Rocket redux Outpouring for Charles indicates the measure of the man

Phillipe & Jorge don’t receive a great many e-mails on a weekly basis. But following our report last week about the sad death of our dear friend Charles Rocket (nee Claverie), we received 10 times as many as usual, and from all across the country. These notes all express their profound sorrow, as you can imagine. And the majority of them usually included their favorite Charlie Rocket story, from the hilarious to the heart wrenching.

This is the measure of the man. We’ll miss him so.

JACK WHITE: CLASS ACT

In the week since his passing, many positive and laudatory things have been written and said about the news reporter Jack White. This is as it should be. Jack White was a giant in his field, deeply admired by all the pros in print, as well as in broadcast.

Your superior correspondents go back about 30 years with Jack, to the days when a generation of ink-stained wretches would belly up to the downtown bars Leo’s and Hope’s. Frequently, it was Phillipe himself behind the bar, passing out the drinks and dubious advice. Jack was always generous and kind, but we saw him occasionally at the favored watering holes, because, in essence, he was a family guy and not one to hang out (unless, of course, it was necessary to chase down a story).

In terms of the coverage of Jack’s death, we agree with a colleague who believes the local media, including local TV and talk radio, really rose to the occasion in reporting on his loss. This showed how local TV, sometimes too concerned with gimmicks and whistles, retains the ability to cover a story with depth, intelligent, and emotional power. Of course, the utter respect for Jack, as well as his friendship with WJAR-TV’s Jim Taricani, also precluded the kind of provincialism in which local media institutions sometimes act as if other media entities don’t exist. Considering how the news media enjoys far less public favor than during its post-Watergate height, the outpouring shows how people recognize and appreciate quality, integrity, and a job well done.

There were a couple of weird sidelights to this story. Tommy from Queens sent us a copy of the October 13 obituary that ran in the New York Sun. Accompanying the Associated Press story was a photo, labeled, "White in 2001." In fact, the picture depicted none other than former Providence mayor Buddy "Vincent A." Cianci Jr., currently spending his time at the government’s pleasure in Fort Dix, New Jersey. This gaffe is unbelievable, but we know that Jack — who emphasized the importance of getting the story right — would have gotten an absolute hoot over this.

Also, in Charlie Bakst’s column this week about Jack, WPRI-TV anchor Karen Adams told the columnist a story about being invited to Pawtucket’s To Kalon Club. She described having mentioned to Jack that she would be dining there, and he told her how he once set up pins in the club’s bowling alley. When Jorge was attending Tolman High School in 1965, an ad appeared in the Times of Pawtucket, advertising a job for a "pin boy" at the TK Club. Jorge responded to the ad, and was just about to take the job, when a better offer came through to work at Pawtucket’s downtown Almacs store after school, and he took that job instead.

Jack White was the real deal. Rhode Island and the news business here is much the richer for his presence.

MAJOR PRAISE

Helmets off to Major General Reginald Centracchio, head of the Little Rhody National Guard, who has just retired. We wish he hadn’t had to witness the deployment of his men and women to Iraq, or to deal with the death of a number of those soldiers. This wouldn’t have been necessary if life was fair and our chicken hawk president not a delusional thinker who believes he has a standing lunch date with God.

Over the years, P&J have viewed Centracchio as all class, not one to rattle, and someone with constant concern for the Guard members under his command. We were also mightily impressed by one political sleight of hand trick.

Going before the House Finance committee to discuss budget cuts to the Guard, Centracchio suggested that an electronic bugle play a prerecorded version of "Taps," rather than paying real human buglers. While Finance Committee members marveled over this technological "miracle," as the official buglers lined the back wall in visual opposition, the reps had no idea of the outcry they would hear from their veteran constituents. The idea of being laid to rest while a toy bugle sounded was the ultimate insult. But Centracchio sat there in front of the House Finance committee, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Needless to say, the real buglers remain on duty.

Good job, soldier.

MAN BITES DOLL

With nothing better to do than bother God and foam at the mouth, the unspeakable right-winger Don Wildmon’s Mississippi-based (there’s a shocker) American Family Association is threatening to boycott toymaker and children’s book merchant American Girl. The reason? American Girl is selling "I Can" wristbands. The proceeds go to Girls Inc., a national nonprofit whose mission is "inspiring girls to be strong, smart and bold."

Of course, when you run this through the conservative Christian radical right’s decoder, "inspiring girls to strong, smart and bold," comes out as the slogan of "a pro-abortion, pro-lesbian advocacy group" according to WildMan. American Girl has obviously been duped, since instead of promoting abstinence and "intelligent design," it merely supports programs to improve girls’ science and math ability, develop leadership skills, and promote athletics and team spirit. Shame on you!

After falling down laughing at the barking mad accusations, American Girl issued a calm and reasoned defense of their actions, which subtly implied the AFA and WildMan should go take a long hike.

SO LONG, CUSTOM HOUSE

In case you haven’t heard, the Custom House Tavern closed its doors on Friday, October 14. There is no definite word as to what will become of this space, although rumors abound of a sports bar. This is a great loss for denizens of downtown Prov, and memories of marvelous lunches and some memorable evenings dance in your superior correspondents’ heads. Yes, P&J sometimes used to compose columns at the Custom House, seated at a back table. Our primary concern is, where will Tom C. now have his one, end-of-the-work day drink before jumping on the bus for home?

PARTY FOR OUR KIND OF FOLK

Dick Bidwell, head of the Gray Panthers of RI, will celebrate his 75th birthday on Sunday, October 23 at a potluck party to benefit the Gray Panthers. A suggested $10 donation gets you into the Pawtucket Congregational Church, 40 Walcott Street, Pawtucket, from 2 to 5 pm. (Our friend Dick Walton points out, "The church is that uncommonly handsome edifice just across the Blackstone River from Old Slater Mill.") There’ll be music by a bunch of progressive musicians: Phil Edmonds, Joyce Katzberg, Cathy Clasper-Torch. You know, the gang.

Dick Bidwell was a Jesuit priest for 22 years. Back in the Vietnam days while still a priest, he was an anti-war activist and often participated in dramatic actions with the Berrigan brothers. A good poet, he was the first president of the George Wiley Center, and still serves on its board.

You can bet this party will attract the flower of RI’s progressive and anti-war communities. It will also celebrate the 30th anniversary of the RI Gray Panthers, founded by Henry Shelton, and the 100th birthday of Maggie Kuhn, national founder of the Gray Panthers. Dick Bidwell is one of the very good guys, a pillar in the peace and justice community.

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