Call me Ishmael...and then call me bored

Recently, I found myself thinking about all the classic novels I've never read. These novels are a part of the canon, but for some reason, never crossed my path during my education. It's not that I avoided the literature classes -- on the contrary, I took as many as I could fit into my class schedule. In fact, while attending the University of Missouri at Columbia, I took all four semesters of what's known as "The Humanities Sequence." During those two years I studied fiction, philosophy, art, music and architecture from the times of Homer to the contemporary Tony Morrison. However, the sequence focused mostly on European masters due to the Americas being relatively young entities in comparison.

In high school I read Hemmingway, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, Harper Lee and others, but somehow I missed reading such classic American novels like "The Scarlet Letter," "Uncle Tom's Cabin," "Portrait of a Lady" and "Moby Dick." Which brings me back to the title of this post. I decided that I was going to correct this oversight in my education and start reading some of these missed classics.

I went to my local library and finding their copy of "The Scarlet Letter" checked out, I decided to start with "Moby Dick." I walked to the section on the shelves containing author's last names starting with "M-E-H" and WHOA! "Moby Dick" is really THAT long? The book would make an excellent door stopper. It's huge. I had no idea the novel was that long. I could not believe that some people had to read this in high school. Did they read an abridged version or something? It seems like it would take an entire school year to study it.

But I decided not to judge the book by its cover -- or weight, in this case -- and I checked it out anyway. I picked it up that evening and started reading it. So far, it has not been smooth sailing. So far Ishmael is talking about joining up with the whalers and how to find a really cheap hotel. I'm determined to get through it, so we will see how it goes. One of my friends has loaned me "The Scarlet Letter" so I will have something just in case I abandon ship.

Roasting Dale about Señor Wences

This evening, I was supposed to attend a roast for a former co-worker who retired from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch three months ago. Unfortunately, due to a scheduling conflict, I was unable to attend the festivities. I wish I could have delivered my roast in person. Instead, I had to settle for sending it to my friend Maggie so she could include it in a mock page of the paper. I don't know if it made the cut, but I decided to post it here because I think it will appeal to a general audience.

It’s been awhile since I worked with Dale Singer at the place on the 5th floor that used to be called Digital Square (D2 for short) posting news and photos to a Web site that used to be called POSTnet. Almost 10 years, countless redesigns and newsroom reorganizations later, when someone asked me for a good roasting story about Dale, I remembered Señor Wences.

For those of you who just asked yourself, “Señor who?”, you’ve just had the same reaction as most of the people who worked in Digital Square in April of 1999. Dale was monitoring the wires and looking for any newsworthy stories to publish on postnet. Suddenly, he read that Señor Wences had died of natural causes at the age of 103. When he shared this sad news with the people working around him, he was even more depressed to discover that most of them didn’t know who Señor Wences was.

On my part, once Dale had explained that Señor Wences was a famous ventriloquist who appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show and was famous for creating a face with his hand by placing his thumb next to and in front of his first finger and then using lipstick to draw lips, eyes and hair, I did have a vague recollection of seeing the grainy and jumpy black and white 1904-World’s-Fair-esque archival footage before (OK, yes, now I’m just being mean). But seriously, once Dale explained who Señor Wences was, I did remember seeing his act, but my introduction to the man’s talent was an episode of The Muppet Show instead of The Ed Sullivan Show, which just added insult to Dale’s injury.

Having to explain Señor Wences to us made Dale feel every bit of his years as a wizened, seasoned and experienced journalist. Because all of us in Digital Square realized that, we were sensitive to his plight and we never mentioned Señor Wences in Dale’s presence ever again. And, of course, if that were true, I wouldn’t be telling this story. In reality, we never let Dale forget about it, especially since Dale seemed invulnerable and unrattled at almost all times. Any time Dale found himself explaining or referencing some historical event or linking some current event to the past, one of us could be counted on to say, “Dale, is this like Señor Wences?” All anyone had to do was say the name in Dale’s earshot to get a rise out of him, and if there was one thing that could unite those of us working in Digital Square, it was doing anything to get a rise out of Dale. We had finally discovered how to get Dale’s goat and it was sawriiiight!

Congratulations to Dale on his retirement. The Post-Dispatch has no idea what it's lost. Whenever I hear that great people have left the paper, I always remember what one of my co-workers said just a few weeks after I was hired. Someone was leaving the paper for another opportunity and he said, "The good people always leave." That certainly applies to Dale.