Fresh Air - A Satire Of the Sunshine State

Episode Date: September 20, 2024

Florida's population has quintupled since writer Carl Hiaasen grew up near Fort Lauderdale in the '50s. As a former Miami Herald columnist and novelist, Hiaasen railed against, and made fun of, politicians and developers who he said were covering the state with concrete, and the tourists and retirees who just kept coming. Hiaasen's 2013 novel, Bad Monkey, a wacky murder mystery set in Key West COMMA is now a television series streaming on Apple TV +, starring Vince Vaughn.Also, we remember revered jazz historian, archivist and critic Dan Morgenstern, who died earlier this month. Critic-at-Large John Powers reviews Kate Atkinson's latest mystery novel, and TV critic David Bianculli reviews the new HBO series, The Penguin.Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

Support for this podcast and the following message come from the NPR Wine Club, which has generated over $1.75 million to support NPR programming. Whether buying a few bottles or joining the club, you can learn more at nprwineclub.org slash podcast. Must be 21 or older to purchase. When I heard that Apple TV Plus would be airing a series called Bad Monkey, I knew it would be funny. That's because it's based on the novel by Carl Hyasson, which I read in 2013 when he was on Fresh Air. I thoroughly enjoyed the book and our interview, which we'll listen back to today. Hyasson is a native of Florida, a longtime newspaper columnist and humor writer who became a go-to guest for TV journalists when something big happened in the Sunshine State. He's some combination of cultural ambassador, social critic, and voice of doom, railing against greedy developers, corrupt politicians, and hordes

of outsiders who come to plunder the state's natural riches. Hyacinth's written a series of mystery novels set in Florida, as well as children's books. His novel Striptease was made into a film starring Demi Moore, and his 1986 book Tourist Season was described as the first book about sex, murder, and corruption on the professional bass fishing circuit. Bad Monkey is a typically funny and offbeat murder mystery set in Key West. The Apple TV Plus series stars Vince Vaughn as Andrew Yancey, a wisecracking detective intent on solving a mystery that begins with an unidentified severed arm and takes him through some beautiful Florida scenery. Or as David Bianculli said in his review, it's good Florida fun. Here's my 2013 interview with Carl Hyasson. Carl Hyasson,

welcome back to Fresh Air. I thought we would begin with having you read us a bit from Bad Monkey. This is the opening of chapter four, a description of the main character, Andrew Yancey. You want to just set this up for us? Yeah, Yancey was a detective with the Monroe County Sheriff's Office, which is the Florida Keys, and due to some misbehavior, he got busted down to what's called the Roach Patrol, which is basically he's now inspecting the kitchens of various restaurants for vermin. And so it's somewhat not a lateral career move, and he's coping with it the best he can, and that's just how we start. Yancey received his first bribe offer at a tin-roofed seafood joint on Stock Island called Stoney's Crab Palace, where he had documented 17 serious health violations, including mouse

droppings, rat droppings, chicken droppings, a tick nursery, open vats of decomposing shrimp, lobsters dating back to the first Bush presidency, and, on a tray of baked oysters, a soggy condom. The owner's name was Brennan. He was slicing plantains when Yancey delivered the feared verdict. I gotta shut you down. A hundred bucks says you won't. Jesus, is that blood on your knife? Okay, two hundred bucks, said Brennan. Why aren't you wearing gloves, Yancey asked. Brennan continued slicing. Nilsen never gave me no trouble. He ate here all the time.

And he died of hepatitis. He ate for free. That was our deal. Six years, never once did he step foot in my kitchen. Nilsen was a good man. Nilsen was a lazy f*** whistle, Yancey said. I'm writing you up. And that is our guest, Carl Hyasson, reading from his new novel,

Bad Monkey. You know, you've written so much about Florida. In some respects, you're kind of a cultural representative of the state almost, I suppose. It's a big place with a lot of different regions. And, you know, Key West is different from Miami. You want to talk just a little bit, talk a little bit about Key West and its, you know, what, cultural vibe? Well, I mean, Key West is different from Miami. You want to talk just a little bit about Key West and its, you know, what, cultural vibe? Well, I mean, Key West, I've always had a fond spot in my heart for Key West. It's very different from Miami. It's very different from the Panhandle. It's way different from central Florida.

It's been a pirate outpost since the 1800s. It was an area that at the turn of the century, I mean, in the 19th century, turning to the 20th century, it was the wealthiest city per capita in the United States because of the treasure salvaging business. It existed on the sort of the plunder of ships that went aground on the reefs in Key West. And so it's always attracted, if you go back to Hemingway, you go back, you know, I mean, it's attracted characters and outlaws and brigands from the early days. And it still does to some extent. Certainly it was huge in the drug smuggling trade in the 70s and 80s. And it's always sort of had laws of its own. And it's just a very, very colorful and diverse place to write about. Right. And for folks that don't know the geography, I mean, it is among the Florida Keys, this little string of islands that extend out from the bottom of Florida.

It's the very last one. Yeah. And it has the famous southernmost point in the United States, a little strip of beach with some sort of marker there that you can go get your picture taken. And it's, you know, and now, of course, they have cruise ships coming in, and that plays a bit of a part in Bad Monkey. Right. And the murder plot begins with the very first paragraph of the book, with your permission, I'll just read it. On the hottest day of July, trolling in dead calm waters near Key West, a tourist named James Mayberry reeled up a human arm. His wife flew to the bow of the boat and tossed her breakfast burritos.

In that lovely passage, we get a Carl Hyasson kind of classic, I suppose, a grisly image of a crime and also a good laugh. Where did the severed arm come from? Well, there's even a line in the novel that refers to, for years, South Florida was sort of the severed body parts capital of North America. I mean, this was back, you know, in the drug wars, and in the days before that, the mob wars. I mean, we were one of the early vacation spots for all of the five crime families from New York. So we have plenty of experience with severed body parts, and they turn up all the time, and they go into the morgue,

and they're cataloged. And in this case, it was just a day of fishing. And initially, the thought is that this was a boating accident, and somebody had drowned, and the shark had taken the rest of the body, which is normally what you would guess in a situation. It doesn't turn out that way, but that's initially what everybody thinks, that somebody sunk their boat and a shark moved in and took advantage of it. But, of course, that isn't the way it is in this story. Right.

And one of the things that you describe is that there's a lot of charter fishing out there, and this happens on a charter fishing boat. And I wonder if this is true that some of these companies have a way of scamming some gullible sports fisherman into thinking he's caught a sailfish. Does this really happen? Well, this happened once and the Herald, Miami Herald wrote about it. And in fact, we sent a fake guy out on the boat to pretend he was fishing. We had another boat watching it happen. And this was years ago, but it's an absolutely true story. It was called the sailfish, the dead sailfish scam. And what it was is they would load up the boat with sort of an unlikely, I mean, usually very, very gullible tourists. And a mate would provide a distraction, say he'd see something on the other side of the boat. Hey, look over there, there's a school of dolphin, or there's a whatever. And while he was doing that, another mate would reach into the icebox and pull out a sailfish

that had been caught long ago, hook him on the line, let him loose in the back, you know, just kind of release it into the back of the boat, and then shout, fish on, fish on. And somebody would run back and reel in this limp, dead remains of a sailfish, which, of course, never jumps the way the sailfish are supposed to. But they were able to recycle this a fair number of times if you had a dumb enough customer. And the reason they did it was because they got a commission on the taxidermy. They would send the dimensions into a taxidermy shop. And at the end of the day, the guy was so thrilled to have caught a sailfish, he'd write a check, and the boat would pocket part of the check.

So that was the scam, and it went on for a while until we wrote about it and took some pictures for the Herald. But it was one of the more brazen and ingenious scams I think I've ever heard about. I mean, it's a great deal of trouble to go to for a $7,500 fish deposit, But at the time, it was just classic South Florida. I mean, it was perfect. And it also said a lot about the quality of tourists we had at the time. Come and show me a good time. I don't care whether it's real or not. No, we don't care.

It was real and a dead fish. There's a part of the story that takes place in the Bahamas, and there's a woman known as the Dragon Queen. Do you want to describe her and tell us where she came from? Well, I'll describe her as far as I can. I spent a lot of time over in the Bahamas, and I like it quite a bit over there. I do a lot of fishing over there. But I heard this tale repeated on several visits about a woman who was sort of a black widow figure who had at least three of her boyfriends had died under mysterious circumstances after breaking up with her. Fourth had fled to

Cuba, and she was a practitioner of voodoo, and the whole island was terrified of her. And I made some efforts to sort of see her house or at least where she lived. I didn't really want to make her acquaintance or take her out for dinner or anything. But I just thought it would be – but I couldn't find anyone who would take me even into the neighborhood. They said they would drop me off and let me walk. And being the chicken at heart, and I am, I didn't do it. But I did sort of – I was inspired by the story of this person and who is still very much alive um so i just sort of shamelessly stole the stories that i'd heard

and weaved it into this character who plays a part along with the the bad monkey of course um now the monkey i didn't i didn't have any particular inspiration for the monkey but i i did know that the the johnny depp pirate movies were all filmed near this area that I was writing about. And they had a number of monkeys that they used. You know, they have the main monkey. They have a stand-in monkey. They have a stunt monkey. You know, I knew all that.

So I just kind of took that idea and ran with it. And my vision of the monkey was of a show business monkey that just crashed and burned and went bad, sort of a Lindsay Lohan of monkeys. And that he got fired from the set of the Pirates of the Caribbean movie and found his way to this island. Well, right. And you might as well just tell us a little bit more about this particular monkey who goes by the name of Mr. Driggs, right? Driggs. Driggs is his name. And, you know, he's sort of got a sad story, but he makes his own problems, as most monkeys do.

But here's what, you know, in every movie it seems you go to now, in TV sitcoms and everywhere you look, there's sort of a gratuitous monkey. You know, the hangover. And I wanted a monkey with a backstory. I wanted a monkey who's a complete character, who had a literary role in the book. So I just sort of imagined a history for this monkey who was managed, had managers in L.A., and got into the set in the Exuma Islands to do this movie. And then he does a couple of very bad things on the set of the movie. And he gets himself fired, and he ends up on this island. Right, and the monkey wears diapers, we should mention.

Well, yeah, if you've ever owned a monkey, you know that's pretty important. They're not big on hygiene. Okay, okay. I had a monkey briefly myself. I can state that hygiene is not a top priority for the monkey kingdom. Well, did you enjoy the monkey? How did it work out?

It worked out badly, Dave. It worked out very badly. I was about, literally, this is the truth, I was about, I got maybe 11 or 12 years old, and I looked in the back of one of these outdoor magazines, and it said, pet monkey, $16.95. I didn't tell my mother. I worked around the house. I got the money together, me and my little sister.

I sent off for this monkey without really telling her I was doing it. So one day the UPS truck pulls up, or some delivery truck, and this crate comes off, and there's this incredibly pissed-off monkey on the end. And I took one look, and I knew, and she looked, my mom looked at me and said, oh, I can't wait for your father to see this. And so I was afraid, no one really would go anywhere near the crate. That was the monkey's state of mind when he got there. And my little brother was about four years old, said to me, hey, can I pet, can I pet the monkey? And being a bigger brother, I said, absolutely, go ahead, pet the monkey.

And it just bit the hell out of my, I mean, it just gnawed, chawed on him for a long time. And so the monkey lasted about 48 hours, and then I don't know where it went. Sad story. Another sad story. It was a sad story. But in those days, the good news is you can't order them by mail anymore. Okay, okay. You grew up in the Fort Lauderdale area, is that right? Yes, Dave. I grew up in a suburb of Lauderdale out west called Plantation. Right. What was your childhood like? In particular, your relationship to the outdoor world of South Florida? Well, I mean, I was lucky enough to grow up before there was any, at least in our neighborhood, any strip malls or any development at all. And so every day I'd get home from school and get on my bike, and I'd just ride really a mile or two out and be right on the edge of the Everglades.

And it was the best childhood imaginable. You could fish and camp and do whatever. You just were in the middle of nowhere in no time at all. And that's what I remember. I mean, there were no skate parks. I mean, there was nothing. But it was great. It was just an incredible childhood and probably one that exists in other parts of the country, and maybe even still in other parts of Florida, but certainly not there anymore. It's all concrete now. So, you know, your journalistic career covers a period in which Florida has been, I don't want to use the term invaded, but, you know, it is a state that is,

you know, certainly at times of year, so full of tourists and retirees. Have you sort of, have you reconciled yourself to outsiders and their role in the state? Well, I mean, you used the word invaded. I think it's too mild. I use the word trampled, stampeded is what I usually use. Yeah, I mean, the population since I was born in 1953, the population has more than quintupled in this state. And try to imagine any place absorbing that kind of population change and the transformation that you would watch if you lived here. I mean, it's traumatic.

And if I reckon something, I have no illusions about it. I mean, I've been writing for 40 years trying to scare people out of this place, and I haven't done a very good job of it. I get letters from people all the time saying, I love your books. Please don't hate me, but I'm moving to Florida anyway. You know, the other thing I've always thought about Florida is that it must be so frustrating that when it's beautiful outside, the place can be overrun with people that you wish weren't there. I mean, when I went to Delray Beach to visit my in-laws years ago, you couldn't get into the parking lot at the grocery store because there were all of these people. And then in the summer when the population shrinks, it's, well, dreadfully hot I would think. It's kind of a dilemma, isn't it?

It is hot. But, I mean, I grew up in that heat. I don't mind the heat at all. But you're right. There is this dichotomy and it's beautiful. When you travel a little bit like I do and you're up north in the cold and the rain and the sleet, you understand why people can't wait to get on a plane to come to Florida. I mean, I get it. Everybody understands it.

But I know Delray. I know the parking lot experience. I know the grocery store experience. I had a friend of mine who used to manage one of those big grocery store publics. And he had the greatest stories about fistfights and brawls over the pickles. And the slip and falls were classic. They had to put – this was back in the day, and they had to put up video cameras because they had old people that would come in on a regular basis and fall down on purpose and sue the store. And they knew who they were, so they started videotaping them as soon as they came in because they knew they were just looking for a place to pretend to fall, do a flop, you know, do a LeBron right there, you know, right in the front entrance of

the store. And it was just classic Florida. Who else does this? You know, let's go to the grocery store and stage a lawsuit. Oh, great. Now, how about that? And then we can pick up dinner while we're there. One more character from the book I'd like to hear you describe, Evan Shook. Oh, yeah. Our protagonist, Andrew Yancey, lives near the water, and he had this nice view of the sunset until this character, Evan Shook, comes in. Tell us about him. We've all had this. Maybe not, but many of us in Florida have had this experience.

Andrew Yancey is on his policeman salary, now his roach inspector salary. He's got a modest little place on a beautiful island called Big Pine Key. It's actually a fairly big island, and that chain of the keys on the way to Key West. And all he lives for is this sunset every day. You just sit on the deck, and you watch the sun go down over the Gulf of Mexico, and tranquility ensues. And this guy buys this lot next to him and decides to build a spec house. He has no intention of living there himself. Evan Shook doesn't. But his idea is to build a gigantic house and sell it for a lot of money and finance his future separation from his wife. And so the house starts going up. And of course, it's much larger,

taller than the code, the building code in the Keys allows. This is no impediment to anyone resourceful enough in the Keys to face that problem because there's lots of buildings that are bigger when they're built than they were on paper. And so Yancey just fumes, and the house keeps getting bigger. His sunset keeps getting smaller, and he embarks on sort of a subtle commando campaign to discourage Evan Shook from fulfilling his dream. Yeah, there's some very funny stuff there. But again, there's a theme here, which is folks in Florida make money as they choose to, and, you know, regulation is kind of spotty. Yeah, well, in the Keys, it's always been a little loose.

But the point is that everybody there is there because they love the natural beauty of the place. And it may be just a little sliver of beauty. It may just be this view or that view. But then someone comes along who has no natural love for the Keys or for, you know, anything except Macon Doe. And he just throws up this monstrosity of a structure. And while most of us would just fantasize about sabotage, Yancey puts it into motion. Right, in some very clever ways. I gather you must spend some time on the water.

Yes, I very spare a minute. I can. some time on the water. Yes, every spare minute I can, I'm on the water. I mean, it's a very tranquil sort of thing, and it takes you back to a time when it was, that was the principal, you know, way to get around was by boat or canoe or dugout or whatever it was. Before there was I-95 and I-75 and the turnpike i mean people the the seminal indians traveled by water and the the ponce de leon and everybody else had ever tackled florida and the problem of conquering florida was was a problem of of how do we you know how do you get there and hold it and and it's just it's still a very peaceful thing uh i mean as i said i i I go down to the Keys a lot, and I can get in my boat. I have a small skiff, but I can get back in the backcountry and places where you may not see another boat for a whole day,

or if you do, it's just at a distance, and you're just out there, and there's dolphins, there's sawfish, there's turtles everywhere, and you're thinking, this must have been what it looked like when they first got here. And that's a pretty cool thing. And that's not true everywhere, but it also gives you something to fight for. It's the reason that you don't give up despite all the madness and the insanity and the corruption, which is just, you know, multiplying with each new generation of arrivals. Carl Hyasson's novel Bad Monkey is now a TV series streaming on Apple TV+, starring Vince Vaughn. Coming up, Critic at Large John Powers reviews Kate Atkinson's latest mystery, Death at the Sign of the Rook.

And we remember jazz historian and archivist Dan Morgan Stern. I'm Dave Davies, and this is Fresh Air. This message comes from WISE, the app for doing things in other currencies. Morgan Stern. I'm Dave Davies, and this is Fresh Air. When voters talk during an election season, we listen. We ask questions, we follow up, and we bring you along to hear what we learned. Get closer to the issues, the people, and your vote at the NPR Elections Hub. Visit npr.org slash elections. It's a high-stakes election year, so it's not enough to just follow along. You need to understand what's happening so you are fully informed come November.

Every weekday on the NPR Politics Podcast, our political reporters break down important stories and backstories from the campaign trail. So you understand why it matters to you. Listen to the NPR Politics Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. How does the brain process memories? Why is AI a solution and a problem for our climate? What is leadership in 2025 and beyond? The TED Radio Hour explores the biggest questions and the most complicated ideas of our time with the world's greatest thinkers. Listen now to the TED Radio Hour from NPR. The British writer Kate Atkinson has won many literary awards, but she may be best known for her novels about private detective Jackson Brody,

whose exploits were adapted into the British TV series Case Histories. Our critic at large, John Powers, is a big fan of these mysteries, and he's just read the latest one, Death at the Sign of the Rook. John says it draws on our memories of classic country house mysteries and then gives it an amusing twirl. Like a great city, the mystery genre is home to many different communities. There are police procedurals, locked-room teasers, hard-boiled detective yarns, and the smoothing small-town cozies you find on Acorn TV.

One of the merrier neighborhoods is that of the meta-mystery. PBS's Magpie Murder series is a great example, whose creators don't simply tell a story. They lean into the artificiality of mysteries, highlighting and sometimes laying bare the gambits and tropes that keep us reading. The latest arrival in this neighborhood is Death at the Sign of the Rook, the sunny sixth entry in Kate Atkinson's addictive series about Jackson Brody, a sometimes saturnine private detective with a German shepherd's keen eye for

abuse. Last time out, Brody cracked a child molestation gang in a tale that recalled the real-life case of BBC entertainer Jimmy Savile. Perhaps because that story was so grim, too nasty really for Atkinson's generous style, she's made this latest installment a lark. The book flirts with and tweaks Golden Age mysteries like those of Agatha Christie. The book begins with an invitation to a murder mystery weekend at Burton Makepeace House, a Downton Abbey-like stately home in Yorkshire. There, we're told, guests will engage in what sounds like a live-action version of the game Clue, with actors playing all the parts. The invitation doesn't mention that the weekend is being offered

because Burton Makepeace's owners, Lord and Lady Milton, are strapped for cash. From the moment we read about a weekend devoted to solving a fake murder, we know that there will be a real one. We also know that Jackson Brody will wind up there. The question is how. The answer starts with him being asked to find a painting stolen by the woman who'd been caring for his client's terminally ill mother. To track her down, he enlists the aid of Detective Constable Reggie Cross.

She'd investigated an earlier art theft at, where else, Burton Makepeace. Now, Atkinson loves a densely populated story. Even as Brody and Reggie pursue Leeds, the book takes us inside the heads of three other key characters who've all lost something big. Simon, a village reverend, has lost his faith. Ben, an army major, lost his leg in Afghanistan, and with it his sense of purpose. And Lady Milton, whose thoughts are hilariously waspish, has lost her privilege. We know that this trio will play a part in the murder mystery weekend. The heart of the novel is, of course, Brody, now in his 60s, grumpy about the changing world, but happy with his new Land Rover Destroyer. As the victim of an abusive father, he's possessed

of a strict code. You were allowed to hit men. Sometimes it was wrong not to. But not women, children, or dogs. Six novels in, it's clear that Atkinson treasures Brody as an appealing fantasy, an ideal version of the flawed, all-too-human modern male, battered by experience, but filled with decency and curiosity and gruff charm. Of course, Atkinson also writes prize-winning literary fiction. Her masterpiece is 2015's A God in Ruins. Yet she feels no need to cordon off the Brody novels from her so-called serious ones. Her mysteries brim with the same warm attention to vulnerable souls, the same nifty wit, she uses parentheticals like a guillotine, and the same fascination with the world around her. Indeed, Atkinson uses this latest mystery

to ruminate on scads of things—politics, television programs, art theft, the horrors of war, the decline of religion, violence against women, and the workings of old-fashioned mystery novels with their bloodless plots. Hers is not a fiction of Zen astringency. On the contrary, Death at the Sign of the Rook strews loose ends all over the Yorkshire countryside. Have I mentioned that there's an escaped killer on the prowl? Or that a white-out blizzard is about to hit Burton Makepeace? Yet even as characters and events and ideas proliferate,

Atkinson never loses sight of any of them. Her books always start out looking shaggy, but wind up being anything but. By the time we reach the murder mystery weekend itself, all the book's loose ends get woven together. And even though this novel makes fun of the classic murder mystery with its baroque plots and two neat solutions, Atkinson understands its delights. As everything clicks into place and the mystery is solved, we let out a satisfied ah. John Powers reviewed Death at the Sign of the Rook by Kate Atkinson. Coming up, we remember jazz historian, archivist, and critic Dan Morgenstern.

This is Fresh Air. Hey there, it's Ian and Mike, and on the How to Do Everything podcast from the team at Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me, we will answer any question you have, no matter how ridiculous. Like, maybe you want to get a haircut in space, and you're not sure how. Astronaut Frank Rubio has had a haircut in space. We plan for everything, right? And so it's not a pretty haircut, for sure, but it's functional. Listen to the How to Do Everything podcast from NPR. As Election Day approaches, NPR's Consider This podcast is zooming in on six states that could determine who wins the White House. Georgia, Nevada, Wisconsin, Michigan, Arizona, and Pennsylvania.

We'll ask voters in these swing states what matters to them and which way they want the country to go. Follow along with new episodes this week on the Consider This podcast from NPR. Do you feel like there's more on your to-do list than you can accomplish? Or maybe the world's problems feel extra heavy these days. We can't eliminate stress, but we can manage it. It's almost like I have a new operating system now. Like I tend to live more in this light. Stress Less, a quest to reclaim your calm.

A new series from NPR's Life Kit podcast. The revered jazz historian, archivist, and critic Dan Morgenstern died earlier this month. He was 94. Morgenstern spent a lifetime as an enthusiastic advocate for jazz and for 35 years directed the Rutgers Institute of Jazz Studies, building a collection of jazz recordings, memorabilia, and writings that's the largest collection of its kind in the world. In his New York Times obituary, Barry Singer noted that Morgan Stern was, quote, one of the last jazz scholars to have known the giants of jazz he

wrote about both as friend and chronicler, a jazz writer uniquely embraced by jazz musicians, In 2007, Morgenstern received the NEA Jazz Master's Award for Jazz Advocacy. Dan Morgenstern was born to Jewish parents in Munich in 1929. His father was the cultural correspondent for a German newspaper and had written critically of the Nazis. As the pressure mounted, his father escaped to France. Dan and his mother fled to Copenhagen, but when the Nazis reached the city, they were smuggled out of Denmark by the Danish resistance and found safety in Sweden. The family reunited in New York in 1947 after the war. When Terry Gross interviewed Dan Morgenstern, that was in 2004, he told her about his introduction to jazz during the war. He was eight years old? What got me, really got me involved was seeing Fats Waller in Copenhagen in September of

1938. And, you know, that was a great experience. I had never seen anybody like that before. Well, there wasn't anybody like Fats Waller, you know, there never has been since. But he was so, you know, so vital and so overpowering in a way, you know, both he was physically very large. I had not seen many black people in my life before then. And he was, as he would say, mesmerizing. Would you choose a record that you loved when you were young, during the war, when you were fleeing from the Nazis,

a record that still means a lot to you? Well, I guess, you know, this is, of course, a kid's record, but it's also, in retrospect, it's a good jazz record. That was Chick Webb's Dipsy Doodle, which featured a vocal by the then still very young, about 19-year-old Ella Fitzgerald. And then after the vocal, it had a tremendous trombone solo by Sandy Williams, whom I subsequently got to know after I came to this country. And that was just a record that I loved. And I particularly liked, you know, the nonsense lyrics. I knew some English, but not really a lot.

But it has sort of silly lyrics, you know. And then that trombone solo afterwards. That's a record that I'm still very fond of. Why don't we hear it? The Dipsy Doodle is easy to find It's almost always in the back of your mind You never know it until it's too late And then you're in such a terrible state Like the moon jumps over the cow head

That's the way the Dipsy Doodle works When you think that you're crazy You're the victim of the Dipsy Doodle works When you think that you're crazy You're the victim of the Dipsy Doodle But it's not your mind that's hazy It's your tongue that is full, not your noodle You think you're crazy to things that you say That rhythm got high and heart am I That's the way the gypsy doodle works ¶¶ That's Chick Webb and Ella Fitzgerald, The Dipsy Doodle,

a record that meant a lot to Dan Mergenstern when he was growing up. In 1947, after the war, you and your mother moved to New York, where your father had already moved. What are some of your earliest memories of discovering jazz as a New Yorker and actually being able to go to concerts and go to record stores? Well, I have this line that I've used a lot. I used it in my very subliminal appearance on Ken Burns' Jazz, which I had the pleasure. I was an advisor to that, but on screen I only appeared for about 10 seconds. But what I said is something that I've often said, which is that when I came to New York,

what I wanted was not to see the Empire State Building, but I wanted to see 52nd Street. 52nd Street, after all, was alive at night, and I was still only 17. But I managed to get there, and to me, it was, you know, it was paradise. I mean, you could, one side of the street, you could hear Sidney Bishay, and across the street, you could hear Charlie Parker, and Billie Holiday was next door, you know, I mean, it was just an incredible place. You've described yourself as having been more of a jazz journalist and jazz proselytizer than jazz critic. Would you choose a record that you feel you helped affect the destiny of or helped change the attitude toward?

A record that you loved that you thought wasn't really, wasn't getting adequate attention or wasn't really understood? Well, one of the things that I found irksome was the attitude that then existed towards the work of Louis Armstrong. People had a tendency to look at it in terms of the Hot Five era, you know, heebie-jeebies, and then jump to the All-Stars and Hello, Dolly! And everything in between was sort of being ignored. And to me and others as well, that was some of the peak achievements of Mr. Armstrong.

So in particular, I had a chance to do liner notes for a collection of wonderful material from the mid-30s that had more or less been neglected. In particular, one thing that was on there was a piece by Armstrong himself called Swing That Music, which is just a wonderful demonstration of his awesome trumpet prowess and also kind of reminded me in the way he punches out 42 high Cs, you know, after the vocal, reminded me of the way Joe Louis punched out Max Schmeling. And I was able to bring that into better focus and kind of illuminate that aspect of Armstrong's artistry,

and I'm happy about that. Why don't we hear that Armstrong recording of Swing That Music, and this is from 1936? Right. My heart gives a chill, I feel such a thrill, My feet won't keep still when they swing that music. Rhythm like that puts me in a trance.

Oh, you can't blame me for wanting to dance. From what I understand, it must be just grand to play in a band when they swing that music. I'm just happy as can be when they swing that music for me. © BF-WATCH TV 2021 Абонирайте се! ¶¶ My guest is Dan Morgenstern. Since 1976, you've directed the Institute of Jazz Studies at Rutgers University.

And in that sense, you've become really important as a collector of jazz history. I mean, the Institute is, I don't know, perhaps the most important collection of jazz history in the country, one Institute is, I don't know, perhaps the most important collection of jazz history in the country, one of the most important in the world. What are one or two of the objects in the collection of the Institute of Jazz Studies that mean the most to you and that have an almost like magical aura surrounding them? Well, I think that would be the instruments. We have quite a collection of instruments that belong to famous and maybe even not so famous musicians,

and some of those people are people that I felt very close to, so those things represent a very tangible aspect of my own life with this music, such as Ben Webster's tenor, Lester Young's tenor, the one he used when he was with Basie. And we have odd things like plastic gardenia of Billie Holiday's when she couldn't get a real one, you know, she used that. And Billy was somebody that I just absolutely loved. And then manuscript, we have a wonderful manuscript by Louis Armstrong. And we have, oh, I don't know if I can use the expression tchotchkes, but we have things like we have an Ella Fitzgerald,

a little sculpture made of spoons and forks, which actually represents her, you know, with a microphone in her hand. And that was sitting on her mantelpiece. She really liked that. And those things are special, you know. They have an aura. Well, Dan Morgenstern, thank you so much for talking with us. It's been a great pleasure, and thank you for having me. Terry Gross spoke with Dan Morgenstern in 2004. The revered jazz historian, author, and archivist died earlier this month on September 7th. He was 94 years old. Coming up, TV critic David Bianculli reviews

HBO's The Penguin, the latest spinoff of the Batman series. This is Fresh Air. If you're black or brown or a person of color, you know that stories about race in the news can sometimes feel like they're made for a different audience. At Code Switch, we're not about that. We're interested in how race and identity shape your world in real and sometimes funny ways. Come work it out with us together on the Code Switch podcast from NPR. Hey, it's Mike and Ian. We're the hosts of How to Do Everything from the team at Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me. Every week, we take your questions and find someone much smarter than us to answer them. Questions like, how do I safely jump out of a moving vehicle?

How do I dangerously jump out of a moving vehicle? We can't help you, but we will find someone who can. Listen to the How to Do Everything podcast from NPR. For a while now, you've probably been hearing about book bands, how they're gaining momentum everywhere in Texas, in Missouri, Florida and Pennsylvania. On the Code Switch podcast, we're taking a look at why. Why are so many books suddenly considered so dangerous to kids? Listen to our new series on the Code Switch podcast from NPR. In 2022, writer-director Matt Reeves presented The Batman, the latest movie incarnation of the popular DC Comics costumed hero. Robert Pattinson starred in the title role, and the villains he faced included a drug kingpin named Carmine Falcone, as well as reimagined

versions of the Riddler and the Penguin. Colin Farrell, who played the Penguin in that movie, now reprises the role in a new eight-part HBO spinoff series called The Penguin. Our TV critic David Bianculli found it surprisingly dark and even more surprisingly engrossing. Here's his review. In every TV or movie version of the Batman story, from the campy 1960s series to the recent increasingly somber Dark Knight films, the villains always have been more colorful and arguably more interesting than their heroic adversary. Modern DC Comics movies have tried to address that imbalance by focusing on the psychological demons driving wealthy orphan Bruce Wayne to become a costumed crime fighter.

And it's worked. But as proven by the recent and upcoming spinoff movies headlining The Joker, that same psychological deconstruction approach works even better when applied to the villains. So here comes the Penguin. When Burgess Meredith played him on TV's Batman series, he was a waddling, quacking, cartoonish character in a tuxedo. When Danny DeVito played him in Tim

Burton's movie Batman Returns, he was still cartoonish, but more menacing. And the way Colin Farrell played him in the recent movie The Batman, almost unrecognizably buried under prosthetics and a bodysuit, the Penguin was brash and vicious, but all too human. In this new HBO spinoff, the human element is everything. Lauren LeFranc from ABC's Agents of Shield is the showrunner, and Craig Zobel of Mare of Easttown directs the first three episodes. The action in their sequel takes place just a week after the events in the Batman movie. With Carmine Falcone dead, the battle is on to fill the void at the top of Gotham City's evil underworld. Falcone's former lieutenant, Oswald Cobb, is one of the people eyeing the vacant throne.

But there are others. One is Falcone's surviving son, Alberto, who makes fun of Oswald's girth and hobbled walk by calling him the Penguin. There's also Falcone's daughter, Sophia, who has been tucked away for years at Arkham Asylum, but is about to get out. The series called The Penguin, then, boils down to a story about a power struggle among mobsters. With no costumes, no superpowers, and no Batman, the eight episodes of The Penguin are less like a comic book series than a crime drama, closer to The Sopranos than to the Batman

movie from which it came. It's even darker, with a sometimes shocking amount of R-rated language and violence. And like The Sopranos, the twisted relationship between the central character and his mother is the key to everything. Early in The Penguin, Oswald, played by Colin Farrell, commits an impulsive murder and runs to his mother to protect and relocate her. The mother, powerfully played by Deidre O'Connell, isn't exactly pleased. You should water, take these two pills,

and then we got to go, okay? There you go, okay? Will you tell me first what I did to lose your respect? What are you talking about? You come in here, you trying to buy me off with a necklace? Some **** about an urgent special occasion. Ma. Did I raise my sons to lie to me?

Did I? No. Oh, then what did you do? What did you do? Come on. What did you do? I, uh... What did you do?

I shot Alberto Falcone. He's dead. It ain't safe for you here. You understand? Sofia Falcone's out of Arkham and she knows. Or if she don't, she will. He's right about Sofia. And Sofia, played by Kristen Milioti, is the real shocking surprise of this series.

To this point, Milioti has specialized in playing likable, resourceful, independent women in such shows as the sitcom How I Met Your Mother, she played the mother, and the brilliant USS Callister episode of Black Mirror. She starred on Broadway in the musical once and co-starred in the second season of the FX series Fargo. But she's never played a character remotely like Sophia, and she's simply outstanding. Her character, like Oswald's, is dissected intensely and intelligently in flashbacks. And her evolution, like his, charts the slow but steady path into becoming not just a mobster, but a monster. After exiting the insane asylum, she has her men capture Oswald, tie him to a chair, and torture him, while she watches and talks to him. You are so good at talking your way out of things, even at the cost of someone else's life.

Especially then, right? What are you doing? Well, my father isn't around anymore to reward you with fancy suits and stupid cars and a club that he lets you believe is yours. Sophia. and a club that he lets you believe is yours. Sophia. It's just you and me now, okay? So I want you to think.

I want you to really think. Am I crazy? Is it all in my head? Tell me. Tell me that I'm too emotional and that I have an overactive imagination and that I shouldn't take things so personally. Milioti, as Sophia, has an unusually rich character arc. She's breaking bad at warp speed.

Meanwhile, Colin Farrell inhabits the Penguin so thoroughly and compellingly that you actually forget it's Colin Farrell under all that makeup. At least I did. And I actually cared

about these characters and believed them. A level of involvement I don't get with most DC Comics adaptations and didn't expect here. On the lighter side of the Batman canon, I still love the TV and Tim Burton versions. But on the dark side, The Penguin is the best entry yet. David Bianculli reviewed The Penguin on HBO and streaming on Max. On Monday's show, we'll speak with Todd Phillips, who directed and co-wrote the film Joker, starring Joaquin Phoenix, and the new sequel with Lady Gaga playing Harley Quinn.

The characters are very loosely based on the Batman stories, but it's a dark story about trauma and mental illness. It's also a musical in which Gaga and Phoenix both sing. I hope you can join us. For Terry Gross and Tanya Mosley, I'm Dave Davies. Who's claiming power this election? What's happening in battleground states? And why do we still have the Electoral College? All this month, the ThruLine podcast is asking big questions about our democracy

and going back in time to answer them. Listen now to the ThruLine podcast from NPR. Studies have shown that elections can spike feelings of stress and anxiety that's why npr's pop culture happy hour is there to help you feel more grounded as we talk about the buzziest tv movies and music try a show on hbo's industry or a round table on rom-coms to take a step back from the news of the day at least before you plunge back in tomorrow new episodes every week on pop culture happy hour from npr