POETRY AND HISTORY: The Arts Council of Princeton and the Witherspoon-Jackson Historical and Cultural Society have partnered on the publication of two books honoring the legacy of the community. The Rev. Gregory S. Smith, shown at right, is the author of a book of poetry, for which the cover was designed by his son. Arts Council Director Adam Welch has written a brief socio-political history “zine” about the neighborhood.
By Anne Levin
Everyone is invited to a book launch party on Sunday, February 2 at the Arts Council of Princeton, where two new publications celebrating the Witherspoon-Jackson Historic District, home base to the nonprofit, will be officially unveiled.
The Rev. Gregory S. Smith, who grew up in the neighborhood, has written a book of poems, titled Reflections from a Vibrant Past. Arts Council Director Adam Welch’s 4-by-6-inch, 56-page “zine,” simply titled Witherspoon-Jackson Neighborhood, tells the history of the area through artfully arranged text, reproduced maps, photographs, and illustrations. more
Bob Dylan put President McKinley back in the national consciousness a few years ago in his song “Key West (Philosopher Pirate),” taking the first line from Charlie McCoy’s “White House Blues,” except in McCoy’s version the second line was “Doc said to McKinley, ‘I can’t find that ball,’ “ meaning the second of two bullets fired at close range into the president’s abdomen on September 6, 1901. It happened at the Temple of Music on the grounds of the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo. McKinley died on September 14, 1901, a hundred years to the week of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center.
If David Lynch were still delivering daily weather reports on his YouTube channel, and if he’d lived to see Inauguration Day, his January 20 forecast would have ended with his usual cheery, heartfelt “golden sunshine and blue skies all the way” closing line, topped off with a smile and a vigorous salute, regardless of the actual weather in L.A. or D.C. Unfortunately, actual earthly weather in the form of the Santa Ana winds driving the wildfires devastating his city forced the mandatory evacuation of Lynch’s home on the night of Wednesday, January 8. The timing and the circumstances were, as some online bloggers have noted, “Lynchian.” Not only was the director of Mulholland Drive living adjacent to the street that gave his most celebrated film its title, he was homebound, seriously ill with emphysema, and in need of “supplemental oxygen for most activities.” Even though the evacuation order was rescinded the next morning, the damage had apparently been done. Less than a week later, Lynch’s family announced his January 15 death.
