Shots in the Dark

Let me take a moment to take note of two sad passings: Lawrence “Ramrod” Shurtliff and Vince Welnick.

Ramrod, as he was universally known, was the road manager for the Grateful Dead, and Welnick was one of the band’s last two keyboard players, along with Bruce Hornsby.

I didn’t know much about Ramrod until reading this terrific reflection on him in (where else) the San Francisco Chronicle.

A friend of Neal Cassady and Ken Kesey, Ramrod was in charge of the equipment for virtually every Dead show from 1967 on, which is quite a few Dead shows.

According to the Chronicle, drummer Mickey Hart remembered one New Year’s Eve when he thought he might be too high to play. Ramrod solved the problem by strapping Hart to his drum stool with gaffer’s tape. Hart recalled another show in San Jose with Big Brother and the Holding Company, where the starter’s cannon the band used to punctuate the drum solo of “St. Stephen’s” went off early.

“I looked back,” Hart said. “His face was on fire. He’d lost his eyebrows. You could smell his flesh. And he was hurrying to reload the cannon in time. That was the end of the cannons.“

Sometimes, in this horrific era of George Bush and Tom DeLay and Donald Trump and Donald Rumsfeld, it is hard to believe that the ’60s ever happened, isn’t it? “Strapping Hart to his drum stool with gaffer’s tape….”

I first heard Vince Welnick through his early band, The Tubes, perhaps best known for their self-deprecatory anthem, “White Punks on Dope.” (Later, in the early ’80s, they had a pop hit with the song “She’s a Beauty.”)

Some years later, in 1990, Welnick joined the Dead as a replacement for Brent Mydland, the oft-debated keyboard player who died of a drug overdose. Since Mydland was the third keyboard player in the band to die, Welnick could perhaps have been understandably nervous.

As things turned out, Welnick was really good, and we fans quickly came to think of him as an essential band member. He knew an awful lot about musical history, and convinced the band to play songs that they hadn’t done in years, like “Here Comes Sunshine.” (Welnick was also on board in 1995, when they played “Unbroken Chain” for the first time in 22 years.)

Unfortunately, Welnick was a smoker, and contracted a lung disease (he didn’t talk publicly of it) in 1995. He died on June 2, 2006, apparently of a suicide. The details have not been released.

I vividly remember that day in August 1995 when Jerry Garcia died; it was devastating, the loss of one of the great American musicians of the 20th century. The deaths of Ramrod and Vince Welnick deepen that loss.

At least we will always have the music to remember them by.

Well, the U.S. embarrassed itself yesterday, losing to the Czech Republic 3-0 in a game in which we had something like six shots on goal, only one of which was really close. Ouch. We stank, pure and simple.

Nonetheless, I’m having a fantastic time watching as much of the Cup as I can.

Soccer, which I played as a youth, is o jogo bonito, the beautiful game (though that’s actually the expression applied to Brazil’s style of play). It is not as obvious as, say, American football or basketball. There are no sacks, no dunks, no spikes. The things to love about soccer are more nuanced: a beautiful pass into a space that’s about to be filled; the footwork of a wing who seems trapped in the corner of the field and somehow escapes; the fluidity and speed with which a play can emerge and move from one end of the field to another, like a school of fish suddenly changing direction.

No one does it better than Brazil, and as soon as the U.S. gets eliminated, that’s who I’m rooting for.

No, not just because Brazil is the favorite, not just because of Ronaldinho…

…although, let’s just talk about Ronaldinho for a second, shall we? If you don’t really appreciate the glory of soccer, take a look at this video clip. It shows Ronaldinho trying on a new pair of cleats, then fluidly, oh so fluidly, starting to dribble a soccer ball with his feet and knees. Then he does something that is hard to believe: From about 25 yards away from the goal, he casually bangs a shot off the crossbar. It bounces back to him and he chests the ball, never letting it hit the ground. Then he does it again. And again. And again.

Four times off the crossbar, four times he catches the ball—and not once does it touch the ground.

Astonishing. There’s not an athlete in this country who could do anything like that. (It’s so astonishing, some people think it’s a fake. It’s possible. But the dribbling alone is worth a look…watch closely, for example, the first time Ronaldinho picks the ball up with his feet. Beautiful.)

But the reason I’ll root for Brazil is because watching their team is such a joy, and because the game is so important to them. I’ve had occasion to spend time in Brazil. It’s a wonderful, beautiful, sad, friendly, scary, optimistic, broken country. It’s a love song of a country, a poem, a dance, and all that passion and humanity shows in the way that Brazilians play soccer. Watching them, you can’t help but be caught up in o jogo bonito; you can’t help but better understand why soccer moves the world.

Brazil plays Croatia today. Check it out, around 2:45 on ESPN2.

In a review of two novels about Upper East Side kids and their schools, Michiko Kakutani writes….

The head of the school refers to students as “customers” and seems intent on increasing “customer satisfaction.” The school’s cafeteria is a food court that includes sushi and a pizza oven; the school’s deans cheerfully accept a host of excuses for plagiarism and cheating. “Leniency,” John observes, “was in keeping with the philosophy of the school — let no revenue stream be interrupted.”

Remember, she’s talking about New York.

On his blog, David Warsh has an interesting column on Larry Summers’ future.

Here’s one paragraph that seemed particularly on target:

Probably he is finished in government. The meteoric rise that began with the Reagan CEA under Feldstein, that led to becoming chief economic adviser in the presidential campaign of Michael S. Dukakis, then to the chief economist’s job at the World Bank under George H.W. Bush, and, finally, to the Clinton Treasury Department, may be over. His role in the Shleifer affair makes it unlikely that Summers ever again can be confirmed by the Senate.

Is this right, or is it a reflection of Warsh’s passion about matters Shleifer? I was going to say that Republicans might use the Shleifer matter to torpedo any Summers nomination…but then decided that these days, Republicans like Summers more than liberals do, and probably care less about the corruption issue. In fact, it seems likely to be Democrats who’d raise objections to Summers, not just because of Shleifer but because of his insults to various Democratic constituences, primarily women and African-Americans.

So, yes, it’s hard to imagine Hillary Clinton inviting Summers back into government. Al Gore? Not a chance. Who’d want a man who shuffles along, surrounded by controversy wherever he goes, like Pigpen and his cloud of dust?

That leaves two alternatives, according to Warsh: Wall Street, with which Summers gained more than a passing acquaintance during his years at the Treasury Department, and international economics, of which he has become a distinguished practitioner.

The latter could include being a foundation head or coming back to teach at Harvard.

Increasingly I think that Summers will come back to Harvard. He has a new house in Brookline, a wife with tenure, and a stepdaughter who’s a Harvard sophomore (I think).

More than that, the Wall Street option seems, if one truly considers it, unlikely. Yes, I’ve heard the rumors that Bob Rubin will hire him at Citigroup—a move which would, I think, humiliate Summers, as it would be the third straight job he’s gotten as a result of Rubin’s patronage—or that he’ll go to Goldman Sachs.

But what would he actually do at those places? Take meetings? We all know how that goes. Make connections in foreign lands? Perhaps—but a lot of people in those foreign lands don’t really like Larry Summers, as Joe Stiglitz will tell you. Crunch numbers? I suppose. But lots of people can do that…and as mentioned before, what Wall Street firm wants the inevitable publicity? What hedge fund?

No, the best bet right now is for Summers to come back to Harvard. Warsh mentions the business school, and I think that’s right. It’s in Allston, which has a physical separation from the Yard and Mass Hall and a symbolic importance to Summers. It was one of the few places where Summers had a significant reservoir of support. It would allow Summers to engage in consulting and speechifying, and make more money, which he would like to do. And Summers would certainly be a demanding and challenging classroom instructor.

Summers could also write a book—something in the Freakanomics vein, meaning smart and contrarian, but in a constructive way. Problem is, he can’t write, as a perusal of the speeches on his website will tell you. (Not that he wrote them—but that’s the point.) Maybe he could work with the guy who co-wrote Freakanomics.

(If I were a newspaper editor, come to think of it, I’d want to have lunch with Summers and broach the topic of his writing a column. If Summers really were to let his hair down, relax a bit, and write with the flair, intelligence and originality he shows during question-and-answer periods, he could make a very fine newspaper columnist. His provocative nature could be a perfect fit for that medium. He’d certainly be more interesting than, say, John Tierney.)

The problem here is that Summers would almost surely think such a popular book beneath him, and want to produce a tome on foreign policy and international relations, like something that Henry Kissinger would write to be discussed at the Council on Foreign Relations. Ho-hum.

Warsh, however, disagrees with me, writing…

Larry Summers remains a very big frog; there is no doubt at all about that: the question is what kind of pond he will choose. Granted, a university like Harvard contains multitudes. A close look at the bitterness of the negotiation that in February compelled his resignation, however, suggests that neither Professors Summers nor Shleifer, nor, for that matter, Harvard Corporation member Rubin, will remain connected to Harvard for more than a year or so.

Largely because I’m unconvinced of the viability of other options, or Summers’ sense that they are insufficiently elevated for him, I think Summers will head to HBS in a year, with perhaps a joint position at the Kennedy School.

Bartolome Island, Galapagos

In the Times, two articles—one in the news section, one by columnist Nick Kristof—weigh in on the farce that is the Duke rape case.

Here’s the latest news:

1) The alleged victim didn’t cry rape until she was going to be committed to a hospital.

2) When she first claimed rape, she said nothing about the Duke lacrosse players using condoms…which would make the lack of DNA evidence deeply problematic.

3) When the second dancer first heard of the rape story, she pronounced it “a crock.”

4) The woman’s physical condition doesn’t seem consistent with rape.

Moreover, isn’t the Times implying that the woman was not just an “exotic dancer,” but also a hooker?

The lawyers attached a five-page handwritten statement given to the police by Jarriel L. Johnson, 32, of Raleigh, describing his driving the woman around the Raleigh-Durham area the weekend before the lacrosse team party. He said she met with clients at three hotels in the area. The exact nature of the meetings was not disclosed.

I love that sentence, “The exact nature of the meetings…” If you imagine a reporter chuckling as he wrote that, you’re right. It’s pretty clear what the exact nature of the meetings was.

Why is that relevant? Well, it would make it a little hard to determine just how many people had sex with the woman…

Mike Nifong increasingly reminds one of another prosecutor obsessed with non-existent sex crimes: Kenneth Starr.

Scientists have discovered a new breed of hammerhead shark in American waters, a rare species that appears to make its home off the coast of South Carolina. It better not swim to Florida, where some bonehead “sport” fisherman might try to catch it just to prove that he can.

It’s too late for this rare hammerhead…
but perhaps not for others.

Also in Florida news, the state fish and wildlife conservation commission has officially removed the manatee from the endangered species list, now calling it only “threatened.”

Good news, you say? Well, no. The commission is stocked with cronies of Jeb Bush—no environmental governor, he—who want to make it easier for developers to build along the Florida coastline. (Yes, there is some Florida coastline left.)

In the Miami Herald, Carl Hiaasen explains.…

The Harvard Gazette’s timeline of the Summers’ presidency is both hilarious and ominous in its strenuous assertion that the Summers’ years were a period of great renewal and optimism at Harvard, free of blight.

But sometimes, even the most committed propagandist inadvertently reveals a truth. Consider, for example, this photograph and caption that ran with the Gazette’s compilation of Summers’ greatest hits.

At the freshman barbeque in Annenberg Hall in September 2002,
students gather around Summers to get the former secretary of the
treasury [sic] to sign their one dollar bills.
(Staff file photo Stephanie Mitchell/Harvard News Office)

I could never figure out which was more disturbing: the fact that Harvard students were so anxious to get Summers’ signature on their money, or the fact that Summers was always willing to oblige. Did no one see what unfortunate pieces of symbolism both actions were? They certainly evoked what has become all-too-important at Harvard in recent years: celebrity and money.

Harvard has many challenges in the short term. But in the long run, this may be its biggest hurdle: the fact that so many students want to go to Harvard for the most superficial of reasons.

It’s fascinating that Summers, who almost surely approved the text and photos used in this Gazette story, wanted this photograph to run.

Some of you wondered why I didn’t engage in a broader discussion of yesterday’s Crimson, among other things. The answer is I was returning from Boston after meeting with Red Sox officials on Wednesday to talk about my work-in-progress, a book on the 1978 Yankees-Red Sox season. (I do have a job, you know.) And when I got back to Manhattan, I was glued to my computer, watching the Internet transmission of Larry Summers’ farewell speech.

It was, I thought, a good speech. I’ve heard a couple grumbles—it was a recitation of things he’s already said (largely true), he moved it inside so cameras wouldn’t show him speaking to an empty Yard (understandable if true), he took credit for everything (Summers probably thinks he gets blamed for everything, so fair’s fair).

But most important for both Summers and Harvard, he struck the right notes. He was gracious, not bitter; optimistic, not angry; and constructive, not critical. I have no doubt that privately Summers’ thoughts are much more colorful than was his speech yesterday. But this was a formal, public occasion, and Summers handled it well. My only thought was that it was kind of anti-climactic. Part of me wanted to see Summers go out with a bang, make some news. Instead, it rates as wire copy on the New York Times website. But strategically, I think Summers made a wise choice. After all, he still has to find a job….

A number of you have asked my thoughts on the Crimson’s year-end issue, in particular Javier Hernandez’s investigation into the exact same thing I wrote about in Boston Magazine, the events between February 7th and February 21, the day of Summers’ resignation.

The answer is that I thought Hernandez did an outstanding job—a very nicely detailed, thoroughly reported tick-tock of the end of Summers’ presidency.

Here’s what I learned from the piece:
—that Summers’ lawyer was D.C. power-lawyer Bob Barnett, a fact I tried and failed to get but which makes perfect sense. Of course Summers would use a Washington lawyer.
—that Jamie Houghton had to take a two-year leave from the business school because of bad grades. That’s interesting.
—that David Gergen feels qualified to talk about what Summers was thinking and doing during this period, even though he admits that Summers didn’t talk to him during it
—that Summers was smiling on his way out the door of Mass Hall to go skiing. It’s hard to know what that detail means—Summers’ smiles sometimes look like grimaces, and vice-versa—but it’s a nice touch.
—that Summers had drinks with his staff the afternoon of his resignation. (I would really have liked to know who that group included, and what the mood in the room was like.)

There were a few points on which I quibble slightly with Hernandez.

First, I think his description of Jamie Houghton’s decision to withdraw support for Summers is too strong. Hernandez refers to it as a “Valentine’s Day plan,” which gives the impression of something more dramatic and more systematic than what actually happened—a gradual, reluctant changing of Houghton’s mind.

Second, Hernandez suggests that Robert Reischauer and Nan Keohane were talking about a Summers’ resignation as early as last fall. That’s not my understanding.

Hernandez then writes:
As early as December of last year, Keohane, Reischauer, and investment manager James F. Rothenberg ’68—all appointed to the Corporation by Summers—were seriously doubting the ability of the president to continue to govern the nation’s oldest university. His presidency had begun to slip away.

I think that’s too strong; I don’t see any reason why, if the Kirby firing had not exploded the way it did, Summers could not have survived. Certainly the Corporation had no plans to take any kind of action until after the February 7th faculty meeting.

There are still some questions about what really happened in this period. I’d like to know exactly when, for example, Houghton gave up the ghost, and if there was any particular thing that caused him to abandon Summers. I’d also like to know the details of Summers’ severance agreement. I’d like to better understand the relationship between Bob Rubin and Larry Summers; how can such an intelligent man (Rubin) get a situation so incredibly wrong? (Did Rubin really believe it when, back in 2001, he told the Corporation that Larry Summers wasn’t the angry young man he used to be?) And I’d like to know if James Rothenberg’s claim yesterday that Harvard raised $2.7 billion over the last five years is legit, or cooking the books.

But all told, I think that Javier and I have helped excavate much of this story. Kudos to the Crimson for its reporting….

Okay, I’ll rise to the bait. I can’t help but respond to Larry Summers’ comments about me in the Commencement issue of the Crimson. (Isn’t that what a blog is for?)

Here’s what interviewer Sam Teller asked him and what Summers answered:

ST: I hate to give him the satisfaction of getting mentioned in this interview, but Richard Bradley has made a small career doing what he might call watching out for Harvard, but what in effect amounts to preying on you for controversy to sell books. He says you’ve met three times, but have never actually spoken. Do you recall ever meeting him? Can you divine the source of his vendetta against you?

LHS: Met-without-speaking is an odd concept. I’m told there are a variety of odd statements in his writings, but frankly I don’t follow them. I try not to speculate on the motives of others.

Ouch!

Let’s just clarify a couple of things, though.

Met-without-speaking is an odd concept, indeed, but I think President Summers knows exactly what I was referring to: As I told Sam back when he interviewed me for “15 Questions,” I have three times shaken hands with Larry Summers and introduced myself, and each time he grunted or was otherwise silent and walked away.

So it’s worth noting that, in classic Washington fashion, Summers doesn’t actually answer the question.

Instead, he slips in a sideways smear—”I’m told there are a variety of odd statements in his writings”—that really is beneath a Harvard president. (Even an outgoing one.) While suggesting that he hasn’t read my Harvard-related work, Summers denigrates it—without actually going into specifics. (Sam, that would have been a nice follow-up.)

All I can say is that I have requested to interview President Summers quite a few times and given him ample opportunity to respond to anything I planned to write, and never once has he or anyone working for him challenged any specific point of my reporting.

But I’ve been critical of Summers in my book and elsewhere, so I don’t really begrudge him a parting shot at me. What perturbs me more is Sam Teller’s suggestion that I have a “vendetta” against Summers. Sam, that’s crazy talk. In my book, this blog, and in a couple of articles I’ve done for Boston Magazine, I’ve called ’em as I saw ’em. Of course, I welcome constructive criticism, and when I make mistakes, I correct them. But time and events seem to have borne out my reporting.

As for “preying on controversy” to sell books…well, it may have worked out that Harvard Rules happened to come out during the women-in-science controversy, and has benefitted from the controversy that President Summers ignites from time to time. But I can assure you that when I began the project of writing a book about a university and its president, controversy was the farthest thing from my mind. In fact, I was very much hoping to do a book that was less controversial than my first.

As to trying to sell books…I plead guilty. Such is life.

Now, why might Sam Teller say such unkind things about me? Perhaps because he’s sucking up to Summers throughout the interview. (Sample question: “How did it feel to be greeted by a throng of supportive, cheering students as you walked out of your office on the day of your resignation?” Larry King couldn’t top that.)

Perhaps because I blasted him on this blog not too long ago. Not that he discloses this in the Crimson…..