Isaac Laquedem

The National Portrait Gallery offers a glimpse of the Mondales

The National Portrait Gallery reopened last July 4 after being closed for six years for renovations.  One of its central collections is of portraits of the Presidents, ranging from the standard stately depictions to drawings by Herblock and whimsical, biting sculptures by Patrick Oliphant.  (His statuette of Richard Nixon shows Mr. Nixon riding a horse, hunched over, with his hand behind his back in the Napoleonic manner.)

The gallery, like most cultural institutions, has its hand out, in a nice way, to prospective donors.  (Admission is free, because it's part of the Smithsonian Institution, though it's several blocks north of the Mall.)  One way to support the gallery is to "adopt a portrait."  If you adopt a painting by making a gift of a certain size, the gallery will invite you to special events, offer you private tours, and, most visibly, place a small plaque above the description of your adopted portrait identifying you as its adoptive parent.

The gallery includes a striking portrait of John Kennedy, done by Elaine de Kooning.  It's one of the few paintings that has been adopted.  A small plaque identifies the generous donors as Walter and Joan Mondale.  So far no one's adopted Ronald Reagan or Bill Clinton.

A suggestion for the 2009 inaugural address

It occurred to me, as I looked down Pennsylvania Avenue at the Capitol, with some recent news stories in mind, that the next president might for his or her inaugural address, after reciting the usual pleasantries and greetings, simply read the Bill of Rights, and end with the simple words, "Welcome back."

The rabbi in the lumber business

Thirty or more years ago, many stock trades were executed not by ambitious investors sending messages through the Internet, nor by a few deft keystrokes on computer systems, but by a trader at one brokerage calling a trader at another brokerage and asking for a quotation.  The local traders got to know each other and the stocks they traded.  Some of the stocks acquired nicknames; the Knower of All Things assures me that in those halcyon and pre-P.C. days, one trader might call another and ask, "How's the rabbi?"  The reference to "the rabbi" meant, not the spiritual leader of the local synagogue, but the firm of Pope & Talbot, whose Anglican management likely never knew that Portland's version of Wall Street had ordained their shares.

To the happy couplet: don't stop now

As long as Portland is pursuing turning Burnside and Couch into a couplet of one-way streets, how about turning Lovejoy and Marshall back into a couplet, as they were a few years ago before the streetcar was built?  The streetcar on Lovejoy blocks what is now the only eastbound lane of traffic, and westbound traffic turning left from Lovejoy has brought the signalized intersections nearly to a standstill during most of the day.  Then we can turn our attention to NW 21st and 23rd, which would also make a dandy couplet, with 21st going north and 23rd going south.  This also would make it safer for pedestrians to cross those two thoroughfares of commerce as they would worry about traffic from only one crowded direction instead of two.  Let's not stop with Burnside and Couch.

The Laquedem Road Pork Vote Plan

Last week I heard a talk by a genial engineer who's involved with the Interstate 5 bridge crossing project.  Buried within his presentation was an interesting snippet about highway "earmarks" -- when a member of Congress adds an allocation for a specific highway project into an appropriations bill.  Sometimes (and he gave examples) the member of Congress inserts an allocation for a project that the representative's or senator's home state doesn't want, and the state highway department has to come up with the rest of the cost or explain politely why it isn't going to take the federal highway largesse (called "funding" if it's in my state, and "pork" if it's in yours).

The interesting snippet was that 20 or so years ago, Congress adopted about 10 highway earmarks a year.  Now, Congress adopts about 7,000 highway earmarks a year.  With most of Congress striving to slip some home-district earmarks into the spending bills, their efforts all likely cancel out, and each state gets about what it would have received if the federal gas tax money had been allocated rationally.  From this occurred to me the Laquedem Road Pork Vote Plan, which will save our senators and representatives a whole pile of time and still give them the opportunities to show off their prowess at funding local highway projects.

All federal gas tax money that goes to transportation projects will be allocated to the states and the District of Columbia in strict proportion to their electoral votes (Oregon, for example, would get 7/538 of the federal take), with the actual allocation to each state to be accomplished by a funding bill sponsored by the state's senior representatives.  (Spending bills have to originate in the House, which is why the Senators don't get to play.)  The state highway departments could spend the money on whatever projects they wish, without congressional interference, as long as they let the local congressman or congresswoman show up at the dedication and claim credit for getting the funding.  The highway departments can build what the state needs, our Solons can continue to claim credit, and no one wastes time fighting over who gets how much.

Name our streets -- and our sidewalks

The demolition and reconstruction of Fifth and Sixth Avenues for the train offers Portland a chance to install a few small works of public art, literally underfoot.

I've had occasion to walk a long stretch of SW Broadway for the last few days, and I noticed that several of the streetcorners have the names of the streets in black and white tile embedded in the sidewalk at the intersection.  Here's one example.     It's at the corner of Broadway and Salmon, outside one of Portland's most traditional (and Laquedem-like) haberdasheries.  Five blocks to the north is another example, this time at Washington Street.  These tile street labels appear to be the remnants of a consistent plan of placing the street names at the intersections, but unfortunately only a few of these bits of Old Portland remain in place today.

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The Washington Street title appears to be newer and is perhaps a restoration done in conjunction with the adjoining building.

My favorite, the source of which I figured out only last week, is the corner of Broadway and Stark outside the old headquarters of the United States National Bank of Oregon, where handsome brass letters identify the intersection.    Why there?  Only recently did I notice that letters of the same style are embedded in the entrance to the bank building, identifying that august financial institution of yesteryear.  (The institution now called "U.S. Bank" is a North Carolina bank that bought a Minnesota bank that had bought U.S. Bank of Oregon.) 

No doubt most of the sidewalk corners along the Transit/Train Mall will be cut out and rebuilt as construction proceeds.   Here's an opportunity to add a little bit of public art, with the practical side benefit that when it rains and we're all marching with heads down, we can still see where we're going, or at least where we've gotten to.

A reading for April 15

As is my annual custom (if "custom" can be applied to something that goes back only to 2004 and which I forgot about in 2006) I suspend my genial support for the social welfare state (and city) for a day to salute Tax Day with a reading from a noted tax commentator, in this as in the previous cases, Alan Patrick (A.P.) Herbert,  I'm aware that Tax Day this year is actually on Tuesday, April 17, being moved from today to Monday in observance of Sunday, and then from Monday to Tuesday because of a local holiday in the District of Columbia (Tax Day is becoming almost as hard to predict as Easter), but it is the 15th that bears the associations with the Internal Revenue Service, and on the 15th that these readings shall appear. 

Mr. Herbert wrote a delightful series of essays in the form of judicial opinions to illustrate absurdities in the common law of England and to campaign for his favorite causes.  Several of his essays featured a pertinacious litigant named Albert P. Haddock, an author, who served as Mr. Herbert's fictional alter ego.  The case for today is one of several entitled Haddock v. Inland Revenue.  This one is subtitled "Wear and Tear."  In it, Mr. Haddock is asserting his right to claim depreciation on his body and brain (which he argues are the equivalent of the manufacturer's factory equipment) and to deduct the expenses he incurs in researching the background of his novels.  The judge summarizes Mr. Haddock's argument:

'Yet,' says Mr. Haddock, 'since this is done, let it be done thoroughly and logically.  The author's machinery and plant are his brain and his physique, his fund of inventiveness, his creative powers.  These are not inexhaustible; they are seldom rested; the strain upon them increases as the years go by, and in some cases, I understand, is aggravated bhy late hours and dissipation.  And if it is proper for the soap-manufacturer to be relieved in respect of the wear and tear of his machinery and the renewal thereof (which money can easily buy), how much more consideration is owing to the delicate and irreplaceable mechanism of the writer!'

Under this head Mr. Haddock has repeatedly appealed for relief in respect of sums expended on doctor's accounts, on sunlight treatment, on nourishing foods and champagne, and upon necessary holidays at Monte Carlo and Cowes.  The Commissioners have refused, and I find that they were wrong. 

Although I'm a little in that line of work myself, after a fashion, I don't know that I have the nerve to attempt to deduct trips to Monte Carlo and Cowes as being necessary to repair the wear and tear on my brain.  I would settle for one trip a year to Hawaii.  Half the cost of the nourishing foods and champagne is deductible, depending on whom I eat and drink it with and what we talk about.  And in keeping with the tradition of 2004, Monday evening after I put the envelopes in the mail I'll be heading off to the Drones Club for a restorative and some nourishing food, to be eaten in the company of Mrs. Laquedem and two good deductible friends.

The hidden significance of the vote on Burnside-Couch

The idea of turning West Burnside and Northwest Couch into a couplet (even though they don't rhyme) of one-way streets sparked a sort of turf war inside the City.  My oversimplified understanding is that the City's Bureau of Transportation loves the idea, and the Planning Bureau hates it.  (I agree with the Planning Bureau on this one.)

One interesting point about the Council's vote to start the process was that it was 5-0.  The significance is not that the vote was unanimous (that reflects perhaps some horse-trading and negotiation among the council) but that it was a unanimous vote for the Transportation Bureau and against the Planning Bureau, which hardly ever gets skunked at City Council.

Other than that, Mrs. Laquedem, how did you like your Easter?

The Laquedem family is known for its collective cheerful insouciance under almost any circumstances.  Still, the standard set by Venerable Mom Laquedem this Easter Sunday will be hard for the rest of us to exceed.  After a bit of unusual exertion, she felt faint, lost consciousness, stopped breathing, and collapsed, setting off a panic among our family.  We called 911.  Paramedics arrived promptly, did their thing, and revived her.  As her eyes opened, she looked up at the faces peering down at her, regained focus, and said mildly, "You know, today is the appropriate day for resurrections."

More news from Paris: Shaquanda Cotton is released

Shaquanda Cotton, the 15-year-old girl from Paris, Texas who was serving an indeterminate sentence of up to 7 years for shoving a hall monitor at school, was released this weekend by the Texas Youth Commission after spending a year behind bars for the offense.  The Chicago Tribune, which brought her story to national attention, reports her release here in a story by its reporter Howard Witt.  My previous post about her case is here.

The Tribune story notes the curious fact that the Texas Youth Commission, the agency which runs the state's juvenile justice and detention system, is itself being run by a specially-appointed conservator because of allegations that prison officials coerced incarcerated children into having sex.  It also notes that prison officials extended her sentence because they found contraband in her cell -- an extra pair of socks.  Meanwhile, the federal Department of Education is looking into charges that the Paris school district imposes harsher discipline on blacks than on whites. 

The TYC's conservator, Jay Kimbrough, is apparently a man of action: the Texas senate confirmed his appointment on Thursday, reviewed her case Friday morning, and ordered her released Friday afternoon.  Hurrah!