It’s Wednesday night and you have finally found some downtime to change into an old pair of sweats, kick back your feet and just relax. Turn on the TV and what ends up captivating your attention for the next three hours? So You Think You Can Dance, American Idol, My Super Sweet Sixteen… Over the past few years reality shows seem to have taken over primetime television. It started out with MTV’s The Real World and has now built itself into an empire of completely ridiculous concepts. It can be as vulgar as watching a contestant eat seven African Spiders in order to win $10,000, people are just unable to peel their eyes away from the television set.
I will admit it, watching Poison’s frontman Brett Michaels challenge a bunch of his bimbo groupies to set up his guitar equipment in the fastest time in order to win over his “rock star” heart on VH1’s hit reality show Rock of Love is quite entertaining. But in the end will Michaels actually find and eventually marry his true love thanks to the geniuses at VH1? The sad reality of the situation is that his supposed “love” will dump him a week after the season premier and go off to Hollywood to pursue her singing career, which was the primary reason she signed up for the show to begin with. Obviously, such shows serve no real purpose, yet they are broadcasted to millions of eager spectators like ourselves that tune in every week to find out which girl is next to get sent home with a broken heart and bruised ego.
That is not to say some hit reality shows - minding all of the glamorous prizes and never-ending drama - do contain depth in some respect. Shows such as America ’s Next Top Model and The Apprentice allow contestants to pursue their dream careers while shows such as The Biggest Loser give people the opportunity to regain their confidence and improve their health. Viewers watch in admiration all the emotion and dedication which such contestants exhibit, obviously a paragon of great television.
Now at this point I hope the majority of you are willing to agree that while many reality shows do appear to support a cause - although in a much fabricated manner - several others seem to air purely for the entertainment factor. Still, the ultimate questions remain; why do so many people obsess over these mind-numbing reality shows? Why do we torture ourselves in following the staged struggles and successes of such famed reality personas? The answer to such bewildering questions is easy: we’re bored and brainwashed. Face it; we all have that hidden desire to one day take a step out of our normal, everyday lives and to indulge in life-changing experiences which the entire world will also happen to witness. If you swear against falling into this “life fantasy” trap, admit that you still enjoy watching such hopefuls try to make a name for themselves in the entertainment industry with their fifteen minutes of fame.
So as absurd as it may be, reality TV appears to have a strong foothold in 21st century pop culture. Young and old alike crowd around the television set, prepared to cheer on their favorite reality superstars, hoping that in the end they win the title of the next best supermodel, stunt double or whatever the case may be. Maybe the chances of you becoming the next person to hit it big in reality television are not so high, but to sit comfortably on your couch while watching the mental breakdowns and joyful tears is enough reward in itself.
Friday, April 9, 2010
From Music Teacher to Music Supervisor, it’s all in the Passion
A few years ago, Stefano Graziano spent his time at Boston University running between the Fine Arts and Arts and Sciences buildings, instruments and papers flying through the air as he attempted to make it on time to teach one of his many music classes - whether on jazz, the Middle Ages, or the Renaissance. Today, Graziano takes a back seat to BU’s student life, but still manages to find time in the classroom to stimulate his passion for teaching.
“Now, I simply supervise student work. I assist students and patrons, not so much teach them,” said Graziano, sitting at his desk behind the Mugar Music Library window where he now works as an evening and weekend supervisor.
“Professors sometimes still ask me to come to their classes to teach and do demonstrations, and I’m always willing to do so. I enjoy interacting with students because even while teaching, you’re learning so much,” Graziano said.
Graziano, who lived in Italy before coming to the U.S. to attend Berkley University, studied jazz and got his Masters in Musicology before being offered the position as director of the music ensemble at Southwestern University in Texas. In 1999, he came to Boston University to finish his studies on Renaissance music and 16th Century instruments. He has taught for over 21 years, and enjoys working with professors and students alike. According to Graziano, age does not matter when it comes to the exchanging of knowledge.
“Art is like a heart, if any part of it ceases to exist, it will die. That’s why I’m interested in all aspects of music – the history, the art itself, the philosophy,” said Graziano. “Even as a professional, there’s always something new to learn.”
As a supervisor, Graziano finds more time for himself to continue his personal studies, and has recently found a hobby in playing the guitar. He hopes to compile a study on how the guitar influenced the sounds of jazz during the 1920s.
Although his job now requires Graziano to aid students only when they need general assistance at the Music Library, he still finds himself indulged in students’ work and learning when they individually come to him for help on projects or papers.
“It’s all a learning environment, whether I’m working alone in the library or together with a group of students in a classroom,” Graziano said. “But I definitely feel more directly involved when teaching and I miss that sometimes.”
After the library closes, Graziano stays late to continue his studies in jazz and Renaissance music in hopes of one day returning to his small hometown in Italy to help teach music education.
“Now, I simply supervise student work. I assist students and patrons, not so much teach them,” said Graziano, sitting at his desk behind the Mugar Music Library window where he now works as an evening and weekend supervisor.
“Professors sometimes still ask me to come to their classes to teach and do demonstrations, and I’m always willing to do so. I enjoy interacting with students because even while teaching, you’re learning so much,” Graziano said.
Graziano, who lived in Italy before coming to the U.S. to attend Berkley University, studied jazz and got his Masters in Musicology before being offered the position as director of the music ensemble at Southwestern University in Texas. In 1999, he came to Boston University to finish his studies on Renaissance music and 16th Century instruments. He has taught for over 21 years, and enjoys working with professors and students alike. According to Graziano, age does not matter when it comes to the exchanging of knowledge.
“Art is like a heart, if any part of it ceases to exist, it will die. That’s why I’m interested in all aspects of music – the history, the art itself, the philosophy,” said Graziano. “Even as a professional, there’s always something new to learn.”
As a supervisor, Graziano finds more time for himself to continue his personal studies, and has recently found a hobby in playing the guitar. He hopes to compile a study on how the guitar influenced the sounds of jazz during the 1920s.
Although his job now requires Graziano to aid students only when they need general assistance at the Music Library, he still finds himself indulged in students’ work and learning when they individually come to him for help on projects or papers.
“It’s all a learning environment, whether I’m working alone in the library or together with a group of students in a classroom,” Graziano said. “But I definitely feel more directly involved when teaching and I miss that sometimes.”
After the library closes, Graziano stays late to continue his studies in jazz and Renaissance music in hopes of one day returning to his small hometown in Italy to help teach music education.
No Doubt breaks a four-year hiatus
I wrote this article in the summer of 2009. Gwen Stefani had just returned to the band No Doubt after pursuing a successful solo career, and this summer tour was the band's first since 2004. I had seen them back in 8th grade at the PNC Bank Arts Center when they performed with Blink 182, and I like to consider that my first "true" concert experience (I try to forget that I went to an NSYNC concert at Giants Stadium just a few years before...). So, of course I was pumped when No Doubt announced this summer tour and I was quick to buy tickets the day they went on sale :).
After a four-year hiatus, the 1990’s hit ska pop/punk band No Doubt reunites on a 2009 summer tour, promising to bring their beloved funk and spunk back to the stage. With no new record in the works, fans will not have to suffer through the latest mundane, unfamiliar recordings that bands tend to produce after so much past success. Instead, No Doubt assures a lineup of old-time favorites, including popular hits such as “Hey Baby” and “Just a Girl”.
No Doubt was founded by lead vocalist John Spence, backup vocalist Gwen Stefani, and keyboardist Eric Stefani in 1986. With Spence’s sudden death in 1987, Gwen Stefani took over lead vocals and gained much recognition due to her impressive vocal skills and upbeat stage presence. The band caught the attention of the Vice President of Interscope Records Tony Ferguson and was signed in 1990. No Doubt did not find immediate success until their 1995 album Tragic Kingdom, which aided in the ska revival of the 1990s; a time when grunge music ruled the airwaves. Their first hit single “Don’t Speak” is still widely recognized as the originator of what has come to be known as the modern ska-punk genre. Since their 1990’s success, No Doubt has released many records, including 2003’s Best Vocal Album Rock Steady and numerous “hit single” compilations. With many past changes in the band’s lineup, No Doubt presently includes lead vocalist Gwen Stefani, guitarist Tom Dumont, horns and keyboardists Stephen Bradley and Gabrial McNair, drummer Adrian Young, and bassist Tony Kanal.
With Gwen’s success at a solo career, No Doubt has remained a project on the backburner since 2004. They return to the stage in 2009 with the pop punk band Paramore.
After working at the local Dairy Queen in Anaheim, California during her teen years, marrying the successful lead guitarist and singer of the band Bush Gavin Rossdale, and raising two children of her own, Gwen Stefani is still able to possess the energy and intense passion as she did back in 1986. Her quirky voice combined with the “poppy” sound of Dumont’s talent on the guitar make for catchy tunes that any adolescent would enjoy. Bradley and McNair add flair with their unique horn sound, which captures the true spirit of ska. This combination of pop and ska added with a touch of reggae influence makes for an upbeat, danceable live show. Stefani’s sincere devotion and gratefulness towards her fans is evident in her stage presence and the band’s natural bond and talent is hard to ignore; even for the biggest No Doubt “hater”.
With such pop-infused melodies, many may find it hard to accept No Doubt as the ideal modern day ska band. But No Doubt has indeed made a success out of combining the two-toned tempos of classic ska with the harder, more modern sounds of today’s punk and pop. With catchy lyrics and an awesome stage performance, No Doubt is a definite on the list of tours to catch this summer.
For more info. on No Doubt's whereabouts, visit the band's myspace.
Westbound Train Crashes into Ska Scene
In today’s modern age of music, it is difficult to come across a band able to successfully capture the fervor of a ska-reggae-rock combination; a band talented enough to create danceable ska tempos instilled with just a touch of rocksteady beats. For those individuals nodding their heads along in avid agreement, it is finally time to turn off the radio and go check out the ska/rock steady-reggae sensation Westbound Train. Westbound offers that dose of ska/reggae/rock music that would give mainstream ska the kick it needs to successfully embody that old school reggae sound with today’s new age punk-ska.
Westbound Train first debuted in Boston, MA in 2001 and quickly gained recognition through their unique ska-combined-with-rock harmonies. In their 2006 album Transitions, the band combines horn laden tracks and soft bass guitar solos with lyrics which depict the family struggles one must endure while constantly on the road touring and promoting. Lead vocalist and trombonist Obi Fernandez sings with such passion and spirit that his stage presence is hard to ignore. These meaningful lyrics combine with choppy, off-beat rhythms to provide a laidback, makes-you-want-to-sway-back-and-forth atmosphere. This seven-member crew combines the sounds of untraditional rock instruments such as the trumpet, tenor saxophone and organ with more traditional rock‘n’roll sounds including the electric guitar and percussion to produce their own fervent genre of music; one which can only be deemed as funky-reggae-ska infused with jazzy-rock‘n’roll.
It is impressive how Westbound Train, although blatantly labeled a “ska band”, is able to disprove the typical stereotype that ska today is merely a style of dance that some crazy group of adolescents generated from the 1960s reggae music era. Just listen to tracks such as “Please Forgive Me” or “Ain’t Gonna be Easy”, and one will soon come to appreciate the talents of Westbound Train and how as a band these guys are able to pay great tribute to classic reggae while still maintaining a modern third-wave ska resonance. A touch of fresh rock is just another extravagance that one will experience when they listen to the music of Westbound.
Westbound Train’s unique sound and obvious talent has laid a new foundation for 21st century ska music. Take it from one of the masters of ska music himself Lynval Golding, former guitarist of the hit New Wave ska band The Specials, who has said that Westbound Train could one day become “the next ska sensation.” Hopefully it is true that one day, if ska fans are willing enough to broaden their views on the conventional modern day ska/punk/core band, Westbound Train will gain the recognition it deserves as a revolutionizing ska instilled rock band still able to sustain the old spiritual roots of reggae music.
Visit Westbound Train's homepage here.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
The Life of a World War II Veteran: Yesterday and Today
Sitting in his pale, pink kitchen – which has remained relatively unchanged since moving to the quaint, Boonton Township, New Jersey townhouse 55 years ago – 84-year-old Anthony Bellini sits with his 1943 high school yearbook, reminiscing about his days as a star athlete and being an all-around ladies’ man. “In high school, my two passions were football and foolin’ around with the girls,” Tony says with a smirk, while his wife of 57 years Lillian smacks him lightly on the arm. “What the hell, it’s the truth!”
“The only thing now is that most of the people in these pictures are dead. I’m trying to look for the ones still living,” Tony remarks. The varsity football pictures and senior superlatives – where Tony is named Most Talkative, Best Athlete, and Most Happy-Go-Lucky – soon turn to black-and white photos of World War II and the USS Boston; the reason for why he graduated high school early and risked his life for the next two years sailing the Pacific.
Looking at Tony, a World War II Navy veteran, you can tell he has lived a long and strenuous life. His movements are slow and he needs help walking the short distance from the couch to the kitchen table. With old age he has become very forgetful, jumbling the names of his grandchildren and not being able to keep up with simple small talk. Yet when it comes to reminiscing about the war and his youth, his eyes regain their sparkle and his memory suddenly revamps. He remembers the small details: how he wanted to be in the air force but did not have 20/20 vision in his left eye, how no one could get anything during the war because all supplies were rationed, and how he woke up one morning after a long night of celebration upon returning home from the war with a very mysterious new tattoo. The tattoo is of an eagle holding an American flag, to be exact, that now looks more like a muddled blur of gray ink on his wrinkling forearm.
“I shouldn’t be saying this in front of my wife, but when I got back to California after the war, I was just so happy to be off that ship. Me and a few buddies went to a cathouse and I must’ve ended up at a tattoo parlor down the road. I got up in the morning and my arm was all bloody and I thought ‘Oh, Jesus Christ.’”
Times have greatly changed since that wild night back in 1945, and Tony rarely makes it out of the house anymore. “Take a look at these pictures, my son-in-law found them off the computer! Technology nowadays,” Tony says with amazement but with a shared hint of sadness in his voice.
It seems that over the past few years many World War II veterans like Tony have come to experience that same sense of silent withdrawal from society. Their stories of bravery, struggle, and honor are being overshadowed by today’s fast-paced world immersed in advanced technology and material possessions. Sitting down with Bellini at his blue-and-white checkered kitchen table, I find a warm-hearted man reminiscent of his days as a young man who fought in a war, risked his life on the high seas, and who still found happiness in returning home with a mere $200 in his pocket. The memories of veterans such as Tony are fading quickly into the shadows of history, but their stories prove just how hard life was for them back then and how such small comforts we take advantage of today were cherished luxuries for the World War II generation.
Tony, who was born in Brooklyn on March 11, 1925, moved to New Jersey at age three with his father and younger sister after his mother passed away. He had his first job by age eleven. “I ran a milk route with my friend. I’d wake up at 4am and he’d come pick me up at 4:30am. We’d do our work, pick up some breakfast, and then head to school. I did that for three years and I’d get $5 a week. That was good money for back then.”
One can tell just by looking at his face that Tony was proud of this work and salary. He swears he did not break one bottle while on the job. “That’s how it was back then. You did what you could to get a little money in your pocket.”
In high school, Tony had no problem having to walk the two miles to and from school every day in order to play on the varsity football team, but when it came to his studies, things were not so simple. He wished to graduate early in order to enlist in the war, but was told he had to write a total of six English reports in order to receive his diploma. “I eventually had to ask my lady friends to do them for me. Let’s just say I ended up getting more reports than needed, and I passed. I got my diploma early.”
“Quit acting like hot-stuff, Tone,” chimes in his wife, Lillian. “You aren’t so hot these days now, are you?” The whole evening plays out this way. The couple constantly bickers. Tony tells Lillian to go make him some coffee and she responds by telling him to work his legs for a change and fix it himself. But beyond this playful arguing still lies a couple with a bond thicker than blood. A 57-year marriage – with six kids and nine grandchildren later – Lillian will still help Tony when his knees decide to give out on him or if he needs help getting dressed in the morning.
“I met Tone at a carnival in Boonton after the war when I was 20. I was there with my sister,” Lillian recalls. “Oh, we used to break up all the time. He was supposed to be the Best Man at my sister’s wedding, but we had a fight and broke up at the time.”
Although she did not experience the war firsthand, Lillian had to deal with her own dose of reality with the coming of World War II. “I had two brothers in the war, one in the Army and one in the Navy,” Lillian says. “My brother Sammie got injured his first day there. He hurt his leg at Iwo Jima and received the Purple Heart. When he got home my mother and I would take the bus to and from Long Island every day in order to see him in the hospital.”
Like many young women during this time, Lillian had to drop out of school in order to find a job and make some money to support her family. During the war she worked at a factory with her mother that made materials including canteens for the army. “I wish I could have at least finished off high school and graduated, but I had no other choice. I needed work and work needed me,” Lillian states.
“Don’t you be complaining, I was in the war! I missed my life, freedom!” Tony exclaims. After graduating high school early in 1943, Tony headed to Great Lakes, NJ where he was tested by the army and received a high score of 90 on his written exam. “They told me that I needed to go to radio school, but I wanted to be involved in the action.” After being sent out to school in Miami, Ohio, he got into a fight with a classmate and would not apologize. “They finally realized then that I wasn’t meant for school, so I was sent to fight out in the Pacific.”
Tony served the next two years on the USS Boston, a Baltimore-class heavy cruiser and, according to navysite.de, the sixth ship for the US Navy to be named after the city of Boston. “Our job was to protect allied carriers, so yeah, we saw a lot of action,” he recalls. Tony says the ship was 800 feet long and was in charge of following and protecting numerous allied battleships and cruisers. According to Navy History and Military Command, in early 1944 the USS Boston participated in raids of the Philippine Islands and Luzon and in the invasion of Guam. Although Tony witnessed intense battle and action, he says fear was never a factor. “You don’t get scared. It’s adrenaline. You see a plane that’s not yours, and you think‘sonofabitch!’ but you never worry. It’s your job.”
Tony remembers vividly the one time in the Pacific he did come close to being scared. “A plane was above me, but didn’t hit us. Oh, but he was close. He was aiming for the carrier with us. We killed him first though. I still remember his face. He was Japanese. I can still see those leather goggles he had and that expression on his face. Now that was somethin’.”
Unlike today, communication with friends and family for the soldiers of WWII was nearly impossible. Not only was soldier-life completely isolated, but getting simple materials like food or clothing was just as difficult. “The one thing I missed most being on that ship was life. You couldn’t get nothin’ during the war, there was just not much of anything. Everything was rationed,” Tony remembers.
“I remember my mother would send packages to my brothers during the war. She would empty out oil cans and fill them with food and little supplies,” Lillian adds.
That is one of the reasons why Tony claims he joined the Navy in the first place. “The army was what got us out of the Depression. The US built the ships and war materials for the British. If it weren’t for that, who knows how much worse it could have been.”
Tony remembers that when he first returned home to the United States after the war, he and a few soldier friends got stranded during a trip to Las Vegas. All of their clothes, money, and cigarettes were on board the ship that had already departed. “I had $200 in my bag, so I was worried. That was all I had and it was a lot of money,” Tony exclaims. When the men called ship patrol and got their belongings back, everything was accounted for but the cigarettes. “That was a bummer. You weren’t supposed to smoke in the Navy, but cigarettes were a rare luxury for that time. They only cost 50 cents a pack back then, but they were hard to get hold of.” Tony’s one delight upon returning home from the war was found in this simple pack of cigarettes.
His actual return home to Boonton, NJ was no more of an extravagance either. After taking a train from Chicago to Newark, he took a shower, threw away his ragged clothes, got changed, and took the 116 bus home. At the time, so many young men were off fighting the war and so many families were going through such difficult times, that Tony’s return home was not a call for any special celebration. “My main thing was to meet up with old friends, see which ones had died,” Bellini remarks.
“Actually hearing his story in full makes you really sit back and think. I should definitely get this on video someday before he completely forgets everything,” says Tony’s 45-year-old son Mark. We’re still sitting in the Bellini’s kitchen; Tony has finally gotten his cup of coffee and Lillian has just pulled out a deck of cards.
“My wife and her card-playing, she’ll play with anyone who is willing,” he laughs. The youngest Bellini daughter, Lisa, has just arrived to check on a fresh cut on the back of Tony’s head.
“He’s been falling all of the time lately and keeps hurting himself. Good thing he had better agility while in the Navy,” she says with a chuckle, but you can tell she is truly worried about her father’s age and physical condition.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ve survived the war and living with your mother, we’ll see if I can make another Thanksgiving,” Tony jokingly responds to lighten the mood. He picks up another picture from an old newspaper. This one is of all the young men from Boonton who served during WWII. “I hope those boys out there today in Iraq and Afghanistan have it easier than we did. Hey, they must, at least they have TV.”
“The only thing now is that most of the people in these pictures are dead. I’m trying to look for the ones still living,” Tony remarks. The varsity football pictures and senior superlatives – where Tony is named Most Talkative, Best Athlete, and Most Happy-Go-Lucky – soon turn to black-and white photos of World War II and the USS Boston; the reason for why he graduated high school early and risked his life for the next two years sailing the Pacific.
Looking at Tony, a World War II Navy veteran, you can tell he has lived a long and strenuous life. His movements are slow and he needs help walking the short distance from the couch to the kitchen table. With old age he has become very forgetful, jumbling the names of his grandchildren and not being able to keep up with simple small talk. Yet when it comes to reminiscing about the war and his youth, his eyes regain their sparkle and his memory suddenly revamps. He remembers the small details: how he wanted to be in the air force but did not have 20/20 vision in his left eye, how no one could get anything during the war because all supplies were rationed, and how he woke up one morning after a long night of celebration upon returning home from the war with a very mysterious new tattoo. The tattoo is of an eagle holding an American flag, to be exact, that now looks more like a muddled blur of gray ink on his wrinkling forearm.
“I shouldn’t be saying this in front of my wife, but when I got back to California after the war, I was just so happy to be off that ship. Me and a few buddies went to a cathouse and I must’ve ended up at a tattoo parlor down the road. I got up in the morning and my arm was all bloody and I thought ‘Oh, Jesus Christ.’”
Times have greatly changed since that wild night back in 1945, and Tony rarely makes it out of the house anymore. “Take a look at these pictures, my son-in-law found them off the computer! Technology nowadays,” Tony says with amazement but with a shared hint of sadness in his voice.
It seems that over the past few years many World War II veterans like Tony have come to experience that same sense of silent withdrawal from society. Their stories of bravery, struggle, and honor are being overshadowed by today’s fast-paced world immersed in advanced technology and material possessions. Sitting down with Bellini at his blue-and-white checkered kitchen table, I find a warm-hearted man reminiscent of his days as a young man who fought in a war, risked his life on the high seas, and who still found happiness in returning home with a mere $200 in his pocket. The memories of veterans such as Tony are fading quickly into the shadows of history, but their stories prove just how hard life was for them back then and how such small comforts we take advantage of today were cherished luxuries for the World War II generation.
Tony, who was born in Brooklyn on March 11, 1925, moved to New Jersey at age three with his father and younger sister after his mother passed away. He had his first job by age eleven. “I ran a milk route with my friend. I’d wake up at 4am and he’d come pick me up at 4:30am. We’d do our work, pick up some breakfast, and then head to school. I did that for three years and I’d get $5 a week. That was good money for back then.”
One can tell just by looking at his face that Tony was proud of this work and salary. He swears he did not break one bottle while on the job. “That’s how it was back then. You did what you could to get a little money in your pocket.”
In high school, Tony had no problem having to walk the two miles to and from school every day in order to play on the varsity football team, but when it came to his studies, things were not so simple. He wished to graduate early in order to enlist in the war, but was told he had to write a total of six English reports in order to receive his diploma. “I eventually had to ask my lady friends to do them for me. Let’s just say I ended up getting more reports than needed, and I passed. I got my diploma early.”
“Quit acting like hot-stuff, Tone,” chimes in his wife, Lillian. “You aren’t so hot these days now, are you?” The whole evening plays out this way. The couple constantly bickers. Tony tells Lillian to go make him some coffee and she responds by telling him to work his legs for a change and fix it himself. But beyond this playful arguing still lies a couple with a bond thicker than blood. A 57-year marriage – with six kids and nine grandchildren later – Lillian will still help Tony when his knees decide to give out on him or if he needs help getting dressed in the morning.
“I met Tone at a carnival in Boonton after the war when I was 20. I was there with my sister,” Lillian recalls. “Oh, we used to break up all the time. He was supposed to be the Best Man at my sister’s wedding, but we had a fight and broke up at the time.”
Although she did not experience the war firsthand, Lillian had to deal with her own dose of reality with the coming of World War II. “I had two brothers in the war, one in the Army and one in the Navy,” Lillian says. “My brother Sammie got injured his first day there. He hurt his leg at Iwo Jima and received the Purple Heart. When he got home my mother and I would take the bus to and from Long Island every day in order to see him in the hospital.”
Like many young women during this time, Lillian had to drop out of school in order to find a job and make some money to support her family. During the war she worked at a factory with her mother that made materials including canteens for the army. “I wish I could have at least finished off high school and graduated, but I had no other choice. I needed work and work needed me,” Lillian states.
“Don’t you be complaining, I was in the war! I missed my life, freedom!” Tony exclaims. After graduating high school early in 1943, Tony headed to Great Lakes, NJ where he was tested by the army and received a high score of 90 on his written exam. “They told me that I needed to go to radio school, but I wanted to be involved in the action.” After being sent out to school in Miami, Ohio, he got into a fight with a classmate and would not apologize. “They finally realized then that I wasn’t meant for school, so I was sent to fight out in the Pacific.”
Tony served the next two years on the USS Boston, a Baltimore-class heavy cruiser and, according to navysite.de, the sixth ship for the US Navy to be named after the city of Boston. “Our job was to protect allied carriers, so yeah, we saw a lot of action,” he recalls. Tony says the ship was 800 feet long and was in charge of following and protecting numerous allied battleships and cruisers. According to Navy History and Military Command, in early 1944 the USS Boston participated in raids of the Philippine Islands and Luzon and in the invasion of Guam. Although Tony witnessed intense battle and action, he says fear was never a factor. “You don’t get scared. It’s adrenaline. You see a plane that’s not yours, and you think‘sonofabitch!’ but you never worry. It’s your job.”
Tony remembers vividly the one time in the Pacific he did come close to being scared. “A plane was above me, but didn’t hit us. Oh, but he was close. He was aiming for the carrier with us. We killed him first though. I still remember his face. He was Japanese. I can still see those leather goggles he had and that expression on his face. Now that was somethin’.”
Unlike today, communication with friends and family for the soldiers of WWII was nearly impossible. Not only was soldier-life completely isolated, but getting simple materials like food or clothing was just as difficult. “The one thing I missed most being on that ship was life. You couldn’t get nothin’ during the war, there was just not much of anything. Everything was rationed,” Tony remembers.
“I remember my mother would send packages to my brothers during the war. She would empty out oil cans and fill them with food and little supplies,” Lillian adds.
That is one of the reasons why Tony claims he joined the Navy in the first place. “The army was what got us out of the Depression. The US built the ships and war materials for the British. If it weren’t for that, who knows how much worse it could have been.”
Tony remembers that when he first returned home to the United States after the war, he and a few soldier friends got stranded during a trip to Las Vegas. All of their clothes, money, and cigarettes were on board the ship that had already departed. “I had $200 in my bag, so I was worried. That was all I had and it was a lot of money,” Tony exclaims. When the men called ship patrol and got their belongings back, everything was accounted for but the cigarettes. “That was a bummer. You weren’t supposed to smoke in the Navy, but cigarettes were a rare luxury for that time. They only cost 50 cents a pack back then, but they were hard to get hold of.” Tony’s one delight upon returning home from the war was found in this simple pack of cigarettes.
His actual return home to Boonton, NJ was no more of an extravagance either. After taking a train from Chicago to Newark, he took a shower, threw away his ragged clothes, got changed, and took the 116 bus home. At the time, so many young men were off fighting the war and so many families were going through such difficult times, that Tony’s return home was not a call for any special celebration. “My main thing was to meet up with old friends, see which ones had died,” Bellini remarks.
“Actually hearing his story in full makes you really sit back and think. I should definitely get this on video someday before he completely forgets everything,” says Tony’s 45-year-old son Mark. We’re still sitting in the Bellini’s kitchen; Tony has finally gotten his cup of coffee and Lillian has just pulled out a deck of cards.
“My wife and her card-playing, she’ll play with anyone who is willing,” he laughs. The youngest Bellini daughter, Lisa, has just arrived to check on a fresh cut on the back of Tony’s head.
“He’s been falling all of the time lately and keeps hurting himself. Good thing he had better agility while in the Navy,” she says with a chuckle, but you can tell she is truly worried about her father’s age and physical condition.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ve survived the war and living with your mother, we’ll see if I can make another Thanksgiving,” Tony jokingly responds to lighten the mood. He picks up another picture from an old newspaper. This one is of all the young men from Boonton who served during WWII. “I hope those boys out there today in Iraq and Afghanistan have it easier than we did. Hey, they must, at least they have TV.”
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The “Heart and Soul” of the Boston Globe dies at 73
I had what at first appeared to be a rather difficult assignment for my News Writing and Reporting class, but after getting started with interviews and searching background information, I found myself feeling very accomplished and at ease after finishing the piece. It is an obituary for Rose Devine, who formerly worked at the Boston Globe's message center before passing away from cancer on March 14, 2010. After reading about her life she seemed like a very wonderful woman who will be missed dearly at the Boston Globe.
The Boston Globe has lost what many of her coworkers believed to be the “heart and soul” of the Globe community.
Rose Devine, who worked at the Globe’s message center for over 20 years, died at the age of 73 on Sunday, March 14, 2010 after a battle with lung cancer. She lived in Bridgewater, MA and is survived by her husband John Devine and their four daughters, Kathi Cuprinski, Karen Mussari, Maureen Callahan, and Patti Smith. She also leaves two sisters, Barbara McDonough and Agnes Rexroad, and 12 grandchildren.
At the Globe, Devine managed to transform an impersonal job into one that produced intimate and personal relationships among each individual she worked with. She made it a point to personally acquaint and concern herself with each reporter, which gained her recognition at the Globe as a prominent figure who not only made a reliable telephone operator, but also a dependable friend.
“She made it a point to get to know everyone. She was just an incredibly warm and loving person,” said Eileen McNamara, a former Globe metro columnist. “I remember one day I was having a crisis, and she had me over for lunch. We had lunch in her kitchen in South Boston.”
“Whether it was from a spouse a child or the mayor, Rose would have the message ready for you,” said op-ed columnist Joan Vennochi. “Her level of involvement at the Globe went beyond message operator because she truly cared about the news and the people involved with it.”
Many of her colleagues at the Globe came to trust Devine’s personal instincts and observations when dealing with sources. Instead of taking a secondary role to the reporter, Devine engaged herself in her work until her retirement in 1998.
“I was always struck by her good judgment, she always based her opinions on real experience,” said City & Region reporter Brian Mooney. “Rose always knew who was a good person and who wasn’t.”
Given the hectic environment that typically surrounds a newsroom, Rose was the person to go to when one needed a brief break or pep talk. According to former Globe editor and now Head of Communications at Notre Dame Matthew Storin, there was rarely a time he would pass by Rose’s desk and not see someone there talking to her. Colleagues not only went to Rose to receive their messages, they went to her to gain great personal advice for both in and outside of the newsroom.
"When my daughter was a toddler and could not get over a bad cold despite trips to the doctor, I worried aloud about it,” said columnist Bella English. “Rose said, ‘Bella, she's got pneumonia. Tell the doctor you want an x-ray.’ Sure enough, I took her in and sure enough, she had pneumonia. On the right antibiotic, she was better in days."
Growing up in South Boston, Devine was an avid fan of the Boston Red Sox and was a woman who always put family first, especially her grandchildren. She helped to raise money for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation when her grandson was diagnosed with the illness and got many people in the newsroom devoted to the cause.
“I remember one year they put on a tennis tournament to raise money and it was really an act of love and devotion on the part of the staff who you normally couldn't get to do anything outside of work. But with Rose it was done without question.” said Storin.
Devine’s charming yet sharp-witted spirit pervaded the newsroom and enlightened those who came to her for help and advice.
“Without even seeing her you knew she was there, because she was – literally, emotionally, spiritually,” said Globe photojournalist Ted Gartland.
A funeral Mass was held for Devine at 9 a.m. on Thursday, March 18 at St. Thomas Aquinas Church in Bridgewater. She was buried Friday, March 19 at Pine Hill Cemetery in Dover, NH.
The Boston Globe has lost what many of her coworkers believed to be the “heart and soul” of the Globe community.
Rose Devine, who worked at the Globe’s message center for over 20 years, died at the age of 73 on Sunday, March 14, 2010 after a battle with lung cancer. She lived in Bridgewater, MA and is survived by her husband John Devine and their four daughters, Kathi Cuprinski, Karen Mussari, Maureen Callahan, and Patti Smith. She also leaves two sisters, Barbara McDonough and Agnes Rexroad, and 12 grandchildren.
At the Globe, Devine managed to transform an impersonal job into one that produced intimate and personal relationships among each individual she worked with. She made it a point to personally acquaint and concern herself with each reporter, which gained her recognition at the Globe as a prominent figure who not only made a reliable telephone operator, but also a dependable friend.
“She made it a point to get to know everyone. She was just an incredibly warm and loving person,” said Eileen McNamara, a former Globe metro columnist. “I remember one day I was having a crisis, and she had me over for lunch. We had lunch in her kitchen in South Boston.”
“Whether it was from a spouse a child or the mayor, Rose would have the message ready for you,” said op-ed columnist Joan Vennochi. “Her level of involvement at the Globe went beyond message operator because she truly cared about the news and the people involved with it.”
Many of her colleagues at the Globe came to trust Devine’s personal instincts and observations when dealing with sources. Instead of taking a secondary role to the reporter, Devine engaged herself in her work until her retirement in 1998.
“I was always struck by her good judgment, she always based her opinions on real experience,” said City & Region reporter Brian Mooney. “Rose always knew who was a good person and who wasn’t.”
Given the hectic environment that typically surrounds a newsroom, Rose was the person to go to when one needed a brief break or pep talk. According to former Globe editor and now Head of Communications at Notre Dame Matthew Storin, there was rarely a time he would pass by Rose’s desk and not see someone there talking to her. Colleagues not only went to Rose to receive their messages, they went to her to gain great personal advice for both in and outside of the newsroom.
"When my daughter was a toddler and could not get over a bad cold despite trips to the doctor, I worried aloud about it,” said columnist Bella English. “Rose said, ‘Bella, she's got pneumonia. Tell the doctor you want an x-ray.’ Sure enough, I took her in and sure enough, she had pneumonia. On the right antibiotic, she was better in days."
Growing up in South Boston, Devine was an avid fan of the Boston Red Sox and was a woman who always put family first, especially her grandchildren. She helped to raise money for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation when her grandson was diagnosed with the illness and got many people in the newsroom devoted to the cause.
“I remember one year they put on a tennis tournament to raise money and it was really an act of love and devotion on the part of the staff who you normally couldn't get to do anything outside of work. But with Rose it was done without question.” said Storin.
Devine’s charming yet sharp-witted spirit pervaded the newsroom and enlightened those who came to her for help and advice.
“Without even seeing her you knew she was there, because she was – literally, emotionally, spiritually,” said Globe photojournalist Ted Gartland.
A funeral Mass was held for Devine at 9 a.m. on Thursday, March 18 at St. Thomas Aquinas Church in Bridgewater. She was buried Friday, March 19 at Pine Hill Cemetery in Dover, NH.
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