Feeling the heat from a musical hotbed

I've loved music all my popular life, and I'm old enough to have lived through all sorts of musical geographical movements, from the hotbeds of folk in the Village and Harvard Square, through the Mersey-beat British invasion, through the California sound, the influence of Motown, Memphis, Nashville, New Orleans. I envied those who could hear the Replacements, the Jayhawks or Prince on any given night in Minneapolis (where an active music scene still rages). I consumed the rage of London punks, and the raw power of New York ruffians gathered at a small club in the Bowery. I ignored the influence of disco in every city where it sprung up like a fungus. But I adored the grunge of Seattle, the alt.country of Chicago and the cross-platform weirdness of Austin, and the anthems and jigs of Dublin and Camden. I've travelled regularly to the outback of Lafayette and Eunice Louisiana to get my fill of roots music that begins on the back porch.

And now I find I live across the freakin' street from the lava flow of one of the hottest musical spots in the world, Wesleyan University.

If you don't believe it, check out this month's Spin Magazine which features a cover story on MGMT, who got their start at Wesco, or read what they're reading this week in London when they pick up the musical inkie, NME.

And if that doesn't convince you, then check AuralWes regularly, where you'll find weekly listening for some of the hippest shows this side of Brooklyn. Or listen to WESU, where some of the musical freakiness begins.

How is it, that we don't have a single club on Main Street that acknowledges just how cool we are?

H/T to Wesleying for pointing all of this out.

Call and response

The kids at Wesleyan are brilliant.

They have their ears tuned to so much interesting music. Friday night they host Megafaun, a band with roots in Wisconsin, and now living in North Carolina.

This band joyously yokes a truly traditional feel, with a wild insistence that folk music (banjo, electric guitar, drums) is participatory music. Pete Seeger is smiling.

They are playing at a Wesleyan-only concert at Earth House tonight. Maybe if you're really nice to a student, you can wrangle an invitation.

The quietest week of the year

My blogging has been scattered and superficial this week as I've spent many hours in a dark AVID edit suite chopping together the rough cut of a video for Kurn Hattin Home, a residential school for kids with problems at home (the homelife is usually the problem, and not the child). The edit is based on shooting over the course of a year, and many hours of footage. It takes a lot of concentration and creative energy.

That being said, I've always found this week of August to be the quietest of the year. Here in Middletown, Wesleyan's summer programs are over, students haven't arrived, and the energy is poured into preparing buildings for the arrival of students in a few weeks.

The New England Folk Festival season is temporarily in hiatus. Somehow, no one has ever claimed this second week of August as the logical or reasonable time for a festival (it's been claimed by the Newport Jazz Festival for several decades), and while it's usually hot, dank and humid, this weekend would have proven to be a delightful one in which to sit and listen to music.

Lots of folks are vacationing, and I sit at home wondering why my tomatoes haven't ripened (I've got a Brandywine vine that hasn't put out even a single tomato bloom - help).

And somehow, I've been up every night this week at 3, unable to sleep. It's taken me nearly all the way through one of my summer passions, the latest James Lee Burke novel, Swan Peak, popcorn crime literature featuring Cajun detective Dave Robichaux.

And the news media has nothing better to do then pursue pitiful John Edwards.

The enduring effect of Casablanca

After the showing of Casablanca last night, I bumped into Barrie Robbins-Pianka who told me she had scored a hat trick last night in Middletown, attending three important events in a very busy Wednesday evening. Barrie had run in the Not Your Typical 5K Road Race on and around Main Street. She had attended a part of the contentious informational meeting about the proposed construction of an Army Reserve Training Center in Westfield, and she made it to the Goldsmith Family Cinema to see Casablanca.

I only made two out of three (knowing the Westfield contigent was a powerful voice in City Hall).

At the Wesleyan film center, actor, and friend of Wesleyan, Edward Herrman gave some interesting insights into the film we were about to see. Herrman, who first saw the film in New York City in 1971, at a time he described as "most cynical" and full of antipathy for anything that was associated with "the establishment." To his own astonishment, in a revival movie house filled with marijuana smoke, he was among an audience who fell in love with a film that is admittedly romantic, idealist and, in fact, patriotic. Herrman read from screenwriter Howard Koch's book on the film (and who better than Herrman to read in his sonorous baritone), which seems to indicate that the film that emerged from a chaotic film process has turned into a classic which still works its magic on an audience.

On this evening, laughter and applause filled the room. I sat rapt, thinking once or twice in amazement, that this old relic once again had me by the neck.

Here's looking at you kid.

Back by the Cochinchaug

After the paddle up the Cochinchaug River, I decided to take my morning walk through Veteran's Park, which forms the Northern border of a stretch of the Cochinchaug which is stressed due to the commercial development on its border along Route 66.

I started out walking through Wesleyan, and noticed a tree removal posting on two hundred-year plus specimens in front of the Wesleyan Film Center. The Buildings and Grounds Department have made it a practice to post notices on trees which are about to be taken down because they are diseased, dead, or severely stressed. The only problem with the posting is that you have to be on foot to notice them, and if your regular route doesn't take you by a posted tree, you might not notice it in the week or two the postings are up. In addition, these postings are pretty nondescript, black print on regular white printer paper, and after a rain shower or two, they devolve into a wrinkly, unreadable mass.

The two trees in front of the Film Center are definitely stressed, and likely won't make it a few more years. And to be frank, trees, especially city trees, don't last forever. However, what's not implicit in the posting to cut the trees is that the construction of buildings, walks and driveways around the trees probably had a lot to do with their weakened state.

I've said it before, and I've said it to Dave Hall, head of Wesleyan buildings and grounds, that I'm not always convinced of the effort taken to help trees, especially trees that stand in the way of some proposed building, or which interfere with regular groundskeeping. A half a block away from these trees is a blank spot where an old variety apple tree stood a few years ago. I used to pick apples from this tree for applesauce and pie, and it was a bit ragged, and the rotting fruit was messy and attracted yellow jacket wasps. It's my contention that sometimes this tree removal is a way to make mechanical powermowing easier for the groundskeeping contractors.

On Washington Court, where the apple tree was, a new ornamental maple has been planted. But near Russell House, where two apple tree were taken down, there were no replacements of any kind, and the power mowers zip up and down the hill, unimpeded by low hanging apple branches or rotten fruit.

I think the Wesleyan crew has got to consider the value of the old trees it has, and the concessions it makes for modern groundskeeping. Currently, the grounds crew has been observed, and confronted, because they pour the very toxic RoundUp (glyphosate) at the base of trees so that the grass and other plants will die, and trimming will not be necessary. While RoundUp is purported to only affect broad leaf grasses, one only needs to do a Google search to see that the effect of having a herbicide poured on a tree's roots cannot be healthy for the trees, or the people, birds, insects and animals who come in contact with the area around those trees. There are a lot of stressed curbside trees around campus. What's more, the runoff from the trees, inevitably end up in the local stream and rivers, where glyphosate has been proven to affect amphibian life.

In addition, while Wesleyan painters are doing a great job making some Wesleyan-owned properties look spiffy with new paint jobs, I've noticed that some of the painting contractors have given up on the reliable ladder and scaffold method of reaching paintable heights, for the rolling boom lift, or crane. While these cranes can get painters to tough-to-reach spots, evidence can be found that these heavy vehicles are compacting earth around the mature, though ecologically fragile old trees on campus. Witness the deep tire tracks next to an ancient tree near the Russell House. Will we be seeing "notices to remove" flapping from these tree trunks in a few years?

Once past Wesleyan, and my worry about the trees there, I continued on to Veterans' Park. I walked through parking lots adjacent to the Cochinchaug and remembered how Wesleyan professor Barry Chernoff described dead spots in the river as it runs through the park because of the way rainwater sheets off these parking lots (and the parking lots of existing, and being-built commercial properties along route 66). The river is beautiful from the park, and I saw a few small brook trout swimming.

As I walked through the Palmer Field parking lot (the expansion of which was prevented by Chernoff's testimony to the Zoning Board), I noticed a small brook which feeds into the Cochinchaug. Grey water flowed through the brook, which was filled with litter. A little further upstream, an ugly algae bloom was in progress (perhaps the result contamination by goose feces in the pond which feeds this stream at Butternut Park), and just before the culvert that runs below route 66, a muskrat was gathering new grass, and a small garter snake swam along the surface.

Walking back up Washington Street my mood was brightened considerably by a mimosa tree in full bloom in front of one of the homes there. The flowers are spectacular to see and smell. The homeowner, who was sweeping her walk, explained that she transplanted a sapling many years ago from her former apartment building in Hartford, and that the tree blooms all day and night, wafting its lovely fragrance on the night breeze.

The cultural hothouse in the Middle

(AP photo)

The seedlings have germinated, sprouted and are bearing fruit.

Last night, In the Heights, a musical which in a different form, was first staged at Wesleyan, won 4 Tony Awards. Lin-Manuel Miranda, is just one of several recent Wes grads to find acclaim for their creative efforts this year.

MGMT is the hot band at festivals this summer, and Santogold continues to garner great reviews for her new album and for her shows.

This of course follows on the heels of the ongoing success of Hollywood's Wesleyan mafia.

How to be an adult

Singer-songwriter Nerissa Nields as written and published a book called, How to Be an Adult, and it really is, as promised, advice on how to successfully navigate life.

The book has spawned a website, where readers are sharing their life lessons. So if you've got some advice, or are looking for some, you may want to check it out.

For some of my advice on adulthood, I recommend the commencement address I wrote for Wesleyan grads before Barack Obama stepped up to fill in for Ted Kennedy.

The mystery of the plaque, solved

I arrived at the AWARE group's annual potluck last night and Jennifer Alexander made her way to me to tell me that she had solved the mystery of the Middlesex Mutual sidewalk plaque.

She called Tom Ford, who manages the insurance company's "skyscraper" in Middletown, and he told her that it had been a victim of frost heave through the New England winters, and that finally this year, it became so loose, he had it removed. Plans are in place to re-seat the plaque. We hope that it will be replaced in its original position, and not repositioned to be part of the sidewalk for the newer headquarters across the street.

AWARE, is a group of Wesleyan neighbors, some of whom are Wesleyan staff, who organized many years ago to address issues of noise, re-shaping of the neighborhood with university building, and other general neighbor issues. Last night's gathering saw a good turnout for Michael Roth's first appearance at a meeting as Wesleyan president.

The detritus of education

Don't tell me we don't live in a spend and waste culture.

As I took my morning walk I passed mounds of garbage discarded by the seniors of Wesleyan University as they abandoned their academic careers in Middletown.

The walk which began as I startled a large blue heron in the holding pond across the street from the former Wilcox-Crittenden forge. As I approached the Wesleyan student neighborhood of Miles, Brainard and Homes Streets I began to see the piles of trash left behind by departing students.

At first, you're struck by the sheer volume, but that's because what has been relatively neatly gathered, is then pulled apart by scavengers looking for treasures. My assumption is that anything in the possession of a college student for four years is likely not rescuing, but friends have told me that they have found perfectly good pieces of furniture and clothing, unused kitchen utensils and items like microwaves and TV's that are too bulky to transport cross-country. The university has created a system where portable storage pods are placed in parking lots so that big items can be discarded and recycled.

One can only imagine this scene repeated at universities across the country.

The most savvy scavengers arose early Monday morning, after seniors had departed, to prowl the curbs and pull the most useful items from the piles of used goods left behind.

By the time I passed this morning, there was little left but the real garbage, much of it able to be recycled, but unlikely to be. And it was strewn from pillar to post by those in search of something of value.

I found these remainders of an academic career sad and beautiful in equal degrees. Entire contents of refrigerators heaped together. Unwanted wall decorations which now yoked Picasso with Janis curbside. Prodigious evidence that the students enjoyed the consumption of alcohol. The kitschy pitched carelessly with the pithy. And the well-worn carcasses of large upholstered chairs and sofas.

While Lucy forbids me carrying even one more chair-in-need-of-repair into our house, I did a bit of superficial dumpster diving near the fine arts complex where desperate students sometimes discard unwieldy masterpieces before they head out for careers in bohemian hovels in NY and Paris.

I'm hoping that the art, which now hangs on my office wall, will someday belong to the oeuvre of a well-regarded painter with a Whitney opening.

I had an idea while walking. I challenge one or more of the many non-profits in Middletown to organize an end-of-semester tag sale in town in which they could collect worthwhile items from departing students, bring it to a single location for sale, and make money for their organization while helping students with their clean-up.

A boy cries out for his mama, before he dies for his home

Red and black balloons blow across the wide lawns where collapsed folding chairs are piled ready for transport beneath the sweep of the enormous tents that had been set up for Wesleyan's graduation, and of course, for Barack Obama's visit (lots of good stuff on Wesleying this morning regarding the event).

This is the day when my neighborhoods shifts rhythms to the summer mode. With five houses on my block completely empty for the summer, the neighborhood would be something of a quiet ghost town if it weren't for the hoodlums who traverse the street at all hours shouting into cell phones as if the cells were tin cans attached with a taut string.

This morning we'll head down to the Memorial Day Parade where I, for one, will consider how readily our leaders dispose of the plentiful bodies of our patriotic young men and women. The dead are our country's heroes. The families pay the most horrible price. Our leaders are culpable. As Phil Och's sang, "It's always the old who lead us to the war. It's always the young who fall."

Michael Roth's words from yesterday's commencement echo large:

"You will hear people tell you that the greatest protection against violence is surveillance, that greater security is developed with higher fences to keep out the foreigners, or that we must project violence on distant shores to keep our homes safe. DO NOT BELIEVE THESE MESSAGES. Please remember that your education stands in opposition to non-sense and cruelty; please recall your capacity to create when others around you call for destruction."

For my part, the thought of God Bless America, The Battle Hymn of the Republic, or the National Anthem, while the easy choices for the day, are the least appropriate.

Here's what I'll listen to, and I invite you to join me:

Phil Ochs, I Ain't A' Marchin' Anymore

Billy Bragg, Everywhere (written by Greg Trooper and Syd Griffith)



Eric Bogle, The Green Field's of France (No Man's Land)



The Pogues, The Band Played Waltzin' Matilda (written by Eric Bogle, but turned into a classic by the Pogues)



Dan Bern, After the Parade

Mark Erelli, Volunteers

Namechecked a la Courant

It was a banner day for Middletown in the Hartford Courant today with a banner headline announcing Barack Obama's vist to Wesleyan to give the commencement address.

Back in the Town section, Rick Green has a column on the Fountain Avenue fracas. He called and talked to me about it, and, of course, printed my most devisive quote - which was part of an explanation of why I thought the ongoing tension between students and Police force erupted. He mentions this blog, so welcome to all of you who might be reading as a result. So far today, that would be some portion of the 11 of you who have checked in.

Meanwhile, Gary Trudeau writes about Wes again.

BTW, I will attempt to get to the Commencement speech and blog about the event on Sunday.

Obama to quell Fountain Avenue furor at Wesleyan commencement

Just announced. Barack Obama is replacing Ted Kennedy as Wesleyan's commencement speaker on Sunday. I guess they won't be asking me.

Uhhh, Walden....Wesleyan...hmmm?

For those of you who think all Wes students are spoiled brats

The truth is, and it's an obvious truth, that there are lots of Wesleyan students who do amazing things, including organizing rallies like the one that will be held today at Andrus Field to convince trustee to divest in companies which manufacture weaponry.

Ted Kennedy, Fountain Avenue, red plastic beer cups, and the ten percenters

The world today feels nothing but sorrow today for the Kennedy clan, and for Ted Kennedy in particular, as his diagnosis of brain cancer was released to the public yesterday.

For Wesleyan University, there is a practical concern mingled with the condolences. Ted Kennedy was scheduled to speak at graduation. He may not, but it will be an amazing speech if he does.

And if he can't, I will. And if called upon, here's what I'll say:

Graduates, you don't know me, but you may have passed me on the street. I'm a neighbor. I've not met presidents or kings (though I shook Jimmy Carter's hand before he was elected), but likely neither will you. So here's my advice for success in a life where only a few of you will achieve enough power to sneer at mine.

I invite you to join the the 10% club. It's a club an old friend, Mike Kradas, dreamed up. He theorized that we are all assholes, that is, likely to stumble on the undone shoelaces of our human foibles, but only 10% of us realize, and admit it. Few of us will acknowledge that at one point or another someone will call us an asshole and be absolutely right.

The 10% of you who realize that already, please raise your hands. (Wow, very good, I would guess that's 7% right there).

It's easy to do. I'm an asshole. No, really I am. Really. Oh, I see. You don't need to be convinced.

Well, we all make mistakes. We all come up with lame excuses. Some of us know how lame those excuses are as we're making them. Some of us realize it years later, to our shame. How many of you came up with at least one lame excuse for some paper, or project, or thesis you were working on this semester? Fess up. Okay, that's up to 12%.

If the self-knowledge that you are exceedingly fallible were the only thing you learned in college, you could graduate and with every other fact, technique and theory you've acquired here, you could navigate any future path flawlessly.

So, if after this speech a few of you want to join the ten percenters among us, there are a few other qualities which will make you someone who is a pleasure to work with, a good friend, a loved family member, an admired leader or performer, and a real human, human being.

None of this is going to be about pursuing your own happiness, your bliss, following a different path, or being persistent to a fault in order to succeed. That's a graduation speech which will be given again and again this season, and likely your mom has told you all these things already. I agree with your mom. You are special, and you're going to be great, if you try.

But this speech is about living in the world with others.

So after you've considered your place in the fallible human race. After you've looked in the mirror and admitted, "I AM an asshole!" Here are a few other qualities to work on.

Consideration.

The world is a big place, but not that big. Chances are you won't ever really be living "on your own." You'll be living with someone, or next to someone, or down the road from someone, which means that you'll be part of the social contract. If this were written down, there'd be a footnote here for Jean Jacques Rousseau, but right about now you're likely sick and tired of footnotes.

So what's the social contract mean in practical circumstances? It means that when you're driving, you'll stop at the Stop sign because sooner or later you'll be the person coming from the other direction, and you want to be able to count on the social contract we have between us that says we ought to stop at Stop signs.

You might think you've learned some lessons in consideration living in dorms, or in a Wes housing, but ask your roommate, or your housemate for an honest assessment. Right? Not so considerate after all, are we?

If I may use cite a tender example. Fountain Avenue. I understand you had a little gathering there the other night that got a touch out-of-hand. I understand the exuberance. Believe me, I do. End of semester. Saying goodbye to books and friends. A little to much Stoli. Anything can happen.

Let's forget, for a moment, what actually did happen last Friday night.

Fast forward to yesterday. I walked down Fountain Avenue in the afternoon, and I was surprised to see that the street and yards were strewn with red and blue beer cups, empty liquor bottles, beer cans and cardboard beer cases. Granted, there were several houses where the mess was gathered and stacked in recycling bins. But the messy yards were pretty messy.

Now, let me get this straight. You are the same students who stood in front of the police department at some very early hours in the morning to make complaints about civility and brutality, and you can't even pick up your own fucking garbage?

Oh sorry, I didn't know I shouldn't use "fuck" at graduation, after all, you've spent the last week and a half fucking, being fucked, getting fucked-up and fucking-around.

Nevertheless, this is exactly what I'm trying to say about consideration and the social contract. Someone's got to pick up that garbage, and if it's not you, and it's not your Mom, then it's someone who you don't know, and obviously don't care about. And by the way, your neighbors have to look at your garbage too.

Get it?

Hand-in-hand with consideration comes responsibility. As in, take responsibility for your actions.

Maybe someone's already raised his hand and said this about Fountain Avenue. Still, I haven't heard a single Wesleyan student stand up and say, "Uh, we were a bit stupid. Yes, some of us were taunting the police. Yes, we know we live on a public street and maybe we should have quieted down. And maybe because I decided to hurl a beer can, one of my classmates got hurt. It's partly my responsibility. Okay it's my responsibility."

Almost as hard as calling yourself an asshole, isn't it?

I've heard a lot of excuses about that fateful evening (The cops were brutal. Security called in MPD too soon. We weren't hurting anyone. I never heard the warnings. It's a Wesleyan Street.) But I've heard very few students own up to their own drunken loutishness. (Though I do appreciate the spirited debate among students at Wesleying - see the comments section.)

Of course, responsibility applies to the police force too. Just because you own a Tazer doesn't mean you have to use it. Just because you wear a uniform doesn't mean you have carte blanche to knock heads.

Now let's talk about kindness.

Kindness means you mustn't hide behind the mask of anonymity if you are going to sling nasty insults at someone you don't like. It seems to be a new kind of tradition among the young that you can say anything you want, about anyone, because you don't have to admit who you are.

Let's leave anonymity to medieval poets, and serious whistleblowers. Call me Pollyanna, but if you can't say something nice, maybe you should walk away from the keyboard. But if you feel the need to be critical, have the courage to own up to your own miserable identity. It gives credibility to what is otherwise a dumb bomb hurled by a smart person. When you write that shitty remark, and you're about to hit "send," consider whether you would send it if your name was attached.

Do you think anonymous, who wrote: "Obviously all the people who support the MPD on this (i.e. ignorant, bitter locals) are going to claim that both sides were at fault, but anyone with a brain can see that the MPD are considerably more to blame," would make the same claim with his/her name attached? Doubtful.

Of course, kindness entails the willingness to understand that other people are as unique as you think you are.

That person behind the counter at Rite Aid. Unique. That Wes Public Safety officer working third shift to pay his rent. Unique. That young man with the hoodie walking down High Street to his shitty apartment. Unique.

Every cop is not a monster. Every black kid on the corner is not a drug dealer. Every Middletown resident is not an imbecile, though some of us are. Every non-student is not uneducated.

One other quality that will make you beloved to all is the ability to realize when you are about to bore someone to tears. So I will not spend any additional time talking about humility, tolerance, generosity, communication, forgiveness. Besides, someone will accuse me of ripping off that guy in the New Testament.

And I know what you're thinking. Who is this smug, self-righteous, holier-than-thou, know-it-all, preaching to us about our alleged shortcomings? Good question. I'm 55. I live across the street from Wesleyan. I really like most of the students I've met. But, I'm an old, cranky idealist. I've had too much to drink on more than one occasion. I've made lots of mistakes, and some really big ones. I'll make plenty more, no doubt. I've hurt people that I love, and I've hurt people I hardly know, and I've been hurt back. I've made excuses for acts that are inexcusable. I've lived a bit of life - more than some of you, less than others. I feel a bit like Polonius, but I've got to remember that Polonius got stabbed behind the curtain.

Those are my credentials, plain and simple.

Oh. And I'm an asshole.

There, I beat you to it.

The video that makes it all perfectly...unclear...still

Everywhere I went this weekend people wanted to talk about the Fountain Avenue a.) celebration; b.) riot; c.) confrontation; d.) melee; e.) civil rights protest; f.) attack, which took place early Friday morning on the Wesleyan campus

The Wesleying blog is reporting an extraordinary response with more than 13,000 visits the day after the event. The blog posted student footage (which, as a warning, begins with a hearty "Fuck you.") this weekend which made understanding the event impossible still. Claims and counter-claims continue to roil the community. And this morning the Wesleying blog reports that a reliable source claims that one of the police officers involved has been placed on administrative leave while an investigation ensues. In addition, a parent's message board has been filled with the same kind of charges, counter charges, explanations and excuses.

For some it's hardworking students blowing off a little steam versus incompetent Wes Public Safety and brutal local police.

Or, entitled and privileged students versus just-doing-our-job cops.

Or a little of both.

BTW, as regards the online comments attached to the Hartford Courant story about the event, a source confided that the Courant does monitor the comments, and does remove some of the most abusive. Though some which maek it throught the review process degenerate into the worst kind of anonymous racist, sexist, homophobic name-calling from a host of "commenters" who reappear again and again. The comment section is so popular that while the newspaper monitors comments, and removes some, especially those which are brought to its attention as abusive, it's effort to embrace the web has also inadvertently seen them embracing haters.

The riot and the reaction

It's been interesting to follow the reaction to the clash between police and students at the street party on Fountain Ave. In the end, I don't think there are an facile conclusions, but there's lots to think about, and I appreciate the comments appended to my thoughts on the issue.

The clash was unnecessary, but inevitable. Drunk students in number. Noise. Confusion. And lots of police. Would anyone have predicted a different outcome?

Who's to blame? There's plenty to spread around, and no one is guiltless. The students were drunk and inconsiderate. The police were forceful and overreacted. What really happened and why? Doubtful, even with photographs and video that it will ever be clear. It's a Roshomon tangle that will unlikely ever be sorted out to anyone's satisfaction.

So what are the issues that have risen?

Was the response by Wes Public Safety and MPD inappropriate? I don't think their initial attempts to shut the party down were unexpected or inappropriate. The escalation into use of pepper gas, tasers and dogs was definitely over-the-top, badly executed, and not well thought out. There are, on record, incidents where pepper ball guns have caused death and serious injury. Tasers have killed people too. Was this potential deadly force the right reaction? The disarray and confusion of the police approach also raises questions about whether the clash was anything more than a brutal Keystone Cops assault on easy targets. One commenter has said that the police reaction is an indication of a slow slip into a police state under Homeland Security incentives. I think it's something to consider carefully.

Did the students incite the melee? I think the answer has to be yes. Did the students who were hurt deserve to be? No, but there was ample opportunity to avoid the confrontation. Students ought to have the freedom to gather and enjoy themselves. But many students live in a bubble in which they have total disregard for the fact that they are part of a larger community. Where were the responsible students Friday night who might have negotiated a backdown by students and authorities? The fact is, there was drunkenness and a sense of entitlement to do as they pleased, which fueled the confrontation. I'm afraid that student indignation that someone would ask them to be quiet and to go away is an indication of how self-centered they can be, especially when intoxicated.

Is there hostility between Middletown and Wesleyan? Of course. It's classic town-gown. How could it be otherwise? On one hand you have 3,000 smart young people experiencing freedom and independence for the first time. On the other you have a community that's diverse, and largely divorced from the elite school on the hill. Some students have a huge disdain for the town and the townies "in the Middle." Some students find a way to interact with the city in a useful way. Most students avoid interaction except when it comes to having a meal at a local restaurant, or a drink at a local bar. Middletown residents alternately resent the "privileged" students on the hill, or embrace the rich cultural and intellectual offerings of Wesleyan.

Is there a problem between MPD and Wesleyan students. Undoubtedly. There are few angels when it comes to this problem. Neither side has much respect for the other. It needs to be addressed before someone really gets hurt.

Maybe the most disturbing thing for me is the chasm between students who feel they have an inalienable right to be drunk, rude and self-righteous on the one hand, and the hateful anti-intellectual troglodytes who feel that the response by the police was not forceful enough. This chasm is most evident in the comment section to the Hartford Courant story on the melee. It's a profound, and deeply-felt class and intellectual divide that scares me.

Maybe one of the topics for a forum for graduation/reunion weekend ought to be this timeless friction between Wesleyan and the city in which it is found.

Oh, if only it were over something other than the right to drink lots of beer

The details are still being sorted out about the riot that occurred last night on Fountain Ave.

What's clear is that parties in several houses spilled into the street. Students were intoxicated. Wes Public Safety tried to clear the street, and in failing to do so, called in Middletown Police. The students taunted the police. The police moved in, and all hell broke loose. Bottles thrown, pepper gas dispersed. Handcuffs. Tasers. Resistance. Arrests.

To the extent that it happened, there is, of course, no excuse for the stupidity of students nor for any aggressive brutality of law enforcement agents.

Today, students are indignant.

I'm not certain to what extent they are entitled to their anger.

This was a Beastie Boys protest. Do any of us really care about fighting for the right to party?

If this was about a free speech issue, about the right to protest freely, about an attempt to silent an anti-war or anti-government march, then I'd be standing right there next to the students in front of town hall.

I know the semester's over, but the library's still open. Read your history. There is heroism in the protests in Birmingham, the free speech riots at Berkeley, the demonstrations at the Democratic Convention in 1968, because something larger was at stake.

This melee at Wesleyan was about the right to get as drunk as possible, and still be able to walk, and then exercise some privileged drunken macho bravado (I thought Wes students might consider themselves above the antics that occur at State universities) in the face of agents of the law, some of whom have their own issues with macho bravado, and some of who are simply trying to do their job.

Any advocate of civil disobedience will tell you, if you break the law you can expect to be arrested. If you consider yourself to be in the right morally and ethically, then you can use the arrest to demonstrate your differences with the law, and perhaps change that law.

If you only want the right to be drunk and disorderly, well, you may see the inside of more than one cell in your life, and never have moved society forward one iota.

There's a riot going on

An end-of-semester block party of Wesleyan students on Fountain Avenue descended into chaos, rioting, violence, tasering, pepper gas, police dogs and arrests. Check out Wesleying for students' POV.

Channel 8's report here.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

It's the time of year when my neighborhood comes to life.

The warm weather draws nightpeople (thugs, drug dealers, drug users, prostitutes, drunk Wes students) up and down the street at all hours. This morning at 3 a.m. I was awakened by one such who said, loudly and repeatedly as he walked: "Goddamn." Well, goddamned be your soul, sir.

Wes students are embroiled in end-of-semester projects and exams, but in a few days, the undergrads will begin to flitter away like flies from a carcass well-cleaned, and the about-to-be grads, will hang out and drink and smoke and throw frisbees and cookouts. Then, on graduation/reunion weekend there will be activities and tents, a lots of cars driving down the Russell House driveway.

This weekend is a favorite. I live around the corner from St. Sebastian Church, an amazing yellowstone structure modeled after a church in Mellili Italy. Legend has it that the original church in Sicily burnt to the ground, and they came to Middletown to copy the structure so it could be rebuilt in Italy.

The St. Sebastian Festival begins Friday, but the ferris wheel has already risen. I really like the festival for its juxtaposition of carney life and Catholic iconography. Our street is closed down, and typically blocked by a giant slide (which was taken advantage of last year, very early Sunday morning by a quartet of Wes students sliding on their own bath towels and laughing like pre-schoolers). The rides at the festival are as expensive as hell, but my kids enjoy them. The Sunday morning run of the Nouri (and the brunch hosted by the Masselli's) is a spectable to behold. But I could do without the constant smell of fried dough, and Sinatra and Dean Martin overpowering my iPod all day long, and into the night (to be fair, the noise shuts down promptly in the evenings). The outdoor broadcast of the Catholic mass also strikes a mordant fear into my heart, and into the hearts of some of my Jewish neighbors. I'll be spreading mulch and when the priest says, "The lord be with you," I find myself responding, "And with you also."