06.26.08
Posted in Friends and Family, Me at 12:13 am by Spencer
From the Indianapolis Star, June 22, 2008:
Lt. John M. Rader, 64, passed away Sunday, June 16, 2008 while being cared for by friends and family. He devoted his many talents to serving in the Marion County Sheriff’s Department and volunteering as an interpreter and educator at Conner Prairie Living History Museum. Lt. Rader joined the Sheriff’s Department in 1971 as a Reserve Deputy, and in 1976 became a Merit Officer. In 1992 he was honored as Crime Stopper of the Year. In 2005, he was promoted to Sergeant in the Investigation Division and later to Lieutenant when he was appointed Commander of the Internal Affairs Section where he served until his death. An accomplished historian, storyteller, actor, tailor, craftsman, and writer, John enjoyed a variety of roles at Conner Prairie. He portrayed Sgt. Ross of the White River Guard Militia Unit and was known for the fine meals he cooked over an open fire for the militia. John helped visitors understand the hardships of slavery and the Underground Railroad with his portrayal of the Owner in the Follow the North Star program [view images] and helped develop scripts, characters, and props for the Mystery on the Prairie event. On numerous occasions he embodied the characters George Whitaker and Doctor Campbell among others and put his rich sense of humor to use as Harrison Hamlin Whitley, the side show operator at the County Fair. John taught many young people at Conner Prairie skills such as leatherwork, cooking, sewing, gunsmithery, and interpreting. With his late wife, Carolyn Lee Rader, John also peddled his handmade wooden measuring spoons and lanterns at area rendezvous and pursued their interest in early American history. Visitation will be Sunday, June 22, 2008 from 4:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. at Shirley Brothers Washington Memorial Chapel, 9606 E. Washington Street. Funeral services will be Monday, June 23, 2008 at 10:00 a.m. He is survived by his mother, Grace Dale; sister, Nancy (Nan) Brooks; nephews, Spencer and Matthew Sundell, and a wide circle of neighbors, friends and co-workers. The family requests that in lieu of flowers, contributions are sent to Salvation Army Flood Relief ( www.salvationarmyusa.org) or Conner Prairie Living History Museum ( www.connerprairie.org).
Related Link
“Back to the Frontier,” Smithsonian Magazine, May 2008 — a feature story about the Conner Prairie living history museum.
Reflections
To be honest, it’s quite late as I write and I don’t have the focus or energy to write about this properly right now (not with a pending morning alarm clock anyway), and I’m sure I’ll expand on this later. But my uncle John and his impending death has been pretty much my sole focus for the last month. John was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis about a year ago. It killed him slowly, until he was reliant on bottled oxygen at all times and was reduced to a frail shadow of the big, burly, robust man I’d always known. Through it all, he worked at the Sheriff’s Dept. in Indianapolis.
Just before the Melies show I did at the NW Film Forum on May 15, I got word that John’s wife, my aunt Carolyn, had died while he was in the hospital for a short stay to treat what amounted to a case of pneumonia. I flew out for the funeral and stayed 10 days to help care for him, which was at once a “clinical” experience — I was just doing what practical things had to be done — and also probably one of the most illuminating experiences of my life. It was agonizing to have to come back, even though one of the things that death teaches us is that it is important to live our lives.
Less than a month later, on Father’s Day, he died. His long suffering aside, his death was really pretty great. The day before, he went to the wedding of a young couple he knew from Conner Prairie farm. By all accounts he was his old self (as much as he could be), had a wonderful time, kissed the bride (”of course,” he said), and stopped for chocolate ice cream on the way home. The next day, a neighbor came by and said “We’re grilling some steaks, John, ya want one?” Steak was a favorite of his, and he gave precise instructions on how he liked it to be cooked. When the neighbor came back a short while later with the carefully-prepared steak — grill still going in case they’d cooked it wrong — they found him. He’d gone. Still in his own home, still calling his own shots.
I’ll share one story before I sign off for the night. In the waning weeks of his life, he was still working — bound and determined to die with his boots on. He only had enough bottled O2 to last four hours, but by god he pulled his four hour shifts every day. But at a certain point he would have to take a nap. A Department buddy of his told me that John’d sack out in a big overstuffed chair in the office of the Internal Affairs Section he commanded. He’d pull a blanket up to his chin for warmth, and under each arm he’d tuck…a teddy bear. Not one teddy bear — two.
This, to me, epitomizes everything John was, insofar as I knew him. A career deputy sheriff who was utterly devoted, tough, deeply principled and sometimes feared, and yet fulsome with ever-ready humor and a profoundly gentle kindness. The kind of man who could sleep with his teddy bears in his office at Internal Affairs, and still be deeply respected by all of the men and women working with him.
Goodbye, Uncle Johnny. You set one hell of an example. And wherever you are, I hope you’re getting all the homemade ice cream and blueberries you could possibly want.
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02.18.08
Posted in Friends and Family, Indiana, Me at 10:50 pm by Spencer
My dear old friend Steve Niman just resurfaced and sent along some scans of old photos from The Day. This one is of my buddy Joe (left) and myself (with, um, accouterments and stylin’ Zero Boys t-shirt) taken, I believe, right around Thanksgiving of 1985 during our first trip back to Indianapolis after moving to the bizarre and overwhelming megalopolis of Chicago.
Joe and I spent a summer living on the streets of Indianapolis together, as a result of (and resulting in) a series of events far too long to recount here. We were part of a tribe of punk rock kids that became our collective family and fellow- and sister-travelers during a time that truly changed my life. (Someday I may get around to writing that book.) Joe and I both wanted out of Indy pretty much more than anything, and when I eventually got it together enough (thanks almost entirely to my dad) to move to Chicago and go to college, I was only too happy to have Joe ride my coat tails northward.
But imagine, if you will, going directly from a Huck Finn lifestyle, living free as can be and sleeping under the stars in the woods by the river, to a grey concrete jungle where you could never see the horizon and only the faintest hint of the Holy Sunset, weeping at its occlusion. It was a brutal case of culture shock, for true.
Joe and I are clowning for the camera, but in retrospect that’s pretty much what we must’ve looked like trying to adjust to the Big City. In the end, Joe didn’t last very long — he wound up moving back to Indy after a few months, joined the Army and got hitched in quick succession and then, after a series of personal tragedies, wound up vanishing somewhere in the far distance. Wherever he is, I hope he’s doing well.
Man. What an amazing time.
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10.07.07
Posted in Whatever, Web Dev, Me at 12:52 pm by Spencer
One of the sites I helped build has won a 2007 WebAward from the Web Marketing Association.
The site for San Francisco’s Yerba Buena Center for the Arts won an Outstanding Website award, recognizing “work above and beyond the standard of excellence.” WebAwards were also won by six other sites created by POP.
Here is the team from POP that worked on the site:
Account Director: Jennifer Showe
Designer: Brad Holst
Information Architect: Minoru Uchida
Flash Designer: Dave Curry
Flash Designer: Aaron Hedquist
Web Developer: Spencer Sundell
Software Developer: Keith Richardson
My own work included interface integration with the online ticketing application, creation of page templates (XHTML, CSS, JavaScript, images) and related documentation used by YBCA’s internal web staff for migrating their content to the new site, a fair amount of content migration of our own, and related tasks. The site also uses a little sIFR dynamic font replacement.
It’s a beautiful design and I’m pretty proud to have worked on it, though I do wish I could have optimized a few things a little further (like the olde school legacy markup on the event calendar).
Congratulations to the team at POP, and to the folks at YBCA.
The other POP sites that won 2007 WebAwards are listed below — mad props to everyone who worked on those:
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05.28.07
Posted in Events, Me, Sci-Fi and Horror Flix, Seattle Stuff, Backyard Movie Parties at 4:23 pm by Spencer
This past Friday — Memorial Day weekend — was our first backyard movie party of the season, we being the usual suspects of Brian, Gary, and myself. The location, once again, was Brian and Gary’s duplex in Ballard, which I’ve come to start calling The Ballard CineYard — tho KinoHortus also crossed the mind. (”Kino” from kinoscope and “hortus” being the Latin for garden or park.) Attendance was a little sparse, probably owing to the double whammy of it being a holiday weekend and a Friday, but everyone seemed to have a good time all the same.
This was the first event we did under the moniker of The Sprocket Society, an idea me and Brian have been toying with which may or may not turn into something more. I was also able to use my new Elmo 16-CL, which meant matching projectors and no need to borrow the second one. Both were equipped with 38mm lenses, which meant an image about 50 percent larger than the standard 50mm lens — very nice.
Anyway, here’s the film list. As always, everything was shown from 16mm prints from my collection.
Betty in Blunderland (1934, USA, cartoon, b/w)
Directed by Dave Fleischer. Animated by Roland Crandall and Thomas Johnson.
Betty Boop falls asleep while working on a jigsaw puzzle of Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland” characters. The White Rabbit in the puzzle comes to life, and Betty follows him through a mirror into Blunderland, which is just like Wonderland, except that it has subway stations and a beverage called Shrink-Ola. Songs and wackiness ensue until the Jaberwock runs off with Betty. (Watch the film at Archive.org. Read an essay about this film by Paul Verhoeven.)
Take One (1970, USA, b/w & color)
An anthology of mostly obscure late-’60s period cartoons and short films by various artists, including student filmmakers.
- Ashes of Doom (1970, CA, live action, color) — Directed by Grant Munro & Don Arioli; Munro also appears as a vampire. A comedic anti-smoking PSA produced for the National Film Board of Canada.
- Pollution (1969, USA, animated, color) — Directed by James Conrad and other students of the Univ. of Southern California’s Animation Workshop Project. An animated treatment of the song (live version) by the great Tom Lehrer, which was also once shown on The Carol Burnett Show. (This is a different film from the 1966/1967 versions produced by Astrafilms for the US Communicable Disease Center.)
- Electronic Labyrinth: THX 1138 4EB (1967, USA, live action, color) — Directed and written by George Lucas. An impressionistic depiction
of a dystopian future in a surveillance state, and a man escaping from an underground city. Lucas’ famous but rarely-shown student film that helped launch his career and would later be the basis for his feature film, THX-1138. Showing this was only appropriate, since this night was the 30th anniversary of the release of Star Wars. (Watch the film via Google Video.)
- Eat to the Beat (n.d, animated, b/w) — A film by Ernie Schmidt. A parody of game shows and consumer culture.
- Lullaby (n.d., live action, b/w) — A bored married couple in bed, and the wife’s fantasy. Sorry, but I don’t have filmmaker info logged.
- Bananas (n.d., stop-motion animated, color) — Some fruit get it on. Sorry, again I’ve not logged the filmmaker credit.
A Trip to the Moon (orig. Le Voyage dans la Lune) (1902, FR)
Directed by Georges Méliès.
Shown with “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun” by Pink Floyd, from Live at Pompeii.
The original science fiction epic (costing an astonishing 10,000 francs), borrowing liberally from Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, and thus a fitting prelude to the evening’s feature. This print includes the extremely rare concluding scene in which, after the travelers’ return to Earth, the citizens of the port town fete the heroes with medals and marching band, and a captured Selenite is paraded for public view. (Watch the film at Archive.org.)
The Fabulous World of Jules Verne (1961, USA dubbed theatrical version)
Originally: Vynález zkázy (1958, Czechoslovakia)
Aka A Deadly Invention (Britain) and Les Aventures Fantastiques (France)
Direction and Production Design by Karel Zeman. Screenplay by Frantisek Hrubín. Set Decoration by Zdenek Rozkopal.
“A magical world of baroque submarines and sailing ships, killer octopus and undersea bicycles dazzles audiences as human actors, puppetry, animation and fanciful scenic design interact to create a cinematic experience that is unique by any standards. Mixing slapstick comedy, action adventure pacing and Méliès style film magic, this little known Czechoslovakian gem transcends the juvenile literature at its source to create cinematic art of the highest order.” (Quoted from RottenTomatoes.com)
Based on the Jules Verne short story The Deadly Invention with additional elements from the novels Face the Flag, The Mysterious Island, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and Master of the World.
The story concerns the machinations of evil millionaire Artigas, who plans to use a super-explosive device to conquer the world. Artigas operates from a pirate submarine, wherein he has imprisoned the explosive’s inventor, Professor Roche, Roche’s assistant Simon Hart, and Roche’s daughter Jana. All are spirited away to Artigas’ secret base inside a huge island volcano, where the professor — foolishly believing that Artigas is a humanitarian — designs and builds the enormous, fantastic machines required to make the super-explosive. The uncooperative Hart sees the truth of the situation and tries to stop Artigas’ mad plan. In the end, Hart and Jana escape in an observation balloon as Professor Roche, now stripped of his illusions about Artigas, detonates the explosive himself and destroys the entire island in a mammoth atomic explosion.
The real star of the show is Karel Zeman’s gorgeous production design, which makes everything on screen look like an 19th century engraving come to life. Indeed, Zeman drew extensively (sometimes verbatim) on the original illustrations created by Alphonse de Neuville and others for the French editions of Verne’s novels. Zeman’s effects work is spectacular, using nearly every trick available at the time: miniatures, forced perspective, stop-motion and flat animation, marvelously detailed sets, matte work, and more. The American distributer dubbed the approach “Mysti-Mation,” though Zeman himself never gave his techniques such an overarching name. If you can find it, the Wade Williams DVD of this film includes a bonus “making of” short showing Zeman and his crew creating the effects for this and other Zeman films. (Scarecrow in Seattle has it for rent.)
Some related links:
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05.13.07
Posted in Cinema, Silent Films, 3D, Animation, Me, Sci-Fi and Horror Flix, Backyard Movie Parties, 16mm Film at 1:44 pm by Spencer
Whilst picking nits in old posts, I discovered I never posted a film list from the 2005 backyard movie party. So here it is for the sake of the archives.
It was held Labor Day Sunday (Sept. 4), 2005, and was the first of the series held at Brian and Gary’s duplex in Ballard.
In this case, we had to scramble and relocate into the basement of Brian’s half due to rain. Unfortunately, the rain also meant a bunch of folks didn’t show up as they didn’t realize we had the basement option. On the other hand, it was already kinda cozy down there just with the folks who did show up, so maybe it was just as well.
The observant may note that some of the films shown were repeated for later backyard movie parties. This was largely because attendance for this one was sparse (plus they’re awfully good films). Now, however, effort is made not to have repeats…which is also easier now that my collection is larger. Then again, all rules were made to be broken, n’est ce pas?
Wabbit Twouble (1941, Warner Bros., USA)
Color, Sound.
Directed by Robert Clampett. Animation by Sid Sutheland, w/ Rod Scribner & Robert McKimson (uncredited).
Elmer seeks some west and wewaxation by going camping at Jellostone National Park. Unfortunately for him, he sets up atop Bugs’ rabbit hole. The first Bugs cartoon directed by Clampett, and the first of only four appearances of the “fat Elmer” character design (based on the real-life appearance of Arthur Q. Bryan, who provided his voice). The credits are written in Fudd-ese: “Diwected by Wobert Cwampett” and so on.
Betty Boop’s Ups and Downs (1932, USA)
B/W, Sound. An NTA television print ca. late 1950s or early ’60s.
Animated by Willard G. Bowsky and Ugo D’Orsi.
Directed by Dave Fleischer. Produced by Max Fleischer.
Earth goes bankrupt and is auctioned off. Saturn buys it and removes the magnet at the center, taking away gravity. Hilarity ensues. Includes some funny live action shots. One of the best Boop cartoons. (Repeated for Backyard Movie Party 2006, Part II - The Sequel.)
The Red Spectre (1907, Pathé Frères, FR)
(aka El Espectro Rojo and Satan de Divierte; orig. Le Spectre Rouge)
Tinting and stencil color, Added sound
Directed by Segundo de Chomón. Produced by Ferdinand Zecca.
A demonic magician attempts to perform his act in a strange grotto, but is confronted by a Good Spirit who opposes him. A delightful trick film that is only further enhanced by the added soundtrack of unidentified electronic and electro-acoustic music (portions of which were also used on my Blackhawk print of Nosferatu). Although the color has faded somewhat, it is still a lovely example of the Pathé Color stencil process.
The Merry Frolics of Satan(1905, Star Films, FR)
(orig. Les Quatre Cents Farces du Diable)
B/W with multi-colored tinting. Silent. Music: “Hal on Earth” and “Calling All Mothers” by the Hal Russell NRG Ensemble from Hal on Earth (Abduction CD, 1989)
Produced and directed by Georges Méliés.
A pair of British dolts visit an old wizard to obtain magic “pills” (more like “bombs” really) that explode and create whatever the thrower wants. Naturally, the wizard is actually Satan himself, who pursues and, well, bedevils the hedonistic fools with an army of acrobatic imps. The more the dolts use the magic bombs, the worse things go. In the end, a demonic carriage carries them into Hell, where they are roasted on a spit. One of Melies’ very best and most riotous films. (Repeated for Backyard Movie Party 2006, Part II - The Sequel.
A Chairy Tale (1957, Nat’l Film Board of Canada, CA)
(aka Il était une chaise)
B/W, Sound
Norman McLaren, with music by Ravi Shankar
The amusing, surrealistic fable of a young man (Claude Jutra) who struggles to sit on a chair (animated by Evelyn Lambart) that refuses to cooperate. The film used McLaren’s pixilation technique of stop-motion animating people and objects. A superb film that was nominated for an Academy Award and won a Canadian Film Award and a BAFTA Special Award.
Night on Bald Mountain (1933, FR)
(orig. Une nuit sur le Mont Chauve)
Alexandre Alexeïeff and Clare Parker
An animated interpretation of the orchestral “musical picture” by Mussorgsky with additional inspiration from a short story by Gogol based on a Slavic fairy tale. It was the first film to use Alexeieff and Parker’s creation, the pinscreen — an obliquely-lit board with thousands of movable pins which create varying shades of white-to-black depending on how far they extend out from the surface of the board. The result is a gorgeous mezzotint-like effect. Alexeieff was also an illustrator and engraver whose works graced a number of books and anthologies.
Third Dimensional Murder (1941, MGM, USA)
(aka Murder in Three Dimensions)
A Pete Smith Novelty. Directed by George Sidney.
B/W 3D (red/blue anaglyphic), Sound
An early 3D release made to show off the effect. Seven minutes of non-stop throwing of shit at you! And the Frankenstein monster!! (Repeated for Backyard Movie Party 2006.)
Frankenstein (1931, USA)
B/W, Sound
Directed by James Whale. Art Director: Charles D. Hall. Set design: Herman Rosse.
With Boris Karloff, Colin Clive, and Dwight Frye.
The original horror masterpiece, with legendary sets and stunning expressionistic photography. This print includes the famous “Well…we warned you!” prologue, but does not have the complete scene of the monster with the little girl, cutting away just before he throws her into the water. That scene was censored after the initial release and was not restored to the film until after 16mm prints were no longer being made of the film. Still, a fantastic film that still holds up 75 years later.
It Came From Outer Space [digest] (1953, USA)
B/W 3D (red/blue anaglyphic), Sound
Directed by Jack Arnold
A well-made 18 min. digest that preserves the narrative of the classic sci-fi feature. The print has turned a little red with age but still has effective 3D. (Repeated for Backyard Movie Party 2006.)
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04.16.07
Posted in Cinema, Me, Experimental Film, Seattle Stuff at 9:22 pm by Spencer
Over the weekend I was a “featured extra” for a cool ongoing film project led by Adam Sekuler (program director at the NW Film Forum), known by the working title of Stop Action Set. All I’ll say is the role involved an umbrella and wearing a bunny head. You’ll have to come see the finished work to find out more.
As explained on the project’s web site:
Every month for the next year, the cast of 8 dancers will attend a planning meeting, where director Adam Sekuler will present to the group a location and several obstructions. That night, the cast and crew will determine the plot of the film to be shot in 5-hour sessions the following Saturday and Sunday using only a digital still camera. During the next three weeks, Spaghetti Western will create a score, and Adam will edit a short film. At the end of 12 months, the project will have created 12 short films, which will be edited into 1 full-length film.
This is month seven of the project, which will wrap in September or shortly thereafter.
The filming process used for Stop Action Set is a kind of pixilation deal, where live actors are stop-motion animated. Though first used as early as 1911, pixilation was made famous by Scottish-Canadian master animator Norman McLaren in his short films Neighbors (1952) [NFBC, Wikipedia] and A Chairy Tale (1957) [NFBC, Wikipedia].
In this case, instead of using a film or video camera they’re using a digital still camera, a really great idea since it gives enormous flexibility and mobility to the camera person, and the images can be stored on tiny memory cards instead of video tape or lugged to a processing lab and all that follows from that. The memory cards can also be freed up by downloading the images to a laptop on set…which this weekend was actually the woods. Ah, the miracles of the digital age.
The gigabytes of stills are later compiled in (I presume) Final Cut and any extra frames (or dud takes) are selectively dropped so that the whole thing flows as though it were film/tape.
You can view a Quicktime of the first short film (made in October, 2006), entitled Writer’s Block, at the official web site. Though the later films are not posted for viewing online, you can see stills and basic breakdowns of what elements comprised each month’s opus to date…er, but they’re a month or so behind.
This month’s film (sorry, dunno the title) was shot in the “wilds” of Interlaken Park. It was a good time (especially since the weather cooperated), everyone was really nice, the whole thing very laid back and collaborative — and as an added bonus I got to spend the day in the woods. What more could you want?
This marked my semi-decennial return to screen acting. I was a lead in Jim Sikora’s entertainingly demented Super 8 opus, Stagefright Chameleon (1988) — featuring mad poet, outsider artist, and bona fide Guinness World Record holder Lee Groban, as well as music by tondant shaman (my band at the time) and Illusion of Safety. It was released twice on VHS by FilmThreat on Bring Me the Head of Geraldo Rivera (short films by Jim Sikora) and Small Gauge Shotgun (short films by Danny Plotnick and Jim Sikora) — which Seattle-ites can rent from Scarecrow Video. Then in 1999 I played, um, a serial killer in an unfinished film by Cole Drumb based on a short story by Andrew Vacchs and shot as a single take from the victim’s POV. Yes, very creepy. In 2000 I was in an impromptu bit shot for Cal Godot’s Alex the Great [director’s site, streaming preview] but it stank and was mercifully immediately forgotten by all concerned.
Update: I was all but cut out of Stop Action Set. Serves me right.
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01.08.07
Posted in Cinema, Cinema History, Me, Early Sound Cinema at 7:35 pm by Spencer
Dang! I just serendipitously discovered that I’m now cited as an authority (of sorts) on Wikipedia, specifically in the entry about the Dickson Experimental Sound Film (ca. 1895). Some kind soul added an External Link listing pointing to my rather lengthy post about the film. My humble thanks to whoever did that — very gratifying, indeed.
I suddenly recall that I’m also cited in the bibliography of some semi-fictionalized book about terrorism. My dad was reading said book and found a citation for me as curator/editor of the olde (nay, ancient) Octopus Archive project, way the hell back in my Tezcat.com days ca. 1994-95. (It was a rather extensive [for the time] collection of conspiriana, covert history, political stuff, UFO lore and other high strangeness that I maintained initially as an FTP archive — remember those?) Unfortunately, dad couldn’t remember the title of the book, but we both got a big kick out of it.
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11.11.06
Posted in Whatever, Politics, Me, Chicago, Malachi Ritscher, 1954-2006 at 4:43 pm by Spencer
The death of someone you know or even love is always difficult and painful for those left behind. When it comes through such shocking circumstances as Malachi Ritscher’s, it is even moreso. That his death by self-immolation was framed by him in explicitly political terms exacerbates the trauma and confusion only further, no matter your feelings about those poltics.
Peter Margasak’s first blog post about Malachi’s death has swelled with comments from friends, acquaintances, passers-by, a few rather vicious partisan grumps (one of whom had the decency to, well, not apologize really but at least part with kinder words for those grieving the loss).
Family members have also been weighing in, and regrettably their private conflicts and hurts — undoubtedly magnified by these events — have spilled bitterly into public view. It is not my place to pass judgement, especially about an obviously complicated family history I have never been privy to, but it saddens me still further to see old and deep wounds on all sides torn open anew before us all.
After nearly a week since I first learned the news, I felt courageous enough to try to express my feelings in more depth by posting to that thread. Here is what I had to say (with one or two typos corrected).
Today I write from far Seattle to somehow try to express my heartfelt pain, sympathies, and respects for the man and friend I always knew as Malachi, and for his entire family, wherever they are and whatever they are feeling.
I can scarcely imagine what it must be like to walk in the shoes of his family in these difficult days. You deserve our respect and compassion, and I am angered some here have chosen to display anything but that toward you. Ironically, it seems to exemplify the very spiritual crisis that Malachi invoked in what he called his final Mission Statement. I do not speak for those people but, nevertheless, on their behalf I apologize to you all — brothers, sisters, ex-wife, and offspring — for such manifestly inexcuseable treatment. You deserve far better in your pain and grief, no matter what form that might take.
Like everyone posting here, it seems, I too have been struggling mightily to come to grips with his death, what it was that led him to such an incredible decision, and what it might really mean. Every day since I learned of his death late last Monday night, I’ve struggled to understand and articulate my feelings about it, with no real success. Right now, all I really know is that I feel profoundly conflicted about it, and the whole thing is the very antithesis of simple…not to say that anyone’s death by their own hand, for whatever reasons, ever is. If my words fail me here, I hope you (and he) will forgive me. I, too, am finding my way in territory I never imagined I would ever see.
I knew him as a good friend, albeit not a Close one. I met him nearly 20 years ago, when he was a regular at Club Lower Links. Our mutual love for music and art that challenged preconceptions and expanded possibilities became the basis for our friendship. We were fellow travellers, comrade explorers, and shared a devotion to finding a new and better way, whether artistic, cultural, political, or personal. I make no pretense that I or we were any more noble for it — I only know that this is what meant the most to me and, I believe, to Malachi as well. History and personal experience teaches me that such souls are almost always directly informed by a sense of profound alienation and, significantly, a overwhelming desire to heal that wound, for themselves and for the world we all share. Like any other soul, they are imperfect. And thus, their actions.
Whatever the source, these are consummately lonely pursuits, and in such all friends are precious indeed. When one is lost to death or some other circumstance, it is felt at one’s very core. That lonely place is made only more bereft. Not only for our loss, but for theirs. It is as if Evil has won.
The Malachi I knew was a complicated person. And so while his death has shocked me it comes as little surprise that it, too, would be complicated. I knew him to be brilliant, perceptive, by turns deeply sensitive and extremely guarded (a common paradox borne of self-preservation), talented, witty, intensely curious about the world, sometimes very dark and other times remarkably puckish, and — clearly — deeply committed to his principles. While his self-penned obituary belittled his musical talent, I am pleased to have once induced him to share the stage with me and my then-band, as one of several didjeridu players…all the more fitting now, as the dijeridu is a gateway to Dreamtime.
I have had the great honor and privilege to know a number of such people in my life, and even to count some of them as friends. Being a friend to such people is never easy or simple; loving them is only infinitely moreso. It is by turns a revelation and the most vexing thing imaginable. Almost without exception, my experience is that it is this sort of person who cries out most, implicitly or loudly, for compassion and some sort of understanding and acceptance. I am also taught that all too often, rightly or wrongly, they feel it is not forthcoming or just plain insufficient. Malachi is not the first such Friend Soul I’ve lost to death, though he is the first I’ve lost like this. I pray he is the last.
How can any of us living here outside of their minds ever hope to understand the full truth of that? As decent human beings who profess to love our neighbor, we can only try that much harder to achieve that most difficult of marks. This, I believe, is the very nucleus of all great spiritual teachings, whether Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Taoist, or shamanic. Vocabulary, schmocabulary…it all boils down to the same. Love, and be a good person, as best as you possibly can.
I also believe that this precept is what Malachi, ultimately and with every fiber of his being, hoped to instill in us through his death. Did he chose a shitty way to teach us this? Well…it’s hard to argue not, though I well understand and acknowledge the political precedent and spiritual intent. Was this the only factor at play in his decision? Again…given his own parting words to us, it’s difficult at best to argue a categorical No.
But does all that ipso facto mean his parting message to us was some “adolescent” lie, or his passion for justice disingenuous, or his pain at feeling his fellow and sister humanity suffer so beneath the noxious weight of injustice and folly and abject stupidity, or that any of those are not Real? Does any of this mean that the war against Iraq or the actions — war-wise or otherwise — of the current administration smack any less of hypocrisy, criminalism, cronyism, stupidity, arrogance, or as an abject betrayal of the very Christian teachings they profess to extoll? You may disagree, but I would say no once more. I say this as neither Republican or Democrat, or even Independent. I say this as a feeling dweller in this world.
It grieves me even deeper still to see the deep wounds of his surviving family displayed here before us. I pass no judgement here, and it is profoundly wrong for any of us not personally part of that obviously complicated family history to do so. I merely offer these following remarks, if you might all forgive my temerity.
To his brother Peter Ritscher, when I read your words “I am proud of him; very, very sad, but very, very proud” — I burst into tears as I sat at my desk at work.
To his son Malachi, when I read your words some moments later, I burst into tears again. Although from what little I can gather here the particulars were different and much less traumatic, I too was estranged from my own father for many years — indeed, from early childhood. In my case, my father and I were finally able to make peace, something that was profoundly healing for both of us.
In your case, you were cheated of this. You lost your father not just twice but irrevocably. I do not know you or your life, and you have no reason or obligation to give my words one whit of consideration. All I know is that as I struggle now to write these words I suddenly find myself weeping — not crying, but weeping uncontrollably — for the first time since I learned of your father’s death a week ago. No son who has not felt the loss of their father, in life or death, can even begin to understand the chasm it leaves. Even a one-time wife or girlfriend may mourn or rail, but whatever their wounds and however justified their pain, they are of an entirely lesser realm. That is not right or wrong, it simply Is.
As I am the first to acknowledge, I am not you. But in my own case, achieving a deeper understanding of my own father’s spiritual struggles and familial traumas long predating my birth helped provide my own gateway to deeper understanding and ultimately — no, miraculously — compassion, and eventually, acceptance and peace. It is my deepest hope for you that someday you might find some similar understanding, with full recognition and respect that it in no way lessens the justice of your own pain and depth of your loss. If I may truly risk your understandble wrath, please may I offer to you the hugely presumptuous counsel that both “sides” are right and wrong at the same time. Call it Schrodinger’s wound. Call it Rashoman. Call it whatever you like. But for the sake of yourself and your own children, try. Try mightily, and be true no matter the cost. Most humbly I say this.
Only through compassion and understanding will this world become a better place. This, I believe, is what my friend born as Mark David Ritscher — by any name and however pained — would wish for us all. How…HOW…could that be wrong? For this is the greatest teaching of all.
I have more to say, but no words to say it with. Today, I only wish the wide and private worlds were not such that led my old friend to burn himself to death, whether for principle, because of inner pain, or — as I currently believe to be the case — some mixture of the two.
To the friend I always knew as Malachi, I am so very, very sorry we all failed you so. You, too, deserved far better.
“There is no fire like greed,
No crime like hatred,
No sorrow like separation,
No sickness like hunger of heart,
And no joy like freedom.”
– from the Dhammapada, translated by Thomas Byrom.
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11.09.06
Posted in Whatever, Politics, Me, Chicago, Malachi Ritscher, 1954-2006 at 10:13 pm by Spencer
Peter Margasak reports on his Chicago Reader blog that yesterday the Cook County Medical Examiner has officially confirmed that Malachi Ritscher was the person who died by self-immolation on the morning of Nov. 3, 2006. This information will not appear in the local mainstream papers, which (like most) have a policy against reporting about suicides lest they lead to copy-cats.
If you happen to be in Chicago this Sunday, Elastic in Logan Square will be hosting a memorial starting at 5pm. I really, really wish I could be there to pay my considerable respects and to mourn together with old friends. If, like me, you can’t be there, perhaps you might consider pausing in your evening to remember Malachi, hail his contributions to the ephemeral arts of improvised and avant garde music, and contemplate the state of a world that would drive a member of Mensa burn himself alive in a desperate plea to remind us of that most basic of precepts: Thou Shalt Not Kill.
Better yet, decide what you can do to make that world not like that.
Saxophonist Dave Rempis, who is helping to organize the memorial at Elastic, sent the following to Margasak. “Malachi left many people behind who will greatly miss him, his sense of humor, his fierce individualism, and his selfless efforts in documenting the music for so many years. He was truly a unique and passionate person, who followed his beliefs unflinchingly up until the end. If you have anything that you’d like to bring (photos, etc.) that has some relevance to Malachi, please do. We’d like to display some of these items for everyone to share in. And please pass this information on to others who knew Malachi. There are many out there who will greatly miss his presence.”
Maybe it’s just me, but I really hope someone plays some didjeridu, that most ancient of instruments and — most importantly — a gateway to Dreamtime.
Goodbye, Malachi. I’m so very, very sorry we all failed you.
Blessed Be.
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11.07.06
Posted in Politics, Me, Chicago, Malachi Ritscher, 1954-2006 at 2:04 am by Spencer
I am in shock. I have just learned that an old friend and comrade from my Chicago days, Malachi Ritscher, died by self-immolation in an act of political protest.
This past Friday [Nov. 3, 2006], as reported in the Chicago Sun-Times and on local television (like this report from CBS affiliate channel 2, see top right for video), a man doused himself with gasoline and set himself on fire during morning rush hour next to a major downtown expressway, at the foot of a huge statue titled “The Flame of the Millenium.” Next to him was a hand-painted sheet that read “Thou Shalt Not Kill.” He died in solitary unimaginable agony as suburbanites drove past to their jobs in the huge towering skyscrapers of downtown Chicago.
While the identification is not yet official as I write, it seems quite clear that man was Malachi. According to posts to the chi-improv list on YahooGroups, his car was found nearby, and he had not been seen since Friday, a friend of his received his keys and a will in the mail and, indeed, Malachi posted a suicide note (titled “mission statement”) and his own obituary (titled “rest in pieces”) to his web site. As I peruse his web site as I write this, I find that in recent days he had also posted photos from his childhood. In the site’s navigation, on the last few pages he posted, he tagged these posts as “future.”
I knew Malachi during the late 1980s and early ’90s as a longtime and perennial fixture in the avant garde music scene in Chicago. He was a gifted audio engineer who recorded some 2000 concerts (a substantial number of them released commercially by the artists he documented). He collected instruments from all over. He played didjeridu, including once when he joined my then-band Wormwood (Eric Leonardson, Dylan Posa and myself) and almost a dozen other guest musicians for a multimedia sonic extravaganza at Chicago Filmmakers (the show with the speakers that fell from the ceiling, intentionally, and swung just over the heads of the audience).
My last memory of him is from one night after a show. It was just off Lincoln Ave. and may have been after something at the Blue Moon Cafe. I was feeling sad and kinda lonely, musing on friendships passed and passing, and was desultorily making my long way to Ashland Ave. to catch a bus south (or, more likely, just walk) to Wicker Park. We bumped into each other, chatted a bit, and as I started to make my goddbyes he suddenly offered me a ride. I remember feeling as though we connected a little more than usual during that ride. No particular reason, no weighty or profound conversational moment, nothing of any real note. But it seemed to me he felt a little less weighed down than usual. He was an intense, guarded, and rather dark-seeming guy, though once you got to know him a little you could tell there was great gentleness roiling beneath. During that short and un-momentous car ride, it just seemed like he opened the great iron gates just a little more than usual. Alas, I do believe it was the last time I saw him.
I really don’t know what to say. I’m writing on autopilot. This is still sinking in. So I’ll just shut up for now.
Malachi…I pray your death makes the difference you hoped it would. And I pray that now, wherever you are, you are becomming one with the compassion and understanding this world so desperately needs, and whose absence so broke your heart.
Boum Siva. Boum boum, mahadev.
Update: Fwiw, at this writing the identification is still not official. Peter Margasak, longtime music columnist for the Chicago Reader, has posted about Malachi on his Reader blog, and readers are responding with their own comments. I have also learned that, according to Chicago police, Malachi videotaped his death.
Update 2: Malachi’s identity has been officially confirmed. See followup post.
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