The Jersey Shore Anniversary

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When you hear the phrase Jersey Shore these days, I guess most people's first thought would be of a reality series on MTV.

But a series of events on the Jersey shore in the early 20th century had a profound impact on American culture later in the century — a much greater impact than any television show.

Those events began on this day in 1916.

I'm speaking of shark attacks that led to four deaths and one injury in the first half of July 1916.

As I understand it, it was a brutal summer along the East Coast. Folks had been sweltering in a heat wave, and that — along with a polio epidemic — sent hordes of people to the beach seeking relief.

No one probably thought about the possibility of shark attacks in those waters. Such attacks are quite rare in that vicinity, but, on Saturday, July 1, 1916, a 25–year–old man who was vacationing with his family decided to go for a short swim with his dog before dinner.

After entering the water, the man began shouting, and other people on the beach thought he was calling to his dog, but, in reality, a shark was biting his legs. A lifeguard pulled him from the water, but he bled to death on the hotel manager's desk.

The beaches remained open, though, in spite of reports from ship captains of swarms of sharks off the coast. For awhile, it must have seemed that the folks who stood to gain from keeping the beaches open were going to get away with it, but then, on July 6, tragedy struck again about 45 miles north of the first attack.

A hotel bellhop was attacked while swimming about 100 yards from shore. He, too, was pulled from the water and bled to death on the way back to shore.

Another six days went by, then two attacks occurred about 30 miles north of the second incident. These were perhaps the most baffling. The first two attacks had happened in seaside resort locations, but the one on July 12, 1916, happened inland on a creek in a community that didn't really seem like a resort. An 11–year–old boy, who had been playing in the creek with some friends, was attacked and killed by a shark. A man who dove into the water in an attempt to save the boy also was attacked and bled to death at a hospital.

About half an hour later, the final victim, a 12–year–old boy, was attacked. He eventually recovered from his injuries.

The shark attacks triggered a panic. Tourism declined precipitously, and shark sightings rose sharply. Things only began to settle down after a fellow named Michael Schleisser caught a 7½–foot shark at the mouth of the creek. When they examined the shark, they found human remains in its digestive tract — but it was never established absolutely that the shark had been responsible for the attacks.

Half a century later, the shark attacks off the Jersey shore inspired Peter Benchley's phenomenal best–selling novel "Jaws" — which, in turn, inspired a blockbuster movie by the same name that dwarfed every other movie that was released that year.

Although the public officials along the Jersey Shore, like the ones in Benchley's novel, thought more about tourism and profits than public safety initially — and few, if any, people seemed to dispute the conclusion that sharks had been responsible for the attacks — it's still something of a mystery exactly what kind of shark it was — or, for that matter, how many were involved.

In the novel, the great white was to blame, and it was a good suspect in real life, too, but some people insisted it had been a bull shark instead. Bull sharks are known for their aggressiveness, as well as their ability to tolerate freshwater, which would account for its (or their) presence in the creek.

Folks didn't know a lot about sharks or shark behavior in 1916. Until the attacks, they were seen as relatively harmless, unlikely to attack humans unless provoked.

People knew a little more when Benchley wrote his novel, but public opinion had swung to the other extreme, mostly viewing sharks as dangerous and unpredictable. Before the end of his life, Benchley had a change of heart and said he regretted whatever role his book may have had in public misunderstanding of sharks.

The Pause That Refreshes

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Several years ago, I was spending a weekend at an old friend's home, and I happened to notice that one of my favorite films was scheduled to be shown on TV.

"Have you ever seen 'One Two Three?' " I asked my friend.

"No," he replied, "but I've seen its sequel — 'Four Five Six.' "

We got a good laugh out of that one, but, unfortunately, we didn't watch the movie — and I regret that because I would have liked to share it with him. Perhaps one day I will.

Anyway, my thoughts have turned to "One Two Three" today because it was the (fictional) story of a Coca–Cola executive.

And it was 125 years ago today that Coca–Cola was first served in a drug store in Atlanta.

At first, Coca–Cola was sold as a medicine. In the late 19th century, it was believed that carbonated water had health benefits, and it was because of those perceived medicinal benefits that its developer wished to market it.

As hard as this may be for some folks to swallow, it was developed by a Georgia druggist named John Pemberton, a Confederate veteran.

The invention of Coke actually came about because of Pemberton's military service. He was wounded in battle and became addicted to morphine — and embarked on a search for a cure for his addiction, eventually coming up with Coca–Cola.

For the rest of Pemberton's lifetime, Coca–Cola was marketed as a medicine — a tonic, I suppose, intended to relieve a number of ailments.

Today, of course, it is the leading soft drink company in the world.

Well, I presume it is the leader. It always was the leader when I was growing up, and I don't think it has been displaced by anyone.

But competition has been around for a long time. Both Pepsi and RC Cola have existed for more than a century. As a result, I suppose, I always felt (well, at least since I first saw the movie) that the title was a reference to the three titans of the soft–drink industry.

Coke was the first of the colas, though — chronologically as well as in the marketplace.

In my household, in fact, "coke" was a generic term.

In other households, such drinks are called "soda" or "pop." My mother seldom drank Coca–Cola, but she used the word "coke" to refer to any soft drink.

When my mother said "Would you like a coke?" I knew she wasn't speaking only about a Coca–Cola. I knew she meant any soft drink that was available.

I always felt that "One Two Three" was one of Billy Wilder's best comedies — and that is saying something when you think about all the movies that he wrote, directed and/or produced — but it was often overshadowed by the others that he did.

The story had several joking references to the rivalry between Coke and Pepsi (which, I gather, was a fact of commercial life by that time), but I don't actually recall any references to RC Cola. Perhaps that is because Royal Crown (as it was known) was more diverse, dabbling in other flavors (and, hence, other markets) at the time that "One Two Three" was in the theaters.

It got its title from a phrase that Jimmy Cagney, playing a Coca–Cola executive in Berlin in the early 1960s, would say when he wanted something (usually several things) done quickly.

"One, two, three!" he would say, snapping his fingers with each word.

That movie will observe the 50th anniversary of its premiere later this year, and I plan to write about it at length when that time comes.

But, for some reason, today I feel compelled to write about one of its lesser–known yet memorable performers.

Her name is Liselotte Pulver. She played Cagney's sexy secretary, and her character served as the bait in his plan to retrieve his employer's new son–in–law from his East German captors.

Cagney deserved and received much praise for his performance, but the sometimes frenetic pace of the film was too much for him, and he went into virtual retirement when it was over.

There were other performers in the film who, for various reasons, seemed to get more attention than Pulver. Pamela Tiffin, who played the boss' daughter, may have been perceived by some as sexier than Pulver. She was quite a bit younger. And Horst Buccholz, who played her East German fiance/spouse, was a rising star when "One Two Three" was made. He made his American debut in "The Magnificent Seven" the year before, and he went on to appear in several American films before his death in 2003.

Cagney, of course, was an old pro — with a film resume that went back more than 30 years. Arlene Francis was, too, although she spent many years on television, not the silver screen.

Pulver's career, I gather, was spent mostly in her native Germany. Most Americans weren't familiar with it.

But Pulver was a refreshing element in the story — a true pause that refreshed.

And that was appropriate, I suppose, for a movie about a Coca–Cola executive.

The Japan Syndrome

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Years ago, I went with my mother to see a movie called "The China Syndrome."

The movie — which starred Jane Fonda, Jack Lemmon and Michael Douglas — was about the perils of nuclear power. The title came from the popular misconception that, if someone in America drilled through the earth, he/she would come out in China. The movie's premise was that, if a nuclear reactor melted down, its core would do something similar.

It was a frightening premise that was made even more frightening by an actual nuclear accident at Three–Mile Island in Pennsylvania not long after the movie made its theatrical premiere.

That event gave the movie a lot of unexpected publicity, resulting in higher–than–expected ticket sales and a lot of anxiety on the part of the public.

We know more about nuclear power now than we did when that movie came out — but not, perhaps, as much as we may have thought — or, perhaps, would like to have thought.

In my adult lifetime, Americans have always seemed eager to embrace the simple solution to a complex problem, and many seem to be taking that approach to the nuclear situation in Japan.

"How bad could it get?" asks Josh Dzieza at The Daily Beast. And that's a fair question to ask — flippant though it may seem.

Barry Brook writes at Brave New Climate about the "misinformation and hyperbole flying around the internet and media" and asserts that "[t]he plant is safe now and will stay safe."

Well, time will tell.

Maybe it is the same mindset that always seems to assure Americans that higher gas prices are only temporary. In the past, yes, gas prices have declined after enormous spikes — but rarely, if ever, to the levels that existed before.

I'm not inclined to think that gas prices will fall to anything resembling what they were just a couple of months ago — especially now because the most vocal proponents of that particular pie–in–the–sky theory (that gas prices will decline almost exclusively on the basis of consumer behavior) also have been advocates of nuclear energy as the solution to the cost of heating and cooling our homes.

Those are the same people who scoffed at President Carter when "The China Syndrome" was at the theaters — because he warned that America's dependence on foreign oil was setting this nation up for disaster.

The recent events in Japan are sure to be mentioned now whenever someone promotes nuclear energy in this country. The issues that have been raised are far too complex to be addressed by a simple solution.

The truth is that, for all that 21st century humans know about nuclear power, there is still much they do not know — even in Japan, which, if anything, has been overly cautious about safety in just about every aspect of its existence when compared to virtually any other place on earth.

That is why you could watch video footage of the area nearest to the ground zero of the earthquake — and see large buildings that were still standing, even though a 9.0–magnitude earthquake struck the area 2½ days ago, and powerful aftershocks continue to strike.

Japan is no stranger to earthquakes. As a result, it has done a remarkable job of preparing its buildings for the possibility that one will strike, but this is the strongest ever to hit that country — and only the third earthquake globally to register 9.0 or higher in the last 50 years. One was the 9.2 earthquake that struck Prince William Sound in Alaska 47 years ago this month, and the other was the 9.1 that struck Indonesia the day after Christmas in 2004.

And this earthquake, along with the tsunamis it has produced, has been causing a number of unforeseen problems. Japan, as I say, always appears to prepare for the worst–case scenario — but its engineers didn't actually anticipate the worst case, only a worse case.

And that could have tragic consequences.

When you are dealing with something like nuclear energy, you must think way outside the box. I don't fault Japanese officials for not preparing for the size earthquake that almost never happens, but the fact remains that attempts to restart the cooling system at one of the damaged reactors have failed.

Safety standards have to be revisited — and, until we know more than we do about nuclear power, we have to treat it with the respect it deserves and prepare ourselves for a disaster that is much greater than anything we've seen — or may be likely to see.

To Tell the Truth

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Today is Herb Stempel's 83rd birthday.

If that name doesn't ring a bell for you, that isn't surprising, really. Stempel was a game–show contestant in the 1950s. And I guess his name would have no importance except for the role he played in the investigation that led to the quiz show scandals.

The occasion of his birthday calls for at least a brief retelling of his story.

Stempel, who is still living, was quite successful as a contestant on "Twenty One" — for a time. I've heard that he graded quite high on IQ tests. But he was a manufactured champion. He was coached on the answers and told how to look and sound by the show's producer. It was justified to him the way people today justify broadcasts of pro wrestling — everyone knows it isn't real, it's just entertainment (read: ratings).

The whole thing was driven by demographics, really. Stempel was told he had "plateaued," and the audience wanted someone else. In reality, the sponsor had decided the cause of entertainment (read: better ratings) demanded a new champion, and the successor was Columbia University English instructor Charles Van Doren (who is also still living and turned 83 earlier this year). The two had a series of tied contests that went on for weeks before Stempel finally took a dive at the producer's insistence in December 1956.

I suppose Stempel could have gone silently into that good night, but the producer had promised him a TV job in exchange for throwing the competition, and the promise was broken so Stempel went to the authorities and told them what he knew, and the whole matter was investigated in 1958 by the House Committee on Legislative Oversight, led by Arkansas Rep. Oren Harris.

Stempel had been portrayed as something of a sore loser until the hearings began and his charges held up. A few former contestants stepped forward to corroborate his claims, and one had sent registered letters to himself that contained the questions he would be asked before they were asked.

Then Van Doren himself appeared and told a stunned nation that he had been "deeply involved in a deception," and he confessed to receiving the answers in advance. Van Doren was hailed by the members of the committee for coming forward, but Rep. Steven Derounian, a New York Republican, had none of it.

"I am happy that you made the statement, but I cannot agree with most of my colleagues who commended you for telling the truth," Derounian said, "because I don't think an adult of your intelligence ought to be commended for telling the truth."

While the actions were morally and ethically questionable, they were not illegal (at that time) so no prison sentences were handed down. But, in the end, the producer of the show, Dan Enright, and host Jack Barry lost their jobs, and Stempel and Van Doren went on to somewhat quiet post–quiz show careers.

Nearly 40 years later, Robert Redford directed the film version of the scandal, "Quiz Show," which was nominated for four Academy Awards.

A Mystery That Remains Unsolved

I had high hopes for the movie "Amelia" that opens today in theaters across the country.

I've always enjoyed a good "biopic," as such films are called — as long as they have something meaningful to say or to contribute to discussions about their subjects. And Amelia Earhart was probably one of the first historical figures I heard anything about. But I never learned as much about her as I would have liked.

I have a vague memory from my childhood of luggage that belonged to my grandmother that bore Earhart's name. In hindsight, I suppose the luggage was some sort of line that was marketed for women. In my grandparents' day, that may have been what luggage makers did — perhaps there were other luggage lines that were named after pioneering pilots.

For all I know, Granddaddy may have had luggage that was named for Charles Lindbergh. Or the Wright Brothers. I don't know. I don't recall looking at his luggage. I might have more of a memory of that if he hadn't died when I was in first grade.

But my vague memory includes a brief conversation I had with my grandmother. I was about 8 or 9, I guess, and she had come to visit us. I remember looking at the label on her suitcase, and I asked her who Amelia Earhart was. I probably thought it was the name of the person who designed the luggage.

Grandmother simply replied, "She was a pilot." Nothing else was said because, at about that moment, my mother appeared in the doorway to tell us that dinner was ready. And I don't recall ever discussing it with her again.

When I got older, the name came up in history class but only briefly. And I was never able to get any of my teachers — whether in high school or college — to say much more than Earhart disappeared while flying around the world. It's been 72 years now, and Earhart's disappearance is still a mystery.

Anyway, when I heard that a film about Earhart was going to be released this fall, my curiosity was aroused again. But I realized that anything that the movie had to say would be speculative in nature. I'm certain that, if the filmmaker had uncovered some information that could answer the enduring question of what happened, it would have been the subject of numerous articles and documentaries. But nothing like that has happened.

Speculation is OK with me, though. If it makes people think about what may have happened and they start asking questions, that's fine. "JFK," after all, didn't definitively answer the questions that have swirled around the Kennedy assassination for decades, but it prompted people to ask them.

Unfortunately, from what I've been reading, "Amelia" doesn't seem to contribute anything to the discussion of what happened when she disappeared in July 1937.

Earhart's destination on July 2, 1937, was a sliver of an island in the Pacific Ocean called Howland Island. There are plenty of theories about what happened:

• One theory, which has been popular with quite a few researchers, is that Earhart's plane ran out of fuel and was ditched at sea. The "crash and sink" theory certainly would explain why no wreckage has ever been found, although many deep sea expeditions have tried to locate the plane.


• Another theory holds that Earhart and her navigator, Fred Noonan, landed on another island and eventually died. Searchers on the island never found any plane wreckage, but they did discover some items, like improvised tools, an aluminum panel and a piece of plexiglas, that encouraged none other than Earhart's stepson to believe the mystery of her disappearance had been solved.


• Other theories, which have been mentioned in documentaries, have suggested that Earhart was a spy who was captured by the Japanese and either executed or forced to make propaganda broadcasts as "Tokyo Rose." It has even been suggested that Earhart survived, returned to the United States and assumed a new identity, but that claim, which originated in a book titled "Amelia Earhart Lives," was refuted.

An exploration of an existing theory — or, perhaps, the presentation of a new theory supported by new technology — would have been an acceptable reason for a film about Earhart.

Lisa Schwarzbaum of EW.com writes that "Amelia" is a "frustratingly old–school, Hollywood–style, inspirational biopic."

"The mystery we ought to be paying attention to is: What really happened on the legendary American aviator's final, fatal flight in 1937?" Schwarzbaum writes. "But the question audiences are left with is this: How could so tradition–busting a role model have resulted in so square, stiff, and earthbound a movie? Why present such a modern woman in such a fusty format?"

Similarly, Manohla Dargis writes, in the New York Times, that the movie is an "exasperatingly dull production."

And Claudia Puig writes, in USA Today, that "it's too bad that a film about a daring and audacious woman taking on staggering challenges plays it so safe."

Of course, those are critics' opinions. And I'm usually the first to say that people should form their own opinions and not take a critic's word for it.

It may well be an entertaining film. Hilary Swank certainly bears a striking resemblance to Earhart. So perhaps there are worse ways to spend a few hours.

But I think I'll pass on it. If The History Channel chooses to take this opportunity to show some documentaries on Earhart, I'd like to see some genuine footage of her achievements.

She was certainly a remarkable figure, and her accomplishments are worth retelling — even if we don't know what became of her.

Groundhog Day

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Today is Groundhog Day. I guess most people know that already.

The first Groundhog Day was observed 122 years ago today in Punxsutawney, Pa., in the coal mining region of western Pennsylvania less than 100 miles northeast of Pittsburgh. That is something you may not have known.

Many of the residents of the community were probably up late last night, celebrating the Pittsburgh Steelers' Super Bowl victory over the Arizona Cardinals.

But the town's most famous resident, a groundhog named Punxsutawney Phil, needed to get his rest. Because everyone else in town was expecting him to make his annual prediction about the duration of the remainder of the winter this morning.

Phil and the town were the subjects of the 1993 comedy, "Groundhog Day," which was a big hit, even though most of the movie, as I understand it, actually was filmed in Illinois.

In the movie, as you probably know already, Bill Murray plays a self-absorbed TV weatherman from Pittsburgh (also named Phil) who finds himself repeating the day over and over again after being assigned to cover the Groundhog Day celebration in Punxsutawney.

As a result of the film, the phrase "Groundhog Day" has come to mean, in common usage, repeatedly experiencing an unpleasant situation.

For that reason, many of the unemployed could be forgiven for approaching this day with a certain amount of dread — since many undoubtedly already feel that they're revisiting the same unpleasant situation over and over.

But the general theme of "Groundhog Day" really is one of selflessness and re-examining one's life and priorities. After testing the phenomenon repeatedly by killing himself in all manner of ways, Murray's character begins to discover that a quest for fulfillment can only be successful when one focuses on the needs of others.

Consequently, the film has earned quite a following among religious leaders, who frequently cite its message as a way to inspire their followers.

Perhaps appropriately, "Groundhog Day" enjoyed some success when it was released theatrically, but it wasn't what would be defined as a "blockbuster." Then it gained a second life through its home video sales and its repeated showings on cable — through which it has achieved an almost iconic status.

Film critic Roger Ebert even acknowledged that, in his original review of the film, he failed to comprehend its virtues and he did not appreciate its deeper message until he had watched it several times.

Some have suggested that "Groundhog Day" is one of the 10 best American films ever made. I don't know if I would go to that extreme. There are many great American films, and I would be hard pressed to include "Groundhog Day" in the Top 10 only to exclude an equally, if not more, deserving film.

But I will say that the message of "Groundhog Day" is an important one, especially in these times. If someone who has lost a job and/or a home — or is on the verge of doing so — can watch it and be inspired to summon a little more courage to face what comes, perhaps it has served a noble purpose — whether we must endure six more weeks of winter or not.

The 'Godless' Campaign

Kay Hagan, the Democrat who is challenging Sen. Elizabeth Dole in North Carolina, announced she would file suit against Dole yesterday, claiming that she has been libeled by Dole's TV commercial that says Hagan is "godless."

It wouldn't surprise me if there's something to be said for Hagan's case. But it's a time-honored tradition for politicians who are losing to question their opponents' moral character. It's how politics is played.

Besides, the visage of God has been strangely absent from the proceedings this year. Sarah Palin's faith hasn't been mentioned frequently. Nor has Barack Obama's — once Jeremiah Wright departed the scene. But Dole's ad is proof that religion remains a potent issue for a politician to exploit, especially in a place like North Carolina, where many conservative Christians live.

Dole probably feels like she's under siege these days. Lately, she has been one of several Republicans in close Senate races who have been targeted by labor unions, according to a report in USA Today.

But does that justify labeling your opponent as "godless?"

Even if Hagan takes the matter to court, she won't receive a judicial ruling until after the voters have handed down their ruling.

And few, if any, voters will be able to dismiss the memory of the Dole campaign's assertion.

It reminds me of a scene in "Anatomy of a Murder," in which the defense attorney, James Stewart, is told that a question he has asked of a witness is improper.

Stewart's character, of course, didn't ask the question because he wanted to get the witness' answer. He asked it because it was a way of introducing something into the record that he had been restricted from mentioning.

He apologizes and withdraws the question, after which the judge instructs the jury that it is to "disregard" both the question and the answer.

When Stewart returns to the defense counsel's table, the defendant leans over and whispers, "How can a jury disregard what it's already heard?"

"They can't," Stewart replies. "They can't."

North Carolina's voters will go to the polls next Tuesday with Dole's "godless" allegation thundering in their ears.

The last time he assessed it, Larry Sabato, the director of the University of Virginia's Center for Politics, judged the North Carolina Senate race to be a "toss-up." That was nearly four weeks ago, on Oct. 4. I wonder what his opinion is, now that the Republicans have made a blatant effort to engage conservative Christians in the last-minute debate.

A Political Film Worth Watching

In my opinion, there may have been no greater actor than Henry Fonda.

There are many actors I admire. I’m an admirer of the work of Jimmy Stewart, Spencer Tracy, Humphrey Bogart, Gary Cooper, Tom Hanks, Peter Sellers, Jack Lemmon, Walter Matthau, Jack Nicholson, Gregory Peck and so many others.

But I guess Fonda tops my list because he had such a magnificent range as an actor. His performances alone made many films memorable.

People remember his westerns (like ”The Ox-Bow Incident,” ”The Tin Star” and ”My Darling Clementine”) and his comedies (like ”The Lady Eve,” ”Mister Roberts” and ”Yours, Mine and Ours”).

They remember his performances in courtroom dramas, like ”12 Angry Men,” and classic stories about important periods in American history, like ”The Grapes of Wrath,” ”Young Mr. Lincoln” and ”The Story of Alexander Graham Bell.”

But I’ve always felt Fonda was especially effective in political stories — whether his character was the president or not.

He gave a thoroughly plausible portrayal of a president in a crisis situation in ”Fail-Safe,” and he was excellent in an Adlai Stevenson-like role as a candidate at a deadlocked convention in ”The Best Man,” which was televised in the first installment of Turner Classic Movies' "American Politics in the Movies" series last Wednesday.

But I want to urge all my readers to tune in to Turner Classic Movies this Wednesday night.

One of Fonda’s most powerful performances, in ”Advise and Consent,” will be televised at 7 p.m. Central time. And, as a bonus, Jimmy Stewart in ”Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” will be televised next, at 9:30 p.m.

Although Stewart’s performance has been deservedly praised, it seems to me that many political films, not just Stewart’s, are structured in a certain way — characters who deserve our respect because they inevitably do the right thing are the heroes of the stories.

Stewart certainly cuts an heroic figure — a starry-eyed dreamer and leader of a Boy Rangers group who tries to take on a corrupt political machine and insists that ”the only causes worth fighting for [are] the lost causes.”

And, in the end, Stewart’s corrupt colleague in the Senate, played by Claude Rains, gives his mea culpa on the floor of the Senate and urges the other senators to ”[e]xpel me! Not him. Every word that boy said is the truth. … I’m not fit for office!”

It’s entertaining, but it's predictable. What did you expect? It's a Frank Capra film!

I think ”Advise and Consent” may be my favorite political movie of all time. The story was a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel written by Allen Drury in 1959. My mother often told me that she read that novel when I was an infant and could hardly put it down, even when she had to feed me!

I read it myself while I was in college, and I found out what she had been talking about. I, too, could hardly put it down, and I got so hooked by the story that I read the ensuing novels Drury wrote in what became a six-novel series.

Drury’s story practically crackles on the screen with moments like the one early in the film, when Fonda (who plays a nominee for secretary of state) says, ”[T]his is a Washington, D.C. kind of lie. It's when the other person knows you're lying and also knows you know he knows.”

It’s kind of a condescending story at times, but it’s a nice change from the typical political movie fare. There’s a very human quality to the characters in ”Advise and Consent,” a gritty realism, whether you’re reading the book or watching the movie (and I recommend both).

The good guys aren’t always good, and the bad guys aren’t always bad.

Kind of like real life, huh?

A Turning Point in American History

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History is just full of "what if" scenarios.

For most people, those "what ifs" form the basis for some interesting parlor games — speculation on what might have happened if this, that or the other thing had occurred before — or instead of — something else.

(Fifty years ago, such scenarios formed — from time to time — the foundations for intriguing stories on Rod Serling's original Twilight Zone TV series.)

Today is the anniversary of such an event. On this day, 145 years ago, Union forces withstood Pickett's Charge and won the Battle of Gettysburg. History tells us the Union changed the course of the Civil War with that victory.

And, even though President Lincoln said, at the dedication of Gettysburg's military cemetery later in 1863, that the world would "little note nor long remember" the things that were said on that day, long after the smoke of battle had cleared away and the town of Gettysburg had returned to its normally placid state, I can remember being assigned to memorize the Gettysburg Address in my ninth grade civics class.

I don't know if they do that in the schools of America anymore. But I can assure you that, when I was 15 years old, I had to memorize the Gettysburg Address, go up to the front of the classroom and recite it when it my name was called.

I think there were about 25 people in my civics class, so that meant that, eventually, everyone would recite it for the class — and have to listen to two dozen other people recite the same speech.

Some people delivered their remarks in a flat, dull monotone. Others tried to rush through, tumbling over the words as if in a race to beat Lincoln's time.

And a few (who possessed a flair for the dramatic) tried to give the speech as if they had been transformed into Lincoln himself, making his remarks for the first time and leaving it to history to judge the appropriateness of each word.

They were the ones who — for a few minutes, at least — made the past come alive for us in that dusty old classroom.

We certainly remembered Lincoln's words in that classroom that semester, more than a century after he spoke them. In fact, I can still remember most of that speech — the same one I memorized more than 30 years ago.

It is testimony to the power of the Union's triumph in that battle that it remains the ultimate "what if" scenario from the Civil War.

The 1993 film "Gettysburg" is a faithful re-creation of the story of that battle, of the heroism and valor shown by combatants on both sides.

If you want to see historic events depicted as they really happened, "Gettysburg" is one of those films I recommend — the same as I recommend "Tora! Tora! Tora!" to anyone who wants to see what the attack on Pearl Harbor was really like.

But if you're interested in pure speculation, I suggest watching "Confederate States of America," a mockumentary that didn't fare too well at the box office a few years ago. But the Independent Film Channel bought the rights to the film, and now IFC shows the film from time to time on its cable channel and it owns the distribution rights for home video.

It tells the story of what might have happened if the South had won the war. It's presented with the kind of quality one would expect from a History Channel presentation.

The story of how the South was able to reverse the outcome of the Battle of Gettysburg is only the beginning of an entertaining, thought-provoking — and, at times, disturbing — alternate version of American history.

The film is presented as a legitimate documentary that was produced by a BBC-like broadcasting company, but it has been banned from American television for a couple of years and is being aired in this country for the first time — with a disclaimer at the beginning and interruptions from several commercials that are parodies of actual products and their advertisements.

You've got a couple of opportunities to see the movie on IFC this month. You can see it tonight at 10:45 p.m. (Eastern) and again early tomorrow morning at 4 a.m. (Eastern). It will be shown a third time on Saturday, July 26 at 7:25 p.m. (Eastern).

An Anniversary to Celebrate

In this year that marks the 40th anniversaries of all the big — usually tragic — events of 1968, it's nice to be able to encourage the celebration of a good, even uplifting anniversary.

Even if it is in the world of entertainment.

The anniversary to which I refer is not a 40th anniversary — not yet. It's actually a 35th anniversary.

In 1973, "The Sting," starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford, was made. I'm not sure of the exact date it was released theatrically, but it won several Oscars when the awards were given out in early 1974 — including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Art Direction, Best Costume Design, Best Film Editing, Best Writing — and Best Score, for Marvin Hamlisch's delightful adaptation of Scott Joplin's ragtime music.

Sadly, the news this month is that Newman, now 83 years old, is battling cancer. Reports have been mixed and, at times, contradictory, but the Associated Press reported on June 11 that Newman's partner in his salad dressing business, writer A.E. Hotchner, had confirmed what The Daily Telegraph reported on June 9 — that Newman is seriously ill.

All the more reason to watch "The Sting."

Newman was nominated for the Oscar for Best Actor for his performance in "The Sting." He didn't win, although he went on to win the Oscar for Best Actor for "The Color of Money" in 1986.

But that takes nothing away from Newman's work in "The Sting." Many people, myself included, rate his work in "The Sting" among the finest of his distinguished career.

Fifty years ago, Newman was the recipient of the Cannes Film Festival's Best Actor award for "The Long, Hot Summer." He's been entertaining audiences since 1954, but he announced his retirement from acting in 2007.

Whether his retirement coincided with his learning of his condition is, for the moment, a matter for speculation.

Obviously, when a person has reached the age Newman has, anything can happen — whether or not the reports of cancer are true.

So I urge you to take a couple of hours of your time, watch "The Sting" and reflect on Newman's magnificent career while he's still alive.

If you've never seen "The Sting" before, you're entitled to a few words of warning:

If you watch the film and, when it's over, you think that someone slipped something past you, don't worry. It happens to everyone!

Just watch the movie a second time to pick up on whatever you missed. And don't be surprised if you find yourself humming the Scott Joplin tunes.

I envy the pleasure of the discovery that awaits you!

They Lived Wonderful Lives

When the Christmas season is upon us, one of the essential parts of the holiday for many people is spending a couple of hours watching "It's A Wonderful Life," the 1946 Frank Capra film starring Jimmy Stewart, Donna Reed and Lionel Barrymore.

It's been more than 60 years since that film was made, and it has achieved a level of popularity in recent decades that it never reached when it was showing in movie theaters.

It has developed such a devoted fan base that it will be a holiday classic for generations to come.

Nearly everyone who appeared in that film is dead now. I'm reminded of that fact after hearing the news that Bob Anderson, who played the young incarnation of Stewart's George Bailey character at the age of 13, died the other day at the age of 75.

He was nearly the last surviving cast member.

As far as I know, that leaves only Karolyn Grimes, who was about 5 or 6 years old when she played Stewart's youngest child, Zuzu, in the movie. She will be 68 on Independence Day.

Anderson tried to pursue an acting career after appearing in "It's A Wonderful Life" -- he even landed a role in "The Bishop's Wife" the following year and appeared on a few TV shows, like "I Love Lucy" -- but his acting career was over by the time he was in his mid-20s.

He managed to stay in the business, doing some directing and performing some stunts. He was also a production manager, a supervising animator and a grip.

The same day that Anderson died, former Pittsburgh Steelers defensive lineman Dwight White passed away at the age of 58, the apparent victim of a blood clot in his lung.

Most people probably don't remember White. He wasn't as well known as his more famous Steeler teammates -- and on the defensive side of the ball, that included the likes of Mean Joe Greene, L.C. Greenwood, Jack Lambert, Jack Ham and Mel Blount.

But he played a pivotal role in the Steelers' championship years of the 1970s.

When Pittsburgh went to its first-ever Super Bowl (in Super Bowl IX), the Steelers were matched up against a Minnesota Vikings team that had been frustrated in two earlier Super Bowl appearances in the previous five years. Oddsmakers felt the Steelers would add to the Vikings' woes and made them 3-point favorites in a game that matched two of the NFL's best defensive units.

The first half was nearly a scoreless draw, but White tackled Minnesota quarterback Fran Tarkenton for a safety and Pittsburgh led, 2-0, at halftime. It was Pittsburgh's first-ever score in a Super Bowl, and the Steelers went on to win the game, 16-6.

Pittsburgh won three more Super Bowls in that decade, and White was on all those teams. He retired in 1980 and worked as a stock broker in his post-NFL career.

For Anderson and White, their lives may not have been ideal. Few are. But I don't know anyone who would argue that their lives weren't wonderful.

Remembering Gandhi

Yesterday was the 60th anniversary of the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi.

To pay homage to the memory of this remarkable man, who introduced much of the world to the concept of nonviolent civil disobedience, I recommend watching the 1982 movie about his life, directed by Richard Attenborough.

Turner Classic Movies will be showing that film this Saturday at 8 p.m. Eastern.

It's a great history lesson and a magnificent reminder of what is possible, even if one doesn't direct great armies and isn't blessed with an important title.

If nothing else, it's an opportunity to recall the words of Albert Einstein after the death of the amazing little man in the loincloth.

"Generations to come, it may be, will scarcely believe that such a one, as this, ever in flesh and blood walked upon this earth."

Must-See TV

I don't often do this, but I want all my readers to know about a movie -- actually, several movies -- that will be shown on Turner Classic Movies this week.

This Thursday, at 8 p.m. Eastern (7 p.m. Central), TCM will show "Casablanca," unedited and uninterrupted. You can see Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Peter Lorre, and the whole cast.

Then stay tuned because, at 10 p.m. Eastern (9 p.m. Central), TCM will show "From Here to Eternity," with Burt Lancaster, Deborah Kerr, Montgomery Clift, Donna Reed and Frank Sinatra.

If you have TiVo or a VCR, you can record "To Catch A Thief" at 2 a.m. Eastern (1 a.m. Central), with the incomparable Cary Grant and Grace Kelly.

And you can catch one of my all-time favorites a week from tomorrow on TCM.

"The Treasure of the Sierra Madre" will be shown at 9:30 p.m. Eastern (8:30 p.m. Central) on Tuesday, Jan. 22. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend it.

TV Recommendations

I don't usually make TV recommendations, but today I do have a couple of suggestions to pass along. Please indulge me.

* Is a single year significant in the history of a country? Most of the time, a single year probably isn't significant by itself, only when seen as part of the overall picture.

Tonight, however, The History Channel will be showing a two-hour documentary on such a year -- 1968, which was an extremely significant year from start to finish.

More than most years, it seemed, 1968 had more than its share of triumph and tragedy. And there was no all-news, all-the-time channel to cover it, the way there is today.

It was a year that started with the Tet offensive in Vietnam, which led many people (including Walter Cronkite) to conclude that the United States could never win in Southeast Asia. It was a year that ended with an Apollo space mission at Christmas time that took man closer to the lunar surface than he had ever been (and set the stage for the moon landing the following year).

And, in between, America witnessed the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. in April and Robert F. Kennedy in June, as well as the unexpected withdrawal of President Lyndon Johnson from the presidential campaign in March and the riots in the streets of Chicago at the Democratic convention that nominated Hubert Humphrey for president that summer.

Later that year, Richard Nixon was elected president, setting in motion the events that would lead to the Watergate scandal.

It was a year that affected -- and continues to affect -- politics, culture and race relations in America. From what I've read, the program will present the perspectives of many people, the famous and the unknown.

Hosted by TV journalist Tom Brokaw (who has written books on "the greatest generation" that came of age during the Depression and won the war against the Nazis and the Japanese), the program airs at 9 p.m. Eastern time, 8 p.m. Central time.

It will be repeated at 1 a.m. Eastern time, midnight Central time.

* The other night, I watched a movie on the Independent Film Channel that I've seen on cable before in recent months. Somehow, it slipped under my radar when it was released at theaters in 1996, but I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it.

The film is called "Sling Blade," and it stars Billy Bob Thornton, who won an Oscar for his writing. He was nominated for an Oscar for best actor, too, which he did not win, but he won comparable awards from the Screen Actors Guild and the Chicago Film Critics Association.

Thornton plays a simple man named Karl who has been incarcerated in the state hospital for many years for killing his mother and her lover when he was 12. Karl committed the act with a knife called a "sling blade" (Karl calls it a "kaiser blade"), a curved cutting tool that is often used for clearing brush.

Karl has been deemed "rehabilitated" and is being released from the hospital. He returns to the small town where he lived before the killings and befriends a young boy and his mother.

The cast isn't exactly an all-star cast, but it does have some familiar faces, including the late John Ritter and Robert Duvall. Ritter, who played a straight man pretending to be gay in the TV series "Three's Company," plays a real homosexual in this film and does so with a quiet dignity. Duvall has a cameo role as Thornton's long-lost father that is a masterful performance.

Other cast members you might recognize are Dwight Yoakam and Lucas Black.

It's the only film I can recall in which the last word said by all the main characters (except Thornton's character) is the same: "Karl?" It isn't spoken in unison but in four separate scenes and in four separate contexts.

The film is set in the South. Maybe that's part of the reason the characters seem so familiar to me. Much of it apparently was filmed in a town where I used to live -- Benton, Arkansas. I've also read that Thornton wrote the script in longhand at his family's home in Hot Springs, Arkansas -- a city I've visited on many occasions.

So, while I'll admit that there is a personal connection for me to this film, that doesn't mean it isn't outstanding!

The Independent Film Channel will be showing this film again at 9 p.m. Eastern on Sunday, Dec. 23, and at 3 a.m. Eastern on Monday, Dec. 24.