Captain Gronow

one thing (the TV series Mr. Loverman, the island of Antigua) led to another (William Clark’s Ten Views in the island of Antigua, The British Library’s Flickr page) and I’m looking at this great party from the Reminiscences of Captain Gronow, formerly of the Grenadier Guards and M.P. for Stafford, being Anecdotes of the Camp, the Court, and the Clubs, at the close of the last War with France, related by himself)

He was a remarkably handsome man, always faultlessly dressed, and was very popular in society. His portrait appeared in shop windows with those of Brummell, the RegentAlvanley, Kangaroo Cook, and other worthies. With the exception of Captain Ross he was the best pistol shot of his day, and in early life took part in several duels. He married first, in 1825, an opera dancer, Antoinine, daughter of Monsieur Didier of Paris. By his second wife, Amelia Louisa Matilda Rouquet (a Breton aristocrat), whom he married in 1858, aged 63, he had four children. According to the Morning Post, he left his widow and infant children “wholly unprovided for” at his death, aged 70 in Paris on 22 November 1865.[1]



Lunch bums

He skipped lunches since they interfered with his work and he felt they often made him tired. He was therefore dismissive of actors who ate lunch, believing that “lunch bums” had no energy for work in the afternoons.

Reading about the director Michael Curtiz, who directed 102 movies (does that include shorts?) in Hollywood, including Casablanca, and Elvis in King Creole.

During filming, Presley was always the first one on the set. When he was told what to do, regardless of how unusual or difficult, he said simply, “You’re the boss, Mr. Curtiz.”[86]


Best food in the world?

Sometimes it’s half a leftover burrito you forgot you had in the fridge.


Los Angeles in 1850

Cowboys, gamblers, bandits, and desperados of every description brought to the Los Angeles of the 185os a tone of border-town mayhem. Rough statistics indicate that in 1850 a murder occurred for every day of the year. The Reverend James Woods, a scholarly Massachusetts Presbyterian, arrived in October 1854, hoping to bring the gospel and social order. Despite the beauty of surrounding vineyards and orange trees, he noted, Los Angeles was a hellhole, a valley of dry bones, a city not of angels but of demons. An orgy of murder fills the diary Reverend Woods kept during his desperate ministry of six months. In his first two weeks alone, ten Angelenos met violent ends. Ordinary citizens walked the streets armed with pistols, bowie knives, and shotguns. Cruelty was everywhere. He was horrified to find an Indian servant girl dying in the street, abandoned by a household wishing to avoid burial expenses. A young cowboy, David Brown, sentenced to hang for the shooting of Pinckney Clifford, refused to see Woods, telling the sheriff he would rather have a bear in his cell than a minister. Shortly after, Brown was dragged from the jailhouse and lynched. The mob was led by Stephen Clark Foster, mayor of Los Angeles and a Yale man.


Matty Groves

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1it7BP5PckI

A holiday

A holiday

The first one of the year…

Any Helytimes reader will know Shady Grove, but what about the ancestor across the Atlantic?

The song dates to at least 1613, and under the title Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard is one of the Child ballads collected by 19th-century American scholar Francis James Child

What I love about this song is how it reveals character. Lord Darnell’s wife, Matty, the sniveling servant, Lord Darnell, they all reveal who they are in their actions. Honor, honesty, humor, strength, foolishness, loyalty. It all comes out.