Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

I had a couple of cases down south this month, one in Los Angeles and one in Indio, and that meant a solid 14ish hours of driving. I keep a list of books I want to read (or listen to) - you really don’t want to know how long it has grown in the last few years despite my reading 50-60 books a year. This book was fairly close in length to my expected driving time, and my library had it in stock.

Colum McCann is originally from Ireland, but now lives in the United States. He has written a half dozen books or so, but it is this one which won a National Book Award for fiction. (So, if I was doing one of those “read a book in these arbitrary categories” challenge this year, put this one down in that category.)

Let the Great World Spin has both a framing story, and a unifying event that ties together the many - nine to be exact - related episodes. In addition, there are a prologue and two short sections relating the framing story, and an epilogue that ties up the loose ends. These episodes are each told from the point of view of a different character. If you count the three framing episodes and the epilogue, that equals eleven different narrators telling different parts of what is essentially the same story.

The framing story is a real life event. On August 7th, 1974, Philippe Petit broke into the nearly complete World Trade Center (remember that?) and walked a tightrope between the twin towers. This event helps shape the characters in the story, and also serves as a metaphor within the story itself. We are all on the brink of falling, and yet we must walk on.

This is a book with adult themes (in the true sense of the word.) It also has a good bit of realistic and brutal language, and its share of violence and unpleasantness. So, definitely not for the kids, but not gratuitous by any means. It is both a desperately sad book, and yet a very hopeful book. It is realistic yet idealistic, unflinching yet optimistic. The characters are fully human (and excellently written) and, except for a few minor characters which are caricatures, decent and likeable - something that is not always the case in modern fiction. You really want the best for the characters, and mourn when catastrophe strikes them.

And catastrophe is the central story of the book. The whole thing turns on a police raid on a group of prostitutes, the subsequent arraignment, and the death of one along with the radical priest (who is the central character, even though his point of view is never seen) in a traffic accident. The lives of the characters who tell the story are irrevocably changed by these events, for good and evil - and both together.

The story opens as told by Ciarin Corrigan, the brother of the priest. The boys were born in Ireland, and Ciarin follows John “Corrie” to New York City, where the events take place. Corrie has continued his ministry which was formerly to the drunks of Dublin with the prostitutes near his apartment in the projects. He brings them coffee, and lets them use his bathroom. He supports himself by driving a van for a nursing home. Corrie is a good man, it is clear, but he is deeply conflicted. He is, truth be told, following literally in the steps of Christ, making a life with those on the margins of society. But he is full of doubts. His faith is shaky, and his purpose not as true as he would wish. And then, he falls in love with a Guatemalan nurse and thus becomes torn between the halves of his heart. Between his vows and his desire.

Ciarin tells the story up until the accident, at which time the narrative switches completely to Claire, a wealthy Southern woman married to a Jewish judge. Their only son has been killed in Vietnam, and she is deeply grieving. (He is too, in his own quiet and awkward way.) She sees an ad in the Village Voice seeking other women who have lost children in the war, and ends up joining an informal support group of five women. The book tells primarily of the event she hosts at her apartment on Park Avenue, a delightful set piece of awkwardness, trauma, stress - and also decent people behaving decently despite grief. This section of the book could have been dull as heck, but instead is simply brilliant writing.

Midway through the breakfast, the narrative switches abruptly again, this time to Lara, a young artist who has been living life in the fast lane with her husband, also an artist and cocaine aficionado. Coming back from an all night bender in their classic 1927 Pontiac, they clip the rear of Corrie’s van, setting in motion the events of the fatal accident. She sees the young woman, Jazzlyn, ejected from the van and crushed on the pavement, and she is consumed with guilt. Her husband’s less than appropriate reaction leads them to break up, and her to seek out what happened to the priest. She ends up attending Jazzlyn’s funeral, meeting Ciarin, and becoming involved in the story as a result. 

 Because of course we need a picture of a 1927 Pontiac.

After a brief interlude from the point of view of Petit, the narration is taken up by Fernando, a young teen who ends up capturing a picture of the Petit on the wire with an airplane passing overhead. (The character is fictional, the picture is real.) We then hear briefly from a young hacker who, with his friends, dials a pay phone in Manhattan and talks the bystanders who answer into describing the walk as it happens. 

The next section goes back to the main narrative, and is told by Tillie, Jazzlyn’s mother, who is also a prostitute and a drug addict. This is a heartwrenching and exceedingly gritty tale, with a dark ending.

Next, the narrative switches to Claire’s husband, Solomon, who tells of both the arraignments of Tillie and Jazzlyn and a bit of Petit’s arraignment on the same day. (One of the nice things about this book is that the courtroom scene is actually done correctly. After all the ludicrous descriptions you can find in books and movies, it is nice to read one that captures the mundane nature of the ordinary arraignment, and the frustration of judges in dealing with recalcitrant defendants. My applause, Mr. McCann.)

The next narrator to take up the story is Adelita, Corrie’s flame, who describe falling in love with (and eventually making love to) Corrie, and her response to the tragedy.

Finally, we hear from Gloria. She is one of the mothers in Claire’s support group, and the only African American member. At the end of the breakfast, Claire makes a major faux pas and Gloria walks off rightly offended. However, she is mugged, and returns to Claire’s apartment, and the two end up becoming friends. Gloria will then end up (through another stroke of fate) taking on the care of Jazzlyn’s two daughters after her death.

The epilogue is told by one of the daughters thirty years later, and the loose ends are wrapped up. (While I appreciated that the epilogue existed, it is the weakest part of the book, with some trite characters and easy ways out. It might have been better if it had just told what happened, rather than trying to insert new characters and events.)

The character of Corrie is loosely based on the real life priest, Daniel Berrigan, best known (depending on your level of nerdiness) for his participation in the Vietnam protests and part of the Catonsville Nine - or from Paul Simon’s song. The characters do not share biographical details, however, but more a philosophical connection. Both are “radical” priests who struggle with faith and who minister to the rougher city denizens without judgment.

Corrie is the central character, as I noted, even though we only know what he is thinking from the words he says to others - and from his actions. Many of these observations were quite interesting.

“Corrigan told me once that Christ was quite easy to understand. He went where He was supposed to go. He stayed where He was needed. He took little or nothing along, a pair of sandals, a bit of a shirt, a few odds and ends to stave off the loneliness. He never rejected the world. If He had rejected it, He would have been rejecting mystery. And if He rejected mystery, He would have been rejecting faith.”

“What Corrigan wanted was a fully believable God, one you could find in the grime of the everyday...he consoled himself with the fact that, in the real world, when he looked closely into the darkness he might find the presence of a light, damaged and bruised, but a little light all the same. He wanted, quite simply, for the world to be a better place, and he was in the habit of hoping for it.”

These days, I find myself thinking these thoughts as well. How difficult it is to see Christ in the American church right now, and how little relevance their treasured doctrines seem to have to the people Christ spent his time with. How precious little any of it has to do with loving our neighbor.

Perhaps the quote that intrigued me the most was Adelita’s memory of Corrie’s statement that there was “no better faith than wounded faith.” I rather hope it is true. And I feel in many ways that my own faith is more real to me now than ever, maybe even because of the the challenges and the, yes, wounding it has undergone in the last few years. Corrie wrestles with God, as do the other characters - particularly Tillie, who would like to give Him a good talking to. Fate, God, chance, or however you look at it, isn’t fair, understandable, or benign. Crap happens, and we are left, like Job or Qohelet, to try to make sense of it all or go crazy.  

On a lighter note, I should mention one quote from Tilly, when she tries to seduce Ciarin. “You won’t seen anything this good until there are lawyers in heaven.” We can’t get no respect…

And one more, describing the aging judiciary: “Few folicles on the oracles.” 

Tilly has an interesting secret, though, that bears mentioning. An early client never slept with her (although he paid her), but preferred that she sit, naked, and read him the poems of 13th Century Persian poet Rumi. I have no desire or intent to avail myself of a prostitute, but there is something kind of epic about that whole picture. I haven’t read a whole lot of Rumi, I’ll admit, although he was apparently wildly popular in the 1960s and 70s. See below for a selection. McCann threads lines from Rumi throughout the book, and his presence is a ghost in the narrative.

Poetry is connected to this book in another way.  The title itself comes from a couplet in Tennyson’s Locksley Hall:

Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range,

Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.

McCann ends the book with a poetic line of his own:

“The world spins. We stumble on. It is enough.”

This could perhaps be the theme of the book itself. The characters stumble on. They are afraid of love (as Lara says), in part because they have lost so much. They all mourn something. But in the end, love is still worth it, and the characters know this, and risk for this idea. They choose to love, to be vulnerable, to accept the pain, to embrace it even, as the necessary experience which makes them alive.

This book was a good read, with outstanding and compelling writing, some of the best characters I have seen in a modern novel, and enough thoughtfulness that the book sticks in your mind afterward.

***

Note on the audiobook: The version I listened to is by Recorded Books, and featured eleven different readers - one for each character. Each had his or her own voice, accent or dialect, and cadence. A rather brilliant use of the audio format - definitely look for this version if you listen to it.

***

A little Rumi (translated by Jonathan Star):

Gone to the Unseen

At last you have departed and gone to the Unseen.

What marvelous route did you take from this world?

Beating your wings and feathers,

you broke free from this cage.

Rising up to the sky

you attained the world of the soul.

You were a prized falcon trapped by an Old Woman.

Then you heard the drummer's call

and flew beyond space and time.

As a lovesick nightingale, you flew among the owls.

Then came the scent of the rosegarden

and you flew off to meet the Rose.

The wine of this fleeting world

caused your head to ache.

Finally you joined the tavern of Eternity.

Like an arrow, you sped from the bow

and went straight for the bull's eye of bliss.

This phantom world gave you false signs

But you turned from the illusion

and journeyed to the land of truth.

You are now the Sun -

what need have you for a crown?

You have vanished from this world -

what need have you to tie your robe?

I've heard that you can barely see your soul.

But why look at all? -

yours is now the Soul of Souls!

O heart, what a wonderful bird you are.

Seeking divine heights,

Flapping your wings,

you smashed the pointed spears of your enemy.

The flowers flee from Autumn, but not you -

You are the fearless rose

that grows amidst the freezing wind.

Pouring down like the rain of heaven

you fell upon the rooftop of this world.

Then you ran in every direction

and escaped through the drain spout . . .

Now the words are over

and the pain they bring is gone.

Now you have gone to rest

in the arms of the Beloved.

So beautiful.

Woman Lawyer: The Trials of Clara Foltz by Barbara Babcock

Source of book: I own this.

This book was my official selection for Women’s History Month (March). Here are my past selections:

Are Women Human? By Dorothy Sayers (2014)

A Vindication of the Rights of Women by Mary Wollstonecraft (2015)

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood (2016)

Woman Lawyer tells the story of Clara Shortridge Foltz, the first female lawyer in California. She wasn’t the first female lawyer in the United States, but she was one of the first, a true pioneer. Furthermore, she was instrumental in eventually bringing women’s suffrage to California - and eventually the entire nation. But perhaps her greatest accomplishment was founding the movement to establish Public Defenders.

Barbara Babcock is herself a lawyer as well as a writer. She came and spoke to our local bar association several years back, when the book came out. Unfortunately, I had a schedule conflict and was unable to attend - I really wish I had. Babcock admits outright that she cannot be an unbiased biographer. As a female lawyer and a feminist, she naturally sympathizes with Foltz. That said, she scrupulously tells the bad with the good, Clara’s faults and failures along with her virtues and triumphs. As Babcock puts it, she aimed to “mix the hag with the hagiography.” What results is a compellingly human portrayal of Foltz. She comes alive on the page because she has depth. She is a heroine but not a superhero. 

One interesting bit in this regard is that Foltz lacked a certain amount of business sense. On the other hand, she was a genius at crafting her image. She got fantastic press coverage in large part because she sold herself really well. 

Clara Foltz had an interesting start to her life. Her father was originally a lawyer himself, but then turned to preaching. Her brothers would go on to a mild degree of renown themselves, as newspaper editors, congressmen, lawyers, and writers. However, her father recognized that Clara showed potential from a young age. “Ah, if only you had been a boy, then I would have trained you for the law.” Clara was not amused at this. Her mother didn’t think it was funny either. “One of these days she will take it into her head to study law, and if she does, nobody on earth can stop her.”

Clara was academically inclined, and mastered subjects easily. However, her education was interrupted at age 15, when she eloped with Jeremiah Foltz, a soldier a decade her senior. She would bear five children, and move first to Oregon, then to California with him.

Jeremiah wasn’t a particularly good husband by any standard. He was continually in debt, was away from home for weeks at a time, and eventually deserted her for a woman in Oregon.

And thus, Clara was left to fend for herself in her mid-20s, with five kids, and only the help of her parents, who didn’t have much themselves.

Clara Foltz then decided to study law, and become a lawyer. And, as her mother predicted, nobody could stop her. Back then, law schools were unusual - and for people already admitted to practice. She found a lawyer who would apprentice her (although he was far from prestigious), and challenged the rule forbidding women to practice law. It took some tries, including eventually lobbying for passage of a law. Then, for several decades, the law in California (and quite a few other states) allowed women to practice law...but not vote or serve on juries.

This is obviously making a long story very short indeed. The book tells the tale in thrilling detail, including all the dirty politics and open misogyny that Foltz had to overcome.

But the admission to the bar was only the first part of the story. Even with the right to practice, Foltz struggled to make a living. The more lucrative areas of practice were dominated by men, who had no intention of sharing. She ended up doing a lot of indigent defense, and smaller cases that didn’t pay that well.

Thus, she turned to public speaking to supplement her income - and this was quite successful. Apparently, she was a brilliant speaker, and in demand by both political parties for her skills. (She switched a couple of times, depending mostly on who was more sympathetic to Women’s Rights at the time.)

This book of necessity also tells of many other feminist icons who collaborated with Foltz or who were active at the same time. Elizabeth Cady Stanton (one of whose great-something grand-nieces is a friend of mine) figures in the story as a major luminary in the movement for suffrage, and her lifetime overlapped Foltz’s for several decades. The one who gets the most words in this book, though, is Laura Gordon, who was California’s second lawyer, and was a close friend and collaborator with Foltz. The two of them worked together on many projects throughout their lives, and without their mutual support, neither would have been admitted to the practice of law. One of the fascinating stories in the book is the case where they went up against each other.

Like Foltz, Gordon was also divorced - the grounds were her husband’s adultery, which was interesting because California was one of the few states that allowed the wife to get a divorce on those grounds. Most other places - and throughout most of history - a woman had no recourse if her husband slept around. Both Foltz and Gordon, however, claimed to have been widowed. It was considered to be a sign of the woman’s poor character to be divorced, and both knew that under the sloppy ethical standards of the day, opposing counsel would be sure to drag their divorces into their closing arguments. (Seriously, the most shocking thing about this book is the obvious flagrant misconduct lawyers - particularly prosecutors - got away with in the late 1800s. Good grief!)

Later, however, Foltz defended the right to a divorce. As she put it,

“When love is slain, the civil contract is but the husk and shell of marriage. Long before a divorce is sought love has ceased. All that is sacred is dead, and a civil court in a judgment of divorce only gives legal sanction to a decree that nature has already entered in their hearts.”

I have said something to the same effect (although not as poetically) when asked how I can practice family law, and end marriages.

One of the cases that Foltz tried was one involving such a marriage. Actually, the facts are shocking and horrifying. It started when the husband sued his wife to reverse the gift of some real estate he had made to her. He had become paranoid that she was (allegedly) seeing another man. In the course of the trial, it came out that he treated her like a slave. In 23 years, she had been pregnant an incredible 21 times. Only three children survived. Eight had been miscarriages, and there was strong evidence that they were caused by his insisting she overwork herself - and his refusal to get her prenatal care. He apparently didn’t even bother to attend the funerals of his infants.

The most horrifying bit, though, was that the court refused to grant her a divorce! I’m not kidding. Abuse and neglect were not enough to get a woman a divorce. Since she couldn’t prove he cheated on her - and he couldn’t prove she had either - no divorce. She was stuck with a man who treated her like a slave, and was slowly killing her with overwork and pregnancy. I am so glad I live in the 21st Century.

Foltz never did remarry. Perhaps her vision of marriage as egalitarian was a bit of a turnoff. And, there is no doubt that she would never have consented to give up her career for a man. In her speeches, she would quote a Tennyson poem to the effect that man and woman must become more alike in order to form a perfect union.

“[If] husband and wife would blend in the harmony of a complete union they must pursue some common theme. In marriage, as in mathematics, only parallel lines keep close together.”

Foltz therefore encouraged women to study - particularly law, of course - so that they would be the intellectual equals of men, and therefore form better relationships. I could not agree more. Marrying my intellectual equal (or better…) has been the best decision I could make. I am grateful that I have a partner, not a subordinate.

Gordon and Foltz, though, did not merely struggle against gender roles in marriage. They faced shockingly obvious misogyny. There are far, far too many infuriating quotes - many from legislative sessions and closing arguments in cases - these are public record - than I have room to quote. Let me just mention the one when Foltz was still seeking admission to the bar. A man compared women to dogs and horses, which can be trained to perform certain acts, but who could obviously not do them of their own talent. Gah!

Even at the turn of the century, when the Suffragist movement was gaining steam, opponents of feminism claimed - as they do now - that feminist men were “weak and effeminate” while suffragist women were “aggressive and unsexed.” Here we are, in 2017, and we are still having this same freaking argument. Here, in 2017, I still hear people saying that feminist women are all ugly and are feminist because they couldn’t catch a man. (Hey, I have, like, several million women I could list as proof to the contrary - including my wife - but, hey, never let the facts get in the way of prejudice, right?

It is not surprising, then, that Belva Lockwood, who would run for president on a third party ticket in 1884 and 1888 - 35 years before women would get the national vote - had the following to say about women’s rights:

“We shall never have equal rights until we take them, nor respect until we command it.”

The Civil Rights Movement decades later would echo the same sentiment.

Alas, the road would be long and hard. As Boss Buckley is quoted in this book as saying about why his party lost an election, “I don’t know, but I think they didn’t get enough votes.” Of course, kind of hard when half the population can’t vote - the very same people whose rights are at stake…

Speaking of delightful political quotes, how about this one by Robert Ingersoll, which seems fitting for our recent election as well:

“Each side would have been glad to defeat the other if it could do so without electing its own candidate.”

Moving on to the next section, this book spends a good bit of time on the legal accomplishments of Foltz. While she never got rich, she was well respected as a trial lawyer, competent and persuasive. Between her cases and her advocacy, she actually ended up accomplishing a great deal of good in the world - she just didn’t manage to profit from it much. Here are some examples.

We now assume the existence of an orderly system of parole. But it was not always so. Sentences for minor crimes could be decades, and the only way to get out early was a pardon, and these were given out erratically, and often to the politically connected, denying the poor and obscure equal justice.

While Foltz’s bill she presented to the legislature failed, it formed the basis of a bill that passed a couple of years later. So here in California, she can be considered one of the founders of the parole system.

Foltz and Gordon did win on the issue of allowing women to be executors of estates - a major victory in an era when a male executor could bleed an estate to the detriment of the widow.

Although she lost the court case, her advocacy in a case where an elderly person was evicted from a home for the aged resulted in major changes to the law. In fact, when I, early in my career, defended several residents of nursing homes from eviction, I was following in her footsteps - and benefiting from her legacy.

Foltz also wrote several influential law review articles. The idea of the Public Defender was the topic of a few, but she also wrote on some other interesting topics. One was entitled “Should Women Be Executed.” In this article, she took issue with some other feminist thinkers who claimed that since women couldn’t serve on juries, they shouldn’t be executed. Mind you, Foltz opposed the death penalty entirely. However, she didn’t think that women should be treated any differently. As she put it:

“The law should acknowledge no difference between the sexes as to moral perceptions, reason, passions, volition, or self control.”

This is in line with Mary Wollstonecraft’s argument that women had equal moral volition, and thus should be educated and treated equally. I agree. Perhaps one of the most frustrating experiences in my childhood was seeing females get away with atrocious behavior and yet get off with lighter punishment than a male would in the same circumstances. With equal power comes equal responsibility - and most feminists these days would agree with that.

Foltz also noted that this idea that women should get off easily (particularly in a famous case at the time) because of the discovery of adultery was actually rooted in a belief of male ownership of female bodies. In the old days, so to speak, a man was essentially entitled to kill his wife’s lover - and her too - if he caught them in adultery. Foltz objected to the idea that either sex should have the right of vigilante justice of this kind.

The book has an interesting summary and discussion of the high profile murder cases of the time that Foltz obliquely references in her article. It is interesting to see some of the dated arguments that were made. One is straight out of Rape Culture. The prosecutor made the claim in his argument that no woman could be forced into sexual intimacy she didn’t desire. (Oh wait, we still have people like that around…)

The other article which really fascinated me was one on the role of the legislature. Then as now, there was a tension between those who pushed for legislative solutions, and those who sought court relief. More or less the same way we now debate whether progress should come through court decisions or through statutory law. While reducing this to a liberal versus conservative issue is oversimplification, there is a degree to which the sides have switched in the last 100 years. The conservatives at one point wanted the law to progress through Common Law style decisions, while progressives (in the Theodore Roosevelt mold) preferred legislation. Foltz herself made a few interesting observations and suggestions in her article. First, she noted that the courts tend to take a stronger role when the legislature fails to do the right thing. Hey, in our own day, Congress has abysmal ratings. I wonder why? Might possibly have something to do with the fact that they only rarely are able to work together to write legislation that actually helps people. (It’s another discussion, but there seems to be a fundamental disagreement between the parties right now as to goals, not just means. Not how to make life better for the poor, etc., but whether we should at all.)

Foltz also had an interesting - and influential - suggestion. Since legislators often lack expertise, they need help. She suggested that legislators needed to work with experts regarding their legislation - people who actually knew the fields - scientific and so on - so that silly mistakes could be avoided. (She cited a coyote control measure which backfired - because it sounded good only to those who had no knowledge of the science involved in coyote reproduction.) To a large degree, Foltz’s vision did come to pass for a time. Much of the progress of the 20th Century owed a lot to the assistance of experts in designing legislation. And to the fact that the parties worked together enough to come up with solutions, not just ways of stopping the other. Of course, now, there is a backlash against the “elites,” and - at least in certain circles - “alternative facts” and militant ignorance is celebrated as superior to science and knowledge.

As a final note, I want to return to what is probably Foltz’s keystone accomplishment: the Public Defender.

When she started practice, it was acknowledged - to a point - that the indigent needed counsel. But rather than pay attorneys, judges would order one to represent - free of charge. It was rarely the prominent, connected ones that got the call. Rather, it was the bottom feeders - and women like Foltz, who then had to either make a poor defense (and on short notice) or devote weeks at a time to free labor. (Foltz fell into the latter category.)

Foltz’s vision was that instead, the defense would be paid and equipped the same way as the prosecution. Both sides should be equal, and a defendant - presumed innocent - should not fail to get justice simply because of his poverty.

“For every public prosecutor there should be a public defender chosen in the same way and paid out of the same fund.”

There isn’t space in this post to get into the whole vision - it is impressive and well thought out - and has only partially been realized. (Defendants still end up having to pay if they can afford it, which Foltz thought was unfair.) But it is amazing just how much did come to pass. We tend to take the right to counsel for granted, but Foltz played a key role in making that right more than an illusion, something only the wealthy could truly enjoy.

There is so much more in this book. It isn’t short, but neither is the story. Foltz lived during interesting times. Exciting, fascinating, frustrating, and never boring. We modern Americans tend to forget just how much has changed for the better in the last 200 years, but we should never forget that they didn’t just happen. People made them happen. People like Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Laura Gordon. And, we should never forget, Clara Foltz. She never made her fortune, but she did, in many ways, make the fortune of millions of women who came after her, from the many outstanding lawyers and judges I work with in my practice, to my wife, who can put her leadership skills to good use at her workplace, to my daughters, who are growing up in a world where a man who would claim that females are just trained animals would rightly be laughed out of town - even in conservative circles.

I highly recommend this book - particularly for those with an interest in law, politics, or history - but really for everyone. Barbara Babcock tells a great story, the writing is compelling, and the details and research are outstanding. 

***

The Criminal Courts Building - aka the Clara Shortridge Foltz Courthouse. 

If it looks familiar, it should, as this is where the O.J. Simpson trial was held. 

Foltz herself tended to side with the defense, and she probably would have enjoyed the trial antics.

 

Pippin by Stephen Schwartz & Roger Hirson

Ah, how marriage changes a man. Musicals were not exactly my thing, although I concede being raised on The Sound of Music and Fiddler on the Roof. And later, I played in the orchestra in a number of local productions: Hello Dolly, The Music Man, The Secret Garden, My Fair Lady, and Crazy for You. But by then, I had already met my wife, and knew the tunes to Crazy for You because she introduced me to the George and Ira Gershwin songbook - as performed by Ella Fitzgerald and Michael Feinstein. (On separate albums, of course.) And then I played a number of tunes from Rodgers and Hammerstein and Andrew Lloyd Webber and so on. I also saw both Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables in London during my law school days. So I wasn’t exactly a neophyte, but I didn’t exactly seek out musicals either.

Competing with this, however, was my love for music and for live theater. And, occasionally, a particular production will catch my eye, particularly if it is something my wife (who knows more about musicals than any non-professional I have ever met) finds interesting. Pippin, by Stephen Schwartz and Roger Hirson, was one of these.

The idea of a spoof on the “finding yourself” genre, with a dose of snark about Medieval - and modern - values, sounded interesting by itself. Add to that the fact that it was at our local university, and would likely feature live musicians (it did!) and it sounded like a fun idea. In fact, we brought the kids too. My sons in particular love live theater, and were eager to see this one. They were not disappointed.

I would caution parents, however, that there is some decidedly adult humor in this particular show. Nothing explicit, but older/experienced kids will get the jokes. This isn’t an issue for me - my kids had sex ed early and I am not really into sheltering. (For reasons. I don’t want them to see sex as a taboo.) Your mileage may vary.

The play uses the historical characters of Charlemagne and his sons Pippin and Louis. I say “uses” in the sense that the names and relationships are used. But nothing else has much of anything to do with history. Sure, King Charles is a king who conquered a lot of Europe. And he had sons. And the real life Pippin did lead a revolt against his father. But that is pretty much it.

The story itself is about Pippin (usually called Pepin the Hunchback) and his quest to find himself and his place in the world, his “corner of the sky,” to quote his signature song.

This quest leads the naive Pippin through a variety of adventures. But there is an additional layer. Like The Taming of the Shrew and others, this play uses the framing story of a group of actors putting on the story. Except that in this case, Pippin is both a “new actor” in the role, and someone who isn’t entirely acting. The other actors want Pippin to follow the script and get the big finale, but Pippin wants to actually find himself, and live the life he wants, whether or not it fits the script.

The original production of Pippin on Broadway was directed by Bob Fosse. My wife, who would of course know all about this, dug up a bunch of clips after the play so I could see all of the choreography that was classic Fosse. The costumes, the sets, and the dancing all showed the influence. The opening itself was interesting for that reason. Nothing but white gloves and black lights, followed by the appearance of the actors (sans Pippin) in black costumes with over-the-top hats, revealing them as characters villainous or good, humorous or serious. (The costumes in this production were excellent and almost a character themselves.)

Pippin starts off pursuing his father’s favorite pursuit: war. This is pretty well doomed because Louis is far, far better at that sort of thing than Pippin will ever be. And Pippin is simply horrified by war once he experiences it.

The war scenes were delightfully done. Charlemagne rallying the troops with a battle plan (“War is a Science”) is hilarious, and the ode to gore, “Glory,” is darkly humorous. The predominantly female soldiers were dressed in what can only be described as “Chorus girl meets Roman Soldier” costumes, which were profoundly ludicrous. While they fight - and severed limbs and heads appear - the “Leading Player” (the narrator and master of ceremonies) and two members of the chorus do a little Broadway soft-shoe routine at stage right. The incongruity serves to highlight the sport which Charlemagne and Louis make of bloodshed.

Disgusted, Pippin goes to consult his grandmother, who shares his disdain.

“Men and their wars. They like to raise a flag when they can’t get anything else up.”

She urges him to live in the moment, serving as the Hippie Godmother of the play. Everyone was encouraged to sing along with “No Time At All.” In this production, Miriam Alqausi appropriately hammed it up, ordering the orchestra around, and ignoring the directions from the Leading Player. Pippin then has a series of (highly stylized and choreographed) encounters with beautiful young women, but the meaningless pleasure doesn’t thrill him either.

Pippin then becomes a revolutionary, after seeing the way his father oppresses the peasants. (At this point, one of the actors held a “#fakenews” sign in the background. Pippin himself wears a red trucker hat while a revolutionary…) But after he murders his father, he finds that circumstances make it necessary to do the exact same stuff his daddy did. He then regrets the murder, and wishes it were undone. The Leading Player obliges, and Charlemagne is restored to life - and tells Pippin that patricide had better not happen again.

Disillusioned with revolution, Pippin tries religion, but this too is much like his father, who has an alliance with the Pope to spread Christianity throughout Europe, even if they have to kill millions of infidels to do it. Got to love that whole “by this cross conquer” thing.

Pippin despairs, and collapses in the middle of the road, where he is rescued by a widow, Catherine, who falls in love with the arch of his foot. (My kids found this hilarious.) She takes him home, and does her best to capture him as a husband and assistant on her farm. Pippin is initially put off by the hard work, but warms to her and her snotty son, comforting him when his pet duck dies.

But Pippin eventually moves on, and Catherine sings a song about her loss - a song which is not in the script - giving the Leading Player fits.

The time comes for the big finale, but Pippin refuses to cooperate, choosing a “boring” life of settling down.

I should mention a few of the actors in this particular production. Most of the leads have been in other things around town, and elsewhere. Paul Sosa, as the Leading Player, is a professional and alumnus of CSUB. He has had bit parts on General Hospital and has worked as a showman at Disney and Universal Studios. He owned the stage when he was on it - great dancing, stage presence, and totally unflappable. We went on opening night, and his mic had issues and kept falling off. He was able to carry on unamplified and never missed a beat. That’s skill.

Dakota Nash as Pippin is a bit of a newcomer, but did fine. Anthony Salvador Jauregui III was a convincing Charlemagne. Susannah Vera (Catherine), Crystal Vega (stepmother), and Miriam Alqaisi (grandmother) were solid.

But I was particularly impressed by Judd Johnson as Lewis. The word that comes to mind is “electric.” His stage presence, physical acting, excellent dancing, and connection with the audience was impressive. He could easily carry a bigger role than he had in this play. I hope we see a lot more of him around town - give this kid some main roles!

Pippin runs this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, so if you are a local Bakersfield resident, go see it. 

 Charlemagne (Anthony Salvador Jauregui III), Pippin (Dakota Nash), and Lewis (Judd Johnson)

 Soldiers before the battle...

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One quibble with CSUB: You need to make more photos available! Other local theaters promote their events with high quality pictures, while I had to go hunting to find a mere two. I’d love to give some publicity, but could use some better materials.