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ANDREW BARBANO
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Photo: Debra Reid, Sparks Tribune

 


   Everybody knows the dice are loaded.
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed.
   Everybody knows the war is over.
Everybody knows the good guys lost.
   Everybody knows the fight was fixed.
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich.
   That's how it goes.
Everybody knows...
Everybody knows the scene is dead
   But there's gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
   What everybody knows...
   Everybody talking to their pockets.
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
   and a long red rose.
   Everybody knows. Everybody knows.
That's how it goes.
Everybody knows.

By Leonard Cohen (1934-2016) & Sharon Robinson
© 1988 CBS Records, Inc.


I hope you understand I just had to go back to the island.
Leon Russell, 1942-2016




The most dangerous animal in the world
Barbwire by Andrew Quarantino Barbáno
/
Expanded from the Sparks Tribune 10-11-2023 / Updated 10-12-2023** GMT / Expansions in blue

Winter 1963
It felt like the world would freeze
With John F. Kennedy
And the Beatles*


Greatest Hits Dept.

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   The Dean of Reno Bloggers could very well be Andrew Barbano, self-described "fighter of public demons," who started putting his "Barbwire" columns online in 1996 and now runs 10 sites.

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"The most dangerous animal in world" was probably the title of one of the greatest speeches I ever heard, a work of ironic perfection: It was never given.

I witnessed that jungle-worthy admonition as a 16 yeard-old kid almost seven decades ago.

They came as part of a ridiculous competition to see who would be named valedictorian of the boys' side of my segregated Catholic high school graduating class.

Fresno's San Joaquin Memorial was segregated. Boys and girls never dared matriculate together (or did anything else together, if the nuns had their way).

The writer of that speech was a young man named John Chakmak, the top student among all us guys in the Class of 1963.

Those damning words haunted me over the past few days as "this monster mannunkind" edged closer to World War III. (Props to poet e.e. cummings.)

SJM was a heavily academic school run by the Christian Brothers and the Sisters of the Holy Cross.

If you lasted four years, you left with the equivalent of your first or second year of college.

Us kids were taught the officially sanctioned dogma of the word of God. Fortunately, some of the brothers did so with a mischievous wink in their eyes.

Grains of salt, anyone? How about a salt shaker?

The selection of the valedictorian in my senior year provided one of my earliest lessons in politics.

The ladies side valedictorian was rightfully chosen by grade point average, as usual.

However, a new boys principal changed the rules of the game at the last minute.

The top five guys, including me, would compete in a speech contest.

WTF?

I have never been known for my shyness, but I couldn't get into it and didn't write anything. As a contestant, I was able to witness the closed-door competition.

The judges included the male student body president, who was also the school's starting quarterback, and two other dudes I don't remember.

All appointed by His Highness, Righteous Principal Brother Mel.

Four of the five finalists went on to distinguished careers: two lawyers, a renowned pediatrician, a university philosophy professor. And me.

The first three contestants gave addresses ranging from mediocre to pretty good.

Then came Mr. Chakmak's memorable advice to teenagers entering a world bristling with nuclear weapons which had just barely survived the 1962 Cuban missile crisis.

The assassination of a president and the first foray by the boys from Liverpool were just one summer away. Vietnam already festered.

If a valedictory address ever lived up to its purpose as a look back and a look forward, John Chakmak's was it.

I carry his closing lines to this very day.

He informed us that New York's Bronx Zoo had launched an exhibit entitled "The Most Dangerous Animal in the World." It consisted of a mirror, caged behind bars, and reflecting the image of the viewer.

"You are looking at the most dangerous animal in the world," read a title atop the enclosure, adding "It alone of all the animals that ever lived can exterminate (and has) entire species of animals. Now it has the power to wipe out all life on earth."

Zounds. The truth hurt.

Chakmak's opus was thought provoking, profound and a graduation challenge to all supposedly smart kids to jump in and do something before it was too late.

Here I am almost 70 years later and I keep hearing John's words over and over as the flames rise high into a dark night.

John never gave that speech. The judging jocks went for the most pedestrian address exactly because it was mediocre.

"It didn't go over our heads, we felt it was for us," the quarterback told me later. The winner was his backup QB.

So here we stand, as close or closer to WW3 as we have ever been since 1962.

And nobody seems to have solutions about anything.

I offer only two.

First, an old line from the Sixties: The only way to stop killing is to stop killing.

And my oft-stated admonition which may one day come true: Moms. Women. Let females rule. Men, their egos and their greed cause wars and privation.

Some woman "leaders" get into office feeling compelled to prove they have as much warrior macho as any hairy guy.

So they go to war, too. Witness the first female British Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher, back in the fantasyland of her BFF Ronald Reagan.

Much more enlightened female leaders have emerged since, most of whom are not rock stars. But some are.

Consider recently retired New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern. Shortly after she got to the top came COVID-19.

She had to shut her country down to keep the plague out. And succeeded admirably.

She set a standard almost unmatched in the world.

For an encore, she became the first head of state to give birth while in office in more than a century.

Women are just plain wired differently than wannabe warriors.

Us dudes have failed. Miserably.

Wise men like John Chakmak get silenced. Or worse.

For centuries, artists and philosophers have put mirrors up to our faces.

And we look away to go to the concession stand for popcorn to feed the monkeys.

The most dangerous animals in the world are running out of time.

¡ se puede!

Stay safe, get vaxxed and pray for those cruelly afflicted by the cruelly small minds on this small planet, especially victims of our perpetual wars.

Be well. Raise hell.
/ Esté bien. Haga infierno. (Pardon my Spanglish.)
être bien, élever l'enfer (Pardon my French.) Stammi bene. Scatenare l'inferno. (And Italian.)
__________________
_
Andrew Quarantino Barbano is a 54-year Nevadan and editor of NevadaLabor.com, SenJoeNeal.org, DoctorLawyerWatch.com, BallotBoxing.US, ConsumerCoalitionv.org, ChantalCoalition.org, Rentvolution.org, MIssissippiWestNV.org and CesarChavezNevada.com among others. He is a longtime member of the Reno-Sparks NAACP and Sparks-based Communications Workers of America Local 9413/AFL-CIO. As always, his comments are entirely his own. Barbwire by Barbano has originated in the Sparks Tribune since August 12, 1988.

The Northern Nevada Central Labor Council/AFL-CIO inducted him into the César Chávez Nevada Labor Hall of Fame on April 5, 2024.

*Opening lyrics from "Life in a Northern Town" by Gilbert Gabriel and Nick Laird-Lowes, Dream Academy, 1985.

**BLASTS FROM THE PAST: 1963 UPDATE —> The May 20, 1963 edition of Memorial High's student newspaper, the Red & Blue, carried a long feature of "last wills and testaments" of the senior class. On page 3, Mr. Chakmak wrote "I, John Chakmak, bestow on all future debaters my firecrackers and my half-used cans of shaving cream."

Gotta hunch I know what debate he was talking about.

I was less diplomatic: "I, Andy Barbano, Esq., will my title Esq., my hat, my disk jockey job, my trumpet and my position on the football team to Brother Mel."

Either way, it appears we shared the same opinion of Brother Mel's valedictory "competition." John went on to become a top gun attorney and I defeated Lush Rambo on the radio. So I guess we both learned how to talk real good.

FYI, I still have my trumpet and I was third-string center. So perhaps I was telling Brother Mel to get bent over.

Breaking News —> Masks work!

 




     I wonder where you are
I wonder if you still remember
     Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

— The Moody Blues


Stay tuned for updates and remembrances. All are welcome.
Celebration of life announced

Unforgettable, Unforgivable and Unnecessary
Barbwire by Andrew Quarantino Barbáno
/
Expanded from the Sparks Tribune 10-4-2023 / 10-5-2023 GMT / Expansions in blue

The Last Picture Show: Serenata for Renate

This Saturday, my unforgettable friend Renate Neumann will be the guest of honor at a "celebration of her interesting, artistic and productive life," according to her family.

Larry Barbano as Renate saw him
In a younger day, when he had more hair on his scalp and less on his face, he couldn't buy a beer in San Francisco because so many people mistook him for the Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia.
Barbwire Man as Renate saw him

I count Renate and her husband of 54 years, Peter, among my BFFs. We met just after I moved here from Las Vegas in 1971.

Suffering from complications of Parkinson's Disease, Renate died last August 12 at 84. (Barbwire 8-16-2023)

Many words have been and will be spoken about her and I will add just one: lovely.

Renate spread flowers along every path she walked, bringing beauty by her very presence, her lilting grace, her exotic voice and prodigious talent. The flowers left seeds to bloom forever in the lives of many.

I only recently learned that she worked in the 1960s at the legendary New York advertising agency Doyle Dane Bernbach, the progenitor of modern marketing media, the Mount Olympus of the profession.

They produced what was roundly considered the ad of the decade, a full page photo of the NASA lunar lander on the moon with only a small "V W" logo under the shot.

The venerable Volkswagen Beetle was neither needed nor depicted. The legendary headline resonates to this day: "It's ugly, but it gets you there."

Renate's considerable talents were also utilized by J.C. Penney in Manhattan.

The young German lady became a U.S. citizen on the nation's 200th birthday, July 4, 1976.

Renate married Peter in Reno in 1969 and soon became an integral part of Doyle McKenna, the prestigious advertising agency for John Ascuaga's Sparks Nugget.

He reportedly cherished her renderings of the storied Nugget elephants, Bertha and Tina.

A true Renaissance woman, Renate became a licensed glider and light aircraft pilot. The Nevada Soaring Assn. named her "Hummingbird," fitting for a flower flitter.

Photos of Renate and the portraits she painted of my brother Larry and myself will be posted with the expanded Internet edition of this column at NevadaLabor.com/

Renate's memorial service will be held at Reno's Mountain View Mortuary, 425 Stoker, at 11:00 a.m. this Saturday, Oct. 7.

It will be her final art show with over 150 paintings and landscapes by the hummingbird and her Reno Portrait Society colleagues.

Adios.

UNFORGIVABLE. Kudos to Sparks City Hall for refusing to cave in to the seven-figure court case filed by ex-cop George Forbush. [1]

The sensitive guy was disciplined for posting flamingly violent and racist comments on Twitter. I refuse to sully the Tribune by repeating them.

Forbush apparently didn't enjoy the foreplay. He got a slap on the wrist, first placed on administrative leave followed by four days without pay.

All this hurt his feelings so badly that he decided to cash in and sued for a million dollars.

Who cares, it's just taxpayer money, right?

I knew a cop like Forbush back in Fresno. Good ole boy Irish Murphy really believed that the solution to them annoying long-haired Vietnam War protestors was simple: Machine gun a few hundred hippies. Shades of Tiananmen Square.

Unlike others, Sparks is showing some chops. Rather than fight, the Reno City Council, with only its conscience, Jenny Brekhus in dissent, recently rolled over for some Verdi developer and handed him a few million for his tribulations.

In 2006, the Washoe County Commission, intimidated by threats from a nasty lawyer, paid $15 million plus attorneys fees to Minnesota speculators who acquired the southwest Reno Ballardini Ranch — the last major open space in the Truckee Meadows.

Fortunately for the birds and bunnies, the 2007-08 recession stopped that subdivision but the bad joke continues at our expense. Former Reno Mayor Pete Sferrazza, the only Democratic commissioner, voted against the deal.

The majority added insult to injury by borrowing money to pay for the settlement.

Only the Barbwire has reported that the cost has since ballooned to over $35 million and counting. (Websearch "NevadaLabor.com Ballardini" for more than you'll want to know about that disaster. I suggest keeping a jug of Tums handy.)

Stand your ground, Sparks. Kick butt.

WHERE THE SUN NEVER SHINES. The Grand Sierra Reno Hotel-Casino just announced a major expansion which will include a new basketball palace for the University of Nevada-Reno Wolf Pack.

The girls can stay at Lawlor Events Center, which seats a thousand more than the GSR project.

So why the hell is this needed?

University president and former Nevada governor Brian Sandoval (R), appeared at last week's love fest with GSR boss Alex Meruelo.

They touted that no taxpayer money would be needed, at least in the building phase.

Of course. Meruelo knows that any public construction funding would trigger the prevailing wage law based on local area standard pay.

Better to import underskilled carpetbaggers from Mississippi and such.

Meruelo's GSR policy is prevent any additional unions above what he inherited when he bought the place.

Back on Sandoval's watch as governor, Tesla committed to hire local workers but organized labor had to fight to get any work after Count Elon's billion-plus corporate welfare tax giveaway was approved.

Mr. Sandoval said this latest love child will "put us on the stage that gives us equality to any program in the United States of America. [2]

Huh? Cosmetics don't guarantee that hoop dreams will come true.

UNR is never going to be major league. Despite limited state funding because our casinos and mines pay pittances in taxes, we still occasionally show signs of brilliance.

However, we will never be in the class of major university professional sports juggernauts.

Meruelo and Sandoval shamelessly trolled famous names, including Beyoncé and Taylor Swift. (Expand the seating to 200,000, then we'll talk, guys.)

They even teased National Hockey League exhibitions by Meruelo's Arizona Coyotes against the Las Vegas Golden Knights.

Hmmm...where have I heard that before?

Oh, yeah. To muster northern support for the Las Vegas Raiders corporate welfare palace, no less than future Gov. Steve Sisolak (D), hinted that the Raiders training camp just might be located here.

It went to Gomorrah South.

Nevada taxpayers will have to pay for the privilege of playing in Meruelo's wet dream.

So Sandoval wants taxpayers to rent a mansion when we already own a good house.

Not very conservative, guv.

¡ se puede!

Stay safe, get vaxxed and pray for those cruelly afflicted by the cruelly small minds on this small planet, especially victims of our perpetual wars.

Be well. Raise hell.
/ Esté bien. Haga infierno. (Pardon my Spanglish.)
être bien, élever l'enfer (Pardon my French.) Stammi bene. Scatenare l'inferno. (And Italian.)

[1] Reno Gazette-Journal page 3-A, 9-27-2023

[2] Reno Gazette-Journal page 1-A, 9-29-2023
___________________
Andrew Quarantino Barbano is a 54-year Nevadan and editor of NevadaLabor.com, SenJoeNeal.org, DoctorLawyerWatch.com, BallotBoxing.US, ConsumerCoalitionv.org, ChantalCoalition.org, Rentvolution.org, MIssissippiWestNV.org and CesarChavezNevada.com among others. He is a longtime member of the Reno-Sparks NAACP and Sparks-based Communications Workers of America Local 9413/AFL-CIO. As always, his comments are entirely his own. Barbwire by Barbano has originated in the Sparks Tribune since August 12, 1988.

The Northern Nevada Central Labor Council/AFL-CIO inducted him into the César Chávez Nevada Labor Hall of Fame on April 5, 2024.

Breaking News —> Masks work!

 

Stay tuned for updates and remembrances. All are welcome.
Celebration of life announced

Renate Neumann: Once upon a time
Barbwire by Andrew Quarantino Barbáno
/
Expanded from the Sparks Tribune 8-16-2023 / Updated 8-21, 9-1 & 10-4-2023/ Expansions in blue

The Perseid Meteor Shower arrived last weekend to carry my dear friend Renate Neumann across the universe.

Larry Barbano as Renate saw him
In a younger day, when he had more hair on his scalp and less on his face, he couldn't buy a beer in San Francisco because so many people mistook him for the Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia.
Barbwire Man as Renate saw him
THE LAST PICTURE SHOW: Renate's memorial service will be held at Reno's Mountain View Mortuary, 425 Stoker, at 11:00 a.m. on Saturday, Oct. 7. It will include her final art show with over 150 paintings by Renate and other Reno Portrait Society artists.

She left this form on Saturday, August 12, suffering from complications brought on by Parkinson's Disease.

The great artist's hands could paint no more and we stand much diminished for it.

Renate and her husband Peter were among the first to welcome me to northern Nevada when I moved here from Las Vegas in 1971.

I had worked on Supreme Court Justice Al Gunderson's campaign and he invited me to dinner at the Pagni Family's Jubilee Italian Restaurant in Pleasant Valley between Reno and Carson City.

Renate and Peter were the judge's other dinner guests that memorable evening.

It marked the beginning of a 53-year friendship.

Pete and Renate married on January 23, 1969 at the Reno home of hall of fame photographer Don Dondero and his wife, Liz.

Peter Chase Neumann was in the early stages of building a top gun law practice and Renate was a commercial artist at Doyle McKenna, the longtime advertising agency for John Ascuaga's Sparks Nugget.

She freelanced a little work for my fledgling media enterprise after I opened my own store awhile later.

I learned only recently that she worked in the 1960s at the legendary New York City advertising agency Doyle Dane Bernbach, the progenitor of modern marketing media, the Mount Olympus of the profession.

They produced what was roundly considered the ad of the decade, a full page photo of the NASA lunar lander on the moon with only a small V W (Volkswagen) logo under the shot.

The venerable VW Beetle was not needed and not depicted.

The legendary headline resonates to this day: "It's ugly, but it gets you there."

Renate's considerable talents were also utiliized by J.C. Penney in Manhattan.

She worked and walked with giants all her life.

Renate was an excellent graphic designer but her genius truly shone thru on canvas.

My brother Larry was visiting one summer and by chance, we ran into Renate.

She knew a good subject when she saw one and asked my big little brother to sit for her portraiture group.

The fee structure was rather curious. Twenty bucks for posing clothed, but only $15 for sitting nude.

I never asked why.

I could only guess that the rights fee was pro-rated on the weight of clothing.

Sometime later, I also sat for her group. Fully dressed.

Renate later included the Barbano boys' portraits at a weekend showing at the downtown Reno First United Methodist Church.

I had never seen the finished work before that day.

Our dear sainted Italian mother Mary would have said her sons never looked better.

Somewhere, I have a photo of Renate holding those portraits.

If I can unearth it, I will include it in the Barbwire expanded web edition at NevadaLabor.com/

Renate brought beauty wherever she went. She had a radiant kindness about her.

The moment you met her, you knew you had a friend in the petite lady with the movie star presence.

She was the real deal, complete with an elegant German accent somewhere betwixt supermodel Heidi Klum and actresses Elke Sommer and Marlene Dietrich.

When she talked, people listened. The closest I ever saw Renate get to losing her cool came once when I mentioned something with canola oil in it.

"Throw it away!" she interjected and lectured me on all its detriments.

Renate and Peter founded the Angel Kiss Foundation, a non-profit dedicated to helping families of cancer-stricken children.

Their White Water Race & Jazz Festival set the standard for every downtown Reno riverfront event which followed. (See the Barbwire of June 26, 2005, linked to the online edition.)

Even in her final days, Renate exercised regularly, as best she was able. She had just turned 84 on July 31.

I was notified when Peter Neumann copied me on an e-mail to her family in Germany.

I bowed my head, wept awhile, prayed, cried a little more, sang a few songs in breaking voice, then played Eva Cassidy blues followed by Beethoven's 7th Symphony.

The 7th is the most transcendent composition I know and always uplifts me from low and into a soaring soundscape that emulates flight.

I also emanated a meditation to my late wife Betty to embrace our friend Renate as she embarks on her next journey.

I put on a little music from Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter, then went outside to breathe a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

Reach out your hand
If your cup be empty
If your cup is full,
May it be again.


Let it be known

There is a fountain
That was not made
By the hands of men.

IN MEMORIAM. My father, Andrew Henry Barbano, died of Parkinson's as did Renate.

As fate would have it, a few days ago, I was informed that Dr. Mindy Lokshin had retired from the general practice of medicine. (She's married to longtime Sparks allergist Dr. Boris Lokshin.)


Dr. Mindy apparently un-retired rather quickly, helping start the Parkinson Support Center of Northern Nevada. Their purpose is "improvement of the quality of life for those living with Parkinson's disease, their families and care partners."

Their goal is "connecting people to the information, support services, programs and activities they need to enhance wellness and live an active, engaged life."

It's a completely local non-profit, not affiliated with any national organization.


From 1:00 to 4:00 p.m. this Saturday, August 19, they are hosting a showing of "STILL — A Michael J. Fox Movie." The film stars America's most famous Parkinson's victim. A question and answer session follows with Dr. Varga, a movement disorder specialist.

Admission is free and light refreshments will be provided.

The location is Five Star Senior Living, 3201 Plumas Street in Reno. Reservations are necessary. You may call (775) 525-0205 or e-mail <anne@pscnn.org>

They deserve your support. Tell them Renate Neumann referred you.

¡ se puede!

Stay safe, get vaxxed and pray for those cruelly afflicted by the cruelly small minds on this small planet, especially victims of our perpetual wars.

Be well. Raise hell.
/ Esté bien. Haga infierno. (Pardon my Spanglish.)
être bien, élever l'enfer (Pardon my French.) Stammi bene. Scatenare l'inferno. (And Italian.)
__________________
_
Andrew Quarantino Barbano is a 54-year Nevadan and editor of NevadaLabor.com, SenJoeNeal.org, DoctorLawyerWatch.com, BallotBoxing.US, ConsumerCoalitionv.org, ChantalCoalition.org, Rentvolution.org, MIssissippiWestNV.org and CesarChavezNevada.com among others. He is a longtime member of the Reno-Sparks NAACP and Sparks-based Communications Workers of America Local 9413/AFL-CIO. As always, his comments are entirely his own. Barbwire by Barbano has originated in the Sparks Tribune since August 12, 1988. Lyrics from the Grateful Dead's "Ripple," 1970.

The Northern Nevada Central Labor Council/AFL-CIO inducted him into the César Chávez Nevada Labor Hall of Fame on April 5, 2024.

Breaking News —> Masks work!

 


Web Xtras & Smoking Guns—>

Why the science is clear that masks work
By Zeynep Tufecki / The New York Times / 3-10-2023

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$75 dead or alive: Still crazy after all these years
A mass murderer becomes famous on TV a century later

How come nobody noticed 'til now?
Barbwire by Andrew Barbáno
/ Expanded from the 2-21-2018 Sparks Tribune

Triangle Shirtwaist Factory owners Max Blank and Isaac Harris. Is not Mr. Harris eerily familiar to television junkies?

From the Emmy-winning opening slate of the blockbuster "Cheers" television series. Combined with its "Frasier" spinoff, it lasted 20 years.
The "shirtwaist kings" immigrated from Russia and made a fortune manufacturing "Gibson Girl"-style blouses. (Photo, "The American Experience"/PBS)
The Emmy-winning opening slate of the "Cheers" television series before the "slate" of creators is superimposed. Looks like Mr. Harris' dead ringer (at left) is having a bloody good time.

"Who ya gonna believe, me or your own eyes?" Chico Marx disguised as Groucho Marx in "Duck Soup" (1933)
Back to the story of the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist holocaust

Triangle tragedy recalled as requiem
"The Fire in My Mouth," a new oratorio by Pulitzer honoree Julia Wolfe, premiered with the New York Philharmonic Jan. 24

By Michael Cooper / The New York Times 1-23-2019

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Copyright © 1982-2023 Andrew Barbano

Andrew Barbano is a 54-year Nevadan, editor of NevadaLabor.com and SenJoeNeal.org; and former chair of the City of Reno's Citizens Cable Compliance Committee. He is the executive producer of Nevada's annual César Chávez Day celebration and a longtime member of the Reno-Sparks NAACP. As always, his opinions are strictly his own. E-mail barbano@frontpage.reno.nv.us. The Northern Nevada Central Labor Council/AFL-CIO inducted him into the César Chávez Nevada Labor Hall of Fame on April 5, 2024.

Barbwire by Barbano moved to Nevada's Daily Sparks Tribune on Aug. 12, 1988, and has originated in them parts ever since.
Whom to blame: How a hall-of-famer's hunch birthed the Barbwire in August of 1987
Tempus fugit.

Betty J. Barbano
2-7-1941 / 12-27-2005

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