Monday, January 23,1989
The Battalion
Page 13
British press criticizes
ergie about her love
jet-setting lifestyle
learly
; distinct!
d' e muilLONDON (AF) — Sarah Fergu-
nary dri; son was lauded as a breath of fresh
rased inBin the stuffy world of royal proto-
do entitlB when she married Prince An-
* APfcfiw two years ago, but today the
play of y)i|chess of York is known in some
1 exhifeBirters as “Her Royal Idleness.”
ices of iBpritain’s brassy tabloids also are
it on kfiBling her “Duchess Dolittle” for
withanjBat they view as her love of holi-
clamped lap and jet-setting lifestyle,
deal hef®\ recent scorecard listing the pub-
a skillftiKj engagements of Britain’s royal
tfious beRiily put Andrew, a Royal Navy
the syntjMitenant, at the bottom with only
is, bras* 30 last year.
Karah was next with 55, less than
■f those performed by her hus-
moods ajPafid’s 88-year-old grandmother,
album-iliBeen Mother Elizabeth,
najestic Rpuckingham Palace noted that
k, ominoBdrew, as a naval officer, was not
itch Hu; expected to have other commit-
n, theypBnts and that Sarah gave birth to
t bit nKB' r fi rst child in August,
x Lifeso[fiP ut a public opinion poll pub-
nore proBjed Sunday in News of the World
the snirMicated 34 percent of Britons sur-
“Closci Ve[ed believe the 29-year-old du-
the allic«e ss d° es not earn the $ 150,000 she
ise a bit® her husband receive yearly from
ig’sori. the government for royal duties,
e audifrB'ber Royal Idleness,” the newspa-
igto. ■’’s headline blared. “Freeloading
Bgie is the most unpopular mem-
Ibums rf^ er the royal family,” its story
\ dill, said.
il prodiifB
itisasiffBThe newspaper said Market and
it they on®™ 011 Research International Ltd.
er WattB^d -’’Oi adults last week. No mar-
‘ forgoiiiB 0 ^ error was given,
at; ntavbfBicws about Queen Elizabeth II
r Rush.! fid her family sells newspapers in
» r of a i Bmtain, and the duchess has suf-
nanv ni(i* e( i her share of barbs since she
flst was linked to Andrew more
—■ Bn two years ago.
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At first, the duchess was lauded
for her breezy style and friendly,
open manner. But she slowly be
came a target, mainly for her healthy
appetite, sometimes plump figure
and fashion gaffes.
After an official visit to California
last March, even the serious newspa
pers said Sarah and Andrew’s behav
ior had been brash and vulgar, par
ticularly her bold repartee with
audiences.
Criticism intensified last fall when
she left her newborn baby, Princess
Beatrice, at home with a nanny for
six weeks while she went to Australia
on official business and holidays.
The attacks reached a crescendo
last week when Sarah and Andrew
went skiing at Klosters, Switzerland,
where Maj. Hugh Lindsay, a close
friend of the royal family, died last
year in an avalanche that narrowly
missed Prince Charles, heir to the
throne.
Critics considered the trip an ex
cessive holiday and unseemly be
cause it came only a year after the
tragedy.
The Daily Mirror, which branded
Sarah “Duchess Dolittle,” said she
sobbed after daily briefings by aides
on the tabloid attacks.
The Sunday Times of London,
which usually does not focus on the
private lives of the royal family, said
the duchess was suffering from a
general cooling in relations between
the palace and the media.
“Whether the activities of the du
chess are an embarrassment and a
disgrace or whether she is merely
fulfilling a popular need for a bete
noir in the nation’s most popular
soap opera is debatable,” The Sun
day Times said.
Top Ten
The Top Ten
Best-selling records of
the week based on Cashbox mag
azine’s nationwide survey:
L “Two Hearts,” Phil Collins
2. “Don’t Rush Me,” Taylor
Dayne
3. “Armageddon It,” Def Lep
pard
4. “I Remember Holding You,”
Boys Club
5. “Put a Little Love in Your
Heart,” Annie Lennox and AI
Green
6. “Every Rose Has Its Thorn,”
Poison
7. “Smooth Criminal,” Michael
Jackson
8. “My Prerogative,” Bobby
Brown
9. “Born to Be My Baby,” Bon
Jovi
10. “When I’m With You,”
Sheriff
Country-Western
Best-selling country-
western records of the week
based on Cashbox magazine’s na
tionwide survey:
1. “Deeper Than the Holler,”
Randy Travis
2. “All the Reasons Why,”
Highway 101
3. “The Blue Side of Town,”
Patty Loveless
4. “She’s Crazy for Leaving,”
Rodney Crowell
5. “Early in the Morning and
Late at Night,” Hank Williams Jr.
6. “(It’s Always Gonna Be)
Someday,” Holly Dunn
7. “Hold on (a Little Longer),”
Steve Wariner
8. “Let’s Get Started If We’re
Gonna Break My Heart,” The
Statler Brothers
9. “Burnin’ a Hole in My
Heart,” Skip Ewing
10. “What I’d Say,” Earl
Thomas Conley
Two brothers’ habit of generosity, trust
turns to fear after thugs rob, beat them
MONTGOMERY, Vt. (AP) —
Mike and Harry Dutchburn shared a
life as predictable as January’s bliz
zards and July’s blackberries.
Awake by 4 a.m. and asleep by 9
p.m. Errands once a week: St. Al
bans for parts, Newport for ferti
lizer, John Deuso’s store at the cross
roads for potatoes, hot dogs and
bread.
In a weather-beaten farmhouse
on a lonely stretch of highway 10
miles from Canada, the brothers
passed their evenings in unmatched
armchairs in a kitchen papered with
sailing ships and maps of the world.
The wallpaper was hung by a sis
ter years ago. Mike, 77, and Harry,
79, likely would have chosen pic
tures of cows over maps of a world
they’ve had precious little to do with,
until it burst in on them one January
night.
Anyone in town can point out the
urfers catch hot Texas waves
tin winter waters at Galveston
GALVESTON, Texas (AP) —
Iks sea gulls careen overhead,
tj)w-headed youths crouch atop
lickly waxed surfboards, daring
lie crashing ocean waves to
[nock them into the water.
On shore, teen-age girls ride
owly by on bicycles, waving at
eir water-bound compatriots as
ey wheel passed neon-painted
'^'^Bnlkswagen Bugs crowned with
sc ^Beaming, silver surfboard racks.
986, theTB ^ unin l er in Malibu?
Mack “B fry winter in Galveston,
the Wot* ^ or t ^ e truly dedicated Texas
Brier, this is the only time of the
ii — tvear when surfing is worth it
Jere. And even now the surfing
>d exanif continues over whether
Gulf Coast’s mediocre waves
lie worth the trouble.
“What can you say about surf-
in Galveston? It’s inconsis-
songH i tint,” 16-year-old David Howl-
et forfn ai^ S3 y S without hesitation. “Like
Bday, you can take a picture, he-
song, Buse tomorrow there won’t be
er such ; ail y wav es at all.”
[ndon"ip Today, the waves looked like
ng. J| la ^ e River whitewater. Boiling,
an instrt foaming and crashing over each
rood expiaher. Great for surfing — right?
ibersskii* “This is really pretty bad,” 17-
ilfe and Bar-old Houston surfer Joey
ds and ? Yburra says. “Here you’ve got
Beaker, breaker, breaker, all
ot Safe' little ones. What you want are one
i ds and or two clean breaks that go all the
ie best son
way through.
“It’s really too rough out there
right now.”
Galveston winter brings the
closest thing to real waves the
area ever gets. Surfers say it’s due
to the fact that Galveston is on the
Gulf of Mexico, and not a “real
ocean,” that the waves are so
small.
Though admittedly weak, win
ter waves still are much stronger
than the non-existent summer
surf, and the Houston and Gal
veston County youths in search of
endless summer hit the beach in
earnest when they time off from
school.
Bedecked in glistening black
wetsuits to protect themselves
from the 50-degree waves,
they’re like frolicking seals dot
ting the white water near the jet
ties off Seawall Boulevard.
“In the summer the only time
you get waves is during a hurrica
ne,” says Houstonian Howland.
“During Gilbert if you went a
little further west, there were
some real waves.”
The surfers stay between the
seawall jetties because the rock
walls block the strong Galveston
current from sweeping the swim
mers out to sea. Jetties also cause
the waves to break better, the
youth surfers point out knowl
edgeably.
“It breaks cleaner with the jet
ties,” Yburra said. “Sometimes it’s
even over your head.”
This near-exaggeration results
in an immediate argument with
other surfers over whether or not
Galveston’s shallow waves ever
break over your head — but
Yburra wins by pointing out that
by the end of the jetty today the
waves were high.
That cleared up, the group of
Houston surfers decides the best
thing about Galveston surfing is
the girls on the beach, and the
worst thing is changing clothes by
the trunk of the car — in front of
God and everybody.
League City surfer Scott
Symes, 16, says the majority of
the surfers are from Galveston
and nearby cities — those are the
few who really know that the se
cret to Texas surfing is to do it in
the off-season.
Surfers are by no means a
tightly knit group, either. Frac
tured into those from different
cities, they have few kind things
to say about each other.
“That’s what I love about surf
ing here -— the wonderful,
friendly surfers,” Howland says
sarcastically.
Still and all, they do agree win
ter surfing beats studying or sit
ting watching television — and
besides ... Boss waves, dude!
■
Writer: paralyzing fall symbolizes his life,
hakes him write ‘more believable’plays
do have
t presenli
ier that
ie to list®
n isn’t®
> mean®
ckground
ive up (*■
wsomep®AP) — As in most of Richard
jrytheir Mndt’s plays, “Winterstorm” in-
Bves a transition from one state of
t 1 icing to another.
✓V |But unlike his previous works, he
Isv B it is believable.
gThe difference, says Arndt, was a
Balyzing accident he suffered at
~ home in Flarrisburg and his sub-
lequentjourney toward recovery.
Bn April, Arndt fell 20 feet from a
Be on the property he had just
1 felt intfioved to a day before. He injured
a l° ss spinal cord and was paralyzed
Tom the waist down.
t, her
i star scK
ropped
and re' ,( !
nic for)* 1
at her o' 11 !
fter two months at Elizabeth-
Hospital and Rehabilitation
Inter, Arndt says he was told the
alysis was permanent,
nwilling to accept the diagnosis,
Jndt went to the Upledger Insti-
lute in Florida, one of many facilities
Bich treated Sean Lavery, a New
hter. fytk City Ballet star who was left
en," D#'Bh one paralyzed leg after surgery
idies de*remove a tumor from his spinal
relations! ; wd.
e notoveBVrndt’s experience there helped
liters) asB writing and changed his life
iverly in'Ifaentally, spiritually, as well as
if themsDhvsically,” he says.
■He says he believes he will some-
nan togfly walk again, and that falling out
[ill, she sB he tree was not just an accident,
parate B’Emotionally, I was in a free-fall,”
:h can IxB says. “Falling from the tree was a
Jf-explorBysicalization of that emotional
ition. Be.
Tm actually, in a way, thankful
emotionally, I was in a
free-fall. Falling from the
tree was a physicalization
of that emotional state. I’m
actually, in a way, thankful
for the accident. It has
really straightened me
out.”
— Richard Arndt
writer
for the accident. It has really
straightened me out.”
“Winterstorm” is scheduled to be
premiered in May by the Open Stage
of Harrisburg. His play, “Antiqui
ties,” was produced off-Broadway by
the Jean Cocteau Repertory. The
company also presented a staged
reading of another of his plays, “Na
tives.”
Arndt says he has always strived
for a “poetry of existence” in his
writing, but does so even more since
the accident.
“All of my plays deal with taking
real people in real situations and
transferring them into a poetic state
of consciousness, or unconscious
ness,” he says.
The discovery of his own spiritua
lity, Arndt says, has enabled him to
make the transition in his plays from
one state of being to another belie-
Veable — something he was unable
to do before the accident.
At Upledger, Ardnt says he was
told, “You’ll move your leg before
you leave here, and you’ll climb a
tree again if you so desire.”
While there, he underwent an in
tensive two-week program of cranio
sacral therapy, which equates the
brain to a hydraulic pump, pushing
and pulling fluid up and down the
spinal cord.
After the accident, the fluid could
not get past the point of injury on his
spinal cord, Arndt says. His therapy
focused on pushing the fluid beyond
the injured area, opening the passa
geway so that messages from his
brain would reach his legs.
Part of the therapy involved “get
ting the mind behind the body in the
healing process” through exercises
such as creative visualization.
In Arndt’s visualizations, his spi
nal cord is like a tree trunk. At the
point where the injury occurred, the
trunk divides into roots. Some of the
roots are clear, others are blocked
and damaged.
“My visualization is to push that
fluid into every root of the tree and
to make the tree grow,” he says.
Before leaving the clinic, Arndt’s
legs did move, but the movement
was involuntary. Then, two months
after he retuned home, Arndt says
he began to get voluntary movement
in his legs.
Dutchburn place, with its blistered
white paint and drawn shades.
Surrounded by open fields, house
and barn sit near the road on a curve
that’s unexpectedly tricky.
Mike and Harry have lost track of
the cars they’ve pulled from the mud
over the years, a habit of helpfulness
that was to cost them.
From their kitchen window, they
can see their hillside birthplace, the
only other home they’ve ever
known.
They still remember moving day,
June 15, 1915, just as they do every
journey away from home ever since:
their brother’s funeral in Massachu
setts in 1944; Mike’s trip to their sis
ter’s in Michigan in 1960; the 65-
mile drive with their niece, Sandra
Lyon, to Burlington a year and a
half ago.
Harry hadn’t been there for 40
years.
Except for pies and cookies from
Grandma’s Bakery in Richford, the
Dutchburns’ list of indulgences is
shorter than the list of their trips: an
aborted attempt at cigar-smoking in
1940 (Harry), and two chug-a-
lugged bottles of gin in 1939 (Mike).
“We don’t owe anybody,” says
Mike. “We pay cash or we do with
out. We go right along. That’s our
way.”
The Dutchburns’ ways — mod
esty, hard work and thrift — were
common knowledge on the frugal
little farms of Franklin County.
So was their habit of carrying
large sums of cash.
On the last day of January 1986,
the ways of the world — violence,
cruelty and greed — were brought
home to the Dutchburns by two
strangers who called them by name.
They pretended to be out of gas.
The Dutchburns didn’t have any,
but Mike climbed out of his narrow
iron bed in the middle of the night.
By the time he’d walked the few
steps to the kitchen, the two men
had kicked in the door.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Mike
told them. He got hit in the face.
Harry, who had $7,000 in his shirt
pocket, walked in right behind him
and got hit in the head with the thick
maple cane he used to prod cows.
Mike put up a fight, but it was
over in less than five minutes. Af
terward, Mike says, “the kitchen
looked like you’d cut a bunch of
hens’ heads off and let ’em fly.”
Five minutes was all it took to
teach two old men about fear.
The fear never left them, not even
after the robbers went to jail.
“I don’t sleep anymore. I hear the
cars all night. You don’t forget it,”
says Mike.
Dancers reaching for stardom
(AP) — Around 4:30 on Friday af
ternoons, seven youths stretch, twist,
jump, sweat and complain. They
whine about sore muscles and ex
haustion. They beg for compassion
and mercy.
Seated close by with her hand
near the play button of a cassette
tape player. Dawn Givens listens re
spectfully but unmoved. She knows
all about the time, work and dedica
tion it takes to make a successful
dance troop.
“It’s up to you,” she says with a
shrug. “We’re not going to leave un
til you get it right.”
Over and over, the roles are
played out until the dancers finally
give a flawless routine that lives up
to their name. Something Special.
For 3.5 years, under the unrelent
ing yet nurturing instruction of
Givens, Something Special has been
showing everything they’ve worked
for while dancing without charge at
nursing homes, talent shows and
anywhere else folks are willing to
watch.
Something Special members are
willing to endure all the sweat and
hard work because they are moti
vated by the overwhelming desire to
dance, an to dance well.
“I would like to make a career of
it,” says a dancer named Delmar,
one of the three original members
still dancing.
“I’d also like to be a computer
programmer. You have to have
something to fall back on.”
The dancers unanimously agree
that Givens is a taskmaster.
“She works you real hard so she
can get you where you want to go,” a
dancer named Tracey says, “and
that’s the top.”
Givens, 29, moved to Lexington
about four years ago. Before long,
she discovered there was no outlet
for her freestyle dance except at
nightspots where the patrons were
not appreciative of her hard work.
While attending a rehearsal for
the Little Mr. and Miss Black Lex
ington Pageant, Givens noticed
three girls who were using dance as
their talent.
She began working with them,
and word of her abilities got around.
Soon she was teaching dance to all
comers.
“At first the parents thought I was
too hard on them,” Givens says. “We
had a meeting, and I let them know
that my situation was not going to
change, and I asked them to stay out
of it, to let the girls decide if they
wanted to continue.
“Now the parents are supportive.”
The group hopes all their hard
work will one day pay off with an in
vitation to dance before an audience
of millions on the syndicated tele
vision program “Star Search.”
The dream is not unrealistic. A
similar group Givens taught in Chi
cago several years ago did just that,
winning twice before being elimi
nated.
“I see great futures for them if
they just hang in there,” Givens says.
“They’re a little impatient, but it
won’t be long.”