The Northwest Files

That's Awl, Folks!

Sew what? Sew anything, that’s what. I can pretty much do that. The stuff you see in this photo is the kit that I use when something around here needs stitching.

All this started with boarding school, four years of academic, prison-like misery.

My mom reasoned that I would need to sew buttons on, fix rips and tears, and so on. She was right, of course. She was an accomplished seamstress and made many of my shirts in those days, and, as time passed, most of my dad’s shirts. So, she taught me a few of her skills. Enough, at least, to insure that my shirts always had buttons on them.

Actually, this business of needle, thread and yarn started for me in grammar school. A teacher there informed us that when young men marched off to war, they received limited sets of socks and other accouterments. She reasoned that we’d better know how to darn the holes in our socks. So, we all learned. Many years later, I still had a wooden darning bobbin. And I used it.

My dad also could stitch. He was a studio grip. Part of the skill set for those guys – well, us guys, because I worked my way through college as a grip – was to deal with the painted scenic backings that were placed behind all kinds of sets. We tacked these things, which were made of thick cotton or canvas, on frames – I still have my tack hammer and my made-at-MGM canvas tack pouch that I used for that kind of work. And, if a backing should be damaged, we had to sew the tear closed.

This was not easy. I was not terribly good at it, but my dad was.

This tack pouch, and these needles, were what he used.

The wood-handled device above the needle and pouch is a sewing awl. This one was his, but I’ve also got one. I’ve carried it many a mile in my backpack. It’s been handy for sewing soles back on boots, for fixing broken straps, for piecing strips of leather together, and much more. The thread is heavy waxed cotton. It lasts forever. The stitches made with it are not pretty. But they work.

I kind of like fixing stuff, rather than replacing it. And of course, that is the point of all this – practical sewing that solves a problem.

-JFT

Getting in Tune and Staying There

Way back in 1959 I started playing banjo. Soon after that, I picked up guitar. With both instruments, I fumbled my way, with limited success, through the basic chords. And how to hold the pick, how to hold the instruments, how to make the chord changes.

But most important, before anything else, I learned how to tune the instruments.

I didn't get too far before I realized the value of playing along with recordings. Doing that is fun, interesting, challenging. It's a great way to practice.

Classical musicians tune to what's called concert pitch, which is A, 440hz. To do that, back in those ancient times, all you needed was a tuning fork tuned to the frequency that was relevant to your instrument, or perhaps a pitch pipe. Using a pipe or a G tuning fork, I tuned my instrument's G strings – both banjos and guitars have those – and then the rest of the strings in reference to that G string.

So whatever I used, I at least had a baseline tuning that was somewhere approximate to Concert A. Good to go, right?

Maybe not. For this is where trying to play along with recordings goes off the rails, careening onto one of at least two side tracks.

First, very often, the band with which I was trying to play wasn't tuned to the same frequencies. Very often, one of us was a bit flat or sharp. Maybe. Or maybe it was just that the turntable or tape machine I was listening with turned at a slightly different speed than the machinery upon which the recordings were cut. Either way, I was out of tune.

Solution? Retune to match the song I'm trying to play along with. Often to every song on the record. That's because the musicians in the studios would retune after every song, often, apparently, without reference to a pitch pipe or a tuning fork. Instead, they would refer to one of their instruments – a guitar, for instance – which might or might not be close to concert pitch. So while they were all in tune with each other, their proximity to concert pitch continued to be approximate.

This was just something I learned to put up with, though it did dampen one's enthusiasm.

Then, finally, a decade or two ago, a break-through: the digital tuner, the little plastic gizmo you might have seen clipped to a guitar's headstock, up there where the tuners are. Over the years, these have become ubiquitous; they literally are everywhere, with every musician. They've also become very fast, very accurate, and very inexpensive, with each new generation better than the one it replaces.

That "ubiquitous" part is important. Digital technology does not lie. If designers ask a digital device to recognize tones at certain frequencies, that's exactly what that device will do.

So a band recording a tune will tune up digitally, that tune will be recorded and saved digitally, and they reproduced digitally on your iPod, CD player, or whatever.

You tune your instruments digitally and you're immediately in perfect tune with the recording. And with everyone else using a digital tuner. Pretty cool, no?

No more pitch pipes, no more tuning forks, no more analog inaccuracies. Just perfect pitch. I like it. What I don't care for too much is that the mistakes now are all mine. I own them. But I'm working on that.

-JFT

 

Why I've Learned to Hate, or at Least Mistrust, my iPod

For one reason or another, I've not been getting the enjoyment from listening to music that I used to get. Listening used to be one of my reasons for living. Now it's not. I'm not at all sure why. But I think at least part of it is because of the iPod. Or, rather, because of my ineptitude when it comes to the iPod.

I know, I know; lots of people love the things. I do, too. I mean, who wouldn't? It's a miracle device capable of containing a universe of sound and culture. Indeed, if yours has sufficient memory, you can put your entire music library onto it. That's good.

But for me, it's also been bad because I think iPods, in a couple of insidious ways, screw up the listening experience. First, unless you've downloaded your music from CDs, if you've instead downloaded songs from the Web, they resulting files are decidedly compressed and low-fi, especially when listening through the Apple-supplied ear buds. The music sounds like your cat crapped on those ear buds.

Second, if you have your iPod set on "Shuffle," as I do, the number of tunes you'll hear before songs start repeating seems to be alarmingly small, a very annoying thing. It's like a juke box loaded with 100 45-rpm oldies that will only play 15 of them. I find that I've got stuff in my library that I haven't heard in years since I started relying upon "Shuffle."

And third, selecting individual albums, one by one, to listen to is a fairly clunky process. At least for me. This clearly is not good, especially when one is attempting to drive without rear-ending a big rig or T-boning an Amtrak train at a crossing.

Sure, when I'm out on my daily 4-mile walk and I actually take music along, I listen to things on "Shuffle." Using this option helps take my mind off the task of fumbling with the device while trying to not trip and fall over on my beak. I have enough trouble not doing that when I'm paying attention to my surroundings. But whenever and wherever I'm listening, I also find that I'm missing the experience of enjoying an entire album, track by track, whether it's a collection of Beethoven piano sonatas or a record by the Beatles.

But here's the thing: For reasons I have completely and totally forgotten – I do that a lot these days, now that I am more than a little elderly – I have two of the things. One is several generations old, the other is even older. Naturally, I've been using the newer of the two. On that one, it is indeed not possible (I think) to shuffle albums. But I've just discovered that on the older of the two, it is possible to shuffle albums.

So here's my solution. I shall swap iPods. Ingenious, no? The one I plug into the stereo in the garage when we want tunes out on the back patio when we're out there cooking or dining and generally not paying close attention to the music will be the newer one, which is all too happy to serve up whatever crazy musical mix its little silicone brain decides upon. For everything else, I'll use the older of the two.

Sure, it's got a smaller memory than the newer one (and as noted, who am I to bitch about having a smaller memory?), but still contains an immense library of music.

I'm going to give this a go to see how it works out. I'm not sure whether this will reinvigorate my enjoyment of listening and the associated reason for living. But it can't hurt.

-JFT

Handy Gadgets

Just uncovered, in a pencil box in my desk drawer, a really handy little doo-dad that I've had for a long time. It's a little thing called an EZE-Lap. What it is, is a small file that comes in a container that has a cap much the way a fountain pen does.  

Under that cap is a small wand, maybe a quarter-inch across and four inches long, that is coated with diamond dust. This makes it ideal for sharpening stuff. That's it, on the bottom of the photo on the left.

I just used it to sharpen a blade on an X-Acto knife, which I've had since I worked at Autoweek in the 1970s, back when it was a weekly newspaper, where we not only had to write and photograph material for the paper, but also paste the thing up.

Paste-up? It's how we used to build pages. We don't do that anymore. But doing it required an X-Acto knife. In any case, my ancient X-Acto now is sharp enough to use for surgery, much less building pages.

Anyway....

Thing is, I've got two of these gadgets. Sort of. The other one is slightly larger. It's called a Crystal Saver. It's the one at the top of the photo.  It's the same deal, only opposite. It doesn't sharpen, it dulls. Chip a crystal glass, for instance, and you use this thing to take the sharpness off the edges of the break so you don't, like, cut the living crap out of yourself every time you handle the item.

Clever stuff. It's good to have these cool little tools handy. Both, in their own way, make life easier. And it's little stuff like this that makes me happy. You may not know that you need these. But trust me, you do.

-JFT

Photography's Slippery Slope

Back in the mid-'70s, right after I got the advance for my first book and had some rare folding money in my pocket, I knew exactly what I had to do: I raced down to Luke's Nevada Camera, in Reno, where I lived at the time. I traded in my old Minolta SRT101 35mm SLR, which I'd bought while I was in college, on a Nikon Nikkormat and a couple of lenses.

That Nikkormat was a beauty and an enormous step up from my first camera, a little Kodak Brownie Hawkeye.

Here at the right we have a Kodak Brownie Hawkeye, my first camera, obtained even before I went away to boarding school in 1957. It shoots 127 film, which was invented by Kodak in 1912 and discontinued in 1995. I still have a few photos from that camera around here somewhere. It is somewhat different from the cameras available today.

That Nikkormat had a steel frame, brass gears and worked as smooth as the silk covering your sweetie's backside. Lenses as sharp as a mother-in-law's tongue. I told myself at the time, "This is the last camera I ever will need." Innocent that I was, I really believed that.

But time refused to stand still and the advent of electronic, and then digital, photography blew those naive expectations to smithereens. So did the imagination of camera engineers, incredible advances in technology and the manufacturers' race to offer something nobody else has.

What that's led to is this: I read recently that digital cameras are a lot like cell phones, a new version of which is produced every few months, or at the least, every few years. The author of this comment held that a DSLR user should not waste money on new camera bodies but should, instead, buy the DSLR body that seems sensible, then put his/her bucks toward quality lenses.

To an extent, he's right. But my experience indicates that while most DSLR body upgrades do indeed bring but minor enhancements, every so often, major, worth-while enhancements happen.

So it is with Canon, the camera manufacturer I have used for 30 years or so. My old Canon 10D, bought in 2001 when I laid aside my last film camera (a Canon EOS1 that I still have), produced killer images that could easily be enlarged to fit onto a magazine's two-page spread (important to me at the time) and my 40D, bought in '08, was even more capable.

Now, seven years later, camera capabilities have advanced so far that it's time for another upgrade.

But one must be careful about such things. For instance, Canon now offers its 5DS, which includes a 50-megapixel sensor. Gotta have it, right? I mean, you can shoot billboard-sized images with that thing. Well, no. I don't shoot billboards. I think sensors with that kind of capacity represent overkill for most of us and at nearly 4,000 samolians, the 5DS is very expensive.

I think that camera bodies that cost half that amount - or even less than that - and sensors in the area of 20 megapixels offer the sweet spot for the vast majority of us. That's because resolution with these things is so good that you can print 11 x 14 (or larger) images and not notice pixelization. And that's even if you crop your image. Which of course I don't. I was trained to always shoot full-frame and that's become a habit. So since I never print anything larger than 8.5 x 11 inches, this works for me.

At the end of the day, cameras do not make memorable images. The photographer does. It all comes down to the ideas transmitted from the eye to the brain. If you see crap, your camera will record crap. You have to start with that and do better, be better, than that. But occasionally upgrading hardware helps a bit, I think, in that the many options available in this new generation of cameras - far more than any film camera ever had - allow the camera to do more while the you concentrate on composition, on content.

The upgrade I finally settled upon did not come cheaply. But I think this new camera body, which is loaded with features and capabilities, was worth its cost and will serve me well for a very long time. Hah! Famous last words, right?

So far, I've just sat and looked at this new bit of gear and handled it enough to become familiar with it. I'm thinking that my first expedition with it might just be to the L.A. Zoo, as long as the weather stays nice. Will be fun to see what kind of images it will produce. Stay tuned.

-JFT

 

Electrical Glitch

Glitch is a good word, isn't it? It denotes "problem." That's what I had.

I went out yesterday evening as we were setting the table outside for dinner to turn on the stereo system in the garage. Nothing. OK, the iPod needed to be charged. Still nothing. Uh-oh.

My first thought was that my ancient El Cheapo receiver finally had died. Would not have surprised me.

But I just now went out into the garage to brave the dust and spiders and cubic stuff stacked everywhere to see what's what.

A glitch, is what. The connections between the receiver and the speakers were grotty (another great word). So were the connections between the receiver and the CD player, and between it and the iPod. All connex renewed, music returns to the garage and back yard. Those little JBL speakers once again are loud enough to annoy the neighbors. And there will be music for dinner tonight. But not loud enough to annoy the neighbors. Really!

Perfect. I love it when glitches are solved without spending a dime. Now all I have to do is find relief from the dust, spiders and cubic stuff.

-JFT

The Joys of Being a Miniac

OK, I admit it, I'm a Miniac. Means I'm crazy about my Mini Cooper S. This new one is my second of them, and it's a Clubman, the longer version. I ordered this one specifically to make sure it arrived with none of the things I hated about my first one, a 2005 Hardtop. And it's just terrific. Comfortable, fast, economical and an absolute hoot to drive. And a boot big enough to get a couple of guitar or banjo cases into.

But you know, these things are basically BMWs. And BMW takes good care of its customers. Here's a bit of proof. A box containing some swag came in the mail the other day. Some of the stuff was just pretty dumb - one oversize rubber dice, for instance. I mean, really? - but there are a couple of items I really like. Here's one of them.

Looks like an MCS Hardtop, doesn't it? It's a rubbery material that kind of feels like a cleverly shaped eraser.

But really is, is a one-gig thumb drive.

These days I don't have a lot of use for thumb drives because I'm not carrying around digital information. But still, it's kind of cool, don't you think?

And no, you can't have it!

-JFT

Brave New World

Beginning today, I work at home. I’ve worked at home previously, but only for short stretches, or on freelance projects. This, it
looks like, will be for the foreseeable future.

Here’s the deal: The brass at the Times is moving us from our cozy offices here in Glendale into the LAT building downtown. My bosses are fine with telecommuting, so that’s what I’m going to do, rather than pay the company parking fee, buy a couple of tanks of gas every month, and hammer a 30-year-old car in Los Angeles traffic.

A laptop, which is what I have, is not the ideal work platform, but I’ve improved things greatly by plugging a spare keyboard from
Laura’s company into the thing. And I’ve added a cordless mouse that I bought for work. With those simple additions, it’s clear that I’m going to be able to do my job and be comfortable and effective in the process.

Distractions? Well, the cats, always. They’re very curious and love to sit on my desk and watch me work. Also banjos and guitars, which are in abundance around here. But that never has been a problem – work is work, play comes after work. Well, the refrigerator also will be a distraction. I’ll have to deal with that.

So though I’ll no longer see my pals in the office, which I’m going to miss greatly, I’m looking forward to this, not least because I no longer will have to shave every day. Just don’t tell Laura I said that.

-JFT

A Peek into the Past

Well, lookee here! I found in my files a photo that I think is interesting.

It shows an eager young reporter sitting in a press box at a place that no longer exists working on a device that has been obsolete for, what, at least 25 years? If you're a glutton for punishment, click on the photo to see it fullsize.

Yep, that's me. Let's see - I was trimmer back then, had better posture, wore no steel in my knees, and had much more hair. And I still had two beautiful little boys. 

This was shot was taken in the mid '70s in the press box at Riverside International Raceway. I know not by whom. I think I was there covering one of the first IROC races - Porsches or Camaros, I can't be sure which generation of IROC this was.

That thing I'm pounding on is a typewriter. I came into journalism when we wrote stories using these on, you know, actual sheets of typing paper; when newspaper pages were composed with the use of hot type made by Linotype operators. It is very difficult to believe that so much time has passed.

Riverside, of course, is gone, bulldozed so people could benefit from yet another strip mall.

It seems that journalism also is being bulldozed for the strip mall of aggregated Web news. Print journalism's future looks nowhere near as good today as it did then, back when interesting cars roared around this fast and difficult racetrack. But who knows?

-JFT  

 

Crazy Weekend

Crazy weekend, for sure.

Friday, our DSL wireless modem failed.

OK, fine. Down to Office Depot, buy a new one. Go to work, get home at 10:30 p.m., my usual Friday shift.

Saturday, leap out of bed early, head for the ranch, outside of Modesto, get there by 1 p.m. Today is Laura's father's 95th birthday. Big party at a barn not far from the ranch. But not just any barn. This thing has a concrete floor, a walk-in reefer, a commercial kitchen and a fully stocked bar.

Party a big success, old Jim Pappas is duly feted by more than 100 guests, and he's happy; we clean the joint up, drag back to the ranch, fall into bed.

This morning, Sunday, out of bed, leap into the car (Laura, since she's been up there since Wednesday), and the company van (me, since I'm not about to try to put 650 miles in two days on a 30-year-old car without A/C on a 98-degree day; I'm not quite as dumb as I look).

Flog home, unload, head over to Mijares for a margarita and an early dinner.

Come home, set up new modem.

This took some doing, and some time on the fone with the AT&T tech, but it all works - computers, fones and Laura's iPad. But it not only works, it's one hell of a lot faster than the old modem. 

Then, the payoff. OK, well, Mijares is always a payoff, but I'm talking about qualifying for the Italian Grand Prix. Great stuff. Saving the race for tomorrow.

Man, life is complicated, ain't it? And it gets a whole lot more complicated this next week, starting at 6 a.m. Wednesday. More later. Maybe.

-JFT