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Pastimes : Robert Zimmerman, Bob Dylan, Dylan -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?


To: mr.mark who wrote (528)3/5/2001 9:51:25 PM
From: SIer formerly known as Joe B.  Respond to of 2695
 
Ah, now you had to go and confuse me.
I'm not Zimminologist that you are. What's the significance of 524??

EDIT:
Oh, it's his birthday.



To: mr.mark who wrote (528)3/9/2001 11:20:08 AM
From: SIer formerly known as Joe B.  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 2695
 
Through the eyes of 'The Hurricane'

Friday, March 9, 2001____
mndaily.com

Erin Madsen - Staff Reporter

"Here comes the story of The Hurricane" -- Bob
Dylan

While in his prime as a world-renowned
middleweight boxer in 1966, Rubin "The Hurricane"
Carter was forced to redirect his energy to fight for his innocence in the case of a
Paterson, New Jersey triple homicide.

After serving 20 years in prison as a wrongly accused murderer, Carter is now
advocating literacy across the nation.

Carter arrived at the University's Ted Mann Concert Hall on Thursday evening in
front of more than 600 people to emphasize the necessity of literacy and the
personal freedom reading and writing affords.

Carter said he "devoured knowledge" from books while he was in prison.

While incarcerated, Carter educated himself with works on law, philosophy and
literature, thus re-creating the liberties of life absent within the restraints of
solitary confinement and physical inhumanity found in prison.

"I got my bachelor's degree from the streets, my master's degree from man's
inhumanity to man, and my Ph.D. in prison brutality," Carter said.

He went on to call prisons "assembly lines of death," pointing out the United
States is the only industrialized nation in the world that still has the death penalty.

Carter also said as of February 2000, the United States. has more prison inmates
than any country on the planet, including China.

And though he fell victim to malice and racism throughout his life, Carter said he
no longer has it in him to hate.

"Racism, it seems, has been at the forefront of my life," he said. "For a long time,
I was mad.

"But if you spend enough time in the darkness, you will begin to see things more
vividly than you ever have before. When you can't see outside, you can only look
inside and that's where peace and reconciliation begin."

And Carter had a lifetime's worth of darkness. Of his 20 years in prison, 10 were
spent in solitary confinement.

The time he spent in "the hole" gave him the opportunity to look past the wrongs
done to him, Carter said.

"Just because a jury of 12 misinformed people ... found me guilty based on
evidence that did not exist, that did not make me guilty," he said.

On the heels of his overturned conviction in 1985, Carter relocated to Toronto
where he has resided for the last 16 years.

In addition to his literacy campaign, Carter directs the Toronto-based Association
in Defense of the Wrongfully Convicted and is a board member of the Southern
Center for Human Rights in Atlanta.

At a press conference Thursday afternoon, Carter expressed his enthusiasm for
encouraging literacy on the nation's university campuses.

"It's a great honor for me to be able to go around the country and attempt to
engage these young university minds, these young fertile minds, before they
become calcified," he said.

Carter also spoke about his inability to harbor animosity toward his adversaries
who falsely accused, charged, convicted and incarcerated him.

"I refused to be destroyed," he said. "Hatred only consumes the vessel that
contains it."

How It All Went Down

On June 17, 1966, "The Hurricane" was in the midst of planning for a second
fight to secure the world middle-weight boxing championship title when his life
changed forever.

That day, at the Lafayette Grill in Paterson, New Jersey, three patrons and the
tavern's owner were gunned down. The owner and one patron were killed
instantly. Another wounded patron died one month after the attack. The lone
survivor of the attack would never identity Carter in court as one of the gunmen.

Carter and his friend, John Artis, were driving a white car with butterfly taillights
in the vicinity of the Lafayette Grill when the shootings occurred.

A car similar to Carter's was described by a woman who lived above the tavern
and saw two men running to the car after she heard several loud noises beneath
her. The only solid description of the two men's appearances she provided police
was they were "colored."

According to Alfred Bello, a criminal with a lengthy record, he too caught a vague
glimpse of the two men as they exited the tavern. He hid around a corner as they
left and then entered the bar and stole $62 from the cash register. He exited the
bar, gave the money to his friend who was nearby, and returned to the bar to call
the authorities.

Paterson police soon pulled over Carter and let him go when they recognized him
as the prizefighter.

Carter and Artis were pulled over again a few hours later and arrested and
charged for the murders.

An all-white jury determined the fate of the two black men. Carter and Artis were
convicted and sentenced to three life terms in prison -- all on the legitimacy of
three distant eye witnesses.

The murder weapons were never recovered.

"This is the moment you must begin to respect yourself," Carter said Thursday
night. "I had to act in accordance with what I knew rather than what people
thought."

Their first appeals were rejected, as were their second.

In 1974, Carter sent a copy of his autobiography, produced in prison, to
singer/songwriter Bob Dylan. Dylan quickly began voicing Carter's innocence.
Carter soon became immortalized in Dylan's song "The Hurricane," which stated
the fighter was their victim of racist coercion by police.

Later that year, Bello and another witness reversed their testimonies, which freed
Carter and Artis on bail in 1976.

After six months of freedom, Carter and Artis were hauled back to jail because
Bello again claimed they were the men he saw outside the Lafayette Grill in 1966.

Carter's conviction was overturned forever in 1985, when a federal judge said his
conviction was based on racism rather than truth.

In 1999, actor Denzel Washington portrayed Carter in the film "The Hurricane,"
which traced his life story. Washington was nominated for an Academy Award
for his portrayal.

"I know we live in a universe of unlimited possibilities," Carter said. "You young
people need to know who you really are, what you really are."

Erin Madsen covers culture and diversity and welcomes comments at
emadsen@daily.umn.edu. She can also be reached at (612) 627-4070 x3223


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Through the eyes of 'The Hurricane'

Friday, March 9, 2001____
mndaily.com

Erin Madsen - Staff Reporter

"Here comes the story of The Hurricane" -- Bob
Dylan

While in his prime as a world-renowned
middleweight boxer in 1966, Rubin "The Hurricane"
Carter was forced to redirect his energy to fight for his innocence in the case of a
Paterson, New Jersey triple homicide.

After serving 20 years in prison as a wrongly accused murderer, Carter is now
advocating literacy across the nation.

Carter arrived at the University's Ted Mann Concert Hall on Thursday evening in
front of more than 600 people to emphasize the necessity of literacy and the
personal freedom reading and writing affords.

Carter said he "devoured knowledge" from books while he was in prison.

While incarcerated, Carter educated himself with works on law, philosophy and
literature, thus re-creating the liberties of life absent within the restraints of
solitary confinement and physical inhumanity found in prison.

"I got my bachelor's degree from the streets, my master's degree from man's
inhumanity to man, and my Ph.D. in prison brutality," Carter said.

He went on to call prisons "assembly lines of death," pointing out the United
States is the only industrialized nation in the world that still has the death penalty.

Carter also said as of February 2000, the United States. has more prison inmates
than any country on the planet, including China.

And though he fell victim to malice and racism throughout his life, Carter said he
no longer has it in him to hate.

"Racism, it seems, has been at the forefront of my life," he said. "For a long time,
I was mad.

"But if you spend enough time in the darkness, you will begin to see things more
vividly than you ever have before. When you can't see outside, you can only look
inside and that's where peace and reconciliation begin."

And Carter had a lifetime's worth of darkness. Of his 20 years in prison, 10 were
spent in solitary confinement.

The time he spent in "the hole" gave him the opportunity to look past the wrongs
done to him, Carter said.

"Just because a jury of 12 misinformed people ... found me guilty based on
evidence that did not exist, that did not make me guilty," he said.

On the heels of his overturned conviction in 1985, Carter relocated to Toronto
where he has resided for the last 16 years.

In addition to his literacy campaign, Carter directs the Toronto-based Association
in Defense of the Wrongfully Convicted and is a board member of the Southern
Center for Human Rights in Atlanta.

At a press conference Thursday afternoon, Carter expressed his enthusiasm for
encouraging literacy on the nation's university campuses.

"It's a great honor for me to be able to go around the country and attempt to
engage these young university minds, these young fertile minds, before they
become calcified," he said.

Carter also spoke about his inability to harbor animosity toward his adversaries
who falsely accused, charged, convicted and incarcerated him.

"I refused to be destroyed," he said. "Hatred only consumes the vessel that
contains it."

How It All Went Down

On June 17, 1966, "The Hurricane" was in the midst of planning for a second
fight to secure the world middle-weight boxing championship title when his life
changed forever.

That day, at the Lafayette Grill in Paterson, New Jersey, three patrons and the
tavern's owner were gunned down. The owner and one patron were killed
instantly. Another wounded patron died one month after the attack. The lone
survivor of the attack would never identity Carter in court as one of the gunmen.

Carter and his friend, John Artis, were driving a white car with butterfly taillights
in the vicinity of the Lafayette Grill when the shootings occurred.

A car similar to Carter's was described by a woman who lived above the tavern
and saw two men running to the car after she heard several loud noises beneath
her. The only solid description of the two men's appearances she provided police
was they were "colored."

According to Alfred Bello, a criminal with a lengthy record, he too caught a vague
glimpse of the two men as they exited the tavern. He hid around a corner as they
left and then entered the bar and stole $62 from the cash register. He exited the
bar, gave the money to his friend who was nearby, and returned to the bar to call
the authorities.

Paterson police soon pulled over Carter and let him go when they recognized him
as the prizefighter.

Carter and Artis were pulled over again a few hours later and arrested and
charged for the murders.

An all-white jury determined the fate of the two black men. Carter and Artis were
convicted and sentenced to three life terms in prison -- all on the legitimacy of
three distant eye witnesses.

The murder weapons were never recovered.

"This is the moment you must begin to respect yourself," Carter said Thursday
night. "I had to act in accordance with what I knew rather than what people
thought."

Their first appeals were rejected, as were their second.

In 1974, Carter sent a copy of his autobiography, produced in prison, to
singer/songwriter Bob Dylan. Dylan quickly began voicing Carter's innocence.
Carter soon became immortalized in Dylan's song "The Hurricane," which stated
the fighter was their victim of racist coercion by police.

Later that year, Bello and another witness reversed their testimonies, which freed
Carter and Artis on bail in 1976.

After six months of freedom, Carter and Artis were hauled back to jail because
Bello again claimed they were the men he saw outside the Lafayette Grill in 1966.

Carter's conviction was overturned forever in 1985, when a federal judge said his
conviction was based on racism rather than truth.

In 1999, actor Denzel Washington portrayed Carter in the film "The Hurricane,"
which traced his life story. Washington was nominated for an Academy Award
for his portrayal.

"I know we live in a universe of unlimited possibilities," Carter said. "You young
people need to know who you really are, what you really are."

Erin Madsen covers culture and diversity and welcomes comments at
emadsen@daily.umn.edu. She can also be reached at (612) 627-4070 x3223



To: mr.mark who wrote (528)3/9/2001 11:24:19 AM
From: SIer formerly known as Joe B.  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 2695
 
THE '60S REVISITED: Bread & Roses
founder Mimi Farina, battling cancer, can
look forward to David Hajdu's admiring
portrayal of her -- professionally and
personally -- in "Positively Fourth Street,"
which is to be published this spring by
Farrar, Straus & Giroux and will be
excerpted by Vanity Fair in May.

The book describes Joan Baez, Bob Dylan,
Mimi and Richard Farina -- especially
focusing on couples Joan & Bob, Mimi &
Richard -- in the '60s, as they came of age,
fell in love and became famous while the
counterculture was shaping folk music into
protest music.

Hajdu also wrote "Lush Life," a biography
of Billy Strayhorn. His sources included
the reclusive Thomas Pynchon, Farina's
college roommate and best man.

Vanity Fair publisher Graydon Carter, who
wants to throw a prepublication party for
the book, is dreaming of reuniting Baez,
Mimi Farina and Dylan (who never found
time to be interviewed). The book contains
some delicious vignettes that round out its
main story: Dylan took his name not from
Welsh poet Dylan Thomas but from
"Gunsmoke" hero Matt Dillon; when the
foursome went to visit novelist Henry
Miller, Dylan and Miller played pingpong.

Farina said that Miller didn't know who
Dylan was and "was only interested in
Joanie and Mimi -- in fact, he went after
them both."

Today would have been Richard Farina's
64th birthday.

In the Summer, When It Sizzles

"In Paris they practically encourage you to
smoke. What's not to love about the
place?"

- Johnny Depp, who lives in Paris with
Vanessa Paradis and their daughter, on
British Channel 1.

sfgate.com:80/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2001/03/08/DD146015.DTL



To: mr.mark who wrote (528)3/9/2001 11:27:35 AM
From: SIer formerly known as Joe B.  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 2695
 
Two Soldiers
Look Back, Don't Look Back
By Robert Wilonsky
dallasobserver.com:80/issues/2001-03-08/sidebar.html
A friend of Justin Rice's
mentioned something about
Look Back, Don't Look Back
nearly a year ago--about how it
was about to become tied up in
litigation, because Rice and
filmmaking partner Randy Bell
had lifted Bob Dylan's music and
likeness without first receiving
permission from Sony Music
and The Man himself. Since
then, the half-hour documentary
about The Quest for Bob has
quietly made the film-fest
rounds, playing South by
Southwest, the New York
Underground Film Festival, and
the New England Film and Video Festival (where it took
best-of-fest honors). The Dallas-born, 24-year-old Rice, who
met the 22-year-old Bell when the two were attending Harvard
University, says the legal troubles never came to pass: They sent
the film to someone at the Los Angeles-based International
Documentary Association, who in turn shot a copy to Jeff Rosen,
Dylan's gatekeeper--and the very man who dismisses the two
young filmmakers during taped phone conversations throughout
Look Back, Don't Look Back.

"He actually took it pretty well," Rice says. "It's shown at a lot of
festivals, and I don't think it bothers him. It has prevented us from
selling the movie and making money off it, but he took it well. I
talked to him afterwards, and for 20 minutes he chastised me for
recording the phone call and not letting him know, but I asked
him, 'Did we make you look bad?' and he said, 'Well, no.' He
also said he didn't want to crush my career as a budding
filmmaker."

The premise of the black-and-white film is simple: Rice and Bell
want to, essentially, remake D.A. Pennebaker's 1965
black-and-white Dylan doc Don't Look Back. They want to
interview Dylan (to whom Rice, from certain angles, shares an
uncanny resemblance) but are turned back, repeatedly, by Rosen.
They decide perhaps they can snag a quick chat with Dylan at his
concert at Amherst; till then, they head for New York City and
re-enact a few scenes from Don't Look Back (they also weave in
footage from the original, much to Pennebaker's satisfaction and
Rosen's chagrin). They stand in front of a guitar store and repeat
Dylan's words ("They don't make guitars like this in the States");
they try to rent Dylan's first apartment in New York, which is
unavailable; and they stand in front of Café Wha? and repeat the
first words he ever uttered on its stage. As the two wrote in a
brief summary included with the film, they had seen Pennebaker's
film and "couldn't shake the Bob Dylan we found there"; they
became "fascinated by the mysterious power of the film [and]
obsessed with the image of the young Dylan." And so they picked
up a camera and went looking for Bob.

Their obsession becomes contagious: They don't know when to
quit, nor do you want them to. At one point, Bell even sends a
letter to Jesse Dylan, one of Bob's sons, who calls back and
leaves his number. When Jesse and Bell finally touch base, Bell
explains himself ("We're sort of researching the past through
Don't Look Back. We're trying to figure out what it was like.
We're sort of obsessed with that movie"), only to have Jesse tell
him to read Greil Marcus' Invisible Republic (about the making
of Dylan and The Band's Basement Tapes) and then send him
back to Rosen. The look on Bell's face is heartbreaking: He's
come so close, only to realize just how far away from the icon he
really is.

The closest they come to touching Dylan is when they brush past
the hem of history by interviewing Pennebaker, from whom they
garner invaluable truths that have nothing to do with Bob. "How
do you go about getting access to the things you want to film?"
Rice asks Pennebaker, who now looks a little like a kindly
professor. His response: "You ask people." Of Dylan, he says
little: "His strength is he knows what he's worth," Pennebaker
says, which is just enough. Like us, Rice and Bell only see Dylan
from afar: They sneak a camera into his Amherst concert and
bring back only silent, black-and-white footage of the
middle-aged Dylan, who does battle with his younger self seen in
concert footage lifted from Don't Look Back.

Rice and Bell made the film while taking a class with Ross
McElwee, who made such documentaries as 1986's Sherman's
March and 1997's Six O'Clock News. McElwee cautioned the
duo about how personal documentaries will "ruin your life," if only
because once you turn the camera on yourself, the unblinking eye
becomes relentless, merciless. "It ruins a lot of moments for you,"
Rice admits. "You have to be prepared at any moment to turn the
camera on, and it just wears you down." But the filmmakers
realized it was worth it when they saw the movie: Look Back is
an homage not only to Dylan and Pennebaker, but to obsession
itself.

For now, you will see the movie only on the festival circuit; Rice
says there have been inquiries from the likes of MTV, VH1, and
the Independent Film Channel, but it's likely that clearance issues
are keeping it off the airwaves. "Or maybe they think it's some
rough shit," Rice says. Sometimes, though, he thinks they ought to
just sell it or release it and deal with whatever hell Dylan's people
and Sony Music might throw at them. There are worse ways,
after all, to garner publicity.

"We'd just shoot the legal proceedings and make a feature," Rice
says. "That might not be bad."