I suspect cultural anthropologists of a certain age look back now and swear something awful happened to their music. They probably say their tastes got hijacked between the 1970s and the millennium. But I can tell them precisely what was taken: real voices, real instruments and, well, real talent. More than 50 years ago, Baby Boomers turned up the volume on
I know millions of TV viewers watched last May as a seventh-grader from Plano, Texas, won the 2025 Scripps National Spelling Bee, spelling éclaircissement to secure the title. Faizan Zaki’s mastery of words like “promyshleennikor,” “autochthonous” and “insouciant” show the remarkable results that come from a true commitment to one’s craft. Faizan's triumph should remind us of the incredible talent
PARIS — I did what I'd come here to do: I knocked seeing the Mona Lisa off my bucket list. Was Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece what I’d expected? No! Now, friends had told me the Mona Lisa, a portrait barely bigger than a postage stamp, wasn’t much to look at. They were right. Yet crowds flocked to its home, The
MEXICO CITY — I covered WrestleMania III for The Detroit News in the ’80s, and no event I’ve ever written about excited me more. The Randy Savage-Ricky Steamboat match was as good as wrestling gets, and it wasn’t even the marquee event. I’m jaded. Pro wrestling was big back then, and I suppose it still is, particularly south of the
I know how much most of us want to keep things the way we remember, but I’ve come to realize that wishful thinking often makes little sense. Our world is in ceaseless motion, and if I didn’t know that with certainty, I do now after a recent trip to Las Vegas. For almost two decades, I have traveled to “Sin
The sign on the façade of the Cleveland Museum of Art tells me all I need to know. It reads: Picasso and Paper Inside, that’s what I saw — the work of artist Pablo Picasso on paper. It was worth my time, too. For no artist in history left more of himself on paper — or in ceramics and in
I don’t know of any artist who produced more than Pablo Picasso did. In all my travels, I can’t think of single museum I’ve gone to that didn’t have at least one of his works. I think about Picasso now because of an exhibition of his at the Cleveland Museum of Art. Now till March 23, the museum will highlight
I can’t forget the roles James Earl Jones played. The first that comes to mind is the boxer he played in “The Great White Hope.” A loose profile of the great Black heavyweight champ Jack Johnson, Jones captured Johnson in the fictional character (Jack Jefferson). Johnson’s life was fascinating: a Black man at the turn of the last century who
Nighttown didn’t survive. I heard the news from a friend Wednesday night, but I was unsurprised. I figured it wouldn’t. First silenced by the pandemic, Nighttown reopened its doors in November and promised to rekindle the music that had earned the once-popular nightspot in Cleveland Heights its reputation. It was supposed to combine great food with great music — jazz.
Maybe at one point his hair was blond, not white. But that was long before Phil Donahue corralled audiences for his daytime talk show in 1967 and turned them into faithful viewers. Donahue, who died Sunday night, wasn’t the first of his kind, but he hit the airwaves when talk shows like his weren’t omnipresent. Others followed. Think about them:
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