California Kid/Midwestern Heart

I'm proud to announce that my daughter Nicole Fribourg is a romance novelist. I asked her to write a brief guest post about her motivation.

It's been wonderful to have a foot in one state and a toe in another. I've always been an observer of people, curious about what makes them do what they do and think what they think. The Michigan blizzard of 1979 drove my parents to leave the Detroit area for sunny San Diego. I grew up 2,400 miles away from Detroit, but Vernor's ginger ale was always in our fridge and I know what a Boston Cooler is.

When my family visited Michigan in the summers, we always went by car. We drove across the California mountains, the Southwestern deserts, the Great Plains, the Midwest, and the Great Lakes region--often on the back roads off the interstate. We'd have an adventure of the sites, sounds, smells, and tastes along the journey--not to mention the many people we encountered.

This treasure trove of memories and images I use to create my characters to make them more textured and relatable to readers. I write through the lens of the experiences and the diverse people I've met along the way. My wish is that my books take readers on an entertaining journey to better understand themselves and their personal relationships.

 

Check out my latest romance novel: "Fixing Flynn"

For a list of my current novels, see my Amazon Author page: amazon.com/author/nicolefribourg 

Join my mailing list for information about my upcoming projects:   https://nicolefribourg.wixsite.com/nicolefribourg

FORNOLOGY Reaches One Million Hits

Photo credit: Nicole Fribourg

It took over nine years for my Fornology.com blog to reach one million hits at 2:45 pm, October 3, 2020. My first post was on May 3, 2011, since then I've written 460 posts on a variety of topics. My current goal is to reach 500 posts before I run out of sunlight. It should take me two or three more years.

Writing my Fornology blog over the past decade has been a joy. It has helped me build an audience for my books, establish my writing voice, and improve my editing skills. Another thing I like about blogging is it is a source of instant gratification when I get comments from readers.

But truthfully, the thing I most like about blogging is that it makes me appear smarter than I really am. I owe that to my wife Sue's proofreading help, and my ability to infinitely edit my posts to make them more correct.

Many thanks to all my readers. I appreciate everyone who reads and shares my posts. I could not have reached this milestone alone.

Detroit's Stroh's Brewing Company--With Its Days of Future Passed

Founder Bernhard Stroh

Avoiding the German Revolution of 1848, Bernhard Stroh emigrated to the United States with knowledge of the brewing trade from his father Georg Friedrich Stroh--landowner and inn keeper. He was taught the Pilzen method of brewing a light-lager beer. In 1850--at the age of twenty-eight--Stroh established his basement brewery operation in Detroit with a $150 investment. Immediately, he started brewing Bohemian-style lager beer in copper-clad kettles that promoted the carmelization of the wort--unfermented beer--that made the beer lighter without reducing the flavor.

Stroh's home and first brewery building

Stroh's beer was sold door-to-door in beer buckets from a wheelbarrow, but soon horse-drawn wagons would be delivering his authentic German beer across town in barrels. Bernhard Stroh expanded his business in 1865 and adopted the heraldic lion emblem from the Kyrburg Castle in Germany. The lion icon is still visible in Stroh's product labeling.

Oldest son Bernhard Stroh Jr. assumed leadership of the brewing business when his father died on June 28, 1882 at the age of 59. The company patriarch was buried at Elmwood Cemetery in Detroit, Michigan. Bernhard Jr. introduced pasteurization and refrigerated rail cars which increased the shelf-life of their product and broadened their markets. Stroh's became the Detroit area's signature beer.

In 1908, Julius Stroh took over the family business from his brother. After a celebrated tour of Europe's finest breweries, Julius introduced direct flame--rather than steam--to heat the copper kettles. The company motto became "America's Only Fire-Brewed Beer" and part of the brand's labeling.

Prohibition was tough on the beer brewing industry and many breweries closed across the country. Rather than shut down and abandon their loyal workers, the company diversified and made near-beer (non-alcoholic), soft drinks, and ice cream. It is not unlikely that Stroh's Brewery may have made specially-ordered batches of the Real McCoy for Detroit's vast Speakeasy network. The country may have been dry, but Detroit was awash in booze. After Prohibition, the business grew and Stroh's became a regional favorite.

What Detroiters recognize as Stroh's.

A statewide strike halted beer production in 1958 which gave national brands a foothold in the Michigan beer market. In the 1960s, the Stroh family wanted to move the company into the national arena. They bought the Goebel Brewing Company--their rival across the street--in 1964. This increased Stroh's brewing capacity and solved the company's short term growing pains. Some twenty years later, Stroh's was sold in seventeen states. They needed even more brewing capacity, so they bought Schaefer Brewing Company--that had recently gone belly-up in the Miller beer advertising wars.

Then in 1982, Stroh's bought the Schlitz Brewing Company to become America's third-largest brewer--producing many well-known brands like Goebel, Schaefer, Schlitz, Old Milwaukee, Colt 45, and many others. In 1985, the 135-year-old-brewery on the East Side was simply outdated and had no room to expand. The following year it was imploded--a better fate than many of Detroit's factory ruins.

The Stroh's company business plan was to buy up struggling breweries and drive up the company's market share. Stroh's $500 million heavy debt load to buy Schlitz weakened the company's financial position and left them cash poor to compete with the onslaught of Anheuser-Busch and Miller Brewing Company's national marketing campaigns.

In 1990, Coors moved past Stroh's as America's #3 brewer. Stroh's market share dropped 50%. Beer analysts felt that Stroh's came to the light-beer party late. In 1973, Miller Brewing created Miller Lite beer and used macho football players and "tough guys" like pulp-fiction author Mickey Spillane. Miller's "Tastes Great/Less Filling" debate was a stroke of marketing genius. The Budweiser Clydesdales were a potent marketing image for Stroh's to compete with as well.

From the beginning of the company, Stroh's catered to working-class tastes at working-class prices. But Joe Six-Pack had moved on. Beer marketing shifted away from the product and onto the drinker. Advertising slogans like "This Bud's for You" and "It's Miller time--You earned it!" had great appeal to blue-collar beer drinkers. Coors' Silver Bullet promotion was the last straw.

In 1999--unable to compete in the twenty-first century--the 149 year-old brewer closed, and its assets were broken up and sold for the sum of their parts to Pabst Brewing and Miller Brewing companies. Many of the Stroh's brands were discontinued or sold off to other companies. Pabst acquired the well-known brands Colt 45, Schlitz, and Old Milwaukee--Miller got Mickey's Malt Liquor and the Henry Weinhard's line of beers.


Today's Stroh's is produced by Miller Brewing Company. They don't use the special open-flame copper kettles, and the taste reflects the difference. The traditional Stroh's label read "America's Only Fire-Brewed Beer," but now it reads "America's Premium Brewed Beer."

As for the Stroh's family legacy, somehow the seventh generation has managed to lose over $700 million. Forbes magazine reports that by 2008, the family fortune was completely tapped out.

 

Detroit's Pfeiffer Brewery and Johnny Pfeiffer 

The Seven Deadly Sins: Then and Now

Parishoner receiving the sacrament of Confession.

Western Catholicism has always had trouble explaining the problem of evil in a world created by a benevolent god. Medieval theologians personified sin in the guise of Satan, an angel who rebelled against God and was cast from Heaven. It was Satan who unleashed sin upon the earth and poisoned men's minds. The struggle between obedience to God and a human beings' free will became the battleground for man's immortal soul. The stakes couldn't be higher--salvation or perdition.

Though not explicitly mentioned in the Bible, the Seven Deadly Sins became fundamental to Roman Catholic doctrinal and confessional practices in Medieval Europe. The Catholic church promoted the concept of the Seven Deadly Sins in church sermons and religious artwork encouraging the faithful to curb their sinful ways.

 

The origin of the Seven Deadly Sins is linked to the works of fourth-century Greek monk Evagrius Ponticus. One of his disciples--John Cassian--brought these categories to Europe and translated them into Latin--the common language of the Roman Catholic Church. The sins were Pride, Greed, Gluttony, Wrath, Envy, Sloth, and Lust.

Medieval priests studied the Seven Deadly Sins in penitential manuals training them to hear confessions. After a parishioner's admission of sin, priests assigned prayers for penance usually involving the recitation of Hail Marys and Our Fathers and an Act of Contrition before the priest would absolve your sins. Sometimes wealthy patrons made contributions to the church hoping to buy their way into heaven.

The Seven Deadly Sins were given popular expression during the Renaissance in Dante's Inferno (1320 AD), an anonymous writer's The Summoning of Everyman (1510), and Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus (1604). Each fictional treatment was a cautionary, morality tale.

Dante envisioned the nine circles of Hell in his Inferno. The lustful are condemned to the 2nd circle; the gluttonous are grouped in the 3rd circle; the greedy inhabit the 4th circle; and the wrathful are imprisoned in the 5th circle. Four of the nine circles are dedicated to the Seven Deadly Sins. Though Hell is never mentioned explicitly in the Bible, Dante and the clergy did not mind scaring it out of people.

After a lifetime of sinning, the main character in The Summoning of Everyman must make an accounting of his life which is sorely wanting. Everyman's eternal soul is not in a state of grace. Death summons Everyman, but Everyman is unprepared to face his judgement and tries to delay his fate. To make amends, he confesses his sins to a priest, does his penance, and is administered the Last Rites. All his worldly goods, his friends, and family give him no comfort in his time of greatest need. Only his Good Deeds follow Everyman to the grave. The moral, of course, is prepare in this life for the next.

The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus is the most subversive play of the period. Faustus is a heretical priest who dares to study the forbidden secrets of necromacy (conjuring demons). His excessive pride prompts him to brag that he has studied every subject and finds them all wanting. He denounces Logic as merely a tool for arguing; he proclaims that Medicine is useless unless it can conjure up the dead; he feels that the Law is mercenary and beneath him; and that Divinity is useless, which is blasphemy against God.

Corrupted by practicing the black arts, Faustus creates a magic circle and attempts to summon Satan. Instead, the devil Mephistophilis (sic) appears and strikes a deal with Faustus giving him magical powers for twenty-four years until he must surrender his soul. Faustus is introduced to the Seven Deadly Sins and lives a self-indulgent life until it is time to pay for his devil's bargain. His corrupted soul is drawn to the everlasting bonfire of Hell.

*** 

In our more secular age, the Seven Deadly Sins have lost their power to shock or discourage many wayward sinners, but they haven't lost their power to captivate the popular imagination and produce box office gold for filmmakers. Though many twentieth-century films clearly deal with the concept of sin and morality, the theme is often implied rather than expressed.

 

Dracula

One of the earliest Hollywood morality tales was the 1931 horror film Dracula, about a vampire who attacks godfearing humans and robs them of their souls. Lust and sacrilege are the movie's subtext as Dracula is hunted down and destroyed with a wooden stake driven through to his heart while in his coffin. This film made an international sex symbol of Hungarian Bela Lagosi, and it started the era of the Universal Pictures costume monsters.

 

Released nine months later, Frankenstein was another 1931 monster movie that left its mark on the moviegoing public. The film is about an ambitious scientist who dares to emulate God by creating a human life. Pride in his achievement is a direct affront to God. Dr. Frankenstein's transgression creates a monster that unleashes murder and mayhem upon the countyside.

 

This film helped promote the Hollywood cliche of the mad scientist. For his pursuit of the mysteries of life and death, Dr. Frankenstein goes insane. Costume monsters like Dracula and Frankenstein lost their power to scare audiences in the 1950s after Hollywood entered the post World War II era of the psychological thriller.

 

The movie that changed the horror genre forever was 1960's Psycho directed by Alfred Hitchcock. The film was groundbreaking for its unprecendented depiction of sex and violence which set a new standard of acceptability for feature films. The movie ended with a psychologist's evaluation of the killer's motivation and mental state. No attempt was made to provide any religious context for the audience, although the deadly sins of greed, lust, and wrath run throughout the film.

 

Janet Leigh in Psycho

Psycho viewers enjoyed the rush of jumping out of their seats screaming--especially during the famous shower scene. To offer guidance to their parishioners, the Catholic Legion of Decency gave the film a B rating for being "morally objectionable," but the public loved the film and long lines formed wherever it was shown. For a modest capital investment of $806,947, Psycho made $50 million dollars becoming one of the most profitable movies of its era.

 

 

The most explicit treatment of the Seven Deadly Sins in a modern movie is the film Seven--a psychological thriller starring Morgan Freeman, Brad Pitt, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Kevin Spacey. Serial killer John Doe drops clues at five murder sites, each resembling a different deadly sin. Two detectives frantically pursue the unknown serial killer before he acts on the final two deadly sins.

By committing horrific murders linked to the deadly sins, a religious zealot wants to incite the public to repent for their sins. John Doe wants to be known as a martyr in service to God's will, despite committing the mortal sin of murder repeatedly. This film had a $33 million dollar budget and earned $327.3 million dollars worldwide making it the fifth most popular American film of 1995. What the movie did for church attendance is unknown.

Today, the problem of evil with its enduring themes of sin and transgression are the stock in trade of writers and movie producers. Rather than morality lessons that lead people to God, these modern films are popular for their ability to thrill and entertain mass audiences.

 

Danse Macabre (Dance of the Dead) 

MAD Magazine Pulls the Plug on Alfred E. Neuman

Alfred E. Neuman

On the occasion of MAD magazine's final issue, the New York Times wrote that Mad was the "Irreverant Baby Boomer's Humor Bible." The publication had a glorious sixty-six-year run with 550 issues serving up a mixture of adolescent humor and social satire of pop culture, advertising, politics, and entertainment. MAD has been called the "class clown of American publishing."

Generations of kids loved MAD, much to the dismay of their parents. Television shows like The Simpsons, Monte Python and Saturday Night Live owe much to MAD and its legion of talented writers and artists, known collectively as "Our Usual Gang of Idiots." People like Mort Drucker, Don Martin, Frank Jacobs, Norman Mingo, Al Jaffee, and hundreds of other talented people over the magazine's long history.

People like Robert Crumb, creator of Zap Comix, standup comedian Jerry Seinfeld, film critic Roger Ebert, and musical satirist Weird Al Yankovic all were influenced by MAD. Upon learning of the magazine's demise, Weird Al tweeted, "I can't begin to describe the impact MAD magazine had on me as a young kid."

MAD originally launched as a comic book in 1952 and became a magazine in 1955. The format was changed in response to the United States Senate hearing to investigate the menace of comic books. The hysteria was based on the research of psychologist Fredric Wertham's best-selling book with the lurid title The Seduction of the Innocent, which purported that comic books contributed to "children's maladjustment." Comic books were banned and burned in some communities.

Look familiar?

The Comics Magazine Association of America was formed in 1954 by the comic book industry to avoid threatened government regulation, despite being a censorship First Amendment issue. The CEOs ran scared and formed the self-governing Comic Code Authority (CCA) and set up a series of standards before they would grant their Seal of Approval on a comic's front cover if it met the Authority's standards. Scenes of graphic violence, gore, sexual innuendo, and disrespect of police, government officials, politicians, celebrities, and respected institutions were banned. Satire, free speech, and political dissent were endangered.


MAD publisher William Gaines and editor Harvey Kurtzman were having none of it. They recreated their satiric comic book into a large format magazine in 1955 and avoided the CCA constraints which were limited specifically to comic books. MAD survived the comic book purges and protected its independence. By not accepting any advertising, the magazine was also freed from any conflicts of interest.

The new format allowed for larger, more complex illustrations, filmlike sequences, and expanded text. Recurring features like movie and television show parodies, "Spy vs. Spy," the fold-in on the back cover, "The Lighter Side," and MAD Libs were popular. Full page faux advertising appeared on the inside and rear covers mimicking ads found in upscale slick magazines. MAD became a runaway success and the second most successful magazine of the 1950s, second only to Hugh Hefner's Playboy magazine.

Original postcard image of the Idiot Kid.

Alfred E. Neuman's original likeness was found by editor Harvey Kurtzman in 1954 on an old postcard with the caption "ME WORRY?". The image of the "idiot kid" and his never-may care attitude stuck with Kurtzman. He asked master artist Norman Mingo to punch up the artwork with some minor details. Kurtzman also decided to change the motto slightly. Now it read "What, Me Worry?" Being a parody magazine made the blatant plagiarism less onerous one supposes.

Alfred E. Neuman's official cover debut was in 1956 as a write-in candidate for president. In the interest of full disclosure, Dwight David Eisenhower won that race, but Neuman became MAD's mascot and official trademark. The idiot kid with a head shaped like home plate, misaligned eyes, big ears, and gap-toothed smile was so iconic that once a letter bearing only Neuman's image without an address was delivered to MAD's offices on Madison Avenue in Manhattan.

MAD magazine shut down in April 2018. Times have changed and the magazine lost its audience to more modern forms of media entertainment. I'm gonna miss that idiot kid.

Ten Things the Comics Code Authority Banned

Danse Macabre (The Dance of the Dead)

Climax of Igmar Bergman's film The Seventh Seal.

The Danse Macabre was a religious allegory of the late Middle Ages calculated to turn men's thoughts to a Christian preparation for death. It was a reaction to the horrors of the 14th century's recurring famines, the Hundred Year War in France, and the scourge of the Black Death (plague). Millions of Europeans persished during this period. Estimates run as high as 50 million people or 60% of the population.

Produced by the church fathers as a "memento mori" to remind people that all human life is fragile and life's petty pleasures are fleeting, the Danse Macabre summons people from all stages and walks of life whether pope or layman, young or old, male or female, rich or poor. The universality of death is the great leveler that unites all.

Dutch Flagellants scourging themselves as penance.

The spectre of sudden death during this period of history increased the religious practice of saying penance and/or self-flagellation (whipping) by the faithful, but it also created a secular desire for amusement and diversion while people could still enjoy life's creature comforts. This expression of the struggle between the sacred and the profane played itself out in medieval society.

Outside of St. Peter and St. Paul Church in Lithuania.

Many paintings, book illustrations, and sculptures were commissioned by the Catholic Church to act as penitential lessons that even the illiterate majority could understand. Cathedrals often portrayed danse macabre images in sculptures adorning their exterior architecture.

The medieval morality play called The Summoning of Everyman was first performed in 1510 in front of church entrances to draw in the crowd. In the play, Everyman uses every argument he can to avoid his impending death before he gives up and seeks out the sacrament of the Last Rites. Only his good deeds go with him to the grave--a sober reminder to the faithful that worldly goods count for nothing in the next world.

The Pedlar from Hans Holbein's "Figure de la Morte." The pedlar seems to say, "I'm busy. Gotta run!" Death replies, "Not this day!"

Hans Holbein, the Younger created a series of forty-one woodcuts between 1523-1526 depicting the danse macabre morality tale. His work broadened the concept from its Catholic and Protestant origins into a more secular interpretation which eventually became the inspiration for Halloween.

On All Hallow's Eve (shortened to Halloween), the medieval Catholic church promoted the idea that the veil between the material world and the afterlife lifted. Annual harvest celebrations and village pageants drew revellers wearing masks and costumes dressed as corpses representing all strata of society. After a night of feasting and celebrating, a procession was led by priests to the church graveyard at midnight to lay flowers, leave votive candles, and pray for the souls of the dearly departed in preparation for fasting on All Saint's Day.

In Edgar Allen Poe's short story The Masque of the Red Death written in 1842, medieval Prince Prospero and his wealthy and influential friends attempt to outsmart Death during the plague by hiding out in the prince's abbey. The results are predictable and serve as a cautionary tale for our own time as we struggle with the corona virus and the predictability of human behavior.

 

The Seven Deadly Sins 

Terror In Ypsilanti Pilot in the Works

Available in softcover, ebook, and audio.

I received some good news in June that a Canadian media company I signed with in 2019 recently hired two women writers to develop a screenplay for Terror In Ypsilanti. They are working on a pilot as part of a package to promote a possible six-part miniseries to producers. This recent development is by no means a done deal, but it did raise my spirits when the doldrums of this pandemic were beginning to wear on me, so I thought I would share the news.

Longtime residents of Ypsilanti, Michigan may remember when a film crew from New York City rolled into town early in 1977 with Hollywood producer, director, and writer William Martin to film a movie about the Washtenaw County murders of 1967-1969.

Eastern Michigan University (EMU) freshman Karen Sue Beineman went missing on July 23, 1969 when she was last seen riding on the back of a motorcycle with a young, white male wearing a green and yellow striped soccer jersey and shorts. EMU senior John Norman Collins was arrested a week later. It was generally believed by authorities that Collins was the same person who had murdered six other young women in the area. It would be a year before the Beineman case went to trial in Ann Arbor, Michigan. 

Actor Robert Purvey on motorcycle and William Martin directing local actor Kathy Pierce.

William Martin's movie about the murders was named after the children's bedtime prayer Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. The production ran into trouble from the start. The first strike against it was Martin's script; he didn't have one. He filmed short segments without the cast on set or any predetermined locations. Martin was filming the establishing, exterior shots before the Hollywood studio work, he said.

The second strike was that William Martin was an alias for Teamster organizer Martin Bacow, who reincarnated himself in Hollywood when he was the Teamster's man in Tinsel Town. His only other film credit was something called Jacktown about the 1952 Jackson Prison riot, which was so bad it was never released.

The third strike against the project was when Martin/Bacow was subpoenaed to testify in Detroit Federal Court as a material witness regarding Jimmy Hoffa's disappearance. That's the last time the film crew saw or heard from William Martin. They packed up their rented equipment and returned to New York. This movie was never produced, nor does a single bit of film footage exist. The enterprise amounted to a scam to defraud investors. More on that story is in the link at the end of this post. 

My initial glee upon hearing about a possible Terror In Ypsilanti movie project is tempered by the seriousness of the subject matter. One of the standard provisions in my contract was signing away creative control. But the CEO of the media company asked if I'd be interested being a script consultant. Well, of course I would.

Original mugshot--August 2, 1969.

One concern I have about the project is how John Norman Collins will be portrayed. He drives the plot, but I feel he should remain a murky, anonymous figure throughout most of the series until he is unmasked towards the end. Rather than tell the story through his eyes, the screenplay writers are motivated to tell this story through the point of view of the victims, with a feminine sensibility rare in the true crime genre. 

The Ann Arbor and Detroit media sensationalized this tragedy and intimated that the victims were somehow responsibile for their own demise. Perhaps this attitude relected the media's need to make a morality tale out of this tragedy, but collateral harm was done to their friends and families. Times have changed in fifty years, so it is my belief that these portrayals will be more respectful.

Another concern I have is how Ypsilanti will be portrayed. The city was deeply affected by this tragedy and that story needs to be told with sensitivity too. I hope some of the exteriors for the movie will be filmed in Ypsilanti to give the project an authentic look and feel.

Undoubtedly, some people will find the project repugnant and won't be happy whatever the outcome of the film. I already know one person in Marquette Branch Prison who won't be pleased. I expect this project to take several years before it is ready for prime time, but I'm optimistic it will come to pass, unlike the Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep fiasco. Hope I live long enough to see it.

Whatever happened to Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep?