Tag: Scrooge

FEBRUARY 7, 1908: Been There, Done That

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Not another man swinging through the trees in Africa wearing nothing but a loincloth.  Afraid so.  Athlete turned actor, Buster Crabbe (born Clarence Linden Crabbe II, on February 7, 1908), followed in Elmo Lincoln’s footsteps, starring as the ape man in Tarzan the Fearless, a 1933 serial that was later compiled into a full-length movie.  Crabbe dived into his movie career after winning Olympic gold for freestyle swimming in 1932.

Although he was Tarzan only once, passing his loincloth to Johnny Weissmuller, he played a variety of jungle men in movies such as King of the Jungle,  Jungle Man, and King of the Congo. When he wasn’t swinging in the jungle, he was speeding through for the far reaches of space as both Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon, taming the West as Billy the Kid and a posseful of other cowboy heroes, or Americanizing the French Foreign Legion His three Flash Gordon serials were Saturday morning staples in the 30s and 40s. The serials were also compiled into full-length movies. They appeared extensively on American television in the 1950s and 60s, and eventually were edited for release on home video.  As his acting career wound down, he became a spokesman for his own line of swimming pools. He died in 1983.

Imagine Jacob Marley in Chains and a Loincloth

Little Charles Dickens knew the adversity he would later write so effectively about. Born February 7, 1812, he attended school in Portsmouth during his early years but was sent to work in a factory in 1824 at the age of 12, when his father was thrown into debtors’ prison. Dickens learned first-hand about the deplorable treatment of working children and the horrors of the institution of the debtors’ prison.

In his late teens, Dickens went to work as a reporter and soon began publishing humorous short stories. A collection of those stories was released in 1836 under the title Sketches by Boz (later titled The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club). The stories about the quixotic innocent Samuel Pickwick and his fellow club members quickly became popular: 400 copies were printed of the first installment, but by the 15th episode the print run had reached 40,000. Publication of the stories in book form in 1837 established Dickens as the preeminent author of his time.

Oliver Twist followed in 1838 and Nicholas Nickleby in 1839. In 1841, Dickens visited the United States, where he was treated as a conquering hero. As a writer, he kept churning out major novels at almost a yearly pace each one seemingly more masterful than the last, among them: David Copperfield in 1850, Bleak House 1853, Hard Times 1854, A Tale of Two Cities 1859 and Great Expectations in 1861.

Dickens was the literary giant of his age, unparalleled in his realism, social criticism and humor, a master of characterization (think Fagin, the Artful Dodger, Pip, Uriah Heep, Oliver Twist, Tiny Tim and, of course, Ebenezer Scrooge). The 1843 novella that featured Scrooge, A Christmas Carol, is one of the most influential works ever written, still popular after 170 years and still inspiring adaptations in every artistic genre. Dickens even has his own adjective, Dickensian.

Dickens died in 1870 at the age of 58, leaving an enigmatic unfinished novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood. He has been celebrated by statuary, in museums and even on currency — all against his dying wishes.

 

JANUARY 5: Twelfth Day, Twelfth Night

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Here we are — the last day of Christmas, number twelve, the big climax.  And what a thundering climax for True Love.  We already have milking maids, dancing ladies, leaping lords, piping pipers and all those birds.  And now twelve drummers drumming, furiously wielding those drumsticks on snare drums, bass drums, tomtoms, steel drums, bongos even.  For Scrooge, it’s an anticlimax; the twelfth ghost of Christmas made it clear that Scrooge was not off the hook, that he would be seeing more ghosts come Valentines.  Scrooge was nevertheless relieved.  He went to his window and called down to a passing boy “What day is it?” “It’s night, you old fool. Twelfth night.” “What a clever boy.  Does the poulterer still have that great big turkey?” “How should I know?” “Quick, run and see and fetch it for me.” “It’ll cost you.” “What a lad.”  The boy returned a few minutes later.  “The turkey’s gone, so I brought you something else instead.”  “What my boy?” “There’s seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five . . .”

Night Falls

Twelfth Night is a celebration.  Traditionally, once everyone is pleasantly plastered, they all head out into the fields where they toast oxen and trees and rocks until they get cold and decide to go back inside only to find that they’ve been locked out and will not be admitted until they sing a few songs. Those that don’t sing freeze to death. Everybody else goes back inside where they divide up a cake that someone has baked a bean into. Whoever gets the bean gets to be King or Queen of the Bean and boss everyone around.

Then they watch a little Shakspeare, a play coincidentally called Twelfth Night or Whatever.  In it, Viola and Sebastian, twins, have been shipwrecked, and each thinks the other has drowned. Viola disguises herself as a man, Cesario, and goes to work as a servant for the Duke, Orsino.

Orsino loves Olivia, but she’s mourning her dead brother and has no time for Orsino. He sends Cesario (Viola)  to woo Olivia on his behalf. But Olivia falls in love with Cesario who is really Viola.  Viola (Cesario) meanwhile has fallen in love with Orsino  So at halftime, Viola loves Orsino, Orsino loves Olivia and Olivia loves Cesario who is Viola.

Sebastian (remember him?) returns.  He meets Olivia. She thinks he’s Cesario and asks him to marry her, and he says okay.  So at the homestretch, we have Olivia and Sebastion and Cesario and — well, let’s just say they all live happily ever after.  Especially the revelers who have all passed out.

And the twelve drummers finally stop drumming.