confirmed what I've long believed about television: it's all fake.
[Dramatic aside: After all that phony audience interaction, I became nauseous. I looked right and left, searching for ANYTHING that seemed real. And there he was, God's gift to Germany: David Hasselhoff. Thank you, Herr Hair.]
The judges ran down the aisle to their seats amidst timely applause, and the show began. After a few opening remarks in which he reminds us that he's not talented, Jerry Springer tries to invoke an anything-can-happen atmosphere, and reports that last season's winner has a recurring gig at the Las Vegas Hilton. So it's appropriate that the showrunners (including exec producer Simon Cowell, who didn't appear) wanted the competition here.
We witnessed about 16 acts perform, and some were clearly there for the sake of television. We were coached by the warmup guy, a Lewis Black wannabe, to chant "Off! Off! Off!" when we desired a performer to stop. (To me, this is a poor word choice. We were already cheering on Mr. Knight Rider with "Hoff! Hoff! Hoff!" so anything similar just made things confusing.)
Frequently I felt the need to act upon my wiseass tendencies in this venue. For example, when a mother/daughter pair of whistlers (they performed "Climb Every Mountain") interacted with the judges, the daughter -- who said she was about 40 -- started getting sassy. She mentioned to David Hasselhoff that she used to keep a life-size poster of him on her bedroom wall. "So did he," I yelled as a reply. I doubt he heard that, and I'm sure the adjacent cameras cut out the ambient noise, but at least I entertained those around me.
I met my sarcasm Kryptonite when a U.S. Army serviceman came on stage wearing fatigues and a guitar, and mentioned that he'd spent the past 15 months in Iraq. As he chatted with the judges, each of his responses was met with applause. Which was fine, but then he started singing that dreadful Edwin McCain song "I'll Be." Whether or not he was good enough, I sure as heck wasn't going to say anything.
Overall, it was an okay experience; I can kind of see why shows like American Idol have such a young, Stepford-esque audience willing to behave like idiots on cue. I would like to think that a taping of something like The Daily Show would be more entertaining, though similarly filled with stops and starts.
Alternate title: The Futurist. (Totally pretentious, worth a listen.)
So much has changed since my days with Robert Downey, Jr. and James Spader at the Chateau Marmont. (Good times.) While I'm still building my legend, Spader's become an Emmy-winning liberal superhero of the law on Boston Legal, and Downey's taking his mightiness quite literally these days: he IS Iron Man.
This is a clear case of having the right actor in the right role at the right time. It's not a stretch to picture Downey as billionaire playboy and technical wizard, more pleased with tinkering in his lab and leaving corporate matters to his late father's partner (Jeff Bridges). His skill in weapons manufacture has brought him both success and isolation; he works at home and only interacts with his loyal assistant (Gwyneth Paltrow) and his close friend in the military (Terrence Howard). When he learns the truth about how his technology also helps his enemies, he grows a conscience.
The cast is in good form. Bridges' best work is probably behind him, but there's a certain amount of nonchalance and underacting that I appreciated here. (The Dude still abides.) Howard is not given that much to do -- part of the plot requires him to stay out of the loop -- but you get the feeling that his importance could grow in time. And as is common with superhero films, the heroine is the weak link, but Paltrow does well enough in her steely Girl Friday role to appear worthy of acting opposite Downey.
The film itself delivers as well; it's ambitious, but not overly so. There's a satisfying origin story that takes its time but provides sufficient humor and action. And the central conflict is, well, local in nature, so that director Jon Favreau can let loose in the inevitable (and welcome) sequel.
Baseball season is in full [insert pun here], and I felt this area of town was appropriate. While the Las Vegas 51s are part of the Dodgers farm system, this set of streets makes a better tribute to the team from Brooklyn, now in its 50th year in Los Angeles. Here's the alphabetical breakdown.
