Preachy Pop Songs

Scott Johnson’s column noted that Jackie DeShannon celebrated her 80th birthday last week, August 21. That in turn spurred me to invite you to briefly visit with me the summers of 1965 and 1969.

The background noise was, of course, the war in Vietnam. This post is not about that, other than to mention it as a backdrop, given that DeShannon’s renditions seemed to be reactions (or purported remedies?) to the controversies swirling at the time regarding that Hot Spot in the Cold War.

The Beatles were still very big in 1965 and their concert in New York’s Shea Stadium was their biggest, in fact the largest attended outdoor event up to that time. Press officer, Tony Barrow said it was “the ultimate pinnacle of Beatlemania … the group’s brightly-shining summer solstice.” During their brief stay in New York they also performed at the world’s fair.

As with all home office employees, my father’s employment contract included annual leave with paid travel to point of origin, which in his case was Massachusetts. That year he took us to the world’s fair and gave me memories which are cherished to this day.

Although Beatlemania was at its peak, a Burt Bacharach – Hal David song managed to break through the British Invasion that summer. I was just an 11-year old, and, when it came to pop music, I did not differ much from my generation in being mesmerized by the “Beatles Sound”. However, DeShannon’s rendition of “What The World Needs Now” caught on, making it into the top 10 that year. In Miami and Miami Beach the song could be heard everywhere, including the more “adult” radio stations some folks played while at the beach.

It is a memorable song which she handles seriously. Dionne Warwick, who was THE Bacharach – David interpreter, had turned it down, considering it “too preachy”. DeShannon agreed to record it and I am glad she did. Her earnest, captivating interpretation is linked below, should you like to hear it.

In a year that saw the Watts Riots, the song seems counterintuitive, but does manage to express a felt longing and seeking.

Other events from that year that I remember from childhood were Hurricane Betsy, which I excitedly anticipated and witnessed as it hit us in Miami, and the phenomenal Comet Ikeya-Seki which I wrote about here. This was the brightest comet of the past thousand years, and I’ll be forever grateful to my mother and father for waking us up hours before dawn and driving us to the labor camp to behold a sight of a lifetime.

And I also remember the excitement of the St. Louis Arch having been completed. I would visit it with my father and brother about 15 years later.

In 1969, as the pop world continued to move away from the existential exuberance of the early Fab Four and into a more cynical, psychedelic phase which 1967’s Sgt. Peppers album is usually thought to have unleashed, DeShannon again broke through with another “preachy song” which she wrote herself. Obviously taking her cues from her 1965 hit, DeShannon recorded, “Put a Little Love In Your Heart”. And, again, she spoke to teens as well as young adults, the song charting high in both markets. See link further below if you wish to hear it.

Both the 747 and the Concorde celebrated their maiden flights that year; I remember wanting the opportunity to fly in each. My wish for flying the 747 was fulfilled; not the Concorde. Man landed on the moon and I still hear Neil Armstrong’s “That’s one small step for (a) man, one giant leap for mankind,” as we sat around my father’s short wave radio, listening to Voice of America in El Pao.

But those exciting technological and American can-do achievements were accompanied, if not overshadowed, by many other events reflecting trouble beneath the surface. Massive, angry “anti-war” demonstrations and marches were launched; Senator Edward Kennedy drove into a pond in Chappaquiddick Island and reported the incident over 10 hours later, prompting rescuers to the scene only to retrieve the corpse of a young woman, Mary Jo Kopechne. This event was taking place while most of us were avidly following the course of the Apollo 11 lunar flight. 

And then there was Woodstock, which is still reported as a pristine shout for love, freedom, peace, and harmony. It was none of those, although I do not doubt the sincerity of the hundreds of thousands who attended. One after-the-fact look at the farm where the event took place ought to be enough to cast doubt on the promotion of Woodstock as some sort of Elysian Fields, dreamscape sojourn. It was pretty filthy. But, one could argue (and many have argued) that hundreds of thousands more showed up than were expected and hence the defilement and devastation. Even if we stipulate that, we can still ask, if this was such a massive promotion of peace and love and harmony, has that been its progeny? A quick look at crime statistics, suicides, divorce, and utter breakdowns in society since Woodstock should be enough to cast doubt. Maybe it was no more than what many of the participants described: drugs, sex, and rock and roll. Jesus said, by their fruits ye shall know them, and that includes events such as Woodstock.

And in the midst of this psychedelic haze, Jackie DeShannon had her 1969 “preachy song” hit. 

Her 1965 song did not improve things and neither did her 1969 version. Both merely gave a voice, albeit weak, to the longing for meaning and love in lives. These are very real needs we all have, but few attain. In this, Thoreau was right: most men live lives of quiet desperation. And they seek for those eternal verities in the wrong places. Such can only be found in the Creator of life and of all there is. Man cannot create or be the source of absolutes. Only God can and is.

Iconic image immediately evoking the New York World’s Fair of 1965 – 1966.
The Beatles in Shea Stadium (1965)
Neil A. Armstrong on the moon (1969)
Car driven by Senator Edward Kennedy the day after the incident where Mary Jo Kopechne died (1969)
Woodstock (1969)

Understanding the Cuba – Venezuela Nexus V: Fidel’s Revenge III

“The ‘continuity of the great work of Chávez’ does not rest on Maduro’s shoulders only. A large supporting politico-military cast of Fidel Castro devotees is key to maintaining the Communist regime in place. Above all, these powerful and dangerous functionaries admire and keenly study the Cuban regime’s ability to maintain herd control over the Cuban people while ensuring their perpetual grip on total power, all under the complacent gaze of a great part of the world.” — Diego G. Maldonado (pseudonym)

In this, our final post in the series on the Cuba – Venezuela nexus, we address the question asked in the prior installment: Cuba’s reason for these asymmetrical exchanges and contracts with astronomical profit margins is “to provide the island with needed currency. But what is Venezuela’s reason for them?”

In these posts, we’ve gotten a glimpse of Venezuela’s financial rescue of the bankrupt Cuban fiscal house. Reliable, recent figures are hard to come by and sketchy when obtained; however, most intelligence sources as well as financial publications agree that Venezuela has been Cuba’s principal source of revenue since the turn of this century. And that, at devastating financial and productivity cost to Venezuela.

But, as far as the Venezuelan regime is concerned, this devastation to the country has been well worth the pain because it has enabled the imposition of the Cuban political model onto Venezuela. A model which, above all else, maintains the rulers in perpetual power through electoral fraud, economic and social devastation, and intimidation. 

As noted in other posts, the Venezuelan electoral process is “owned” by the long-dead Chavez, thereby assuring perpetuity to the state. As per Stalin, “It doesn’t matter who votes (or how many people vote), what matters is who counts the votes.” This aphorism has been vindicated time and again in Venezuela, and only cynics and fools discount it or ignore it. The effects of the collapse of Venezuela’s currency, the utter scarcity of foodstuffs, and the frightening level of crime have had the effect of propelling the largest ever emigration in Latin American history. But some have also discerned an incipient silver lining: the regime is actually talking about some electoral reforms. We’ll see.

As for the economic devastation visited on the country, Amherst Professor Javier Corrales well summarizes its purpose: “Maduro prefers economic devastation … because misery destroys civil society, and that in turn destroys all possibility to resist tyranny.” I would add that the terrible crime now rampant in Venezuela also reduces the will to resist tyranny. How effective would you be in promoting opposition to sitting politicians or filing complaints against a corrupt, unjust bureaucracy, when most of your time is focused on keeping vandals away from your front door?

Finally, to mount a truly effective opposition, the Venezuelan people would have to first overthrow a very well rooted, multi-faceted Cuban intelligence apparatus and its control accoutrements that are now pervasive. This domination pervades all civil institutions in Venezuela, even including the issuance of passports and cédulas, the Venezuelan internal passport card, without which a citizen pretty much is barred from everyday life (a powerful argument against anything even approaching this in the United States, by the way).

It betrays ignorance (and insensitivity) to minimize the deleterious impact of the cuban regiment’s experience in corralling (figuratively and literally) and demoralizing dissidence to the administrative state, i.e., the bureaucracy that was spawned with the advent of democracy in the late 40s and early 50s and has been thoroughly co-opted by the Cuba – Venezuela Nexus. Sowing fear and desperation are very valuable tools to those whose raison de e’tre is to perpetuate themselves while accumulating ever increasing power over others.

There is much more to Castro’s interest in Venezuela, an interest which predates his notoriety and which has had nefarious effects on both Cuba and Venezuela, as well as the rest of Latin America. We will touch upon this interesting and ever current subject on occasion.

Banner at Venezuela oil refinery: Alianza Bolivariana Para Los Pueblos de Nuestra América. A Cuba – Venezuela project seeking to integrate all Latin American countries. Other posts will address this age-old dream which actually existed during the Spanish colonial era.

Snippets II

Much has been happening in or concerning Venezuela in recent weeks. 

This, the second “Snippets” post in the blog will mention several of the more critical events.

Venezuela had its best Olympics showing

It’s nice to feel this, it’s nice to cry hearing “Gloria al bravo pueblo” for a good reason, it’s fun to feel happy about being from Venezuela. The Olympic team made me connect with a country I felt had kicked me out, it made me feel our colors and our symbols like they were mine again, and that’s worth more than any medal they can bring home.”

Those are words by a Venezuelan emigrant, now seeking work in Spain. The Venezuelans, with no support from their country, shone unexpectedly. Every medal winner got a call from “President” Maduro, but the calls were strained and everyone could tell.

I did not watch the Olympics this year, so you can blame me for being one of those who ensured this Olympics had the worst viewership ever. 

However, I did keep tabs on Venezuela. And I too was proud.

Ahymara Espinoza did not win a medal for shot put, but she did qualify, training alone in an abandoned lot. Below is her training site:


Others did medal: Yulimar Rojas, triple jumper, won the gold as she broke the world record. Cyclist, Daniel Dhers won the silver in freestyle BMX, a sport that Mr. Dhers helped get into the Olympics. Weightlifters Julio Mayora and Keydomar Vallenilla also won silvers. With four medals, this was Venezuela’s best Olympics performance ever. 

Regional Elections Approach

“[E]very Venezuelan election since 2017 has lacked any legitimacy, not only due to the partisan nature of the National Electoral Council (CNE), the country’s top election arbiter, but also because there haven’t been enough guarantees for elections to meet the universally accepted attributes of freedom, fairness, transparency, and competitiveness needed for them to be considered truly democratic processes.”

I would say that has been the case since even earlier this century. But now, this understanding is widespread and the Venezuelan people are very much aware. Chavez, though long dead, still has a tight grip over the election administration process through his Communist heirs, including a heavy assist from Cuba (see the “Nexus” posts, which will continue presently). At the very least, serious audits are needed, but loudly rejected. Wonder why.

Food Appears Anew

“Before there was nothing; now there’s everything.”

Above was expressed by Jesús Barríos in Maracaibo.

The Maduro regime has begun lifting price controls in some areas, thereby allowing the market to determine price points and thereby allowing the law of supply and demand to function more freely, resulting in the creation of goods that Venezuelans need, namely, food.

Of course, these economic realities cannot be restored, like a light switch, without causing even greater pain. In this case, food prices have reached beyond the moon, adding greater misery to a desperate people. I am personally aware of others who are looking for means to leave, and leave now.

Do not forget this: 

Latin America will never be the same

The above is the verbatim title of a Guardian article published about a month ago. It is taken from an exclamation by one of the aid executives working on aiding the Venezuelan’s who have emigrated from their country of birth.

To give an idea of the catastrophe, over 5.6 Million Venezuelans have left the country since 2015. That is 18.7% of its population. It is the largest displacement crisis in Latin America’s history. Ever. 

But relatively few of us hear about this debacle. We have heard much about the Syrian displacement halfway around the world. That is certainly also catastrophic. 

But, how is it that we know more about Syria than we do about Venezuela?

This “knowledge deficit” has a real life impact on people. For instance, at last count, total funding per capita for Syrian refugees is more than 10 times that for Venezuelans — $3,150 compared with $265. 

And Syrians, for the most part, head to Europe via modern transit and infrastructure, and generous welfare and support mechanisms. But Venezuelans tramp through inhospitable, impenetrable jungles, rivers, and/or seas, oftentimes traversing one or more less developed countries before arriving at a final destination. We do not know how many have perished in their attempts, but we do know many hundreds if not thousands have. I personally know of one who set out for Colombia and has not been heard from since.

I suppose the reasons for the Venezuelan exodus are not popular with the reigning Zeitgeist, hence it is played down. If so, shame on the reigning Zeitgeist.

Venezuelans have had a difficult history since the early 19th century as has been written in this blog many times (see here and here for two examples). However, they are a resourceful and energetic people, not to mention a beautiful people. And they are our neighbors. I say “they” because I am not in Venezuela. However, I was born there and consider myself Venezuelan as much as American.

If charity begins at home, and it does. And if we are to love our neighbor as ourselves, and we are. Then we should demand more honest reporting about what goes on in the land of Venezuela.

Lizbeth and Cyril

I am pausing the series on the Cuba – Venezuela nexus in order to pay my sincere and loving respects to two childhood friends who (after my family) are among the first memories to come to mind every time I think of El Pao or Venezuela. And I think of El Pao or Venezuela on a daily basis.

Elizabeth (Lizbeth) Beran was born on a Saturday in 1953, November 7, to be precise. I was born exactly 10 days after she. We often joked about that. Children in my generation sought to be adults as quickly as possible. So, for instance, I did not like to wear short pants, because those were children’s clothing; I fought long and hard to graduate to long pants and after I did I never looked back. So, to me, Lizbeth was 10 days ahead and I could never catch up, no matter how hard I tried!

She was kind to me and always courteous to my parents. Once, in class (5th grade?), the teacher asked us what would be the proper thing to do if we were at a dinner and found that we could not properly chew down a piece of meat. I proposed that the proper thing to do would be to surreptitiously wipe your mouth with a napkin, deposit the offending morsel therein, and later dispose of the napkin. After several equally imaginative solutions offered by my classmates, Lizbeth finally spoke up, “You should use your fork and take the piece out of your mouth and place it on your plate,” she offered. And, of course, she was right. 

I was fond of penguins in those days; therefore, when the class worked on a paper mache project, I made a penguin and offered it for sale, “It is yours for Bs (Bolivars) 20! And, if you buy 2, you can have both for Bs 40!.” That was my pitch. She smiled. Later that evening, at the club, before that night’s movie, her father approached me, “Ricky, if you have a product for Bs 20, and you want people to buy 2, you should offer the two for something less than Bs 40.” She was too embarrassed for me to tell me to my face. So she told her father.

Cyril (Cirilito) Serrao was born in British Guyana 5 months after Lizbeth and I were born. His family then came to El Pao and we became close childhood friends. A very vivid El Pao memory, one of the first that comes to mind whenever I think of Venezuela, is my racing, along with several buddies, down “the hill” of the mining camp. The hill was steep enough to propel us to high speeds. It was one of our daily adventures for a while in our early childhood. On one occasion, I had come down the hill, exhilarated and happy, had set my bike aside, and then waited for my fellow cyclists to come on down. As I strained to see who might come next, I saw Cyril expertly taking the next to last turn, a left from “up-the-hill” down towards the mess hall where he would then have to take a right towards the club’s parking area. But as he flew towards the mess hall, his countenance took on a look of horror (his brakes had failed) and he realized he would not be able to turn right. He let out a loud, guttural yell as he opened his eyes as wide has I’d ever seen them. Sure enough, he missed the turn and catapulted into the 4 foot deep ravine. We ran to him, fully expecting him to be dead. But no, he was OK and was bravely extricating himself from the wreck, saying, “I’m OK. I’m OK.”

His family moved to Bethlehem, PA, in 1962 and he and at least one of his brothers deeply missed El Pao for many years afterwards. His brother was the little boy I told about in my June 29, 2019 post, Gone Fishing. He had “run away from home”, telling a baffled policeman that he wanted to be taken to El Pao. We stayed in touch for many years, including my visits to Bethlehem and Los Angeles, where he lived for a while. He always sought to help me with my Uncle’s case and was one of the first to call me upon the death of my father in 1982. Once, when we had sought to look into some leads on my Uncle’s death, he said we should be called The Hardy Boys. 

Lizbeth and Cyril have been the source of good memories and are reminders of the importance of decent childhood friends. I thank the Good Lord for having known them.

Lizbeth passed away yesterday. Cyril passed away in May this year, but I only learned about it a few days ago.

I miss them dearly.

Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God Who gave it.

Lizbeth at one our birthday parties in El Pao, circa 1958.
Lizbeth to my left, as I spoke with Mr. Beran in Puerto Ordaz, Venezuela, 1978.
Cyril at an El Pao birthday party, circa 1959.
Cyril (left) with his brother Gregory (center) and me years later, when we were more mature.
Saturday Evening Post, November 7, 1953
Saturday Evening Post, April 17, 1954