31 minute read
poem
Coronavirus Closure
All dire events in our lives require Closure, Such it is with the Coronavirus exposure. This once in a lifetime traumatic epiphany, A special challenge for all humanity.
Sickness and death and societal upheaval, A prolonged period of agonizing evil. Masks, distancing and isolation vitriols, Lessons for pause and reflection protocols.
There is life after each personal Covid crisis, With the vaccine this mindfulness must persist. A survival experience in our life, And compassion for all who suffered strife.
Time spent with this virus we will never forget, Need come to Peace with oneself with no regret.
-George William (Bill) Kibildis
Following My Own Path Dr. Joe Ferry
Ihave found in my 70 years on this earth that no matter how hard one might try to steer life’s course, the path on which each of us walks seems to be predetermined. There are a million things in the universe that you can have, and a million things in the universe that you cannot have.
In my life, after years of trying to bend life to suit me, I have come to the conclusion that one must “go with the flow” in order to be happy and productive. Whether or not one believes in God and follows a religion, my own take is that somehow (and I don’t know how), the universe, or cosmos, has a sort of re-routing mechanism that will keep on course if we slow down, take a deep breath, and let the waves and currents do the driving.
I’ve spent the bulk of my life thus far, like everyone else, trying to do good, be a good person, work hard, and hopefully be fondly and lovingly remembered when I leave this earthly plain.
My name is Joe Ferry. It’s my real, legal name. However, it is not the name that I would have had, if a number of people had not messed with it. My great grandpa was born illegitimately into the Scaramozza family. The family saw to it that great grandpa was adopted by a family named Ferro. Are you following me thus far? So great grandpa’s name went from Giuseppe Scaramozza to Giuseppe Ferro when he was still an infant.
The Ferro family moved from Bari, Italy, to the Big Apple, New York City, in the later part of the 19th century. My great grandpa’s nickname was “Iron Joe” which is pretty cool, at least I think it is. They lived on 102nd Street in Harlem and ultimately as the generations passed, my dad, Anthony Ferro, was born. My grandma (Dad’s mom) decided that we should not be associated with the Italians because of the stigma of the Mafia. So, she had the family name changed from Ferro to Ferry. Now, in 2022, I have a name that I would rather not have. I would rather be who I am, Giuseppe Ferro, “Iron Joe.”
Going through life in grammar school and high school with the name Ferry and hearing the refrain “Ferry Boat Toot Toot” about a trillion times really got on my nerves. I ignored the knuckleheads, but I became extremely sensitive. This inspired me to treat everyone with respect and humility. I did not want anyone else to suffer because of me.
Perhaps if I had been “Iron Joe,” I might really have been recruited by the Mob. I might not be writing this piece. I might never have done all the things I’ve done. Life is crazy. You have to learn to roll with the punches.
All I ever wanted to do was play guitar in a touring band. I didn’t care if I was playing in a circus band or in a polka band or even in a wedding band, I just wanted to earn my living playing my guitar. While I have spent a good deal of time playing on the road with a number of rather well-known bands, I was playing bass not guitar, and I was spending far more time in the recording studio producing records than on the road, trouble-free, stress-free.
I learned early on that you have to go with the flow if you want to ultimately gain your freedom. We live in a free country, true. But we often imprison ourselves in jobs we hate, just to make that paycheck. We live in places and with people we’d rather not, but we do it for some reason (I don’t know that reason).
In 1976, I was playing guitar in a wedding band that decided to make a record to sell at gigs. I found myself in RCA recording studios, and at one point the engineer—my dear friend Joaquin “Joe” Lopes, who has since passed away—said to me, “You’d make a terrific record producer.” I said, “What does a record producer do?” Joe said, “What you’re doing, directing the session, keeping things moving along smoothly. Like the director of a movie.” I said, “Cool. I’ll give it a whack. Get me a gig!” AND HE DID.
Before long I was working with David Bowie, Buddy Rich, Barbra Streisand, and many more. But you need to remember, I was working with Joe: helping Joe, learning the ropes, playing guitar on some things, getting Buddy his towels, helping schlep Bowie’s equipment in and out of the studio. It took a couple of years before I was able to call myself a record producer.
I have since produced records for Dr. John, Art Blakey, Ronnie Wood, Iggy Pop, the Skatalites, Toots & the Maytals, and more.
In 1982, I was asked by my friend Kevin Byrne, with whom I had grown up, to play bass in a group he was working with, Dennis Dell & Destiny. It was a show band, and I immediately jumped at the chance to perform on a regular basis in clubs up and down the Northeast corridor. Remember, I was playing bass, not guitar. I had never played bass before then, but I learned damn fast. Continued on page 12
Throughout most of the 1980s, I toured with Dennis, Kevin, and the band, and they were the happiest years of my life. Meantime, my career as a record producer was really taking off. So, in the late 1980s, I left Dennis Dell & Destiny to join up with New Orleans legend Dr. John, who asked me to produce a number of albums with him.
Along the way, I met a guy named Doug Munro, a guitarist who asked me to produce a record for him. One day, Doug said, “Man, you d be a terrific college professor.” I said, “You’re jiving me right?” Doug said, “No, man. You have so much experience in the music business. I think the students would learn a lot from you.” So just as I did with Joe Lopes, I said, “Cool, get me a gig.” AND HE DID.
Now it’s 1990, and I’m teaching as an adjunct professor at Purchase College, State University of New York. I felt an immediate connection to my students. I was 40 years old; they were half my age. But we clicked. I made sure never to insult or embarrass any student and to treat them with respect.
I decided to complete my Master of Fine Arts degree (MFA) and, ultimately, my Doctor of Philosophy degree (Ph.D.), so that I could climb the academic ladder. This I did. Little “Iron Joe” had spawned a great grandson who became President of the Faculty at Purchase, a well-respected university. As co-chair of the College Senate, I became a campus officer and interacted with the governor’s office and the U.S. Department of State, all the while, teaching amazingly talented students (and future stars) such as Regina Spektor, Langhorne Slim, and Richie Castellano of Blue Oyster Cult.
For thirty years—from 1990 to 2020—while working as a college professor, and winning the Chancellor’s Award, I also worked as a record producer for such internationally acclaimed record companies as Windham Hill Records, Red House Records, Shanachie Records, and Vitamin Records.
Garnering a total of seven Grammy nominations, I produced records featuring folk pioneer Pete Seeger, blues great Guy Davis, New Orleans funkster Dr. John, Jamaican jazz giants Tommy McCook and Roland Alphonso, jazz legend Lester Bowie, plus classical harpsichordist Bradley Brookshire and hundreds more. Those thirty years flew by. I was either in the classroom, in the studio, or on the road. I looked at my wristwatch and it was 1990; I looked again and it was 2020.
It was then that I decided to simplify life, leave school, and retire with the title Professor Emeritus. I had been commuting from Milford, PA, where my wife and I had moved in 2012. I needed a more relaxed life style and wanted to pay more attention to the other things I enjoyed: filmmaking, painting, and my band, Big Ska.
The COVID-19 thing hit everyone hard, and I did not escape. I lost my mother, several friends including my best friend Cadillac Sal, and a number of aunts and cousins. It was brutal for everyone. I didn’t dwell on it, however. I just kept painting and writing. Once outdoor dining opened up, my band started to work again. Continued on page 14
My paintings began to attract attention, selling quite a bit, albeit not for big bucks. But I didn’t care. People were digging my art. I’ve shown my work at numerous exhibitions including the Water Wheel, UpFront Exhibitions, the Neuberger Museum, the Montgomery Gallery of Fine Art. People seem to dig the night sky featured in each of my paintings and often commission me to make paintings for them with certain specs, such as the Haight Ashbury street signs or a long-gone music venue, such as the Fillmore West. I love painting. As my agent, Edward Montgomery, said, just tonight, “You make your paintings sing.” Man, that blew my mind.
Interestingly, I never took a painting lesson. My degrees are in music, marketing, business administration, philosophy, and motivational psychology. No Art.
But there was that one time when I was working on my undergrad degree at Long Island University when I thought I’d take a charcoal drawing class. Word was that some of the coeds posed nude. So, hell yeah, I was there. But the girl that posed on the first day of class could well have played linebacker for the New York Giants football team. I dropped that class like a hot potato. But you have to give me a break here: I was 18 years old…
The painting got started because of the painter guy on TV, Bob Ross. I was (and still am) way deep into his technique and his chill delivery. That, along with a trip to the MOMA to see a Van Gogh exhibit, got me hooked on painting. A number of artists including Jerry Reganess, Jesse Clemente, Michael Israel, and my Uncle Bean have helped me along the way with inspiration and encouragement.
The night sky and old buildings concept comes from my early love for New York City. I used to enjoy walking around the city, gazing at the centuries old buildings, strolling down alleyways where the buildings were so high the sky was just a purple stripe overhead. I could feel the spirits of long-dead people who once roamed these areas as I did then. Even though I live in Milford now, I can still transport myself back to those happy peaceful times. I can feel the buildings breathe.
For many years while teaching at Purchase College, I had been making films. I felt that the challenge of learning to run film programs, such as Final Cut Pro—a computer software program that allows the user to edit like a professional film editor, plus record the soundtracks for the movies we made— would better prepare my students for the real world. It would give them more tools. After retiring, I began to make short films because that’s an area of interest to me.
One of the first films I produced in 2020 was a “Mockumentary” entitled The Comic 2.0. To my surprise, the film garnered rave reviews from a number of film festivals, ultimately winning Best Short Film at The Pure Magic Film Festival, as well as winning an Official Selection at Cannes 2021. In 2012, when my dad was fighting a battle with the trifecta of dementia, Parkinson’s, and cancer, I decided to write a book about our life together. I wrote it in 35 nights, and it’s called Connected. I read it to him just before he passed. He wanted to know what his piece of the action was. I said, “It’s all yours, Pop.” “Good,” he replied. What a character. Since then, I have written a total of five books, all with great Amazon reviews, and each another little piece of my autobiography.
These days my life is in pretty good shape. I take care of my wife and my dog, who basically runs my house. I miss my mom and dad terribly, but I firmly believe that they are still here, in the air I breathe, my heart and soul. Energy cannot die, and we are all made essentially of energy. So, I believe very strongly that they are here with me, floating in a sort of spiritual iCloud.
I often watch my life’s reruns when I daydream. I see myself living an un-hip life in an ultra-hip world. That’s OK. I can only be who I am. I can only run my own race, not someone else’s. I go with the flow.
Horsing Around in Milford Relics of Another Age
Milford, PA, is laid out in the same fashion as Philadelphia, with streets and alleyways intersecting to form a grid. Judge John Biddis, who was born in Philadelphia, recognized that this land that was part of his Pennsylvania jurisdiction would make a perfect town. When he founded the town in 1796, he decided to name it after Milford, the town in Wales that his ancestors were from. Biddis named some of the streets after his children, Ann, Catharine, Elizabeth, George, John, and Sara. The service alleys were named after fruits, such as Apple, Peach, Pear, and Raspberry.
While driving and walking around Milford, perhaps you have noticed the stone and metal posts in front of a number of houses on Ann and other streets. What are they? Why are they there?
They are hitching posts, a historical legacy of an earlier age that are still standing in our time.
European settlers first arrived in the area in the 1730s, and others came soon after, displacing the Lenape Indians who were later forcibly pushed out to Ohio and later still to Oklahoma. Currently, there is a new permanent exhibit, “The Lenape, Original People, Reconciling the Past, Embracing the Future,” presented by the Pike County Historical Society at the Columns Museum in Milford. Lori Strelecki, Museum Director, states that “the exhibit is the culmination of a five-year collaboration between three federally recognized Lenape tribes and the Milford Borough, the Pike County Historical Society, and descendants of the infamous Tom Quick.” An important milestone in Milford’s history was the arrival of the Pinchot family in Milford in 1818, as part of the emerging French settlement of Bonapartists. (The town had become a vacation/hunting destination for the French mercantile community in New York City.) The Pinchots built and lived in a number of buildings that are now in the Borough of Milford. When they traveled from New York City, they stayed at their summer home on the corner of Broad and Harford, which is now the Community House.
The Pinchots brought many important guests to town, the postgraduate Yale School of Conservation was founded with an endowment from the family, and Milford became the site for Yale’s summer training camp for twentysix years, from 1900 to 1926. The Pinchots built Forest Hall in the borough to house classes, and the rest of the school stood on 60 acres of their property adjacent to Grey Towers.
Their son, Gifford Pinchot, served as the first chief of the US Forest Service under Presidents Teddy Roosevelt and William Taft between 1905 and 1910 and later as governor of Pennsylvania for two terms in the 1920s. Living at Grey Towers just outside Milford, Gifford supported efforts to reforest much of the US and is known as a founder of the conservation movement.
Before the Erie Railroad was built to Port Jervis in 1848, travelers arrived in, and traveled between, local towns by horse and buggy. Transportation was solely by horses, donkeys, and oxen in those days.
Later, when Milford residents hosted visitors from nearby Port Jervis or from New York City arriving by train in Port Jervis, they most likely traveled to town by stagecoach, and used the Hiawatha or the equally luxurious stagecoach operated by the Dingmans Ferry & Port Jervis Stage. Others arrived simply by private horse, buggy, or wagon. Today, visitors can still view the Hiawatha at the Columns Museum in Milford.
Produce and supplies were provided via huge 4- or 6horse-drawn wagons, the older version of the semi-trucks that lumber through Milford today.
Families used horse-drawn carriages to get to backyard picnics, river activities, and playdates. In the winter, horse-drawn sleighs needed places to tie up when traveling around town.
Needless to say, parking spaces and lots did not exist for the automobiles that would only arrive decades later. So, visitors to homes, shops, and churches in Milford needed places to “park” their horses when they visited. Outside homes, stone and iron hitching posts were erected for tying up horses, donkeys, and even oxen.
Many of these hitching posts remain today outside homes on Ann, Catharine, Harford, and other streets. The oldest existing house in Milford, built in 1765 at 200 West Ann Street, is one of the homes with one or more hitching posts outside.
Most posts are stone, but some were metal and may have been fashioned by local blacksmiths. Some are very ornamental, like the cast iron one at 215 West Ann Street in the shape of a horse’s head. Other ornamental ones are located on East Ann Street. Apparently, an entire industry grew up around the country to produce ornamental hitching posts. Few of these exist today because most were broken up and melted down to meet the World War 1 need for metal.
James Alfred Myer (1856–1929) captured life in and around Milford as a portrait photographer in the days before automobile travel. His photos are in archive files at the historical museum, and those shared here in black and white are courtesy of the museum.
Attached to most posts was a ring where the horses were tied with a “hitch” knot, hence their name as a hitching post. Milford’s citizens tied up their draft animals to these hitching posts while visiting or delivering to homes, inns, and churches in town.
In Milford and other communities, the hitching post was occasionally accompanied by a stepping stone (also called mounting block, upping stone, or horse-block) to help passengers step into, and disembark from, their carriages. They have become part of our everyday language as we use various items and positions as “stepping stones” for advancement. It was a mark of social status to have both a hitching post and stepping stone. Here in Milford, we have examples at 215 West Ann and 110 East Catharine Streets.
As automobiles became the main source for transportation, in some nearby upstate New York towns, owners of houses with stepping stones were required to move them closer to the house because they were considered a hazard for cars on widened streets. Although hitching posts and stepping stones have disappeared from most US towns, they are available for sale today from ebay.com and vintage artifact dealers.
Next time you’re walking the streets of Milford, check out these wonderful legacies of the horse and buggy era in our community. Perhaps they can be part of future walking tours of Milford. Clearly, these historic posts and stones will far outlast the parking meters of our generation.
A Healthy Culture Kefir
This article was written before Russia invaded Ukraine. We share it now to illustrate the cultural ties we have with the people of Eastern Europe. Wishing peace to all.
Na Zdravi is a common toast in Eastern Europe. It’s proffered up by drinking partners along with a click of the glasses. It’s important when making this toast to maintain good eye contact with your toast mates. Otherwise, legend goes, it may bring you seven years of bad luck or seven years of bad sex, which would be bad luck, too.
The phrase Na Zdravi literally means “to your health.” Although, according to the Urban Dictionary, here in America we mispronounce the toast as Nostrovia, it has become a tradition incorporated into our culture.
But drinking partners don’t have to toast with pilsner, brandy, or vodka. A glass of kefir, with its super probiotic properties, would certainly fit the bill for drinking to your health.
Kefir, a fermented milk drink, has been around for centuries. Dating back thousands of years, kefir grains have been grown in part of the Russian Federation north of the Greater Caucasus Mountains, set between the Black Sea to the west and the Caspian Sea to the east. The grains, valued for their powerful medicinal properties, were bought, sold, or even included in dowries or bequeathed in wills.
Tribal peoples of the area carried their milk in sheepskin or goatskin bags, and when the milk accidentally fermented, they liked the taste. They also realized that by drinking the fermented milk, they would not have to worry as much about preserving it. When they started understanding the health powers that it had, they guarded the drink as a precious secret, often passed down from father to son.
Most of us have heard of probiotics, a dietary supplement containing live strains of “good” bacteria. The benefits of probiotics have been touted in the health food industry for years, and it’s not uncommon now for a mainstream doctor to recommend taking them to maintain gut health or to support a healthy immune system. Probiotics may be suggested after finishing a round of antibiotics that kills or decreases the amount of bacteria in the body, including the healthy, helpful bacteria that we need to balance our bodies and to maintain optimal health.
Even Walmart and drug store chains carry some versions of a probiotic, be it capsules, liquids, tablets, or salves. So, how does kefir fit in?
Kefir grains are the starter base, often referred to as the “Mother Culture,” used in making the drink. The grain does not look like a typical grain, say oat or wheat. It’s a gelatinous milky substance that forms in clusters and looks like cauliflower or popped corn. These grains consist of molecules called polysaccharides, a type of carbohydrate containing live probiotics,“good bacteria,” which are then combined with some type of animal milk and
Although kefir may be an acquired taste with its tart tang and bit of fizz, it has a yogurt smoothie feel on the tongue. Some people add fruit or vanilla to sweeten the taste until they become more adjusted to the unfamiliar flavor.
Kefir can be made from the milk of cows or goats and sheep, but the important part is the live and active cultures that grow in the process. Containing protein, calcium, and vitamin D, similar to traditional milk, the bacteria in kefir breaks down the lactic acid, making it a lactose-free drink.
In Sullivan County, NY, third generation farmers, Mary and Tim Tonjes, own and operate Tonjes Farm Dairy. They now have about 60 Holstein Jersey crosses and switched to doing their own dairy processing about 20 years ago.
“We make a whole selection of fresh dairy products, weekly, that include bottled milk, buttermilk, yogurt, kefir, and many cheeses, such as mozzarella, paneer, farmer cheese, halloumi, feta, and a few aged cheeses,” Mary explains.
“We started making kefir about 15 years ago. First, we pasteurize the milk at a low temperature, but do not homogenize it, which means we don’t remove any of the milk fat. We incubate the kefir cultures to develop flavor and consistency and then they go into the milk; these cultures are more complex than the ones used in yogurt, which adds to the health benefits of the drink. Complex bacteria is important for your gut health.”
The Tonjies sell their kefir locally at Sullivan County grocery markets and farmer markets and through the Sullivan County Food Hub, as well as Fresh Catskills. “We also do the Union Square Market in New York City. Kefir is more familiar to our European customers; it seems to be part of a normal diet for many of them. We have a regular line of customers who buy a half gallon a week. I believe they drink small amounts of it every day. Your body recognizes simple food easier and can metabolize it better, absorbing all of the benefits of the protein and calcium in the drink.”
Stephanie Bishop graduated from Cornell University with a degree in Dairy Science. In 2018, she connected with Julie and Rick Vreeland of Freedom Hill Farm in Otisville, NY, which has been operational since 2007. In 2019, the Vreelands decided to open a small farm store, and here Bishop puts her degree to good use as the store’s manager.
“We specialize in raw milk, homestyle kefir, yogurt, and buttermilk, and they’re all completely natural, coming from grass-fed Jersey cow’s milk, no added sugar, preservatives, flavors, or colors,” she advises. “Our cow’s milk has a good fatty acid content, is high in nutrients, protein, and Omega 3s.” According to Bishop, blends of different bacteria give different flavor and texture to the kefir. It all is based on the blend.
“Our process is to start with raw milk, pasteurize with low heat to 160 degrees and then bring it down to a stable 80 degrees, add in the kefir culture, stir it very well, and let it sit 16 hours to ferment. At six a.m. we open the vat, pour out the kefir and package it either in glass or in plastic, depending on where it is to be distributed. Besides our farm store, we’re in over 80 stores in the Hudson Valley, both in health food and mainstream shops.
“We describe kefir as a drinkable yogurt, more fluid, easier to pour, more acidic tasting, and awesome for rebuilding the gut microbiome. Anyone focusing on gut health, coming off antibiotics or a hormonal treatment, for instance, or people that have IBS, Crohn’s Disease, or high stress levels can benefit from the drink,” Bishop continues.
“Orange County has a very diverse population, and we have people that travel to our farm because it is reminiscent of where they grew up in Eastern Europe. Our products remind them of the kefir and yogurt their grandparents used to make. The mission of our dairy farm is to help provide good food for our communities.”
While drinking kefir can’t guarantee you seven years of good luck, it’s worth a try—there’s a reason that ancient healing superfoods are making a comeback.
Visiting 100 Small Movie Roles
John DiLeo, whose name will be known to many readers in the tri-state area, dropped off a preview copy of his new book on a blustery, snowy day. Titled, There Are No Small Parts, it is the latest publication by DiLeo whom I can only compare to a living, breathing, human “Search Engine” when it comes to movies.
This is DiLeo’s seventh book—his first in hardbound form and with color photos. The title comes from a quote by the great acting teacher Konstantin Stanislavski, who famously said, “There are no small parts, only small actors.”
With 100 film appearances lasting ten minutes or less— some of them only two minutes long—DiLeo has culled stellar performances by a variety of well-known and also less-famous actors. It’s an original concept for a book, and it took him a couple of years to complete.
Although I am not a professional book reviewer, I can tell you that from my laywoman’s perspective, this is a very enjoyable book. Plan on spending some time with it. (I have it on my nightstand.)
The films are arranged chronologically and span the years from 1935 to 2019. Each page takes the reader down a rabbit hole of sorts because DiLeo tells us so many interesting things in each entry. We get marital histories, director information, the skinny on the lead actors, and other films that were made by the directors and actors, so you wind up in a deep thicket of factoids. I had to start writing a list as I read, since there were so many movies he mentions that I haven’t seen or that I would like to revisit.
But let me take a brief digression, if you will, to give you a bit of John DiLeo’s backstory. He was born in Brooklyn and grew up on Long Island. As a kid, he not only loved old movies, he became a performer and got involved in school plays. Attending Ithaca College as a drama major, he did summer theater and, predictably, moved to New York City and worked hard to try to have a career in acting. As he approached his 35th birthday, he tells me, he “panicked. I was supposed to never give up, but…”
One thing he knew he had going for him was a passion for movies and the history thereof. People would ask him movie questions, and he had a natural facility for remembering facts and obscure trivia. (Note: He swears he does not have a photographic memory, but I don’t believe him.)
What he had first envisioned as a column of quizzes about movies for Premiere magazine became his first book, which has now been followed by six more—all of them still in print.
Along the way, DiLeo did some ghostwriting, participated in seminars, lectured, and wrote criticism. Ten years or so ago, he moved to Milford, PA, full-time, where he and his late husband Earl McCarroll had purchased a weekend house. Once up in Milford, he quickly became the interviewer extraordinaire on the Black Bear Film Festival stage, interviewing luminaries such as Arlene Dahl, Rex Reed, Tab Hunter,
Keir Dullea, and Jane Powell. He’s also been the force behind several film series, most recently on Sunday afternoons at the Milford Theater. He admits, “Turns out, I loved it out here, even though I couldn’t get to the New York Revival Houses as often.”
I ask, “How did you manage to see all these films—many of them more than once?” “Well,” he answers. “It was mostly Turner Classic Movies and Netflix. Occasionally, I’d go to a movie theater.”
And figuring out which roles to include in There Are No Small Parts? He goes on to give me a brief overview of some of his choices. “Some performances were over the ten-minute cut-off, so I regretfully had to leave them out. Some roles didn’t develop the character from scratch because there was a previous film in which the character was already established.” So those were scrapped, too.
Interestingly, eleven of his inclusions were nominated for Oscars and two of the performances actually won for Best Supporting Actress—Beatrice Straight for her 5½ minutes in Network (1976) and Dame Judi Dench for her 7 minutes as Queen Elizabeth I in Shakespeare in Love (1998).
Reading through the book, one realizes that some of the roles DiLeo has chosen turn out to portray rather despicable people…or at least people who sometimes behave despicably. Take H. B. Warner, who plays the grumpy druggist Old Man Gower in It’s a Wonderful Life. Warner is only on-screen for 3½ minutes, but if you’ve seen the film, you probably can’t forget how he slaps the injured ear of James Stewart’s character, George Bailey, and, later, after he realizes he made a potentially fatal drug mix-up, falls to his knees in contrition. It’s a powerful performance.
There is such breadth and depth in every entry in this book, I found it necessary to take it in slowly, reading only a few at a time. My list kept growing longer, and my DVD queue on Netflix expanded with it.
Often, DiLeo offers insights that would have never occurred to me.
Take Robert Morley, who plays Rose’s missionary brother Reverend Samuel Sayer in The African Queen. His British manners belie a certain amount of hostility beneath the surface: He reads an English newspaper and finds out that someone four or five years younger who married well has become a bishop. DiLeo: “Morley conveys the sting in this news, the jealousy and self-pity it engenders.” Morley unconvincingly adds, “I’m delighted for him, of course.” Morley’s character soon dies a disappointed man.
DiLeo points out: “The great irony is how different Africa proved to be for the siblings. For Samuel, it solidified his feelings of inadequacy, but for Rose, it becomes a gateway to a happiness that never would have been possible had her brother lived.” Brilliant. Such astute observations abound in this book. DiLeo ends with Al Pacino’s six minute performance as talent agent Marvin Schwarz in Once upon a Time…in Hollywood (2019). The description of how Schwarz’s character uses “shrewdness, warmth and a laid-back charisma” captures the essence of Pacino’s role, which I now see in a new light. DiLeo notes: “Pacino’s Marvin seems consistently jazzed in his work, so confident in his style that he needn’t resort to unpleasant behavior.”
Towards the end of our conversation, I wonder what comes next for DiLeo. “Two things are knocking around my head right now,” he says. Clearly, that’s all I will get out of him at the moment.
Book Cover
So, in closing, I ask what, in his opinion, makes a movie “classic”? He answers me, “Well, a film that’s still great and has stood the test of time, of course.” And then he adds, “Think about it, some amazing movies are now 80 or 90 years old, and they still knock us out!” ................................................................................... John DiLeo hosts classic film series at 4 p.m. Sundays at the Milford Theater. For information about the series and tickets, visit themilfordtheater.freshtix.com. Julia Schmitt Healy is an artist, professor, and writer, currently living and working in Port Jervis, NY. Her work can be seen at Western Exhibitions Gallery in Chicago and online at Juliahealy.com. Book quotations from There are No Small Parts: 100 Outstanding Film Performances with Screen Time of 10 Minutes or Less by John DiLeo. Copyright © 2022, published by Glitterati Incorporated www.glitteratiincorporated.com. For further information, please contact media@glitteratiincopor ated.com. Book is available at Amazon.com and elsewhere.
A Few Tidbits
• Delighted to Be Included: Jane Alexander, whom DiLeo once interviewed at the Black Bear Film Festival, offered to write a blurb for the back cover of the book and “confesses to having never been so thoroughly dissected in a part” as in DiLeo’s discussion of her 8-minute role in All the President’s Men.
• In the “Divorce Can Hurt Your Career” Department: After Kay Walsh and Director David Lean divorced (She is in the book for her 6½-minute performance in the 1950 Stage Fright.), Walsh was immediately replaced by his new wife, Ann Todd, in three consecutive film roles.
• Tell Us What You Really Think: Throughout the book, DiLeo doesn’t hold his feelings back. Page 68 is a good example: “I haven’t yet mentioned what a terrible movie Till the Clouds Roll By is, even though it was a huge hit.” (We may love Lena Horne’s five minutes, but perhaps we should just skip the rest of it.)
I’ve only mentioned 8 movies in this entire article. There are 92 more to explore.
