President Barack Obama and Vice President Joe Biden join hands during a prayer at the end of an immigration reform meeting with faith leaders in the Oval Office, Nov. 13, 2013.
10:05AM THE PRESIDENT and THE VICE PRESIDENT receive the Presidential Daily Briefing
10:50AM THE PRESIDENT and THE VICE PRESIDENT meet with Faith Leaders
3:30PM THE PRESIDENT delivers remarks at the 2013 Tribal Nations Conference at the Department of Interior
4:30PM THE PRESIDENT and THE VICE PRESIDENT meet with Secretary of State Kerry
5:15PM THE PRESIDENT and THE VICE PRESIDENT meet with Secretary of Defense Hagel
The Seals joined the Pacific Coast League in its initial year of operation in 1903 and lasted until the end of the 1957 season, when the New York Giants moved to San Francisco.
Originally known as the Stars, San Francisco's first PCL game was played at a stadium called Rec Park. They won 7-3 over a team called the Portlands. In 1906, the team was renamed the Young Americans and they wore red, white and blue baseball caps. The 1906 earthquake destroyed Rec Park and caused the PCL to suspend operations for two weeks, since league offices were in San Francisco. When the league resumed play three weeks later, the team had switched back to gray caps. Another Rec Park was built in 1907. The team became known as the Seals in 1909 and won their first PCL pennant that year, guided by manager Danny Long, pitchers Cack Henley and Pete Browning and sluggers Ping Bodie and Nick Williams.
The Seals' teams of the early 1910's started off well, but eventually fell out of contention. In 1914, the team moved for one season to Ewing Field. Ewing Field proved to be too windy and foggy for most fans and attendance fell off sharply. You can view a picture of Ewing Field by going to the Library of Congress Search Engine and typing in Ewing Field.
1914 was also the year that there were briefly two teams in San Francisco as the Sacramento team played their last 56 games in SF before moving back to Sacramento the next season.
The team was sold to Henry Berry of Los Angeles and he moved the team back to Rec Park for the 1915 season. The Seals had an informal working agreement with the Detroit Tigers that year and it was instrumental in helping the Seals win the PCL pennant that season.
The 1917 Seals also won the PCL title, with a team that stole 385 bases. The Seals that same year also signed a pitcher named Francis Joseph (later known as "Lefty") O' Doul. O'Doul of course would later become one of the most famous Seals in their history. The 1917 and 1918 PCL seasons were shortened, due to WWI. In 1918, Berry (who had incurred substantial debts) sold the team to three people: Charlie Graham, Dr. Charles Strub, and George Putnam. The 1919 season was considered a transitional one, as the team finished fifth.
The 1920's saw some of the greatest teams the Bay Area ever had. The Seals won pennants in 1922, 1923, 1925 and 1928. The Oakland Oaks won pennants in 1926 and 1927. The Seals had four players during this decade that later became Hall of Famers. The Seals' 1922 team had a team batting average of .298. The 1923 team had Paul Waner who helped lead them to the league title. Waner hit .369 and the 1923 team had a team batting average of .319. Waner played two more seasons for the Seals and later had a Hall of Fame career in the majors.
The 1925 Seals team was one of the best PCL teams of all-time. They had four 20-game winners on their pitching staff and won the pennant by 12 1/2 games. In 1928, led by outfielders Smead Jolley, Earl Averill and Ray Johnsohn, the Seals won their last pennant of the decade. All three outfielders wound up playing in the majors in 1929.
San Francisco for several years in the 1920s and 30s had two minor league teams. The Mission Reds , or "Bells," as they were also known moved to San Francisco from Vernon (LA) in 1926 and stayed until 1937. They played in Rec Park and later Seals Stadium when the Seals were on the road. Seals Stadium in fact had three clubhouses, one for the Seals, one for the visiting team and one for the Mission team. They won the PCL regular season title in 1929, but lost in the playoffs to Hollywood (who later moved to San Diego). Their teams usually had great hitters, like Ike Boone (.380 in 1926 and .407 in 1929), Ox Eckhardt (.369 in 1931) and Mark Koenig (.335 in half a season in 1932), but poor pitching caused the team to finish in the second division during most of their tenure. As a result, the team never really attracted the same amount of fans that came to watch the Seals. The poor attendance eventually doomed the team, causing their move to Hollywood after the 1937 season where they became the "new" Hollywood Stars.
The Seals moved from Rec Park to the newly built Seals Stadium in 1931. However, the early years of the Depression hurt attendance at Seals games. The Depression caused many minor leagues to fold somehow the PCL managed to survive. By this time, the Seals were now solely owned by Graham. The balance of power shifted away from the Bay Area the Seals did win pennants in 1931 and 1935, but spent the other years as also-rans. The 1931 pennant winners had a team batting average of .319.
A 17-year-old named Joe DiMaggio was signed at the end of the 1932 season and played three games at shortstop, on the recommendation of Joe's older brother Vince. In 1933, DiMaggio hit safely in 61 games, an all-time professional baseball record that still stands. He was sold to the Yankees after the 1934 season, but allowed to play with the Seals in 1935. That same year, Lefty O' Doul was hired to return to and manage the Seals. He would remain through 1951. DiMaggio and O'Doul led the Seals to their last pennant of the decade. The Seals the rest of the decade were an entertaining if not totally successful team.
WWII affected baseball as thousands of players enlisted or were inducted into military service. Night games were limited for fear that enemy planes might use the lighted ballparks as easy targets. The early 40s were a difficult time as players would leave at any time to be part of the war effort. The 1943 season was cut to 155 games, instead of the customary 200 or so games. The Seals' teams during WWII finished fifth, second, third and fourth respectively. In 1946, the Seals had a new co-owner, Paul Fagan who eventually bought the team outright from Charlie Graham.
Seals Stadium in 1949 (Picture from 1949 SF Seals yearbook)
They also won their next to last pennant that year, led by pitcher Larry Jansen's 30 wins. The 1947 team tied the Los Angeles Angels for the league championship, forcing a one-game playoff the Angels won. In 1948, the Seals battled the Oaks for the title, with the "Nine Old Men" of Oakland (plus a young Billy Martin and manager Casey Stengel) eventually winning the pennant. During the late 1940's, the PCL lobbied major league baseball to be elevated to major league status. While the PCL was given the classification "AAAA" (as opposed to triple A), or "open," that's as close as the PCL ever got to becoming a major league.
In 1950, Fagan decided to ban peanut sales at Seals' games. This caused quite an uproar and Fagan "unbanned" them the next day. Adding to Fagan's woes were that the Seals' team of the early 1950's were less talented. O'Doul was fired in 1951, after the Seals finished eighth. The 1952 and 1953 teams did a little better but not much. In 1953, Fagan sold the Seals to the league for $100,000. Damon Miller, Fagan's secretary and GM was appointed by the league as President/conservator of the team. Miller agreed to form a corporation to raise the necessary cash to continue to operate. Seals' employees and eventually fans all bought shares in the team, which came to be known as "The Little Corporation."
The 'corporation' however lasted only two years. In 1956, the Seals entered into a working agreement with the Boston Red Sox. In 1957, led by manager Joe Gordon, infielders Grady Hatton and Pumpsie Green, and outfielder Albie Pearson, the Seals won their final PCL title. After the season, the Seals team and the New York/SF Giants AAA team in Minneapolis swapped franchises, with the Seals team moving to Phoenix and becoming a Giants farm team.
Seals Stadium was used by the Giants for two seasons and then was demolished after the 1959 season. A large Safeway shopping center now stands at the site of the old Seals' stadium.
Since the Seals were disbanded, the Giants have occasionally honored Lefty and the PCL. They held a "Lefty O'Doul Day" before a 1966 game. In 1994, the Oakland Musuem hosted an exhibit called "Hits, Runs and an Era" about the PCL glory days. In 2000, the Giants honored the Seals' memory by building a San Francisco Seals' statue near the east entrance to Pac Bell (now AT&T) Park. Before a late season game in 2008, the Giants held "Pacific Coast League Tribute Night" and gave out Lefty O'Doul bobbleheads to a select group of fans.
PCL Pennant Winners
The Seals won the PCL title in the following years: 1909, 1915, 1917, 1922, 1923, 1925, 1928, 1931, 1935, 1946, and 1957.
Day 298 – The Prince of Darkness
I updated the About Me page with a biography about my experienced growing up. It talks a little bit about my past as well as how I came to realized that I was transgender. I will be making a factual timeline detailing the different steps in my transition. I hope you enjoy this photo taken when I was 2 year old with Scooby-doo in Disney World. He was one of my absolute favorites.
Edit: Turns out the photo was taken in Universal Studios, NOT Disney. Silly me. x.x
7 responses to &ldquoDay 298 – The Prince of Darkness&rdquo
Such an adorable picture. But what was Scooby-doo doing at Disney World?
The new about page is wonderful.
You know, that is a really good question. I guess things were different back in 1991.
Yeah, things got different the day I was born in 1991, sugarlump. The stars aligned and my mother pushed me into the world. I was born with one red eye- a sign, perhaps, that I was going to have an eye for a certain ginger. Hurrhurr.
Love your About page. It’s awesome! Almost made me cry. Almost. w
Hate to disappoint you, but that’s not Disney world.
Hanna-Barbara/Warner Brothers would never allow nor licence their properties to Disney. On the other hand they are associated with the 6 Flags amusement parks and in 1991 they opened a brand new attraction at UNIVERSAL STUDIOS FLORIDA (aka: Orlando), featuring Scooby-Doo.
My mistake. I was looking through my moms old photos and it was in a folder titled Disney, it makes sense that we also went to universal while we were there.
Love the update in the about me section…I feel like many people are hesitant to show pics of their “old self” but it really gives great perspective to one’s transition (I think so, anyway). Thanks for sharing and I enjoy your blog!
Thanks Tracy. I think it is important to embrace who we once where rather than be ashamed by it. If society doesn’t see trans people in public, it is never going to be able to understand and accept us.
In Sanchez v. Smart Fabricators of Texas, LLC, 970 F.3d 550, a three-judge panel of the United States Fifth Circuit Court of Appeal held on August 14, 2020, that seaman status under the Jones Act may apply to an injured welder on a jack-up oil rig adjacent to an inland pier. Maintaining that the plaintiff qualified as a seaman under controlling Fifth Circuit precedent but questioning that precedent in light of Supreme Court case law, the panel urged the Fifth Circuit to review the case en banc.
Smart Fabricators of Texas (“SmartFab”) fabricates steel and repairs oil and gas drilling equipment. Its employees work at its shop and yard and occasionally on jacked-up drilling rigs, often docked to inland piers. Gilbert Sanchez, a welder-fitter employed by SmartFab, never went to sea on vessels. He worked day shifts and returned home every evening. In August 2018, while working on a rig owned by Enterprise Offshore Drilling, LLC (“Enterprise”), Sanchez was injured when he tripped on a pipe welded to the deck. Sanchez was never an Enterprise employee or a member of the rig’s crew. The rig was jacked up out of the water with its legs on the seabed. It was stationary, a step away from the shoreside pier.
After his accident, Sanchez sued Enterprise and SmartFab in state court under the Jones Act, 46 U.S.C. § 30104. Enterprise and SmartFab removed the case arguing the federal court’s subject matter jurisdiction pursuant to the Outer Continental Shelf Lands Act (“OCSLA”), 43 U.S.C. § 1349(b)(1). Sanchez v. Enterprise Offshore Drilling LLC, 376 F.Supp. 3d 726 (S.D. Tex 2019). Sanchez responded by dismissing his claims against Enterprise and moved to remand, arguing the Jones Act precluded removal. Id. at 728. The district court acknowledged that a defendant generally cannot remove a case brought pursuant to the Jones Act in state court. Id. at 729. However, a district court can deny remand if, after conducting a “summary-judgment-type” of inquiry, in which the court pierces the pleadings, it determines the plaintiff’s complaint “misstated or omitted discrete facts.” Id. (quoting Flagg v. Stryker Corp., 819 F.3d 132, 136-37 (5th Cir. 2016)). In conducting this “summary-judgment-type” of inquiry, the district court found that Sanchez was a shoreside worker whose duties did not take him to sea and did not regularly expose him to the perils of the sea. Id. at 733. Holding that he did not qualify as a Jones Act seaman, the district court denied his motion to remand. Subsequently, SmartFab moved for and was granted summary judgment. Sanchez v. Enterprise Offshore Drilling LLC, 2019 WL 2515307 (Jun. 18, 2019).
On appeal, Sanchez argued that he qualified as a Jones Act seaman. The three-judge panel reversed the district court, considering itself bound by previous Fifth Circuit opinions that it deemed indistinguishable. However, in a special concurrence, the entire panel maintained that Sanchez did not qualify as a Jones Act seaman under Supreme Court precedent. Identifying a divergence between the Fifth Circuit and the Supreme Court on the issue, the panel recommended taking the case en banc.
Under the Supreme Court’s two-pronged seaman test from Chandris v. Latsis, the employee (1) “must contribute to the function of the vessel or to the accomplishment of its mission” and (2) “must have a connection to a vessel in navigation (or an identifiable group of such vessels) that is substantial in terms of both its duration and nature.” 515 U.S. 347, 354 (1995). The parties agreed that Sanchez satisfied the first prong but disagreed about the second, which considers the duration and nature of the worker’s duties.
To satisfy the duration requirement, the plaintiff must spend over 30% of his time in service of a vessel. Id. at 370. The panel agreed with the district court that Sanchez satisfied the duration requirement because he spent over 70% of his work on one rig and over 19% on another rig. 970 F.3d at 553-54.
The nature test considers “whether the employee’s duties take him to sea.” Harbor Tug & Barge Co. v. Papai, 520 U.S. 548, 555 (1997). It restricts seaman status to “workers who face regular exposure to the perils of the sea.” Id. at 560.
The panel held that Sanchez met the nature test because his case was indistinguishable from two prior Fifth Circuit cases: In re Endeavor Marine, 234 F.3d 287 (5th Cir. 2000) (per curiam) and Naquin v. Elevating Boats, L.L.C., 744 F.3d 927 (5th Cir. 2014). The plaintiff in Endeavor Marine worked on a moored derrick barge on the Mississippi River. Id. at 298. The plaintiff in Naquin worked on lifeboats that were either moored, jacked up, or docked in a shipyard canal. Id. at 930. Both plaintiffs were seaman under the nature test, and the panel could not distinguish Sanchez’s case. Based on the controlling precedent, Sanchez was exposed to the perils of the sea even when the vessel was jacked up next to a dockside pier. Although he was a land-based welder, he remained exposed to the perils of a maritime work environment while aboard the drilling rigs. 970 F.3d at 555.
In the special concurrence, the entire panel explained that, while they were bound by Endeavor Marine and Naquin, they were persuaded that those cases are inconsistent with Supreme Court precedent. 970 F.3d at 555. The Supreme Court explained in Chandris that “the ultimate inquiry is whether the worker in question is a member of the vessel’s crew or simply a land-based employee who happens to be working on the vessel at a given time.” 515 U.S. at 370.
Thus, the special concurrence explained that Sanchez should not qualify as a Jones Act Seaman because he “was a land-based fitter and welder whose duties did not take him to sea.” 970 F.3d at 555. Sanchez “was never assigned to sail on the vessel, and instead only had to take two steps off the rig and onto land every evening at the end of his shift. His work was essentially land-based, never exposing him to the perils of the sea.” Id. at 557. Thus, the panel recommended taking the case en banc to “bring our jurisprudence in line with Supreme Court caselaw.” Id. The panel consisted of Circuit Judges Davis, Jones, and Willett, and both the decision and concurrence were authored by Judge Davis.
On October 30, 2020, the Court issued an order vacating the panel decision and setting the case for en banc review. At this time, the case is set for en banc oral argument the week of January 18, 2021. An en banc decision could affirm the Fifth Circuit’s historical construction of the Jones Act, preserving seaman status to a wider category of maritime workers. Alternatively, the full court could reverse twenty years of circuit precedent and restrict the legal remedies available to certain maritime workers with only limited risk of exposure to the perils of the sea.
Disclaimer: This Blog/Web Site is made available by the law firm of Liskow & Lewis, APLC (“Liskow & Lewis”) and the individual Liskow & Lewis lawyers posting to this site for educational purposes and to give you general information and a general understanding of the law only, not to provide specific legal advice as to an identified problem or issue. By using this blog site you understand and acknowledge that there is no attorney client relationship formed between you and Liskow & Lewis and/or the individual Liskow & Lewis lawyers posting to this site by virtue of your using this site. The Blog/Web Site should not be used as a substitute for legal advice from a licensed professional attorney in your state regarding a particular matter.
3 Answers 3
Try adding both [System.Web.Services.WebMethod] and [System.Web.Script.Services.ScriptMethod] to the server side GetCurrentTime method.
Also make sure your script manager has EnablePageMethods="True" . Your question states you set EnablePageMethod=true which is incorrectly spelled (should be plural).
You need to fail the click event handler to prevent the postback/page submit.
You have to make sure that the button does not post back when calling a PageMethod from client-side. With your current markup, it will post back and cause unexpected effects.
You should be using the following markup for button, so it never posts back. Then the call to pagemethod should work. In markup below the button click event is returning a false value, so the page never gets submitted i.e. posted back.
Also, it would be best if you post your page markup in full, since there may be an issue with the markup.
Mountlake Terrace -- not to be confused with "Montlake" and no longer to be simply called "Terrace" -- began life as a speculator's dream. In 1949, developer Albert LaPierre and his partner, Jack Peterson, bought an abandoned airstrip on logged-over land about 12 miles north of Seattle, just over the Snohomish County line, and began filling it with 640-square-foot cinder-block houses, priced at $4,999 and aimed at World War II veterans with young families. They named their development Mountlake Terrace because from some parts of the property they could see both Mount Rainier and Lake Washington, and the old runway looked a little like a terrace. Buyers snapped up the modest houses as fast as they could be built. By 1954, when Mountlake Terrace was incorporated, it was one of the fastest-growing communities in Washington state. The growth stalled in the late 1970s, however. A quintessential suburb, designed for the automobile, Mountlake Terrace has struggled to redefine itself in recent years, with controversial efforts to create a more centralized, pedestrian-friendly "downtown."
Mountlake Terrace lies within the traditional homelands of the Snohomish people but the Indians spent most of their time in cedar longhouses along Puget Sound and the Snohomish River, to the west, at what would become the cities of Edmonds, Mukilteo, and Everett. The future site of Mountlake Terrace was in an area that tended to be used only for summer forays to hunt, gather berries, and dig roots.
The land was still thickly forested when it was acquired by the Puget Mill Company, a division of the Pope & Talbot Company of San Francisco, as part of a 17,000-acre purchase in 1862. Puget Mill eventually became one of the largest landowners in the Puget Sound region, controlling nearly 150,000 acres of timberlands and operating large sawmills at Port Gamble, Port Ludlow, and Utsalady.
By the early 1900s, most of the land in south Snohomish County had been logged off. Instead of letting the "stump ranches" revert to the county in lieu of taxes, Pope & Talbot subdivided it into 10-acre "chicken ranches." A few farmers moved into the area to raise chickens, minks, and chinchillas. The completion of the interurban rail line between Tacoma and Everett in 1910 encouraged settlement by people who could commute to jobs in Seattle, to the south, or Everett, to the north, while raising livestock and produce at home. However, many of those small farms failed during the Depression of the 1930s. The abandonment of the interurban in 1939 brought a temporary end to any further development.
Jack Peterson (1904-1996) and his partner, Albert L. LaPierre (1907-1989) went into business together in the late 1940s. Peterson, a native of Saskatchewan, had moved to Detroit, Michigan, at age 16 to build Model Ts. Later he learned the bricklayer’s trade. He brought those skills with him when, in the early 1930s, he hopped a freight to Seattle to find work. An innovative builder, he eventually formed a partnership with LaPierre, described as an imaginative developer and organizer. "Neither seemed to know or care much about the other’s specialty, but together they made a formidable team as Peterson-LaPierre, Inc.," Allan May wrote in Snohomish County: An Illustrated History (298).
The two completed a few small developments in north King County after the end of the war, but the increasing cost of land and building permits drove them north, into Snohomish County. In 1949, they bought land just north of present-day 244th Street SW and east of today’s I-5, named it, platted it, and began building simple, two-bedroom houses, on concrete slabs, measuring 20 by 30 feet.
Peterson developed a construction model that resembled an assembly line. One crew prepared the site, laid the foundation, and put in the plumbing (which was embedded in the houses’ concrete floors) another put up the exterior concrete-block walls a third did the interior walls and put on the roof. Interior painting and landscaping was left to the new homeowners. A row of houses could be completed within a few weeks. They were tiny, even by the standards of that era, but "they were warm and dry and much better than the garages and basements where so many of the veterans had lived while they hunted for something better" (O’Donnell et al., 299).
With the economy booming and the demand for housing soaring, the houses sold faster than they could be built. Peterson-LaPierre bought more land and started building somewhat larger houses, but assembly line techniques and economies of scale kept their prices lower than those of their competitors, and buyers snapped up those houses, too.
By 1954, there were 5,104 people living in a square-mile area bounded by 244th and 216th Streets SW and 48th and 68th Avenues W. The average age of the adults was 26 and nearly all of the families included preschool age children. The rapid growth had overwhelmed the development’s infrastructure. People had to wait a year to have a telephone installed, and then it was on a party line, shared with nine other families. There were no paved streets, no sewers, an inadequate water system, only a volunteer fire department, and the nearest police department was in Everett, 15 miles away.
For Patrick McMahan (1930-2013), a young firefighter with the Seattle Fire Department who lived in Mountlake Terrace, the final straw came one summer night when someone tried to break into his house while he was on duty in Seattle. His wife called the sheriff’s office. No one responded until 4 p.m. the next afternoon.
McMahan eventually organized the Mountlake Terrace Study Committee, which led a campaign to incorporate the community. The issue was a contentious one. Opponents included developers, who objected to the prospect of tougher building codes, and homeowners who were worried about higher taxes. "We were just afraid it would cost us more money," recalled JoAnne Gossett, who with her husband Bill, bought the third house to be built in what became Mountlake Terrace’s first neighborhood, in 1949 (The Seattle Times, December 3, 2003). The Gossetts were among the 483 people who voted against incorporation, in an election held on November 23, 1954. They were outvoted, by a margin of 34 out of exactly 1,000 votes cast.
Voters chose a five-person city council at the same election. The council had its first meeting on November 24 and selected Gilbert "Gil" Geiser (1919-1987), a 35-year-old hardware store owner, as Mountlake Terrace’s first mayor. Geiser had to lend the new city $5 so the incorporation papers could be filed. With the filing, on November 29, Mountlake Terrace officially became a third-class city.
Mountlake Terrace’s population doubled between 1950 and 1960 and then nearly doubled again by 1970. Small businesses flourished in two strip-mall-type shopping centers located in the middle of town, on land donated by Peterson-LaPierre. The developers also donated land for several churches, including the parish of St. Pius X, which celebrated its first mass on June 22, 1955. By year’s end, five masses were being celebrated each Sunday to accommodate the growing number of young families drawn to the area by the inexpensive housing.
Cheap land also drew a few employers, such as the John Fluke Corporation, which moved its large electronics facilities from Seattle to Mountlake Terrace in 1959. Two years later, voters approved a bond issue to build a City Hall in the fledgling town center. Washington Sen. Henry M. "Scoop" Jackson (1912-1983) attended the dedication ceremony, which then-Mayor Frank Hammer described as "a big event and a proud moment for the community" (City of Mountlake Terrace website).
In the 1970s, however, the growth stalled. Like the rest of the Puget Sound region, Mountlake Terrace was impacted by the "Boeing Bust," in which three out of four Boeing employees lost their jobs. The local business district, already economically wobbly, lost further ground after the opening of Alderwood Mall in neighboring Lynnwood in 1979. The 1980 census showed that Mountlake Terrace’s population had dropped by almost 5 percent in 10 years. Then, in 1981, the Fluke Corporation relocated to Everett. The city budget was trimmed and trimmed again and even so, Mountlake Terrace entered 1989 with a $1.3 million deficit.
An additional blow came in 1990, when arson fires severely damaged the two shopping centers in the heart of Mountlake Terrace’s business district, at the intersection of 56th Avenue W and 232nd Street SW. A local resident, James Schmitt, later confessed to setting those fires and 11 others, during an arson spree that began on July 30, 1990, and didn’t end until April 25, 1991. West Plaza, built in the early 1960s and home to four businesses, reopened 20 months later. But East Plaza, which had housed seven businesses, was demolished and replaced with a gymnastics center. The Summers Plaza Drug Store, the Ben Franklin five-and-dime, and Wilner’s department store -- local enterprises that had contributed to Mountlake Terrace’s small town ambience -- were among the victims. "It took the pizzazz out of the downtown corridor," Councilman John Zambrano said (The Seattle Times, April 7, 2006)
Mountlake Terrace struggled to find a footing in the years after the fires. Residents valued the community’s largely residential character, but declining business-tax revenues left the city chronically strapped for cash. With neither the shopping amenities of Lynnwood nor the tourist attractions of Edmonds, city officials tried to sell the convenience of Mountlake Terrace’s location, tucked next to I-5 in the heart of the Puget Sound region. But there was little agreement on the best path to the future.
City council meetings became so contentious that there was talk of hiring an expert on parliamentary procedure to try to ensure that council members treated each other with a modicum of civility. Several of them sued each other. One particularly outspoken member of the council, restaurant owner Angela Amundson, finally quit in 2008, midway through her second term, saying she was tired of "personal attacks" that included a temporary restraining order filed against her by Councilwoman Michelle Robles. In her resignation letter, Amundson took a parting shot at her council colleagues, saying "Your desperate, petty, most of the time unethical and probably illegal efforts to stop my legislative efforts have left me feeling embarrassed by you and ashamed of you" (The Seattle Times, January 30, 2008).
Council members argued about everything from the management of a teen center to the number of cars that could be parked in residents’ yards, but the most divisive issue involved the city center. A product of the automobile age, Mountlake Terrace had never had a traditional "downtown," with busy sidewalks lined with shops. What it had instead were strip malls and parking lots. In the years after the arson fires, some members of the council began pushing for zoning changes to encourage a more urban, pedestrian-friendly city center. Several consultants’ reports were debated and shelved a number of plans were considered and rejected.
Meanwhile, in one effort to "improve the image of the town," the council approved a resolution that all elected officials and employees of Mountlake Terrace pronounce and spell the city’s name correctly: Mountlake, with a "u." And definitely not simply "Terrace." (Headline writers, especially in sports sections, tended to ignore the edict, and Mountlake Terrace High School remained widely known as "Terrace High.")
In 2006, the council again took up the issue of the city center. As a first step, it unanimously approved design standards requiring that new developments be built with wide sidewalks, lots of windows, awnings, and interesting architectural details. In November, it began considering a more controversial proposal, to rezone a three-block area to permit mixed-use buildings up to 10 stories tall, a dramatic increase over the existing three-story limit.
Councilman John Zambrano, who favored the plan, said a consultant had predicted 870 new jobs would be created if building heights were raised to 10 stories. Critics, including Angela Amundson, said residents had never asked for such large-scale change. After months of stormy debate, during which the council officially reprimanded both Zambrano and Mayor Jerry Smith for "negative actions," a compromise was adopted. A new city center plan, adopted in February 2007, allows mixed-use buildings of up to seven stories in the central block and up to five stories in surrounding blocks.
City planners do not anticipate that Mountlake Terrace will grow much beyond its current population of about 20,800. The comprehensive plan forecasts that the city will use up its remaining residential space by 2012. But a new Community Transit center, to be completed by the end of 2009 at Mountlake Terrace's entry to I-5, will make it easier for both visitors and residents to reach the city.
Mountlake Terrace today bears little resemblance to the housing development that was planted by Peterson-LaPierre in 1949. The community has grown from one square mile to four and from an exclusively white suburb into one in which one-quarter of the population is black, Asian, or Hispanic. Premera Blue Cross has replaced the Fluke Corporation as the town’s largest employer. More than 2,400 people work at Premera’s headquarters in Mountlake Terrace -- nearly half the total number of people living here when the city was incorporated. The septic tanks are long gone, and the city is proud of its 262 acres of parks and recreational areas. But some of the original, two-bedroom cinder-block houses still exist, clustered around the 236th Street exit from the freeway, modest testimonies to the dreams of an earlier generation.
New Mountlake Terrace councilmembers H. Scott Wilson, Harley McFarland, Gilbert Geiser, Lester Steele, Patricia Neibel, November 1954
The FAA is amending Title 14, Code of Federal Regulations (14 CFR) part 71 to modify VOR Federal airway V-298. The PSC VOR/DME relocation, due to the Tri-Cities Airport terminal expansion and taxiway D relocation projects, has made this action necessary. The route modification is outlined below.
V-298: V-298 extends between the Seattle, WA, VORTAC and Gillette, WY, VOR. This action modifies the route segment between the Yakima, WA, VORTAC and the PSC VOR/DME by changing the PSC radial used to describe the intersection between the two NAVAIDs from the Pasco 274° radial to the Pasco 273° radial. Additionally, this action removes reference to a south alternate airway designation previously deleted by regulatory action published in the Federal Register (48 FR 54829, December 7, 1983).
The navigation aid radials cited in this action are stated relative to True north.
Domestic VOR Federal airways are published in paragraph 6010(a) of FAA Order 7400.9Y dated August 6, 2014, and effective September 15, 2014, which is incorporated by reference in 14 CFR 71.1. The VOR Federal airway listed in this document would be subsequently published in the Order.
The FAA has determined that this regulation only involves an established body of technical regulations for which frequent and routine amendments are necessary to keep them operationally current. Therefore, this regulation: (1) Is not a &ldquosignificant regulatory action&rdquo under Executive Order 12866 (2) is not a &ldquosignificant rule&rdquo under Department of Transportation (DOT) Regulatory Policies and Procedures (44 FR 11034 February 26, 1979) and (3) does not warrant preparation of a regulatory evaluation as the anticipated impact is so minimal. Since this is a routine matter that only affects air traffic procedures and air navigation, it is certified that this rule, when promulgated, does not have a significant economic impact on a substantial number of small entities under the criteria of the Regulatory Flexibility Act.
The FAA's authority to issue rules regarding aviation safety is found in Title 49 of the United States Code. Subtitle I, Section 106 describes the authority of the FAA Administrator. Subtitle VII, Aviation Programs, describes in more detail the scope of the agency's authority.
This rulemaking is promulgated under the authority described in Subtitle VII, Part A, Subpart I, Section 40103. Under that section, the FAA is charged with prescribing regulations to assign the use of the airspace necessary to ensure the safety of aircraft and the efficient use of airspace. This regulation is within the scope of that authority as it modifies the route structure as necessary to preserve the safe and efficient flow of air traffic within the NAS.
November 13, 2013 Day 298 of the Fifth Year - History
I'm a long time lurker and now first time poster here at the Asylum and thought I'd share some of my findings on Empire turntables. I posted a version of this recently on both www.audiokarma.org www.vinylengine.com and the response I received encouraged me to spread it out to this website.
As my username implies, I’m a big fan of these turntables. I was exposed to them at a very early age, and have owned at one time or another a 298, two 598III's and a 698. I currently own two 598III’s. One pretty much stock, the other tweaked out and mounted with a SME 3009 II (which I really had to alter both arm and 'table to get it to work) and a custom wood base and dust cover I had built to replace the one that came with the unit. (It was in bad shape.)
There are so many myths, mistakes, and erroneous information about these turntables that I pooled all my collective knowledge of them in this post in the hopes some of the mystery surrounding them clears up.
It’s by no means a perfect or truly definitive post, and I appreciate any corrections and feedback anyone can offer.
All the information herein was gleaned from personal experience, library crawls for back issues of audio magazines from the early to late seventies, contemporary reports in stereo magazines such as Stereophile, www.radioshackcatalogs.com, Ebay, this forum, Vinyl Engine, AudioKarma and the treasure trove that is the rest of the internet.
Empire Scientific was a manufacturer of high-fidelity products based in Garden City, New York. It started life as Dyna-Empire, then Audio-Empire, finally sticking with Empire Scientific in the mid 1960’s. Along with phono cartridges and various speakers, Empire manufactured five turntable systems under the “Troubadour” name starting at about 1961 to 1980. It is these turntables that we shall look closely at now.
The major models produced were the 298, 398, 498, 598 and 698.
Those are the model numbers of the “complete” systems that were offered for sale, meaning base, platter/motor, and tonearm sometimes with an Empire cartridge. There are also model numbers for various other permutations involving no arm or no base.
The standard finish was satin chrome for the turntable and tonearm. A satin gold finish was denoted by a G suffix to the model number, except for the 598 & 698 where the gold finish was standard and the chrome was special order only. (I have seen in pictures on the web of one example each of a stock silver/chrome 598 and 698.)
While the gold colored Empire’s are I think the classier looking of the two finishes, they don’t hold up well. The 98 and 980 tonearms in their gold versions seem to suffer the most with an alarming degree of tarnish, flaking and corrosion even worse than in the silver versions. The gold finished platters and plinths also seem to age worse than their silver counterparts. This can be attributed to the metal Empire used, which wasn’t pure aluminum as advertised, but rather “pot metal.” According to Wikipedia:
"Pot Metal" is a slang term that refers to alloys that consist of inexpensive, low-melting point metals used to make fast, inexpensive castings. There is no scientific metallurgical standard for pot metal common metals in pot metal include zinc, lead, copper, tin, magnesium, aluminium, iron, and cadmium. The primary advantage of pot metal is that it is quick and easy to cast. Due to its low melting temperature no sophisticated foundry equipment is needed and specialized molds are not necessary. Pot metal can be prone to instability over time, as it has a tendency to bend, distort, crack, shatter, and pit with age. The low boiling point of zinc and the fast cooling of the newly-cast part often allow air bubbles to remain within the cast part, weakening the metal. Many of the components of pot metal are susceptible to corrosion from airborne acids and other contaminants, and the internal corrosion of the metal often causes the decorative plating to flake off. Pot metal is not easily glued, soldered or welded.
In 1961, Empire offered for sale it’s first turntable, the model 208/298. The model 208 was an unsuspended, 3-speed belt driven turntable, using a dynamically balanced hysteresis-synchronous, self-cooling AC motor manufactured by Pabst of West Germany, and came without a base or tonearm. The 1962 Radio Shack catalog shows this for sale at the then princely sum of $92.50. (In 2009 money, $656.06.) The model 298, a model 208 turntable with Empire’s model 98 tonearm and walnut base sold for $145.61 ($1031.96 in 2009 dollars)
(As will be seen in the responses below, there is controversy and a convincing argument about the motor not being truly a hysteresis-synchronous type.)
The base was $12.50 extra. ($88.66 in 2009 money) Radio Shack offered bases in walnut, mahogany and fruitwood, the only mention I’ve ever seen of a base in a finish other than walnut.
The 298 was a 208 turntable with the Empire 98 tonearm and walnut base.
The 288 was a baseless 208 turntable with 98 tonearm.
The 398 was a 208 turntable with the Empire 980 tonearm and walnut base. This was first seen in the 1963 Radio Shack catalog selling for $175.00, or $1213.13 in today’s money.
The 388 is a baseless 208 turntable with a 980 tonearm.
The 208 was a serious turntable, featuring a massive seven-pound platter, individually dynamically balanced for lowest run out and maximum smoothness mounted in a heavy bearing well screwed into a substantial metal frame. Even today, fifty years after their manufacture, if you take the belt off a 208/298/398 and give the platter a fast whip spin around, it will turn and turn and turn in an impressive display of the precision of it’s construction. The platter featured a built in pop-up 45-RPM adapter similar to what was found on other turntables of the day like Thorens or Rek-O-Kut, and the usual rubber mat.
Even the base was subtly elegant featuring a semi-gloss clear finish over solid walnut. Far from being a simple box, the base sloped in and downward in a mirror image of the edges of the plinth. The standard hard rubber feet could be augmented by accessory soft springy rubber feet that fit in pre-drilled holes in the bottom of the base to help combat acoustic feedback if needed.
The motor was isolated by three elastomer grommets and there was a small (unspecified) speed change possible by altering the motor’s relation from perpendicular via a knurled set screw on one of the motor’s mounting bushings. Speed change was strictly manual. You had to move the belt on the appropriate pulley for the speed you wanted. The only concession to flash was the on/off switch which had a neon bulb mounted under the clear red plastic push button that made it subtly glow when on.
Because of the heavy platter, synchronous belt drive system, and tight tolerances the 208 has outstanding rumble and wow and flutter specs. The turntable easily met and exceeded the criteria set by the NAB for broadcast quality.
In all, it was worth every penny of it’s substantial asking price.
People talk about a 108 turntable, but I've never been able to uncover any evidence of such a model for sale. I've checked old Lafayette, Allied, and Radio Shack catalogs, and old audio magazines from the late fifties to early sixties and can't find mention of one. Even a late 1980’s replacement turntable parts list I have from Empire makes no mention of a 108 or 100 series turntable. I think people refer to a 108 turntable because early 208's didn't come silk-screened with the model number on the plinth and the serial number tag made no mention of the model number. But because the number A-108 or 108A is scribed on the platter and other metalwork on all the 200/300 series turntables Empire manufactured, it is mistaken for a model number and not the part number it is.
Empire made two tonearms that went with the 208 turntable, the model 98 was introduced in 1960 and, in 1962, the model 980 tonearm. The model 98 sold in 1960 for $34.33 ($245.92 in 2009 dollars) and the 980 sold for $50.00 or $346.61 in 2009 money.
The 98 and 980 arms are high-mass tonearms though they featured very high quality micro ball bearings in the vertical and horizontal planes that permitted extremely light and accurate tracking down to one-gram if not less, compared to other tonearms of the day. They were also dynamically balanced featuring a flat-coiled spring. This enabled them to track at any angle, even upside down. (Something I saw with my own eyes more than once.)
The implementation of the horizontal bearings also differs between the two pickup arms. The 98's horizontal bearing consists of individual ball bearings capped by a screw locked cap. This makes service difficult as you have to be careful while disassembling the arm, otherwise you'll have tiny ball bearings flying everywhere. It also makes it hard to re tighten the cap, as you have to find a balance between stiffness and ease of movement. The 980's horizontal bearings are of a captured race type that is much more service friendly with no risk of bouncing bearings getting under the rug.
The Empire 98 and 980 tonearms are very similar, and can be hard to differentiate at a glance. The main difference was the 98 has a removable bayonet pin headshell similar to the SME, and the 980 had a fixed headshell and introduced the black plastic cartridge mounting plate that existed in all Empire arms until the introduction of the model 698 turntable.
The 98 didn’t have any sort of connector to hook up a patch cord to it. It had flying leads out of the arm to solder to a suitable jack or tie points. There was also no flying fifth (ground) wire connected to the inside of the arm. Grounding was achieved from mounting the metal tonearm base to the metal base of the turntable, or by attaching a ground wire to one of the tonearm mounting screws.
No doubt part of the reason for the introduction of the 980 so soon after the model 98 was to address these small ergonomic faux pas as the 980 introduced the five-pin tonearm connecting cable (with integral ground wire) that all Empire’s had from this point on.
The 98 and 980 arm originally did not come with an anti-skate adjustment or end of record lift. Empire later offered a retrofit kit to attach a weight and pulley system to the 980 arm. Later production runs of the 980 arm featured a built in weight and pulley anti-skate system. (Seen mostly on 980 arms mated with the 498 turntable.)
The 98 and 980 tonearm were available in two versions. One for 12” maximum records, and a longer model suitable for 16” transcription discs. The longer arm was probably geared towards the broadcast industry and not for the average hi-fi enthusiast, though Radio Shack sold the 16” 98 tonearm in 1960. Existence of a 16” 980 was confirmed by two different Ebay auctions I’ve seen over the years for this longer variant.
The 98 tonearm also did not originally come with Empire’s unique “Dyna-Lift” magnetic end-of-record arm lift system, which first appeared on the 980. A separate retrofit kit was offered for sale to let you enjoy this feature on your older 98 arm and the earliest versions of the 980, which also didn’t have this feature.
The Dyna-Lift feature was unique, as it was an end of record arm lift that didn’t rely on any mechanical linkages like those on a typical record changer. It worked via a hollow cylindrical post attached to the base of the arm, which held a powerful magnet. Attached to the arm tube, near the back was a small protruding post (sometimes round, sometimes square) made of steel. As the arm nears the center of the record, that small metal protrusion enters the hole in the post and when aligned correctly, the magnetic attraction force "grabs" the arm up and off the disc as the stylus enters the run-out groove.
The action is crude and abrupt though, because being a magnet, there is no way to "damp" this action. However, I've used it for years now with a variety of cartridges and never once had an issue of damage caused by that abrupt take-off. It can also be turned "off" by pushing back on the post, which makes it cock back a good ways, rendering it inoperative. (A post on AudioKarma.com from “MrMonster” suggests the lift action is quite smooth when the arm is properly adjusted and that it is from people ignoring Empire's instructions to leave a certain set screw on the arm alone, that is to blame for the less than gentle action of most surviving Dyna-Lift examples.)
The weakest link in the 980 tonearm is the black plastic cartridge mounting plate. This alone I think is responsible for the less than enthusiastic reception given this tonearm’s performance these days. The plate is soft, bends easily under stress, and just isn’t a rigid enough platform for a good coupling of either cartridge to plate, or plate to tonearm. They are also extremely rare to find replacements for. It is a shame, because the overall build quality of the tonearm matches that of the turntable, and would mate well with any number of modern day low-compliance moving-coil cartridges that require arms as massive as these.
The weak point of the 98 is its fixed cartridge mounting position in the bayonet headshell. You cannot adjust overhang after initially mounting the arm. Not that this is unusual, as Rek-O-Kut and Ortofon had similar designs for their bayonet style headshells. This may sound like an oversight on the part of the design of the 98, but in the late fifties and early sixties, there seemed to be an unspoken consensus between the biggest phono cartridge makers of the day regarding stylus tip position and mounting dimensions. So once the arm was properly mounted you could install cartridges from Shure, Pickering, and Empire knowing the stylus tip would always be in the same spot. At least you can mount a Pickering 380 series cartridge in an Empire 98 arm without the need for spacers.
Speaking of Rek-O-Kut, this is a good place to address the similarities between the two companies. Both were based on Long Island, New York, both utilized AC synchronous motors sourced from Pabst of West Germany, and both companies even used the exact same motor grommets sourced from Lords of Pennsylvania. Both companies also featured heavy cast platters balanced for perfect balance with a built-in 45 RPM adapter and bearings that even today are marvels of precision engineering. Styling is also similar, although Rek-O-Kut’s are more utilitarian with their boxy bases, gunmetal gray baked on finish, and red rubber platter mats. Rek-O-Kut also concentrated on idler driven turntables, but the one belt drive model they did produce is uncannily similar to the Empire.
The 498 was the first suspended sub-chassis Empire and appeared as far as I can tell about 1966 or 1967. It used the 980 arm, a suspension system of springs and felt that was refined further in the 598, a one-piece platter design very similar to the unsprung 208, and came with a walnut base similar to the 208.
The 488 is the baseless version with 980 arm.
The 498 and 398 appear to have been offered for sale simultaneously at one point going by an undated Empire sales flyer I have which shows a 398 and a 488 pictured along with two models of their Grenadier speaker, and a generic Empire phono cartridge
There is no model 408 (armless, with base) because the arm mount is part of the suspension t-bar (like the AR) and almost impossible to modify to affix an aftermarket tonearm. With this model, you have to use a 980 tonearm unless you have a machine shop in your garage or know someone who does.
The 498 is the rarest of Empire turntables, being offered for sale for only a short while compared to the 398 before it and the 598 that followed it. Those who have been lucky enough to spend time with one, claim it is Empire’s best turntable, offering the strengths of the non-suspended 208 without the perceived subjective negatives of the later sprung 598.
The 598, introduced about 1969
1970, was a radical rethink in design. It featured a two-piece platter, a self-lubricating oilite bearing, a newly designed walnut base, a new tonearm (the model 990,) an arm rest that featured a light that made it possible to “see” where you were placing the tonearm on the record in a dark room, a stroboscope plate built into the platter, and a first for Empire: a wood framed Plexiglas dust cover.
Contrary to assumption and popular belief, the 990 arm on the 598 WAS offered for separate sale. (You can see ads for it in stereo magazines of the period.) Like its predecessors, it was a dynamically balanced tonearm featuring captured race ball bearings in both the vertical and horizontal planes. Its anti-skate adjustment dispensed with the weight and pulley system featured in late production 980 arms and used an internal spring to set the opposing force using a increasing bias principal. It also featured a levered cuing control as well as the Dyna-Lift magnetic end-of-record lift system. It was also high mass, though it was designed to mate to Empire’s top of the line 1000ZEX cartridge which boasted the ability to track as low as a quarter of a gram in the arm. (I’ve successfully used a Shure V-15 Type V at one gram in mine with no ill resonance effects.) The 598 retailed for $199.95 and the 990 for $74.95 in 1971. ($1047.47 and $392.64 respectively in 2009 dollars.)
(Interstage_Tranny asserts there was a 12" version of the 990 tonearm also available for sale. I haven't seen any evidence of this. However, Interstage_Tranny is usually correct so I'm keeping my eyes open.)
Interestingly, according to ads and equipment reviews I have of the 598 from 1971 editions of Audio, Stereo Review, and High-Fidelity magazines, going against previous model numbering convention, the 598 is a baseless turntable with the walnut base and dust cover an option for $35 more. ($209.28 in 2009 dollars) Therefore, there was no formal "588" baseless version of the turntable.
The 598 went under three revisions during its production life.
598 – 3 speeds, with Empire’s standard pop-up 45-RPM adapter in the platter, matte finish very pale gold 3-speed strobe plate, “old” logo plate on the upper left corner of the dust cover hinge board on the base.
598 II – 3-or 2-speeds, either with Empire’s ubiquitous pop-up 45-RPM adapter in the platter, or a new 45 “turn over” adapter that sat flush on the platter usually, but when flipped over let you play 45 RPM discs. The 598II also had a matte finish, very pale gold 3-or 2-speed strobe plate, and “new” Empire backwards “R” logo plate on the upper left corner on the dust cover hinge board on the base. The instructions were updated to reference the then new 4 channel Shibata styli in the anti-skate settings chart
598 III – 2 speed only, with the new reversible center disc 45-RPM adapter, matte finished very pale gold 2-speed strobe plate and new Empire logo on the upper left corner on the dust cover hinge board on the base. The instructions were re-typed and reformatted.
Those are just general guidelines though. It seems Empire was a lot like guitar or drum manufacturers of the day in that they used whatever was available on a given day to make their turntables. This lack of consistency causes many variations to show up among surviving units of all their models, which can be extremely confusing.
In 1976 came Empire’s final turntable model: the 698. The 698 retailed for $400 ($1490.91 in 2009 dollars.) It was sold only as a system with tonearm, dust cover and base though I’m sure one could have probably special ordered a baseless version as well.
It’s sad that the last turntable Empire made has so many issues considering the tank like build of their previous offerings.
The base, plinth, platter and bearing design and construction are unchanged from the 598. People say the 698’s bearing and motor is inferior to the 598 when the two 698’s and three 598’s I have examined show identical construction of the bearing and a high-quality Papst motor like Empire used in all its turntables. It seems Empire made sure they used as much of the proven 598 design and tooling as possible. (I am just talking about platter/bearing quality of the 598 vs. 698, not the debate about the bearing and platter quality of the 208/498 vs. the 598/698 that exists.)
The motor in the 698 was (as on all previous Empire's) an AC synchronous, self-cooling, high torque Papst, sourced from Germany and built to the same standard as on the 208, 498 and 598.
The dust cover switched from clear flimsy Plexiglas plastic to true, tinted tempered glass with a silk-screened gold Empire logo on the top lower left corner of the glass. A nice touch. The hinge board did not have an Empire logo plate.
The 2-speed strobe plate on the platter was a shiny deep gold with a mirror finish that looked gorgeous.
The arm on the 698 was a totally new, true low mass design, and was able to handle the highest compliance cartridges you could throw at it. It continued Empire’s preference for a dynamically balanced tonearm, and featured micro sapphire ball bearings in the vertical and horizontal planes in a true gimbal design. The anti-skate again used the increasing bias principle first used in the 990 arm it's opposite field "push" increased as the arm neared the center of the record. It also came with two connecting cables, one a low-capacitance cable for CD-4 cartridges.
Why people think THIS arm is a continuation of the higher mass arms of Empire’s past puzzles me. It was the first tonearm made by Empire not to be offered for separate sale.
The 698 also featured a unique electronic/optical cue and end-of-record lift system that didn’t rely on motors or mechanical linkages that would have compromised the performance of the tonearm. The cue system used your finger to bridge two small gold colored contacts within a round clear plastic button that was back-lit by red LED’s, which, when touched, completed a DC circuit that caused a small damped solenoid coil to gently lift or drop the tonearm depending on which “button” you put your finger on.
The end-of record lift was optically triggered via a small photocell sensor. When aligned correctly, the arm would gently lift up as the stylus entered the run out groove. Provision was made for changing the speed of the cuing as well as a tool that adjusted the height of the cueing mechanism. (Though, truthfully, there was very little range of adjustment for either parameter.)
There are two major weaknesses in the 698: the tonearm headshell and the electronic cueing. The headshell design is a unique one, only ever used on this tonearm so replacements are now impossible to find. It is also prone to failure because of the way contact is made electrically.
The electronic end-of-record lift and cuing is prone to failure as well, and no one seems to know how to fix them, despite the full schematic being printed in the instruction sheet. This is unfortunate as the design is quite clever and when it is working, is probably the most accurate, gentlest, and elegant cue and end-of-record lift system ever developed.
There are also a number of “little things” that are problems with the 698.
The clear plastic "Lexan" arm holder and finger lift on the headshell seem prone to age related brittleness and breakage. It’s a pity about the armrest too, because the red LED shining underneath it gives it a nice, classy glow that compliments the cueing buttons which also are back-lit by red LED’s.
The capacitor in line with the power switch (to keep “pops” from being heard when power is turned on or off) seems to be the wrong value or defective in the examples I have seen, doing nothing to keep loud transients out of your speakers when you turn the turntable on or off.
The increase in weight of the dust cover because of the real glass causes the hinges to fail even earlier than in the 598. (The hinges were always a weak spot, despite their ingenuity in design.) Side note: Do NOT tighten the screw on the hinge bracket to try and get more tension to fix a dust cover that won’t stay open!! You will do serious damage if you do. There is a collet pin that is going through the screw and nut in the wood that in theory should keep the hinge from loosening, but in practice, only works for a limited time. Random tightening of the original screw will only cause the screw to break and make the hinge totally useless. If you want to try and fix it, you need to carefully remove the pin and rebuild the hinge using a new screw, which must match the threads of the nut inside the wood. Screw the hinge assembly back into the dust cover as tightly as possible with your new screw, then drill with a small bit into the screw where the original pin was and set a nail inside to fix the problem. It’s best to make sure the nail going through the screw and nut is long enough to go through the wood to assure the nail won’t work itself out in time. The final result will be a stiff moving dustcover, but as time goes on it will get smoother. Be prepared to have to do this “fix” several times in the course of life with the 598/698.
And finally, the silk-screening and gold plating on the 698 seems to be so thin that it rubs off quite easily. Extreme corrosion is also present on the metalwork on many 698’s, which seems to have happened much faster than the corrosion on older models. All the gold finish Empires seem to show various levels of flake, corrosion and discoloration that the chrome-plated versions don’t seem to suffer, but the 698’s are particularly bad in this regard. This was probably due to using an even cheaper pot metal formulation as a cost cutting move.
I’ve never been able to find out exactly when Empire ceased manufacture of the 698, but it must have been shortly after Ernst Benz bought Empire Scientific in 1981
1982. (The date of the sale according to Stereophile, December 1990, page 65.)
After that, Empire concentrated on phono cartridges until Benz cut his losses and sold the company in the mid-1980’s, wherein, Empire became a shell of it’s former self.
Various spare parts for the turntables as well as new 698’s at greatly reduced prices were available from Lyle Cartridges in Brooklyn for many years after Benz sold Empire. After Lyle closed, parts were shipped back to Empire’s then new Deer Park, NY location and were available via mail order only up until around 1990. Stocks of headshells for the 698, 98 and the cartridge mounting plate for the 980 and 990 tonearms were already depleted by this point. (I know, I tried ordering them back then.)
Then, shortly after my last contact with Empire regarding replacement parts for their turntables, the company’s name and logo was sold to Russell Industries and their run as a manufacturer of High-Fidelity Stereo products was truly at an end. The remaining inventory of replacement turntable parts apparently was junked and no one at Russell Industries seems to know or care about the brand’s past as a maker of some of the most gorgeous, reliable, and overachieving turntables of their day. The name exists now only as a badge for aftermarket phone batteries, cheap replacement needles and new phono cartridges of questionable quality.
THE ANATHEMATISMS OF THE EMPEROR JUSTINIAN AGAINST ORIGEN.(1)
(Labbe and Cossart, Concilia, Tom. v., col. 677.)
Whoever says or thinks that human souls pre-existed, i.e., that they had previously been spirits and holy powers, but that, satiated with the vision of God, they had turned to evil, and in this way the divine love in them had died out ( apyugeisas ) and they had therefore become souls ( yukas ) and had been condemned to punishment in bodies, shall be anathema.
II. If anyone says or thinks that the soul of the Lord pre-existed and was united with God the Word before the Incarnation and Conception of the Virgin, let him be anathema.
III. If anyone says or thinks that the body of our Lord Jesus Christ was first formed in the womb of the holy Virgin and that afterwards there was united with it God the Word and the pre-existing soul, let him be anathema.
If anyone says or thinks that the Word of God has become like to all heavenly orders, so that for the cherubim he was a cherub, for the seraphim a seraph: in short, like all the superior powers, let him be anathema.
If anyone says or thinks that, at the resurrection, human bodies will rise spherical in form and unlike our present form, let him be anathema.
If anyone says that the heaven, the sun, the moon, the stars, and the waters that are above heavens, have souls, and are reasonable beings, let him be anathema.
If anyone says or thinks that Christ the Lord in a future time will be crucified for demons as he was for men, let him be anathema.
If anyone says or thinks that the power of God is limited, and that he created as much as he was able to compass, let him be anathema.
IX. If anyone says or thinks that the punishment of demons and of impious men is only temporary, and will one day have an end, and that a restoration ( apokatastasis ) will take place of demons and of impious men, let him be anathema.
Anathema to Origen and to that Adamantius, who set forth these opinions together with his nefarious and execrable and wicked doctrine? and to whomsoever there is who thinks thus, or defends these opinions, or in any way hereafter at any time shall presume to protect them.
A revelation of a book. So much of what I knew about this artist had to do with the later part of his life. This account takes the years up to about 1909 in consideration--up to the time that his Demoiselles D&aposAvignon was finally displayed (and years after the painting was completed).
I learned enough from this one that I now need to study these years of Matisse&aposs work.
"The mark of a brush on the surface. became as important to the experience of the painting as the image it described. As Mauric A revelation of a book. So much of what I knew about this artist had to do with the later part of his life. This account takes the years up to about 1909 in consideration--up to the time that his Demoiselles D'Avignon was finally displayed (and years after the painting was completed).
I learned enough from this one that I now need to study these years of Matisse's work.
"The mark of a brush on the surface. became as important to the experience of the painting as the image it described. As Maurice Denis, a follower of Gauguin, pronounced, 'Remember that a picture--before being a war horse, a nude woman or some anecdote--is essentially a plane surface covered with colors assembled in a certain order.' This declaration became a rallying cry of the avant-garde and a justification before the fact, of abstract art." . more
Miles J. Unger’s “Picasso and the Painting that Shocked the World,” features an error on page 298. The birth year of French painter and Picasso collaborator Georges Braque is given as 1892, when a quick search shows that it was 1882… after all, the very next page has Braque “completing his military service in 1902,” an impressive achievement for a boy just into the double digits.
For me, noticing that error had a deeper meaning than the admittedly smug dickishness that usually accompanies s ERROR
Miles J. Unger’s “Picasso and the Painting that Shocked the World,” features an error on page 298. The birth year of French painter and Picasso collaborator Georges Braque is given as 1892, when a quick search shows that it was 1882… after all, the very next page has Braque “completing his military service in 1902,” an impressive achievement for a boy just into the double digits.
For me, noticing that error had a deeper meaning than the admittedly smug dickishness that usually accompanies such a find. I.e., before I noticed that discrepancy, I was beginning to wonder if, with “Picasso,” I was approaching an event horizon of reading a book and processing so little of it. Readers of any level know this feeling: you’re unable to keep focused on the words and you’re retaining so little you question if it would even be fair to say you read the book… so, noticing the DOB error gave me kind of a confidence boost that, yes, this book wasn’t getting the better of me.
Which isn’t an aspersion on Unger or “Picasso,” necessarily. I think I was expecting more a biography than an art book (a perception that should have been quashed by which section of the bookstore I found the book). So while Unger covers much of Picasso’s early life, a good portion of the narrative goes instead to art-theory descriptions of Picasso’s work, as well as many other painters from that era. In the process Unger more than makes the case for the 1907 “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon,” or “The Young Lades of Avignon” (crudely put, a painting of nude prostitutes), representing one of the most seismic shifts in a cultural endeavor the world has ever seen.
For me “Picasso” was at its best when it explained how the artist helped usher in modernism, and what that meant for the wider society. Unger credits Picasso and his painting with no less than separating the old century from the new one. However, as Unger shows in the exquisite last paragraph of the book, the separation was ultimately disappointing.
Having recently viewed the Antonio Banderas docudrama "Genius: Picasso," I was sufficiently fascinated to ask a good friend and artist for his recommendations of a biography of the genius this was one of two he suggested and I&aposm glad he did so.
Full disclosure: I am neither an artist nor sufficiently qualified to critique art with any real foundation (scholastic or otherwise) or sense of perspective, place or purpose. Like many fellow baby boomers, I have a sense of the names one is supposed to Having recently viewed the Antonio Banderas docudrama "Genius: Picasso," I was sufficiently fascinated to ask a good friend and artist for his recommendations of a biography of the genius this was one of two he suggested and I'm glad he did so.
Full disclosure: I am neither an artist nor sufficiently qualified to critique art with any real foundation (scholastic or otherwise) or sense of perspective, place or purpose. Like many fellow baby boomers, I have a sense of the names one is supposed to know and perhaps even the era/genre with which they're most closely associated. There is a handful of artists whose work I could recognize and attribute sans signature, with a critical vocabulary almost as limited.
Which is perhaps why I enjoyed "Picasso and the Painting That Shocked the World" to the extent that I did.
Author Miles Unger not only delves into Picasso's early and formative ages and stages, he does so with a keen and schooled eye and a syntax that informs without leaving the reader reaching for the dictionary and thesaurus every other page. While I'm reasonably certain that I could never reach the same conclusions when critiquing Picasso or any other artist, I could appreciate his and, when comparing them with the paintings themselves, occasionally see how he arrived at them. Surely, there is more than a modicum of psychoanalyst in every critic.
The bigger question for me is whether or not Picasso would agree with him.
To me, this book was as much a study in studying art as it was a study of art.
Centered around "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon," the piece largely credited with introducing Cubism as a revolutionary art form that could and did turn the art world upside down while adding a third dimension to a sphere previously constrained to two, it answered myriad questions about Picasso's process and product while raising considerably more about their impact and interpretation.
Though created when he was but 27, Picasso had been a critical if not commercial success for several years, bouncing between his Spanish homeland and Paris with the frequency of a train conductor. (That Paris was the recognized art capital of the world cannot be overestimated as an influence and motivator in his professional life. Would we be having this discussion if he were born and cut his teeth in Chicago?)
Though he came from some means, he lived the seemingly-requisite life of the bohemian starving artist, paying his dues while living in squalor, drinking more than he ate, partying until sunrise and finding more than his share of female companionship at virtually every turn. Fortunately, he was not alone, often the center of a relatively tight-knit circle of friends who found themselves in similar circumstances. Not necessarily well educated, they were reasonably well informed, well lived and seemed to inspire as much as they depended on one another. Their lives were lived with ears and eyes open, subject only to their examination and explanation. Until it came to art.
That said, was it Picasso's intention to turn the art world upside down when he spent the better part of two years working and reworking "Les Desmoiselles"? Was his self-described "series of non-sequiturs" more of an experiment in form and function or was it, as author Unger describes, an expression "personal rather than communal: he was concerned with lust rather than fertility, the extinction of his own consciousness rather than the survival of the community"?
Really, "the extinction of his own consciousness"? Suffice it to say that this is not what I see when I look at it, even after reading this book. (To summarize this quandary--among many--in one sentence when Unger has devoted an entire book to it is lazy and unjust at best.)
Bear in mind that the subject of debate, the impetus for revolution, the axis around which much of the art world has revolved and evolved for the subsequent 110 years, is a group of prostitutes lounging in a whorehouse. (Unger would've preferred "brothel.") Ahhhh, the power and pleasures of art.
I have known very few 27-year-olds, worldly or otherwise, artistic or not, who think in the terms attributed to Picasso by Unger. Which is not to say that Picasso wasn't one of them, it's just difficult to believe these (and countless other debatable and plausible interpretations) were what occupied the young Pablo's mind as he picked up his brush and faced the naked canvass before deliberately filling it with five naked women.
Did the oddly-turned head on the fifth woman turn the art world on its head and force it to more closely examine itself? Undoubtedly. Can I fully understand or articulate the reasons why, even after absorbing Unger's riveting analysis? Doubtful.
Does any of this make this biography anything less than fascinating? Not in the least. In fact, it may well change how I view art from this point forward.
And isn't that really the point? Enjoy. . more
Another book I&aposd really rather give 3 1/2 stars to.
Picasso and the Painting That Shocked the World by Miles J. Unger (Simon & Schuster, 2018) is a solid addition to long, long, long bibliography already in place. I have read all three volumes of the biography by John Richardson and a hefty number of exhibition catalogs and articles. In fact, when I started organizing the Cubism course, I was startled to realize just how much stuff is already on my own bookshelves. In some ways, Unger’s explorati Another book I'd really rather give 3 1/2 stars to.
Picasso and the Painting That Shocked the World by Miles J. Unger (Simon & Schuster, 2018) is a solid addition to long, long, long bibliography already in place. I have read all three volumes of the biography by John Richardson and a hefty number of exhibition catalogs and articles. In fact, when I started organizing the Cubism course, I was startled to realize just how much stuff is already on my own bookshelves. In some ways, Unger’s exploration of Picasso youth and formative years is better than Richardson’s—perhaps because Unger isn’t speaking from the Mount Olympus of Picasso studies and goes to a great deal of trouble to detail the experiences that he will later use as evidence for his analyses of Picasso’s art.
At one point my husband pointed out I was deeply into the book and still had not arrived at the Demoiselles. I wasn’t surprised. I knew the Demoiselles had to provide the climax to the arc my only question was how the author would bring the story to a close. He did that effectively by situating the Demoiselles d’Avignon (1907) as the beginning of the seismic shift that changed Picasso from a symbolist painter of dark, personal and angst-laden narratives to a revolutionary who abandons message in favor of pure expressive form.
And generally I like the book pretty well.
On the other hand, I find Unger, like many authors writing for the popular nonfiction market to be unreliable on facts. Another reader pointed out that Unger gives Georges Braque’s birth year as 1892 instead of 1882. Yes it could be a typo, but it is an inexcusable one. I made a number of notes when I ran into his assertion on page 222 that “[Matisse’s] Luxe, Calme et Volupté, completed in 1904 and exhibited at the Salon des Indépendants in 1905, a vision of a sensual paradise based on a poem by Stéphane Mallarmé, features Neo-Impressionism’s distinctive dots of pure color.”
Well no. Luxe was emphatically not based on a poem by Stéphane Mallarmé. It was based on the poem “L’Invitation au voyage” (Invitation to the voyage”) from the collection Les Fleurs du Mal (“Flowers of Evil”) by Charles Baudelaire. The relevant lines that I always share with my students are:
L’à tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté
Luxe, calme et volupté.,/i>
There, all is only order and beauty,
Luxury, serenity and sensual delight.
This is not an inconsequential slip, a typo. Unger goes on to embed the error a few pages later while discussing the magisterial Bonheur de vie (1905-06) now in the Barnes Foundation collection.
Mistakes like this bother me. I like to recommend readable books to my students, hoping that they will find such texts a pleasure rather than the burden they find most of things I assign. I don’t, however, want my students learning things that are incorrect and casual readers, readers not familiar with content in a more scholarly way, are not in all likelihood going to recognize errors when they encounter them.
Generally Unger has excellent insights. What he has to say about works including the juvenilia, the Blue and Rose Periods and the transition to Cubism is interesting and thought-provoking. He also has a real knack for description. Unger is, however, “judgy.” He dismisses the conclusions of various scholars, he makes assertions about what an artist thinks or intends, and when I look for citations that uphold his opinions either there are non or the sources are the words of the many not entirely reliable witnesses, many of them former partners, who subsequently wrote memoires. And, while the painter Françoise Gilot Salk (b. 1921), who lives in San Diego, California, still recalls well her “life with Picasso,” and her eponymous memoir has been repeatedly mined for films and other books, no single recollection, no single point of view ever tells a complete story. . more