Pat Cloonan had a nice story in the News last week about Maglev Inc., which has its offices and R&D center right in Our Fair City. It seems the U.S. Navy has contracted with Maglev to use its equipment to scan recovered artifacts from the U.S.S. Monitor.
Previously, Carnegie Museum of Pittsburgh had asked Maglev to scan images of dinosaur fossils. Pretty neat, high-tech stuff being done right in our backyard! (And if you were lucky enough to attend, you got to see it up close at last night's open house.)
But something about it bugs your Almanac editor. After 15 years in existence, Maglev Inc. still has time to scan Civil War cannon and dinosaur bones. That makes me suspect that it isn't doing a whole lot of work on magnetic-levitation trains, is it?
It also reinforces the nagging suspicion that I've had that maglev in Picksberg (the concept in general, not necessarily Maglev Inc. in particular) is yet another redevelopment boondoggle. We're building Skybus for the 21st century.
Let me take that back. With Skybus, we were able to ride around South Park on the little demonstration system. We haven't even had a public demonstration of maglev trains in Western Pennsylvania yet.
For crying out loud, Kennywood can get a roller-coaster built in the span of a few months, and even PennDOT can build a bridge in about 18. Shouldn't we at least be puttering around McKeesport and Duquesne on a maglev test route by now? It's not like the old mill sites lack vacant land, and I'd pay a buck or two to ride some hotshot supertrain of the future.
I can't seem to find anything on either Maglev Inc.'s website or the Pennsylvania High Speed Maglev Project website about just how much money has been spent on this over the last decade or so. My hunch is that most of the funding is coming from county, state and federal taxpayers; it seems to me that someone ought to demand an accounting of the dough, seeing as how Pennsylvania residents are hardly undertaxed.
For those of you who hear the term maglev, and still wonder what the hell it is, here's a half-vast explanation of magnetic-levitation trains, in a nutshell: You take an elevated track with high-powered electromagnets, and then build a train to ride on the track that has high-powered electromagnets of its own built in.
Because opposing magnets repel each other, you can make the train float and move back and forth by pulsing the magnets on and off. You can also make the train accelerate very smoothly and stop very quickly, and because the train doesn't actually touch the track, you don't need conventional brakes.
Frankly, it's a very expensive solution to the transportation problem, because it requires a lot of infrastructure. It also will take a lot of electricity to propel the trains. Theoretically, if clean nuclear power were developed, the electricity would be cheap to produce, and the trains themselves would create very little air or noise pollution. That's a concept obviously worth studying, but until we have a cheap, clean source of the amount of electricity needed to drive maglev trains, we're wasting time.
And money ... though of course, it isn't the only transportation project in Western Pennsylvania that's spending a lot of money without much in the way of results.
Allow me to digress for a moment. Julie Mickens of City Paper (who recently outed herself as an Almanac reader) wrote this week about the amount of money that Port Authority is spending to run Pittsburgh's light-rail system over to the North Side.
As Mickens points out, the new extension is basically just going to serve the stadiums (stadia?). It won't really serve any of the major population centers or employers like CCAC and Allegheny General Hospital. So it's going to cost $393 million to allow people from Mount Lebanon, Dormont and elsewhere the pleasure of riding to Steelers and Pirates games in air conditioned comfort, without changing trains.
But the extension will provide precious little traffic relief for people who work in dahntahn Picksberg or who live on the North Side or in the North Hills. No, we're not building a rail link to Cranberry, Ross Township or any of the other booming northern suburbs; or to Squirrel Hill, Swissvale and Monroeville to remove the huge traffic jams on the Parkway East. We're building it to the stadiums, to make it easier to get to PNC Park and watch the Pirates lose almost, but not quite, 100 games per year.
On the other hand, at least we'll have something tangible after spending $393 million on what Peter Leo famously called our three-hole, three-stop, Par 3 miniature subway. (We'll have a fourth hole.)
The first maglev train proposals in Pittsburgh were floated (no pun intended) back in 1987. Put another way, today's college freshmen had just been born when this idea was first discussed. What do we have to show for it? (No, scanning cannon and dinosaur fossils doesn't count.)
And, come to think of it, how much money has been spent on maglev research? I dare you to find an audited accounting statement, a profit-and-loss report, or even a budget proposal on either of those maglev websites. Your Uncle Charley who runs a lumberyard wouldn't accept that from the guy who does his taxes, and you wouldn't accept it from the Port Vue borough council. Neither should we be accepting it from quasi-public organizations.
I have no problem with doing scientific research for the mere sake of scientific inquiry; it's how some of our greatest discoveries have been made. Still, there ought to be some accountability, and at some point, even researchers in the most theoretical fields should have to produce something useful. It's called "publish or perish." (And no, press releases and websites don't count, either.)
Finally, to my knowledge, which is admittedly nowhere near complete, there is only one working, public maglev line in the world, in Shanghai, China, which connects an airport with a downtown business district. But China's population is considerably denser than Pennsylvania's. (Even though some of us are plenty dense. Rimshot.) There are also maglev test systems in Germany and Japan, but I haven't heard that either country has a working public system. (Of course, they have had demonstration tracks open, which is more than we can say for Pittsburgh.)
Until I see some real proof that magnetic-levitation trains are practical in Western Pennsylvania, I'd much rather see the money, time and research being invested into something we could use. Like conventional rapid transit to the North Hills or eastern suburbs.
Or maybe we should take the money and beautify the Par 3 subway. I'm thinking a windmill and some of those little plastic flags would be appropriate.
...
To Do This Weekend: Speaking of dubious technologies, the 21st annual Pittsburgh Record Convention is being held at the Radisson Hotel in Green Tree on Sunday. This is nothing but vinyl records --- 78s, 45s and LPs --- no CDs or videos. Admission is $3. Call (412) 331-5021. ... Closer to home, Steel Valley High School hosts its seventh-annual marching band competition at 6 p.m. tomorrow on the William V. Campbell Athletic Field on West Run Road in Munhall. Admission is $5 for adults and $3 for students and senior citizens. ... The rock and blues band Boss Diablo plays the Versailles American Legion, 4919 Third St., Versailles, at 9:30 tonight. Call (412) 751-5760.
News item from the Los Angeles Times, via Mark Evanier's News From Me: Sony Pictures refused to distribute Albert Brooks' new film, Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World, because they felt it might be offensive to Muslims. Never mind that the film is actually poking fun at American ignorance of foreign affairs --- Brooks plays himself as a comedian sent overseas to improve Arab-U.S. relations --- Sony was concerned that the title in particular was in poor taste. (It's a weak title, being too long and not very catchy, but it's hardly offensive.)
As the Times points out, this is the same studio that released (or did it escape?) Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo, which was universally derided by critics as vulgar, scatological, and possibly worst of all, not funny, and which audiences avoided in droves. (Although I see it's still playing the $1 movie in West Mifflin, which caters to those most discriminating of audiences, teen-agers hanging out at the mall.)
Yes, a company that makes millions on video games that traffic in carnage that would have made Caligula cringe; and which released Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo, which included, among other characters, a woman who had a working phallus for a nose, thinks an Albert Brooks political satire might be "in poor taste." And so it goes, as Linda Ellerbee used to say. They must purchase irony in carload amounts in Hollywood.
Along with ignorance: I recently saw the trailer for the remake of The Pink Panther starring Steve Martin. Mere words don't describe how awful it looks, and that fact that it's been delayed several times (it was originally supposed to come out this summer, and then this fall, and is now scheduled for "sometime in 2006") leads me to believe that early screenings went poorly.
Setting aside, if we can, the notion that they're taking a character inexorably linked to Peter Sellers and sticking another actor in the role, practically asking for a less-than-favorable comparison, the producers have inexplicably taken Inspector Clouseau and transported him to New York. Not to put too fine a point on it, but what the heck are they thinking?
Is Hollywood worried that people don't already see Noo Yawk City on TV and in the movies enough? Or are Hollywood executives concerned that 'Murrican audiences can't relate to a movie set in Paris? Or, even more likely, can Hollywood executives not relate to a movie set in Paris?
Part of the charm of the "Pink Panther" movies (only two of which were good, the others ranged from mediocre to awful) was seeing the European backgrounds, people and cars. Inspector Clouseau was intended as a broad parody of everything the British think is funny about French people, up to and including their accents. Taking Clouseau out of Paris defeats the purpose of making an Inspector Clouseau movie. Instead, you're making just another dumb, slapstick comedy. I predict that it will be ... how you say ... a beum.
Alas, "charm" is something in short supply in Hollywood these days. Why settle for charm when you can have poop and fart jokes? Charm takes work. Whimsy requires subtlety. But even a second-grader can understand a poop joke, and that appears to be the mentality at which the entertainment industry operates these days.
Indeed, Hollywood can squeeze the charm out of almost any property, no matter how beloved, charming or whimsical. Being a big "Rocky and Bullwinkle" fan, I had high hopes for the feature film that came out a few years ago, especially when I learned that people who had worked on the original cartoons were being tapped to provide the voices. Alas, Hollywood had to ruin it by trying to plunk these gentle, whimsical characters into a live-action film with a standard, and dull, plot.
For crying out loud, you can do anything in an animated cartoon. If you have the chance to make a movie about a cartoon, why would you constrain it by using live actors? And sure enough, any time Rocky and Bullwinkle were on the screen, the film tripped along merrily. Any time that the focus shifted to the live actors, it ground to a halt. The movie died a quick and merciful death; if you didn't see it, don't bother renting it.
It's clear that when Hollywood develops clunker ideas like these, the people responsible have no sense of fun, or wonder, or amazement. They're like people who go to a baseball game and spend the entire time rattling off statistics and keeping intricate scorecards, but never actually get excited about the action on the field, or even spend any time just enjoying the sounds and smells of the park. They understand things on an analytical level, but not on an emotional level.
Some folks who read the Almanac might know that for a brief time, I was the radio-TV critic for the Trib. It was a job I thought I'd enjoy, but didn't for a variety of reasons. One was that while I very much enjoyed covering local radio and, to a lesser extent, television, something like 80 percent of the job should probably consist of reporting on national TV.
I enjoyed doing the local stories because the people were accessible, friendly, and (for the most part) down to earth. I found many of the national people were vapid, vain and out of touch, and every time I checked the trades or opened my mail, I'd see something even more vapid, vain and out-of-touch. I decided I wasn't cut out for the beat when "Survivor" appeared on the scene; I'd rather eat ground glass than watch another episode of any reality show.
It takes a particularly vapid person to come up with a show like "Survivor," and it takes people who are extremely out of touch to do things like make a live action movie out of "Underdog" or take Jacques Clouseau out of France.
Not everything coming out of Hollywood is krep, of course. I am very much looking forward to George Clooney's new movie about Edward R. Murrow, Good Night, and Good Luck. I've read just about everything about Murrow that I can get my hands on, and from the trailer, and the early reports on the film, it looks like Clooney has done the job right.
Clooney did months of research to prepare. He filmed the movie in black and white to capture the look of the times, and he's using real footage of "Tailgunner" Joe McCarthy to depict the ethics-challenged senator's dramatic '50s showdown with Murrow.
Another reason to admire this film: Clooney is really opening himself up to a merciless attack from the right-wing, which in recent years has been trying to rehabilitate McCarthy's image. The real Joe McCarthy was not a crusading patriot, fearlessly hunting down Communists; as Clooney's movie will no doubt show, he was a lying drunkard, a thick-headed clown, and a bully who made up his evidence as he wrecked the lives of hundreds of people for his own short-term political gain. But you wouldn't know that from reading, say, Ann Coulter or Michelle Malkin.
There are no car chases, I'm sure, and no computer-generated special effects. The leading man is David Strathairn, who nine of 10 "Entertainment Tonight" viewers couldn't pick out of a police lineup. This film isn't going to attract a teen crowd, won't have any merchandise spinoffs, can't spawn a sequel, and will be mercilessly attacked by the usual suspects (talk radio, The Washington Times, Fox News, et al).
In fact, I'm starting to wonder how it got made in the first place.
You don't suppose the studio blackmailed Clooney, do you?
Well, if he turns up in the "Underdog" movie, you'll know why.
Somewhere in my basement is a partially-assembled RCA 1-T-5J "Globetrotter" transistor radio that I bought at an estate sale for $3. It was beat to hell and back, but I took it apart, polished the plastic case with Brasso, stripped the chipped finish from the aluminum face plate and gave it a new coat of enamel. It's going back together just as soon as I find a diagram for restringing the dial.
I started that project in 1995, if I remember correctly.
There are also a bunch of model airplanes --- all commercial propeller-driven planes from the 1950s. There's a Douglas DC-6 and DC-7, a Convair 240, and a Lockheed Super Constellation, and another that I'm forgetting. There are also some postcard images, a couple of pictures from the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh's collection, and photos downloaded from various websites of old airliners at Allegheny County Airport and Greater Pitt. I also have some printouts of emails that I exchanged with some retired airline pilots here and there, trying to track down the exact Allegheny Airlines paint scheme of the early '60s. (If I remember correctly, an extremely light blue on top, with red and dark blue striping.)
Those emails are from 2000.
And please don't ask me about the blank card envelopes, paper and assorted other items I purchased from various office supply stores because I was going to make my own Christmas cards. Not only didn't I complete that, I finally broke down and bought store-bought cards at the drug store.
The store-bought cards are in the lower right drawer of my desk at home. They're from 2001. I wound up using the special Christmas postage stamps to mail bills. And I still am. (So if anyone from Duquesne Light reads this, that's why you're still getting the Nativity scene stamps on my payments.)
I always start these hobby projects in good faith, and then real life intervenes. Usually, I run out of time or money. Occasionally, I get stuck on a problem with no apparent answer, like fixing the radio, or figuring out the proper registration number for a Mohawk Airlines DC-3 in 1962. (Don't bother looking. Airliners magazine did a story on Mohawk a few years ago that had that very information. Now, if only I can find it.) The end result is a pile of stalled projects. Some of them, indeed, are stored at my mother's house, much to her lasting chagrin.
The biggest project staring me in the face right now is the Dodge Diplomat in my garage. It hasn't moved since the winter, when a friend and I installed a new ignition system and set the timing. By the time we were done, the car (which was driveable, though the idle was rough) was purring along at idle ... but it barely had enough power to move out of its own way, and left a thick black line of soot up the driveway when I tried to take it on a test drive. I have a feeling we someone reversed two of the spark plug wires, or else we completely bolloxed up the timing.
I need a free weekend to pull the Dodge out into the sunshine and check everything over again, but it just isn't going to happen any time soon. I have enough trouble getting the work done on the car and house that I have to do, let alone busying myself with hobbies. (I'm fairly good about the routine chores, like keeping the dishes washed and the bathroom clean, because I don't want to be attacked by the creeping crud in the middle of the night. But someday, real soon now, I've got to pull the dead flowers out of the front yard. At least before the new flowers try to come up next year.)
Occasionally, I feel like just forgetting about all of these projects; hold a flea market and sell the model airplanes, call the junkyard to come and get the car, and put the radio (and its many siblings stashed at various places around the house) on eBay. Either that, or just dig a big pit behind the house, line it with plastic, toss everything in and bury it. Perhaps 200 years from now, an archeologist will excavate it and be delighted (if someone mystified) to find a seemingly random cache of preserved 20th century artifacts.
On the other hand, having them around serves to keep me humble. Every time I complete something and smack myself on the back for accomplishing something, I turn around and see a model railroad engine that's waiting for me to find the proper gear train, or some old Kennywood posters I'm planning to frame and hang downstairs, or the photos and negatives I'm going to sort and catalog.
And the good news is that come retirement, which is only about 35 years away, I won't be one of those people who sits around and pines for things to do. I have all of these projects to work on, and some of them (like the car or the radios) will undoubtedly have increased in value by then.
The only thing that worries me is: How many more half-finished projects will I have by then?
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