Russell Baker - The Rescue of Miss Yaskell and Other Pipe Dreams

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The Rescue of Miss Yaskell and Other Pipe Dreams
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Russell Baker
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The Rescue of Miss Yaskell and Other Pipe Dreams

Table of Contents

The Rescue of Miss Yaskell and Other Pipe Dreams

Russell Baker

Diversion Books
A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1008
New York, NY 10016
www.DiversionBooks.com

Copyright 1983 by Russell Baker
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
All material appeared in the authors Observer column in The New York Times and his Sunday Observer column in The New York Times Magazine. Copyright 1975, 1976, 1977, 1979, 1980, 1981, 1982, and 1983 by The New York Times Company; reprinted by permission.

For more information, email

First Diversion Books edition August 2014
ISBN: 978-1-62681-324-3

Also by Russell Baker

So This is Depravity
All Things Considered
An American in Washington
Growing Up
The Good Times
Looking Back
No Cause for Panic
Norton Book of Light Verse
Oour Next President
Poor Russells Almanac
Russell Bakers Book of American Humor
Some Cause for Alarm
Theres a Country in my Cellar
The Upside Down Man

Contents

Regions of The Past

A Visit with the Folks

The Boy Who Came to Supper

Heck on Wheels 8 Gross Roots

Right Smart o Wind

Any Humans There?

There Is No There Here

The Unwelcome Wagon

A Memory of Rope

Moseying Around

A Patch in Time

Making It

Urban Gothic

Beastly Manhattan

Those Prussian Wheels

The Far Side o f Styx

The Lull in Lullaby

Such Nice People

Of Duds, Wogs, Mae West et al.

The Dreamers Progress

The Duds Doldrums

Now It Can Be Told

Marriage la Mode

Elephants-Eye High

A Gothic Tale

A Little Sanity, Please

Crank at the Bank

Moon of Cualadora

How Shall I Dear Thee?

Fear of Fossils

The Cruelest Month

Bye-Bye, Silver Bullets

Egg on the Face

Ghost Story

There She Is

Merrily We Pentagon

Universal Military Motion

Mail-Order Tanks

The $138 Million Mistake

Brass Hat in Hand

English Utilization

Babble, Babble, Glub-Glub

Vanishing Breed

Crashing into Crosswordland

Doctor of the Interior

Loss of Face

The English Mafia

Media: Or, Whats That Rotting My Brain?

Completely Different

Tooth and Man

Waiting for H-Hour

Forever Ember

The Legal Pitch

The Scrutable Kremlin

The Road to Apeville

Riches of the Tube

And the Reich Goes On

Rocked

Mind over Blather

The Mushroom Blues

Taking Heroes Seriously

No Peace for Old Pharaoh

The Male Weepie

A Better Column

Flicking the Dial

Etc.

Back to the Dump

The Only Gentleman

Being Rich

Summer Action

Back at the Manse

The Presidents Plumbing

Ball of Wax

Ringing Up the Past

Blowing Up

No Tears for the Giants

A Previous Life

On the Side of the Angels

Cigar-Smoke Science

By Royal Command

A Hey Nonny George

Nodding by the Mire

Being Mean

Barnum Lives On

Eat What You Are

From Chairpersons to Total Persons

The Boys of Autumn

Adversity

A Cold Hard Net

Through a Glass Darkly

In Bed We Lie

I Remember Papa

Sealed Ears

Master of the Chains

Getting Mighty Small Here

My Adolescent Bed

Addals of Medicid

To Catch a Train

To Wrack and Rome

The Well-Bred Mummy

Delights of the Time Warp

Rain of Terror

Cowering before Omoo

Tales for Cats

Where Have All the Ulcers Gone?

Wiggy

Fathering

Grandparenting

The Joy of Anger

Going First Class

Things Passed

REGIONS OF THE PAST

A Visit with the Folks

Periodically I go back to a churchyard cemetery on the side of an Appalachian hill in northern Virginia to call on family elders. It slows the juices down something marvelous.

They are all situated right behind an imposing brick church with a tall square brick bell-tower best described as honest but not flossy. Some of the family elders did construction repair work on that church and some of them, the real old timers, may even have helped build it, but I couldnt swear to that because its been there a long, long time.

The view, especially in early summer, is so pleasing that its a pity they cant enjoy it. Wild roses blooming on fieldstone fences, fields white with daisies, that soft languorous air turning the mountains pastel blue out toward the West.

The tombstones are not much to look at. Tombstones never are in my book, but they do help in keeping track of the family and, unlike a family, they have the virtue of never chafing at you.

This is not to say they dont talk after a fashion. Every time I pass Uncle Lewiss I can hear it say, Come around to the barber shop, boy, and Ill cut that hair. Uncle Lewis was a barber. He left up here for a while and went to the city. Baltimore. But he came back after the end. Almost all of them came back finally, those that left, but most stayed right here all along.

Well, not right here in the churchyard, but out there over the fields, two, three, four miles away. Grandmother was born just over that rolling field out there near the woods the year the Civil War ended, lived most of her life about three miles out the other way there near the mountain, and has been right here near this old shade tree for the past 50 years.

We werent people who went very far. Uncle Harry, her second child, is right beside her. A carpenter. He lived 87 years in these parts without ever complaining about not seeing Paris. To get Uncle Harry to say anything, you have to ask for directions.

Which way is the schoolhouse? I ask, though not aloud of course.

Up the road that way a right good piece, he replies, still the master of indefinite navigation whom I remember from my boyhood.

Its good to call on Uncle Lewis, grandmother and Uncle Harry like this. It improves your perspective to commune with people who are not alarmed about the condition of NATO or whining about the flabbiness of the dollar.

The elders take the long view. Of course, you dont want to indulge too extensively in that long a view, but its useful to absorb it in short doses. It corrects the blood pressure and puts things in a more sensible light.

After a healthy dose of it, you realize that having your shins kicked in the subway is not the gravest insult to dignity ever suffered by common humanity.

Somewhere in the vicinity is my great-grandfather who used to live back there against the mountain and make guns, but I could never find him. He was born out that way in 1817James Monroe was President thenand Id like to find him to commune a bit with somebody of blood kin who was around when Andrew Jackson was in his heyday.

After Jackson and Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War, he would probably not be very impressed about much that goes on nowadays, and I would like to get a few resonances off his tombstone, a cool frisson of contempt maybe for a great-grandchild who had missed all the really perilous times.

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