Letters to the Editor

by the Readers

Heaven Help Us

(Re: Pretzel Logic, "Unsettling," Howard Altman, Jan. 11)

I was raised as a Catholic in Boston in the 1960s and 1970s. The Church in Boston was liberal and it was great to be a member. What a shock when I moved to Philadelphia! Over the years, I have observed that Krol and Bevilacqua were, and are, ready to take offense at anything that could be considered even vaguely critical. Their "Us vs. Them" attitude is highly offensive to me as a Catholic. Any critical comment is seen as part of a conspiracy against the Church. Therefore, the Philadelphia newspapers have to be very careful about what they print.

For people who have always lived here, they see it as normal. Believe me, I consider the extreme sensitivity of Krol and Bevilacqua to be stupid. Fair-minded people realize that every institution has faults. I agree with everything you said in the article. But I also understand the great pressure Rosenthal was under when dealing with an issue related to the Church.

Alan McIntyre
Philadelphia

And Your Byard Can Play

Thanks for the piece on Byard Lancaster, Philly’s rogue musician (City Beat, "The Day the Music Got Locked Up," Daryl Gale, Jan. 11).

Every year, a lot of the world-class Curtis music school students play the street, solo or in quartets, after semester’s end and before they head out for the summer. I can’t wait to see the cops bust them, too.

At the other extreme, what of Sheila, the blind flute player most lately at 18th and Walnut, but whom I’ve missed for a few weeks now. She just "toots away," but lately has improved to the point that she plays recognizable tunes. Years ago she was on South Street until it became too rough for her; kids would steal from her change pitcher. She went to Manayunk, where she was driven out by snooty retailers and restaurateurs, not wanting her kind "causing alarm" (to borrow the police legal definition). Eventually she wound up on Walnut Street, where she puts in long hours for short change. I doubt Sheila has a "pocket full of credit cards" like Mr. Lancaster. And she sure hasn’t played big concert halls.

I don’t give money to panhandlers. Sheila provides a service, as do all street musicians, and I’m glad to make a donation for the service. Many street musicians I’ll even stop and listen to for a while. It wouldn’t be right to then just walk away.

Earle Spamer
Maple Shade, NJ

Writhing

I read the writing contest winners, (Cover Story, Jan. 4) and I have to take issue with the judge’s comments.

When commenting on the short story ["Without an Echo"], [Toby] Olson writes, "Barbara Kreigsmann tells her simple story in a cold, exacting prose that in its sharply rendered images has the feel of a black and white movie…"

Personally, I couldn’t disagree more. In fact, I found the lack of exacting prose and sharp images to be exactly the problem.

Writing depends on the reader’s ability to visualize setting and understand characters. I couldn’t do either when reading this story. I had no idea about the Irishness of the people or place until the word was used two-thirds into the work. Until then the tone and events matched what I’m used to seeing in American Southern writing. As a result I tried very hard to determine if these were old country folk or recently liberated slaves.

I still don’t know: Where did this story take place? What are the beliefs of these people and why do they conflict with Catholicism? And who are these people? In my mind, the story lacks the kind of exposition and clues to answer these questions. Geographic description: landscapes, regions, towns are nowhere to be found. Character traits and descriptions are sparse at best. I had no idea about any of these people beyond "Mother," "Grandmother," "Priest," etc.

Furthermore, where’s the dramatic curve? What’s the conflict? The events in the plot simply report a really sad day. I didn’t see any marked change in our protagonist, nor the opportunity for any change to take place.

I’m not attacking Ms. Kriegsmann’s writing or Mr. Olson’s opinion. Rather, I’m trying to offer ways to make the story more vivid, real and more effective. As for the poem ["Royalty" by frankjmiles], I found it self-indulgent, masturbatory and snobbish; the kind of poetry that can only come from a college campus, that turned me off to the entire medium and is in fact an embodiment of why I left English as a course of study. As my friend said, "I don’t feel like breaking out a dictionary every time I want to read a poem."

But that’s just me.

I shall try to participate in next year’s contest. If nothing else, perhaps someone can put my own work under the axe.

Thomas D. Puketza
Philadelphia

For Whom the Bell Curve Tolls

To a homesick Philadelphian currently exiled in snowy Scranton, PA, the Bell Curve’s Weekly Gauge of Quality of Life serves a few purposes. It keeps the home fires burning, is a reality check when the memories turn syrupy sweet, and it’s an overview of pertinent events that could affect where we locate our household when we finally come back. I’ve got it bookmarked. Bravo, City Paper!

Lisa Bonanno
Scranton

Feats of Strength

Another reason why I turn to Loose Canon first — because of writing as that found in this week’s "Happy Honey Day" (Jan. 4).

Sort of reminded me of the script to the Christmas/holiday Seinfeld episode devoted to George Costanza’s father’s celebration of his made-up holiday, "Festivus" — a festival "for the rest of us," where people get a chance to vent about all the wrongs of each other!

Happy 2001 and let’s hope Bush doesn’t go off the deep end.

Rick Koven
King of Prussia