This Date in History - October 21

 

Happy birthday in Heaven to Joyce Randolph, the original...and only true "Trixie" of "The Honeymooners."

1096:  DURING THE PEOPLE'S CRUSADE, THE TURKISH ARMY SUCCESSFULLY FIGHT OFF THE PEOPLE'S ARMY OF THE WEST.

Rhetorical question: was there a People's Army of the East?

1097:  FIRST CRUSADE - CRUSADERS LED BY GODFREY OF BOUILLION BEGIN THE SIEGE OF ANTIOCH.

Against Bouillion, the enemy was really in the soup.

1520:  FERDINAND MAGELLAN DISCOVERS A STRAIT NOW KNOWN AS STRAIT OF MAGELLAN.

Well, that was easy to name.

1774:  FIRST DISPLAY OF THE WORD "LIBERTY" ON A FLAG, RAISED BY COLONISTS IN MASSACHUSETTS.

...and justice for all.

1797:  IN BOSTON HARBOR, THE 44-GUN US NAVY FRIGATE USS CONSTITUTION IS LAUNCHED.

I always love the word "frigate."

1824:  JOSEPH ASPDIN PATENTS PORTLAND CEMENT.

A national holiday declared by the Mafia.

1833:  ALFRED NOBEL IS BORN.

He invented dynamite and that stupid award.

1854:  FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE AND 38 NURSES ARE SENT TO THE CRIMEAN WAR.

I wonder how many of them were cute.  And wearing squeaky shoes.

1861:  THE CIVIL WAR - UNION FORCES UNDER COLONEL EDWARD BAKER ARE DEFEATED BY CONFEDERATE TROOPS IN THE SECOND MAJOR BATTLE OF THE WAR.

Back when they were not shy about raising that flag.

1879:  THOMAS EDISON INVENTS A WORKABLE ELECTRIC LIGHT BULB.

Good.  Now he could see the other things he was inventing.

1902:  IN THE US, A FIVE-MONTH STRIKE BY UNITED MINE WORKERS ENDS.

Dig they now must.

1921:  PRESIDENT WARREN G. HARDING DELIVERS THE FIRST SPEECH BY A SITTING US PRESIDENT AGAINST LYNCHING IN THE DEEP SOUTH.

He was sitting because he wanted to.  FDR was sitting because he had to.

1921:  "THE SHEIK" STARRING RUDOLPH VALENTINO PREMIERES.

And women swoon all over America.

1924:  ACTRESS JOYCE RANDOLPH IS BORN.

I met her once.  Nice lady.

1928:  BASEBALL STAR WHITEY FORD IS BORN.

I met him once.  Dirt bag.

1940:  ERNEST HEMINGWAY'S NOVEL "FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS" IS PUBLISHED.

It tolls for thee.

1942:  JUDGE JUDY SHEINDLIN IS BORN.

Boy, I wish there were nine of her on the US Supreme Court.

1945:  WOMEN ARE ALLOWED TO VOTE IN FRANCE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

Viva La France.

1959:  US PRESIDENT DWIGHT EISENHOWER SIGNS AN EXECUTIVE ORDER TRANSFERRING WERNHER VON BRAUN AND OTHER GERMAN SCIENTISTS FROM THE US ARMY TO NASA.

Outer space, here we come.

1959:  IN NEW YORK CITY, THE GUGGENHEIM MUSEUM OPENS TO THE PUBLIC.

Yeah, that round looking building.

1967:  VIETNAM WAR - MORE THAN 100,000 PROTESTERS GATHER IN WASHINGTON, DC.  A PEACEFUL RALLY IS HELD AT THE LINCOLN MEMORIAL.

As opposed to the thousand other non-peaceful rallies that will happen over the next five years.

1969:  POET JACK KEROUAC DIES.

On the road no more.

1973:  JOHN PAUL GETTY III'S EAR IS CUT OFF BY HIS KIDNAPPERS AND MAILED TO A NEWSPAPER IN ROME.  IT DOESN'T ARRIVE UNTIL NOVEMBER 8.

Forget the ear.   That's some shitty mail service.

1973:  FRED DRYER OF THE LA RAMS BECOMES THE FIRST PLAYER IN NFL HISTORY TO SCORE TWO SAFETIES IN THE SAME GAME.

Seems odd that it took that long.

1979:  MOSHE DAYAN RESIGNS FROM THE ISRAELI GOVERNMENT BECAUSE OF DISAGREEMENTS OVER POLICY TOWARDS THE ARABS.

Moshe Dayan:  "Are they coming on the left?"

1983:  BASEBALL PITCHER ZACK GREINKE IS BORN.

He had a phenomenal season for the Dodgers in 2015 and hasn't been the same since he left.

1984:  FILM DIRECTOR FRANCOIS TRUFFAUT DIES.

Truly that was the Last Metro.

1990:  ICE CREAM KING TOM CARVEL DIES.

Yes, I worked for him.   And, yes, I believe he was murdered.

1992:  LAWYER JIM GARRISON DIES.

Back and to the left.  Back and to the left.  Back and to the left.

2003:  ACTOR FRED "RERUN" BERRY DIES.

No longer happening.

2012:  POLITICIAN GEORGE MCGOVERN DIES.

And he thought he lost big in 1972.

2013:  RECORD SMOG CLOSES THE CITY OF HARBIN, CHINA.

Doesn't say much about the emission controls over there.

2014:  PUBLISHER BEN BRADLEE DIES.

All The President's Dead Men.

2015:  COMIC MARTY INGELS DIES.

Making Shirley Jones a widow.

2019:  ACTOR JERRY FOGEL DIES.

The last member of "The Mothers-In-Law."  Interviewed him once.   Nice, nice guy.

Dinner last night:  Leftover chili.

Facebook Sort Of Like

 

Aaron Sorkin must love social media.   This is the second movie he has written and directed about Facebook.   The first, "The Social Network" was the story about how the concept got started.   This new one is "The Social Reckoning" is much less kind.  It's all about how Facebook used algorithms to promote hate speech.

Or did they?

You really can't tell from this film which is two hours of nothing but Congressional hearings on the subject.   Of course, the main target is owner Mark Zuckerberg, this time played by creepy actor Jeremy Strong who always makes me feel uncomfortable watching anything he is in.

The rest of the cast is pretty basic.  Jeffrey Allen White from "The Bear" plays a WSJ reporter digging into the story.   He's getting his ammunition from a Facebook staffer/whistle blower played by recent Oscar winner Mikey Madison.

And that's it.   A bunch of interrogations as the three characters have various dialogues and monologues on the subject.   Naturally, the movie's conclusion is dovetailed with the activities on Capitol Hill circa January 6.   It's Aaron Sorkin at work.  Of course, it would.

The acting here is fine.  The subject matter is interesting.   I liked it...sort of.  But don't be surprised if your eyes close periodically because...well, it's Aaron Sorkin.

LEN'S RATING:  Two-and-a-half stars.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - October 19,2026

 Our 75th anniversary salute to Lucy and Ricky continues.  The cheese that is a baby.

Dinner last night:  Grilled sausage.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Where Did My World Series Tickets Go?

 

Sadly, for the first time in several years, I am not going to Chavez Ravine for the World Series.  There are no games or tickets.   Back when, there were some games that I should have had tickets for.  Back then, my team, the New York Mets, were in the hunt.  And my World Series tickets?  

Well, that's an interesting story that still has no ending.

How did this young, fledgling baseball nut miss out on seeing his idolized group of nine play in their very first World Series?

It's still a mystery.   And the one person who might have had the answer is gone.

My father.

Let me start at the beginning.

The New York Mets came out of nowhere to suddenly become a baseball powerhouse.  Thanks to the efforts of manager Gil Hodges, Tom Seaver, Jerry Koosman, Jerry Grote, Nolan Ryan, Cleon Jones, and Tommie Agee, they were going places in that very magical and memorable summer.

Me?  I was an integral piece of the puzzle.  At least I thought I was.  After all, the Mets got really good exactly one year after my dad hand purchased for me my very own ticket plan.  A Saturday plan with two phenomenal loge seats just to the right of home plate.  I felt like my money (okay, well, Dad's) had pushed the team over the top.  It was as if I was one of the principal owners of the franchise.

One year after we wisely bought into the Flushing Meadow dream, the Mets skyrocketed to the top.  And were suddenly bound to the first round of the baseball playoffs.  Their first task was to win three out of five games against the Atlanta Braves.   A victory in that series would punch the Mets' ticket into the World Series.

For several weeks in September, I could barely speak.  I was then overcome with emotion and exhileration.

The first two games were to be played in Atlanta with the final three slated for my home, Shea Stadium.  Here's where I thought my great insider status would cash in for me.  Prime tickets to it all.

As a partial ticket plan holder, we received the much-hallowed application in the mail.  It was for the first round.  Our response...and my father's money order...went back the same day.

When that first set of tickets arrived, I literally stared at it for fifteen minutes.  I was staring at a pot of gold.  I was going to see my team in the first playoff game ever to be played at then-new Shea Stadium.  

My father's glimpse of the tickets was a little less enthusiastic.

"These aren't your regular seats."

I knew that.  When you're only a partial plan holder, you can't possibly get your regular seats.  They will put you elsewhere.

In the case of my father and me, they put us in a Laguardia Airport flight path.  We were behind home plate alright.  But way above home plate.  Not only could you watch a baseball game, but you could also simultaneously watch the movie being shown that month on the Eastern Airlines Shuttle to Boston.

I was just happy to be going.  My dad?  Not so much.

His mood became a lot worse once the day of the game arrived.  Luckily, the Mets had taken care of the Braves in Georgia and now were just one win away from going to the World Series.  The first jolt of our reality happened when we realized we were entering in a gate different from our usual.  

"This is bad."

I didn't care.

We boarded one of the escalators and then realized we needed to take two more to get up to our seating level.  My dad looked out as the ground below kept getting smaller and smaller and smaller.

"They better win today because we're up too high."

Now, mind you, in the very second Met game I ever went to with my father, we sat on the very same upper deck.  But, in a few short years, he suddenly had become much less amenable to heights.  Maybe it was the price of the tickets.  Maybe he felt that, as partial plan holders, we deserved better treatment.  Whatever the case, my father was not a happy guy on this warm October Monday afternoon.

It was all so glorious for me.  The Mets won that day.  And I was as high as a kite.  Literally and figuratively.

I went home and waited for the next ticket application that would be my transportation to the next level of heaven.

And waited and waited and waited.  It sounds like a long time but it was probably just two days.  And I asked my father if we had gotten anything from the Mets yet.

"They're probably still working on it."

Oh.

But, my father's added comment should have been a clue to me.

"But if they're gonna put us up so high, I don't want them"

OH.

Two more days.  And I'm not hearing anything about a ticket application arriving in the mail.  Nor does my dad seem concerned.

Meanwhile, the Mets will be hosting their first ever World Series game in just five days.  It was hard for me to believe they were that behind in fulfilling ticket orders.  But, according to my father, they obviously were incompetent.

Two more days and I pressed my dad.   We should have received something by now.

"I'll check with the post office."

Oh.

I assume he did, although I never did actually see him go there.  But the answer he got from them was a little suspect.

"They think somebody saw what the application was and stole it."

Really???

Another day clicked off the calendar and my father finally did what he should have done a week earlier.  He called the Mets.  And, leaving nothing to chance, I stood next to him as he dialed the phone.

Well, according to the Mets, they send the application and, when no money was returned by the due date, the ticket offer expired.  My father asked if there were any tickets available.  The answer was obviously no.  I swallowed hard and teared up a little.  I have learned since that you never ever accept this answer from a baseball team.  There are ALWAYS tickets.

I was crestfallen and I think my dad was sad watching my world collapse.  He tried to console me.

"Well, the seats would have been lousy anyway."

Hmmmm.  Still focusing on seat location, eh?  My mother tried to help the situation. 

"Well, you have school anyway."

Seriously????

I watched the Mets win the World Series without me.   I listened to the first game on a transistor radio in English class with a really cute girl.  Okay, that helped a little.  She hugged me when Tommie Agee made his second great catch of the day.  Okay, that helped a lot.

On the day of the second game, we were off for teachers' conferences so Mom's great excuse blew out the window on that day.  And, for the Series winning game three?  I went home at lunchtime and never went back to school.  I watched it with Curt Gowdy, Lindsey Nelson, and nobody else.  After they won, I ran out onto the street to accept congratulations.  In this Yankee-centric neighborhood, everybody else was at school.  And didn't care.

Since then, I have heard many great stories from pals in college and beyond who actually were taken to that World Series.  I relive the joy vicariously through them.  And still wonder what happened in my house.

Was the ticket application really stolen?  Did we really wait too long to call the Mets?

And was my own father capable of pulling a fast one because he didn't want to sit in crappy seats?

I hate to think the latter.  But still do.

Meanwhile, I made sure to attend every Met World Series game at Shea in subsequent years.  There would be no more ticket snafus.  And wherever they chose to seat me, I would caress that location.  

And when the Dodger postseason ticket notification comes every year, I address it ASAP.

You don't mess around when it comes to World Series tickets.

Or do you?  Dad?

Dinner last night:   Pasta bolognese from my freezer.

Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - October 2026

 Well, in this baseball month, it is a theme song.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

Picture This, Picture That

 

More of the sad parade that is called Life. Take, for instance, this bunch up north. Mom hasn't quite figured how to correctly apply that fake suntan lotion.

Yeah, kid, I hear you. Birthdays suck.

So, Granny, are they real?

Will somebody please call the ASPCA about what this guy is doing to that dog?

Hey, Mom, how about a blink?

I'd give ten bucks to the first person who yells "timber."

"All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth. Oh, yeah, and a new family."

Don't fuck with Grandma.

Dinner last night:   Sandwich.

Boo

 

No, this isn't an early Halloween greeting.  Or is that word being used to show what I think about something.   Nope, the word "boo" in the title is being employed to categorize this documentary for what it is.   It's full of ghosts.   So much so that I expected to see that this was a film from Graveyard Productions.

The subject matter is Martin Mull...obviously.  Well, he's a major talking head in this movie about his comedy and film/TV work.   It's been in the works for years and, as a result, he's now dead.

The director who started this project some eight years ago is Bob Saget.   Dead.

Other participants in the documentary are Norman Lear and Fred Willard.  Dead...and...yes, also dead.  The number of people in this new movie who are no longer around unfortunately gives the production a kind of uncomfortable and eerie sensation.  

Couple that with the notion that, while Mull is certainly a talented individual, he wouldn't be called a mega-star.  I can think of a dozen other people who would merit a documentary ahead of him.

Indeed, a lot of the movie is devoted to his career as an artist which was formidable and something I did not know about.  That said, displaying all his different artwork on a screen really doesn't give it the same justice and appreciation you would get if you were actually standing in front of it in a gallery  Yet, one more portion of the film that seems just a little bit off.

Of course, I salute anybody who puts out a documentary these days.  Unfortunately, I can't do it person.

LEN'S RATING:  Two-and-a-half stars.

Dinner last night:  The pre-game buffet at the Dodger Stadium Club.