Letters to the Editor
Eerie Silence on Abortion
To the Editor:
So as not to leave an important organ of opinion mired in false impressions concerning the banality of evil, a few additions to Larry Beinhart's list might be in order. Puzzling about how "ordinary folks" carry out "cruel, bizarre and non-productive attacks on children" and how "normal human beings became the camp guards at Auschwitz," he calls out Trump "and his pleasure in hurting those who can't fight back." But shouldn't Planned Parenthood employees who pierce the craniums or otherwise dispose of another group that can't fight back be added to the list? If we can angrily and rightly condemn "guys with guns who can put unarmed children in cages" what do we say about those with knives who put unborn children to death? Bullying just doesn't seem strong enough!
That brings up another puzzlement. It is easy to understand why President Trump doesn't want to take credit for his cruel immigration policy. The separation of children from parents is never justified save for the most severe circumstances. What many people, 53 percent according to the March 11 Gallup Poll, find very hard to understand are those like former President Obama who happily take credit for and support a cruel abortion policy that includes partial-birth abortion, sex-selection abortion, traditionally tough on females, and denial of mandatory first aid for victims of botched abortions. Again, bullying just doesn't seem strong enough. And there is another puzzlement. This observation may be off target, but why does it seem that those loudly and rightly weeping over the fate of the children of deportees are so eerily silent when it comes to the fate of American abortees, almost a million a year on average, some dispatched very painfully?
Richard Murphy, Beacon
Larry Beinhart responds to Richard Murphy in his column this month, on page 27.
Larry the Jackass
In response to Larry Beinhart's column in the June issue, we received the page below in the mail, artfully critiqued in Magic Marker. The envelope had an Albany postmark and the return address read "Mike Leadd, Hudson Vally" [sic].
...
Aug 1, 2018
Tags: Letters to the Editor letter to the editor larry beinhart abortion politics planned parenthood
National
Taking a look at four issues more important to Hudson Valley voters than Antonio Delgado's hip hop lyrics.
Taking a look at four issues more important to Hudson Valley voters than Antonio Delgado's hip hop lyrics.
By Andrew Solender
Jul 20, 2018
Tags: National
Letters to the Editor
Accusations (Not Convictions)
To the Editor:
Yesterday I picked up a copy of Chronogram and found Eric Francis' Planet Waves article and horoscope missing from your monthly magazine. I understand he will no longer be contributing in the future due to accusations (not convictions) brought against him. One more male, a public figure brought low by #MeToo, a movement, which from my perspective as a female, is worrying and dangerous, relying as it does on allegations, much as the Inquisition and the McCarthy eras relied on false and invented lies to fuel their causes. What these women charge, scanty in detail, is the empowering moment in their lives when past trauma, not from the incident they conjure up at this moment, but from some other time, perhaps as far back as childhood, when they had no power to stand up against their predator is unfortunately, misdirected. They have spent a lifetime in fear and anger, which now unleashed by a movement they can identify with, creates a venom so powerful, it gets injected into all males that have a public face as we are witnessing. This empowerment will eventually be revealed for what it is, but sadly the human cost will remain high, that individual may not only lose their career, but family and friends as well, and each of us will be narrowed and twisted by the revelation that we are held up to scrutiny for every moment and misstep of our lives.
I do believe that most women today, that have lived enough years to be out in the world, living, working, pursuing dreams, have had questionable interactions and experienced risk. It is part of life, how we learn and grow. A date, a blind date, a chance of promotion, the cynical pursuit of opportunity, a moment embarrassing in retrospect, a moment all too human, something we would rather not have had happen, who knows. We made that choice.
With this #MeToo movement, I fear, will be a backlash, a whiplash on the very women it professes to serve, those women without a voice, the poor, the uneducated, those who need that job, those that settle because they believe it is their fate and what is expected of them. These women are going to be the most hurt by this frenzy of feeding on the entrails of men. The women who come forward with their confessions, looking to have their past cleansed pure, may live to regret their involvement. #MeToo should involve both sexes, not just a women's only club, as the church has proven throughout history, they shelter a proclivity for young virgin males, who have to deal with the dark secrets of a shameful past which drives a great many of them to suicide later. We live at a time when a president can boast of his "grabbing genitals" and treating his wife badly in front of the camera, when his actions so obviously display disdain for the very people he is there to serve; his disregard for women leaves many of us feeling helpless, as if there is no ear for our concerns, no place to vent our rage, so the reaction becomes to point the finger at a more local and public figure, particularly one such as Eric Francis, whose articles speak of life, sex, astrology, and politics.
With this said, when all is considered, Chronogram might find their decision to sever their relationship with Eric Francis, an unfortunate one as they stepped first to the convictions without the proof, and the magazine may be the less valued for it.
—S. Lillian Horst
Brian K. Mahoney discusses Chronogram's recent separation from astrologer
Eric Francis Coppolino in his Editor's Note on page 21.
Not So Fascinating After All
To the Editor:
I've just read the article "A Fascination with Fascism" in the 5/18 Chronogram issue. I want to let you know my outrage about it. Leni Riefenstahl was more than instrumental to the Nazi arousal. We all know how the Nazis moved the masses through extremely well-crafted propaganda. She was a key part of it.
To say that her involvement with Hitler "complicates her legacy" is of such a banality/evil drive similar to the Nazi's one. I understand that you may be following the nowadays feminist trend of re-discovering female artists, but this particular action crossed the line. Or the other trend of hiring interns with lack of knowledge for a minimum pay.
—Alejandro Dron
...
By Multiple
Jul 1, 2018
Tags: Letters to the Editor letter to the editor #metoo planet waves
National
An internal poll by the Erin Collier campaign shows encouraging data for her candidacy. We break down the findings and methodology, and determine how predictive this poll really is for NY19.
An internal poll by the Erin Collier campaign shows encouraging data for her candidacy. We break down the findings and methodology, and determine how predictive this poll really is for NY19.
By Andrew Solender
Jun 19, 2018
Tags: National NY19 New York 19th Erin Collier Antonio Delgado Pat Ryan Brian Flynn Gareth Rhodes Jeff Beals Dave Clegg
National
A super PAC supporting NY19 candidate Pat Ryan has been accused of "negative" campaigning. When subjected to greater scrutiny, however, these claims fail to hold up.
A super PAC supporting NY19 candidate Pat Ryan has been accused of "negative" campaigning. When subjected to greater scrutiny, however, these claims fail to hold up.
By Andrew Solender
Jun 1, 2018
Tags: National NY19 Congress Super PAC Pat Ryan Antonio Delgado Politics
Editor's Note
I want to tell you some things about my mother, Alice. And considering that she died on April 30, I can now pretty much say whatever I please about her.
Alice Maslin Junkin was born on January 31, 1946, to George and Alice Junkin, whom everyone knew as Nancy. Alice was the second child of George and Nancy, her brother Bill having been born two years earlier. As a small child, Alice lived like a fairy tale princess in a stone castle near Little Neck Bay in Bayside, Queens. (No lie—the house was a proper stone fortress with tapestries and parapets and crenellated towers.)
Alice's father died when she was six, and shortly thereafter the family moved into more modest quarters a mile away—what is commonly referred to in the family as the ancestral estate. This was the house where Alice would live the majority of her life—she raised her children there, she threw hundreds of parties there, she gardened there, she bronzed on the deck by the pool there, and as was her wish, she died there, surrounded by her children.
Alice attended Sacred Heart grammar school, and she went to high school on the Upper East Side of Manhattan at the Convent of the Sacred Heart, a school better known for its alumna Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, AKA Lady Gaga.
Alice studied at Nazareth College in Rochester, NY, where she would meet her future husband, Kevin Mahoney. Upon graduation, the couple moved to New York City and were married in the fall of 1969. Alice went to work at the Karralla Agency, a public relations and marketing firm, where she served in various roles for 20 years.
After leaving the Karalla Agency, Alice worked as an administrator at Queensboro Community College for nearly a decade before joining the staff of Ben Gurion University at Columbia University in 1999, where she worked as an administrator until her retirement a few years ago. As an admissions officer and a founding staff member at Ben Gurion, she helped hundreds of would-be doctors find placements in medical schools. Her co-workers described her as "unflappable" and "impossible to stress out." This is no surprise, as there's precious little that can unsettle a mother of four—especially if you know my siblings and me.
While all this work was going on, Alice was also raising a family.
On November 5, 1970, Alice gave birth to beautiful baby boy, named Brian. Although there is some dispute about this, it is rumored that he was her favorite. Alice gave birth to three more children—two more boys, Conor and Paddy—and then finally, a daughter, Alicia.
A year and a half ago, Alicia and her husband Ryan gave Alice the most exquisite gift: a granddaughter, Adeline.
Those are some of the facts of my mother's life. They tell you where she was and what she did. But they barely scratch the surface of a life so richly lived. Let me share some important details.
Alice took in strays—both canine and human, but mostly human.
A lot of people who were not direct family members lived in our house over the years. Nieces, nephews, the children of friends, her children's friends; once, an entire family who needed shelter.
As someone who can barely tolerate an overnight guest in my house, my mother's generosity of spirit floors me. Mom never talked about her motives, or preached about Christian charity. She took people in because she saw she could help. And if she could help, she would pitch in as much as possible. That was just her way.
Alice was a New Yawker.
If given the choice, my mother would rather take the subway than pump gas. She enjoyed traveling—she was planning a trip to Malta at the time of her death—but there was really no need for Mom to leave the city—as her children who moved out of the city came to realize.
These were a few of mom's favorite things: Bagels and shmear, and the Sunday Times crossword, Broadway plays (and reserving the right to chide her children when they bought cheap seats), cigarettes, and white wine.
Alice was funny.
A few years ago, I took my mother to see a revival of Stephen Sondheim's musical "Company" on Broadway. Right before the curtain, I got up to powder my nose. While I was gone, a woman sitting next to mom (she turned out to be a tourist from Kansas) said how wonderful it was for a woman to be out on the town with her gay son. (For the record, I identify as heterosexual, despite my love of the musical theater.) When I sat back down, mom whispered in my ear, "She thinks you're gay—play along," and smiled mischievously. And then mom proceeded to pat my knee and proclaim loudly "I'm so proud of my gay son" over and over until the woman's face reddened and she hid in her coat until the play began. "I'm so proud of my gay son."
Alice contained multitudes.
Mom was many things to many people: a devoted friend, a shoulder to cry on, a valued coworker, a wise counselor, a trusted confidante, and a sheltering sky for her children.
And as successful as mom was in her professional life, I've no doubt that she believed her greatest achievement was her children. Alicia the educator. Paddy the engineer. Conor the builder. And me, the writer, who learned his early word tricks at the feet of the master, his first and best editor. We are her legacy.
Last summer, my siblings and I rented a house on Cape Cod—a gift for Mom. None of us had been back in almost 30 years, since we'd vacationed there as a family in the 1980s.
Mom insisted we return to where we used to go, in Brewster, on the bay side of the Cape, where the tide goes out over a mile. It's called the Brewster Flats. It's the widest expanse of tidal flats in the Northern Hemisphere. When the tide's out, it looks like you can walk 18 miles straight across the bay to Provincetown.
The week we spent was idyllic—the weather was great, we ate our weight in lobster rolls, we drank beer on the beach, and played cards on the deck.
One afternoon, mom and I were sitting on the deck, watching the tide go out and Alicia and her husband Ryan and baby Adeline walk across the sand, way out on the Flats. The conversation veered this way and that, and mom landed on a memory of her mother, Nancy, who had been dead for three decades and whom she rarely spoke of. I asked if she thought of Nancy often. "There's not a day that goes by that I don't think of her," she said, very matter-of-factly.
I didn't understand what she meant at the time, but I'm beginning to now.
...
By Brian K. Mahoney
Jun 1, 2018
Tags: Editor's Note
Letters to the Editor
To the Editor:
What is the subject of the front cover of the April 2018 edition of Chronogram?
The "On the Cover" byline bore absolutely no background for the subject. It is gratuitous for the writer of the byline as well as for the photographer. In the byline, I searched for some background on the subject. I only get his name, as if his name is stolen, to become the artistic "title" of the photo.
Taking advantage of this person's richness harks to an indigenous American posing for a prominent 19th-century photographer; with largely the same connotations. More than any bio or credibility about the photographer, I want to know why the subject of the photo is exploited, what his story is, where he is, what his aspirations are, what he regards as beautiful.
As portrayed on the cover of Chronogram, and out of context to the photographic documentary exhibit of which this is a part, it is gratuitous on the part of the photographer and the magazine, and without equality for the subject.
There is a photographic tradition of empowering yourself by capturing the immensity or compelling nature of a subject. Hip hop producers do exactly the same thing by sampling a famous and compelling passage out of a classic song in an attempt to fit yourself into the same echelon of greatness. In this case, unless there is a humble sense of respect, equal time and reverence for the subject, the photographer, and by association, the publisher has "stolen the soul" of the subject for their own artistic gain. Tino Yannitelli's soul has been stolen by the camera and its photographer's search for curiosity.
Was the photographer, and by extension the publisher, conscious of playing right into the tradition of "stealing souls" for their own artistic gain? I think not, and further, the self-aggrandizement seems to extend itself well into the "Marco Anelli: Building Magazzino" exhibition celebrating the Italian photographer's commissioned portfolio, which was on view at the Italian Cultural Institute of New York (October 4-November 2, 2017).
I always read Chronogram, and believe in its regional reach. The purpose of a magazine is to create a feeling that carries one into a sense of lifestyle and belongingness to that lifestyle. The front cover of the April 2018 edition betrays an obvious unconscious motivational ebb: to nurture a general ennui of cultural and social elitism that assuages the true, overwhelming pain and diseases of culture and society enough to keep the magazine creators and readers believing there is no giant white elephant in the room.
We are left with the front cover's compelling subject, Tino Yannetelli, with no explanation and no celebration.
I believe there is something to learn here. It revealed, as did the indigenous American portraits of the 19th century: what is the subject here? Tino Yannitelli and his incredible richness, or the manifest destiny of moneyed powers that call the shots in arts and culture?
...
By Daniel B. Gaydos
Jun 1, 2018
Tags: Letters to the Editor letter to the editor marco anelli photography tito yannitelli on the cover
National
We take a look at the state of the NY19 race through two new lenses: academia and incumbent John Faso's campaign.
We take a look at the state of the NY19 race through two new lenses: academia and incumbent John Faso's campaign.
By Andrew Solender
May 11, 2018
Tags: National Congress NY19 John Faso Pat Ryan Antonio Delgado
Letters to the Editor
To the Editor,
I am writing to say how deeply disappointed I was to read Eric Francis Coppolino's article on the #MeToo movement for the Planet Waves section in February. I found his words on this subject incredibly offensive. He promotes a victim-blaming mentality, as when he condescendingly reminds women that they already have a voice and are just failing to use it. He shows greater concern for the well-being of accused abusers than for their victims, as when he claims that boys are afraid to ask girls out lest they be seen as predators (as if dating is not much more dangerous for women than for men) or when he says that he would "stick to patriarchy" rather than live in a world where men are held accountable for sexual violence. The entire article displays a shocking level of ignorance, an unwillingness to understand the effects of trauma, and a complete lack of compassion for victims.
I have been a devoted reader of Mr. Coppolino's articles and often pick up a Chronogram just for his horoscopes, but after reading this I am sure I will never read anything of his again. It is disappointing to me that Chronogram, a magazine I have always loved, would put its name behind such a misogynistic piece of writing.
Of course, everyone has the right to express their opinions, even offensive ones, but that does not mean your magazine has to allow itself to be used to support a violent system. I suspect that if Mr. Coppolino had used his astrology column to go on a racist or homophobic or anti-Semitic rant or to disparage any other less-privileged group, it would have been unlikely to have been published. Unfortunately, much of our society still seems to be more permissive towards misogyny than other forms of oppression. I would have expected Chronogram to have a higher standard.
I have always enjoyed your magazine but I must admit that I feel less interested in reading it after seeing this article. I hope that in the future you will make more responsible decisions about who and what you choose to give a platform to.
—Nick Taylor, Kingston
...
By Nick Taylor
May 1, 2018
Tags: Letters to the Editor #metoo feminism eric francis coppolino astrology
Letters to the Editor
To the Editor:
What gives? You couldn't celebrate National Poetry Month in the pages of your April issue? Not in the Book Reviews? Not in the Short Takes? The one and only mention a mediocre poem on the bottom right corner of page 57? Shame on you.
—J. R. Solonche
Professor Emeritus of English at SUNY Orange
Apologies to Professor Solonche, who is correct that we neglected to mention that it was National Poetry Month in our April issue. Since we were informed of this, we did some investigating into what else we might have overlooked in April. Here's an abbreviated list:
National Pecan Month
National Volunteer Month
National Welding Month
English Language Month
National Month of Hope
National Canine Fitness Month
National Internship Awareness Month
Distracted Driving Awareness Month
National Child Abuse Awareness Month
National Donate Life Awareness Month
National Cannabis Awareness Month
National Fair Housing Month
Month of the Military Child
International Guitar Month
Keep America Beautiful Month
Lawn and Garden Month
National Autism Awareness Month
National Couple Appreciation Month
National Decorating Month
National Fresh Celery Month
National Garden Month
National Humor Month
National Landscape Architecture Month
National Inventor’s Month
National Jazz Appreciation Month
National Soft Pretzel Month
National Soy Foods Month
National Straw Hat Month
National Parkinson’s Awareness Month
Occupational Therapy Month
Records and Information Management Month
Scottish-American Heritage Month
Sexual Assault Awareness Month
Stress Awareness Month
National Safe Digging Month
...
May 1, 2018
Tags: Letters to the Editor poetry national poetry month april issue
Editor's Note
Elephant in Kingston Closes After 12 Years of Business
"What's the point of trying to please everybody? We can't fit them in here anyway."
—Rich Reeve, chef and co-owner of Elephant
Back in the early aughts, Lee Anne and I used to frequent a place for brunch called 23 Broadway. The food was mediocre, but the Bloody Marys were good, the atmosphere was cozy, and it was within walking distance of our house. It wasn't great, but it was our Sunday place and many a New York Times crossword was worked in its precincts.
Then one afternoon, we noticed something had changed at 23 Broadway. The steak and eggs were being served with duck eggs, gloriously rich and vibrantly golden-yellow; there was a thoughtfully curated cheese and charcuterie board; a small selection of tapas suddenly appeared on the menu, hidden on the back of the regular menu. The food tasted phenomenal. Someone who cared deeply about what he or she was doing was now cooking here.
After a couple more exceptional meals, I needed to find out who was behind this. So I got up from our table and walked into the kitchen. There, I found a big guy with a shaved head and tattoos on his arms nonplussed to see a diner stroll into his kitchen. I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, and he told me. That's how Rich Reeve and I became friends.
Fast forward a few years. Joe Concra [1], an artist who owned a building Uptown on Wall Street, was in need of a tenant for his ground floor retail space now that the band who had been storing their equipment there, Mercury Rev, was moving out. Joe called his old friend Rich, who had cooked at a couple different restaurants since 23 Broadway [2]. Joe suggested that Rich, who had never owned his own place, should open a restaurant in his building. Lease terms would be favorable.
Now, for those who don't remember what Uptown Kingston was like in 2006, here's how I described it in a profile I wrote of Elephant shortly after it opened:
"Uptown Kingston is in a bit of a slump. Retail businesses have been especially hard hit, with vacant storefronts sprouting like so many daffodils. The bagel shop closed less than a month after it opened. Hickory BBQ, which took over a prosperous luncheonette from Jane's Ice Cream, is gone. The billiard hall that opened for a couple weeks in the former Woolworth's building is a glass mausoleum for two dozen pool tables. The city closed the Chinese restaurant with the 1950s "Chop Suey" sign for code violations. The parking garage at the corner of Wall and North Front Streets—always an eyesore, but a useful place to park—is ringed with a six-foot high chain-link fence and is being torn down."
At the time, life in Kingston was a bit of a bummer, but Joe convinced Rich and his wife, Maya Karrol, to take a chance. What followed was a restaurant build-out camouflaged as community barn-raising, with friends [3] pitching in their expertise—general contracting, electric, plastering, stencil creation, and painting, on a shoestring budget. Observing the building process as it progressed, the sense of shared vision from all involved was evident in the hard work that doubled as earnest play. The DIY, "let's-put-on-a-play" ethos was hardwired into the place.
Elephant, a 40-seat eatery, opened to acclaim in 2006 [4]. In the kitchen, Rich made a virtue of necessity: Instead of installing a commercial stove and ventilation system, an investment in the tens of thousands of dollars, he planned a tapas menu around his limitations. "One day I sat down and came up with 444 dishes I could do without a stove or a grill," Rich says. Some of those early dishes—roasted marrow bones, chorizo and chocolate, whipped salt cod crostini, blood sausage dumplings in ginger broth, pork belly and clams, snail toasts, and sautéed beef heart—not only subverted expectations but also compressed big flavors into small dishes with almost magical finesse.
Elephant represented a new spark of creativity [5] in the city, in the region, and it became a clubhouse of sorts for a cross-section of gourmands, record store employees, writers, yoga instructors, boutique owners, artists, restaurant industry folks from near and far, musicians, and culinary pilgrims from out of town, all grateful in their good fortune—that such a place as Elephant should exist in Kingston. That it should exist at all in a world of bloodless, lowest-common-denominator cooking and renew our faith in food.
Elephant wasn't a place for everybody, as the Yelp reviews will attest [6]. It was a cult favorite, and being a cult favorite ain't easy. It wasn't vegetarian-friendly, but then neither is Spain. If you're looking for a place for everyone, go to an airport. Or Applebees. Have it your way at Burger King.
Well, Elephant exists no more. On March 24, Rich cooked his last order of tacos al pastor [7]. Maya served the final glasses of Cava. The final song on the record player was "Tonight" by Iggy Pop: "I am going to love her to the end / I will love her until I die / I will see her in the sky, tonight."
Twelve years is a long run for a restaurant, especially one so innovative and expectation subverting. A long run for a joint that never played it safe, lived its ideals, and always played the music loud. If you didn't like it, you didn't have to be there. Maybe what bonded us to Elephant was its appeal to the uncompromising, punk rock part of ourselves that we still cling to, despite the day-to-day bullshit that grinds our souls down till we're all beveled edges and no jagged points. Or maybe the food was some of the most revelatory we're likely to ever eat.
Elephant is dead. Long live Elephant.
_____________________________________________________________
[1] In 2010, Joe Concra co-founded the O+ Festival, which manifested the city’s creative spirit in a physical way, visually transforming Kingston with enormous and colorful murals painted on the sides of drab brick buildings.
[2] Lee Anne and I followed Rich around to each new restaurant like a couple of food groupies.
[3] Too many to name, but one not to be missed: Richie Serringer. RIP.
[4] During its run, Elephant won numerous Best of the Hudson Valley awards, including Best Wine, Best Tapas Bar, and Best Restaurant in Ulster County.
[5] And that spark kindled a fire that we are still basking in the glow of. It’s worth noting that Elephant was the trailblazer for many now-iconic institutions like Stockade Tavern, Fish & Game, Boitson’s, and Phoenicia Diner, to name a few. Those of us we enjoy the cultural flowering that’s taken place in Kingston in the past decade have a lot to thank Elephant for.
[6] One of the most hilarious moments of the 2014 O+ Festival occurred at the Literary Salon, when Rich took the stage to read Elephant’s Yelp reviews, accompanied by Sean Gallagher on accordion. Here’s an excerpt of one Rich read from Nikki B. of Flagstaff, Arizona: “Do NOT go here. There is a full-on lunatic working there! Because I need gluten-free, I asked a few questions about what I could eat that didn’t have gluten. Suddenly, a man who I can only assume is the chef, comes out from the back and starts yelling at me to get out, telling me that I have been yelling at his waiter. Because I asked a few questions! I never raised my voice until he pulled the table out for me and told me to get the F out. I’ve never been more shocked or appalled in my life. I am not a New Yorker, so maybe that’s my problem; I am just not used to this! Everyone should know about this lunatic.”
[7] Lee Anne and I ate it. The pork belly and pineapple tasted more bittersweet than usual.
...
By Brian K. Mahoney
Apr 1, 2018
Tags: Editor's Note elephant editors note kingston
