Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2005-07-14, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, JULY 14, 2005. PAGE 5. Other Views newspaper cartoon strip in of the course there’s Mr. Peanut gent I refer to? The elegant Consider, for a moment, the humble peanut. Not a pea. exactly...and technically not a nut either. A legume, actually, producing pods which ripen underground and give us crunchy seeds, edible oil and most divinely, my favourite self- contained food group: peanut butter. That’s not all we get from this unprepossessing little shrub. If it wasn’t for peanuts. Jimmy Carter would have been unemployed before he moved into the White House. Peanuts also gave us... well, Charles Schultzs Peanuts, the most-successful and longest running history. And then himself. You know chap sporting a shiny black stovepipe hat, a cane, white gloves and a monocle. So dashing. So debonaire. So....Fred Astaire - if Fred had the body of a peanut. Mr. Peanut is the hardest-working employee of Planters Nut. a division of Nabisco Corporation, and he’s been on the job for 89 years. He was the brainchild of young school kid named Antonio Gentile, who, back in 1916 won a logo contest sponsored by Planters. Antonio sent in a drawing that eventually evolved into the familiar, dapper figure we know as Mr. Peanut. The lad got five bucks for his efforts. The world got one of those rare capitalist icons that manages to transcend its grubby commercial origins to become a Household Name. Millions of neoDle around the world have pi Arthur Black warm and fuzzy feelings for Mr. Peanut, but Vincent Trasov? He’s a little more...intense. He became Mr. Peanut. For the Vancouver artist it started off innocently enough as a mere artistic diversion. Back in the late 60s he found himself being irresistibly drawn to all things peanutty. He began collecting peanut memorabilia - peanut cufflinks, a Planters Peanuts coffee mug, T shirts with peanuts printed on them. Presently he found himself making drawings, collages - even videos - all with a ‘peanut theme’. Then he saw a photograph of Mr. Peanut. Instantly, he knew his destiny. Over a period of months, the artist painstakingly constructed a full-sized papier mache Mr. Peanut costume, right down to the white gloves and the monocle. Victor Trasov donned the Mr. Peanut costume in 1969. He wore it, on and off for the next Five years. “When you’re dressed like a peanut, you don’t have an ego,” says Trasov. “1 could go down the street and give a performance in a top hat, monocle, spats, black leotards and tap shoes.” And he did. Mr. Trasov as Mr. Peanut tap danced his way into the pages of Esquire magazine. He was featured in Andy Warhol’s Interview. How about Mr. Peanut for premier? Trasov-as-Peanut became a downtown staple in the city ol Vancouver. He strolled through Granville Island to the delectation of the denizens. He posed for photographs with Japanese and American tourists in Gastown and Kitsilano. He even tap danced with a chorus line of vamps known as The Peanettes. “I became a living sculpture and the city was my canvas.” says Trasov proudly. And not just the city. Trasov went international. As Mr. Peanut, he strutted his stuff in California. Oregon. Washington and New York. The obsession grew. Mr. Trasov/Peanut developed political aspirations. In 1974. he launched a ‘Mr. Peanut for Mayor’ campaign in Vancouver. Dressed as his favourite legume, Trasov attended all-candidates meetings. He had lunch with the Vancouver Board of Trade. He became a local celebrity on B.C. radio and television. Perhaps it was his defeat at the polls, or maybe the cosfume just became too claustrophobic, but Victor Trasov outgrew his Mr. Peanut obsession. He’s still a well-known and successful Vancouver artist, but he’s making it without the props of a top hat, white gloves and a cane. A pity, really. A few more votes and Mr. Peanut could have been mayor of Vancouver. After that, who knows? An MP perhaps? Even premier of British Columbia? Don't laugh. This is a province that’s been led by the likes of Amor de Cosmos, Wacky Bennett, Bill Vander Zalm, and Glen Clark. Why not an actual nut for a change? Are reporters too cozy with politicians? Are reporters covering the legislature getting too cozy with politicians?15 Progressive Conservative leader John Tory, an MPP only a few months, invited members of the press gallery to_his cottage saying he wanted to get to know them better in more relaxed surroundings than news conferences and scrums. About a dozen of its 30 members went, had hamburgers and a few beers and chatted for three hours. The Conservatives drove some of them there and back. A web site run by senior Liberal insiders close to Premier Dalton McGuinty accused the reporters of putting themselves in a serious conflict of interest by this ‘coziness’ with Tory and helping the Conservative leader but not their readers. Its implication was reporters who accepted Tory’s hospitality would repay by favouring him in their writing and readers would lose nonpartisan reporting. But the most Tory could have hoped for was to break the ice so he and reporters could feel more at ease talking to each other - not much of an advantage. Reporters have faults and some have political biases, but they are not going to write more favourably about a politician because he served them a hamburger and a couple of beers. Some - this reporter was not among those who went — would have gone feeling a politician who knows them slightly may be more informative and they should be there in case he announces news. The bigger story is politicians entertaining media is very much in decline. McGuinty when opposition leader occasionally invited reporters to wine and cheese parties and lunches that cost more than Tory’s frugal offering In the 1960s. Conservative premier John Robarts threw parties for reporters and Eric Dowd From Queen's Park spouses at tasteful locations that included an art gallery and historic home. Robarts had an annual dinner for media, one remembered particularly because during it newspapers published first criticisms of his notorious ‘police state’ bill and he had to leave to defend it. Conservative Speakers had annual dinners to which media were invited in hotels flowing with booze, now watered down to sedate receptions with finger food and wine. The Conservatives invited reporters and their families every summer to tour Niagara Falls parks and dine in their most elegant restaurant. Reporters at the legislature and its Quebec counterpart felt the two provinces should understand each other and coaxed their premiers to pay for costly exchange visits for themselves and their spouses. The Conservative government also took reporters and MPPs on a week-long tour viewing northern problems, on a private train slocked with enough food and drink to keep them happy if they got snowed in for the winter, from Toronto to Moosonee, where they flew off in small planes to sample the hardships of wilderness fishing. Tory premier William Davis held.receptions for reporters at his home and sent them family passes to the entertainment centre Ontario Place until his office held back one reporter’s, hoping he would phone so it could rebuke him for something he wrote, and the bad publicity forced it to cancel them Davis gave a lavish dinner for reporters in a ritzy hotel when he retired, but when Mike Harris left as Tory premier, relations had deteriorated so the gallery had to invite him for a last drink. The tradition of politicians lavishly entertaining media has almost vanished, which is just as well, because it created a perception they could be bought. The bigger parties around the legislature are now given by the media, whose Christmas party and silent auction, with cash bar, last year raised $33,000 for charities. A good example among many of reporters not protecting political friends was that of Chris Stockwell, a Conservative who as Speaker had many dealings with reporters and was the politician closest to them in recent years. But when Stockwell became a minister and spent public money extravagantly on a foreign trip, reporters cast aside friendship and fell on him like a pack of wolves— getting to know a politician does not mean loving him. Letters Policy The Citizen welcomes letters to the editor. Letters must be signed and should include a daytime telephone number for the purpose of verification only. Letters that are not signed will not be printed. Submissions may be edited for length, clarity and content, using fair comment as our guideline. The Citizen reserves the right to refuse any letter on the basis of unfair bias, prejudice or inaccurate information. As well, letters can only be printed as space allows. Please keep your letters brief and concise. Wonder in learning Q Te cau£ht crayfish. This is the %/%/ first time 1 learned about ▼ ▼ crayfish.” Lifting a very sleepy five-year-old out of the car, on his return from an exciting lakeside outing he and a young friend had taken with Grandpa. I was enchanted by his response to my question on what he had done that day. That it had been an amazing thing to him was evident. Heavy lids lifted in wide-eyed wonder when he thought of this new experience and despite the heavy exhaustion that ends a busy day of adventure, you could hear the magic in his voice. His world that day, had just gotten a little wider. After getting him tucked in, 1 had a quiet moment to think about what he'd said and how he felt. And I couldn’t help asking myself when the last time was that I’d felt the same. Though every day of existence can teach me a thing or two, I think I’ve come to lake it all a little for granted. For a child, life here on earth is a pretty amazing place, full of surprise and learning. Watching a creepy caterpillar climb a blade of grass can definitely pique ingenuous curiosity. Making the jump later to believing that the beautiful butterfly floating gracefully through the air is one and the same, however, means there’s an even bigger puzzle to ponder. Every corner of the world, every season is a lesson. Every challenge, every mistake is a test. Each requires thought or action and brings knowledge that helps a child grow. Of course, by the time adolescence hits we know everything — everything that is, except the fact that there’s still a lot to learn. It’s this time when our priorities can get a little muddled, when hormones and hedonism dominate and the idea of schooling on any level is challenged. There are the stalwart who continue to find pleasure in absorbing more knowledge, but even then the goal is generally practical. Concerns for their future, dreams of a challenging career drive them. The fascination of discovering something new is not as it once was. By the time we’re adults, we acquire knowledge and information by necessity, taking what we must have and otherwise just going along with what we know. We’re smart enough to know that old adage claiming you learn something new every day is usually true, but if that knowledge isn’t useful, we’re likely to dismiss it quickly. Our clogged old brains can only handle so much. It’s important, therefore, to not get too complacent about our education. Lifelong learning is not only possible but valuable. It keeps the mind sharp. And it should be fun. Wouldn’t it be nice if rather than chalk up one more lesson matter- of-factly, we could generate the kind of child­ like enthusiasm that could pull you out of exhaustion, that gave you such a sense of awe it was the first thing you wanted to talk about at the end of a day full of activity? While with age comes wisdom, it was my little grandson who was the smart one the other day. It was as if he understood that this is a big place in which he lives, and its diversity and questions are endless. On his face that night, I saw the acknowledgement that there are so many things he has yet to discover, as well as the pleasure of his latest discovery. I' was as if he understood that learning about this big old world is going to be lots of fun, and this is just the start.