Celsius1414

On my bike commute home on Friday, a question struck me out of nowhere: how far into Pi does 1414 appear? This was after about an hour of heat and sweat, so that might have something to do with it. ;)

Anyhow, thanks to The Pi-Search Page, I now know that:

The string 1414 occurs at position 1,636 counting from the first digit after the decimal point.

The next one is at position 12,432, and so forth.

Thanks to Jacket Copy for pointing to this video in their “Happy birthday Ray Bradbury!” post yesterday.

Amazing to think of an SF author doing a TV commercial. I guess the contemporary equivalent might be Stephen King doing one, although he did do American Express in the 80s:

Near to it might be this awesome M. Night Shyamalan AmEx ad from a few years ago:

Which reminds me to link to the funny Wes Anderson version:

One year ago today, I wished Ray Bradbury (along with Dorothy Parker) a Happy Birthday. On October 2nd last year, Ray went to San Bernardino to speak to fans of his work at an event organized by the San Bernardino Public Library. It was originally going to be at the Feldheym Central Library downtown, but due to high demand wound up being moved to the Sturges Center for the Fine Arts down the road.

I managed to score a stand-by ticket, meaning I might or might not get in, depending on available seating. So I went to the theater, not knowing whether I’d get in, although any overflow would still be able to watch the event on projected television outside.

Dozens, seemingly hundreds of people queued up and went inside while I and others in the stand-by line stood by.

But luck was with me. I got inside. After brief remarks by various functionaries (including, if I recall, the mayor of San Bernardino). Soon enough, Mr. Bradbury came out, the lights dimmed, and he began telling stories.

The talk was the culmination of a community reading of Fahrenheit 451, a favorite of librarians and readers for over 50 years now (and yours truly for that matter), so he spoke of writing the book, of becoming a writer, of creativity. Much of what he talked about I remember reading in various books of his, but to hear it from him in person, not to mention witnessing other people hearing him, was truly a magical experience.

It had been announced that Mr. Bradbury would be signing autographs for whomever wished it, for as long as he could. Given his infirmity and age, I was frankly surprised he was going to attempt it at all.

Since virtually the entire auditorium wished it, two great queues of people formed going down both aisles of the theater; they got things a bit organized, taking a handful of people from each line, alternating back and forth. So there was this slow advancement, as the crowds watched the lucky ones at the beginning get their copies of 451 signed.

It took a long time to get to the front of the auditorium, then around to the side and up to the stage. Over the next hour or so, I texted Denyse a few times to update her on the progress.

As I finally got closer I could hear fans telling Mr. Bradbury various things as he signed, getting photographs with him. He took the time to acknowledge every one of them, especially the kids, shaking hands, replying graciously, and always signing, signing, signing. Scores of people went before me, but he was still going strong by the time I reached the stage.

I’d been running over and over in my head, anxious as can be, what I wanted to say to him.

It isn’t every day you meet one of your heroes. What are you supposed to say?

How are you supposed to encapsulate decades of joy and profound influence into 15 seconds of prattle? How do you summarize how much he influenced you, both to become a writer and to keep writing?

I handed my copy of Dandelion Wine to the attendant (in my nervous haste to get there, the only volume among the several of his books I own that I could find) and snapped the above picture. I told him hello, which he returned as he smoothed the book out to sign.

What did I say to him as we shook hands afterwards?

“Thank you so much, sir, for everything.”

He brought his other hand on top of mine, “Thank you,” he said with heartfelt emotion. “Thank you.”

As I left the theater, he was still at it with dozens of people waiting their turn.

I’ll bet he got through every last one of them.

Ever since, I had intended to pick out a few of the pictures, write a few things, and post this very entry. But whenever I came to do it, I just couldn’t. I’m not sure why.

I think it was a version of that sense of profundity I mentioned earlier. The moment was too special to grasp quite yet. Months passed.

Then on my calendar this week I noticed it was again Mr. Bradbury’s (and Mrs. Parker’s) birthday on the 22nd. A perfect moment.

So, on this August 22nd, Happy Birthday to Ray Bradbury!

Thank you so much, sir, for everything.

John Steinbeck’s In Dubious Battle is a novel describing the Great Cotton Strike of 1933 by farm workers in the California Central Valley. I’ve not read it, but it has been criticized at times for the author’s choice to focus almost exclusively on white Okies rather than the Mexicans who formed three-fourths of the workers in the real event.

The Village Voice has an article by Tony Ortega, who began researching the question at the behest of his mentor, novelist Louis Owens. As he digs deeper, Ortega is stunned to realize that members of his own family, still living, were there during the historical strike.

It was in the small farm town of Pixley, for example, about two weeks into the shutdown, that the most harrowing event of the strike occurred. The organizers, who included a man named Pat Chambers and a woman named Carolyn Decker, had called for a meeting at a hall in town. So many strikers showed up, however, that many were unable to get inside. As the crowd tried to get word of what was going on in the meeting, someone managed to snap a couple of stunning photographs: About a dozen farmers with rifles in their hands were sneaking up on the Mexican workers.

The farmers opened fire on the unarmed crowd. Miraculously, only two men were killed; several other people were injured, including a woman. The gunmen then jumped into their cars and sped away, but were almost immediately pulled over by California Highway Patrol officers who had actually witnessed the attack (the farmers’ weapons were literally still smoking). The officers took the rifles and then told the men to go on home.

Read “Louis Owens and John Steinbeck’s Ghosts”, by Tony Ortega.

(Found via “John Steinbeck’s migrant workers” on the LA Times’ Jacket Copy blog.)

Yes, that fish might go off at any moment. The late Julia Child, famous chef and writer, was a spy during WWII. Now, in real life (i.e., not a James Bond movie) you’d expect a spy to be someone who fades into the woodwork, looks inconspicuous, doesn’t attract attention. That the over six-foot, boisterous Child was a spy might come as a bit of a shock.

BBC News: “US celebrities spied during WWII”:

It was already known that Mrs Child - the doyenne of US television cookery shows, who died in 2004 - had worked for the OSS, but the documentation includes several new details about her history.

When Mrs Child applied to work for the agency, she admitted at least one failing - impulsiveness. In her OSS application, she included a note expressing regret that she had left a department store job because she did not get along with her boss.

“I made a tactical error and was out,” she explained.

Her Wikipedia article has more details of her days with the OSS:

She started out at OSS Headquarters in Washington, working directly for General William J. Donovan, the leader of OSS. Working as a research assistant in the Secret Intelligence division, Julia typed up thousands of names on white note cards used to keep track of officers.

For a year, she worked at the OSS Emergency Sea Rescue Equipment Section in Washington, D.C., where she was a file clerk and also helped in the development of a shark repellent to ensure that sharks would not explode ordnance targeting German U-boats. In 1944 she was posted to Kandy, Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), where she met her future husband, a high-ranking OSS cartographer, and later to China, where she received the Emblem of Meritorious Civilian Service as head of the Registry of the OSS Secretariat.