the green grapevine

How could these topics possibly be related?

I learned how government procedures can be a victim of intrigue when I was blocked early in my budding architectural and planning career from getting my projects approved. Zoning hearings used to be routine procedures, in which a board offered minor regulatory adjustments and then rubber-stamped plans that would help a city or town increase the assessed valuation of the property within its boundaries and enable it to collect more taxes.

Then at some unspecified date in the early seventies, someone turned the lights off in the hearing chamber, saying they would consume too much fossil fuel, the projects would eat up too much virgin forest and farmland and the cars going to and from the project would create too much dangerous traffic, noise and air pollution. Suddenly they were well funded and brought legions of experts to zoning meetings—botanists, ecologists, entomologists, zoologists, air pollution scientists, and our forces countered with geotechnical engineers, fluvial geomorphologists, potamologists and hydrologists. What had been a friendly world broke out in holy war. It was after the third such confrontation that I began to think that maybe there’s something to it—other than futile blustering by ignorant idiots who opposed any kind of change to their customary surroundings, people who did not share our team’s grand vision for improving it. For one thing, a few defeats handed to me at the bar of local approval soon brought home the fact that their efforts were not futile: we were stopped dead in our tracks.

The second realization dawned when I detected skullduggery behind one of our larger defeats: someone had set the young, wild-eyed environmental advocates against the developers, but not for the reasons of environmental purity that they claimed. We had planned our projects to be a demonstration of good land use: with high densities to shorten walking distances, make residential property accessible to stores and shops, keep homes near jobs, make a future mass transit stop accessible, preserve green space within the development. But who had done this? We soon learned that these kids had become the unwitting tools of larger forces—those that didn’t want apartments (and the riff-raff they attracted) in the suburbs, those that opposed competing businesses and those that just wanted everything to remain green, despite the fact that the land was not in a natural state—it had been farmed for generations—and to have their way, no matter what opportunities for economic growth and improved land use the community might lose out on in the process.

A third issue—and this may have been our Achilles heel—was that, despite our good intentions for better land use, our developer had selected a flood plain location, and this choice was due to the fact that the land was cheaper—for good reason: it was the least desirable and suitable for urban development. And over the years the true cost of making and keeping it suitable became apparent: it needed levees, pumping stations, drainage channels storage ponds, and a host of special engineering measures to create and maintain the basic conditions that exist at the outset on high ground. While the ability to protect from floods for long periods has been shown to be possible in entire countries, like the Netherlands, it has been less successful in New Orleans. Often the die is cast for urban development long before rational planning can be achieved, and then it is too late. While the premise of building on low land can be shown to be a fallacy, it is a romantic and seductive idea, one which many will defend. Hence the battle is joined.

It is this conflict between an immovable object (the city and its inexorable demands for growth) and the irresistible force (the river, Nature and the environment) that has fueled many costly urban battles, with dead and wounded on all sides. It’s the stuff of conflict, and it has inspired many life histories and stories worth the telling. That’s what got me going in writing my new novel, Crimes against Nature, and how it came to be that an architect who loves to tell these stories and to write the histories of real people was inspired to create a murder mystery, set in St. Louis, during a flood of record rivaling the Great Flood of ’93.

More next time.

Till then, regards,

Peter

It’s always gratifying to have someone read–and enjoy–what you’ve written. I was thrilled to hear in November from David Ricquish, Chairman of the Radio Heritage Foundation Wellington, New Zealand, after he had a chance to read “Dad’s War with the United States Marines,” the family memoir I wrote about my Dad’s serious military service, and hilarious misadventures in World War II www.dadswar.net . These activities culminated in his station’s announcement (under his direction) of the Japanese surrender on August 14, 1945, scooping the stateside radio networks from his outpost at Radio Station WXLI Guam in the Pacific Here’s here’s what David had to say:

“Your book actually arrived about 4 days ago - very fast transit - but I couldn’t put it down…What a good read. As well as all the information about WXLI, I think it’s greatest strength lies in how you’ve placed Ben’s service [especially with AFRS] in the broader context of his life.

“This is a crucial message we’re attempting to get across in a similar way: here are these isolated islands and small towns that had no or few Europeans in residence and, certainly, no local radio station. Suddenly, on planes and boats from out of nowhere, little radio stations popped up, filled the airwaves with the latest music and news as if they were plugged into the heart of LA or NY, then, as quickly as they appeared, most just disappeared. Ephemeral broadcasts from ephemeral stations.

“In Ben’s case, your book neatly places everything in the context of how he ended up there, what he did and thought about there, and what he did when he returned. So, thank goodness for folks who keep the letters that were sent home, and who take the time to share the stories later.

“Well done.

“If we may, we’d like to take a couple of pages [112-114] and run them as a David Ricquish article, illustrated with the images on pages 113 [WXLI building], 150 [cartoon] and 163 [Ben at WXLI mike]…with a direct link to Amazon for sales. We’ll also add your book to our bookstore.

“Really, a wonderful read, and we’ll do all we can to share your book with our readers and those who share our passion for radio heritage in the Pacific.”

–Radio Heritage Foundation, David Ricquish, Chairman
www.radioheritage.net

In June, in our neighborhood newspapers here in St. Louis, the Citizen Journals, Laura Brunts also did a sympathetic article explaining how the book came to be and descrbing for me how writing the book also helped me to finish the grieving progress, begun when Dad died in 1976, for a father I respected but never really knew, or knew how to love. My own epigraph, that I have been inscribing in authographed copies of the book lately, reads: “In the worst of times, it was the best of times: a man loved a boy, and his love was returned.”

To borrow a phrase from Walter Cronkite, ‘That’s the way it was,’ December 2006. Have very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Peter

Peter Green’s journal of little victories and defeats, funny encounters and random thoughts for his family and friends.

–St. Louis, April, 2006 (gg newswire)

It’s a fast-paced world out there, and I sometimes wonder if anyone knows or cares that I spent five years writing a World War II memoir of my father’s and my family’s arduous, lonely, and sometimes hilarious World War II adventures after his enlistment at age 35, despite having a wife and two children to support, in the United States Marines.

But there were early signs of enthusiasm and acceptance among my first readers. My friend Tracy, a retired General in the Army National Guard, loved the military stories in the book and bought copies for each of his children, one of whom, his eldest son, is serving as an officer on a Navy submarine. My friend Brad, whose wife Laurie is a writer, read the book and bought a copy for his father in Chicago, because it was so nostalgic about those wartime days and the radio broadcasts of the time from my home city. My friend Paula bought a copy to send to her brother, who is now serving in Iraq. Jack Niemi, a former chief of engineering at the St. Louis Corps of Engineers, wrote to say that he was nine when Pearl Harbor was bombed and remembers the World War II years very well. His father had two small children, and never was called up, but studied to take the officer exam in the event that he was. He concludes: “I also remember well the horse-drawn milk wagon, iceman and the coal going down the chute. Thanks again for the good read!” Lew Lynch, an authentic Tuskegee Airman that flew many missions in Europe during the war, who was a neighbor of ours for many years, read the book and liked it. He wrote: “Your dad was a smart cookie who figured out how to make lemonade out of a whole bunch of lemons.”

My immediate family is proud of me, even though they may not come right out and say it. My wife Connie is just relieved that the stories I have been regaling her with for all the years of our marriage are now written down and out of my system. My daughter Lisa, a fifth-grade teacher who puts great stock in books and reading, certainly is pleased to know more about her grandfather, who died when she was barely three years old. She is pleased that she will have something to show her daughter, our first grandchild Kennedy Catherine, about our family history. My younger daughter Lori and her fiancé Jeff, who live in Santa Monica and will be getting married out there this summer, work in computer animation and special effects for the film industry. They even spotted Steven Spielberg at a cocktail party the other day. Their friends ask me when it will be made into a film. And I’ve actually even had them say—and once even a perfect stranger said, while I was describing my story to the proprietor of a Beverly Hills bookstore—that I should pass this scenario on to their colleagues and friends for that purpose.

The event of publication has also created a minor sensation among relatives scattered far and wide and with friends from years ago in our neighborhood back in Chicago. Cousins as far away as Kalamazoo, Sarasota, Phoenix and Cork, Ireland, have called or written to express enthusiam. Some have said, “We had no idea all this was going on at that time!” Others were reminded that Dad was quite a character and that I have captured him just as they remembered him.

But far short of any cinematic ambitions I might harbor, I did the usual things that the son of an advertising man and the longtime promoter of his firm’s architectural and engineering capabilities would do. I didn’t have Simon & Schuster and their marketing machinery backing me up, but instead was in the capable hands of the James A. Rock publishing company. Its talented proprietors Jim and Lynne Rock plan to keep this volume in print for as long as they can sell copies. I decided to take the alternative, more regional approach to marketing: local book signings, newspaper publicity and speaking at local book clubs and such interviews I could get on local radio and television. To date, I have done a few of each type, which are described in my previous (January) post–see below.

In early March, I participated in a local author event at the Ladue, Missouri, Barnes and Noble bookstore. There I met Ryan Jones, author of Datashark, which is a must-read for anyone living today, and partricularly for American voters. This youthful yet worldly-wise author is a pilot, a former aerospace industry employee, a Tae Kwon Do brown belt and a skillful writer, who also has a high security clearance. He projects a scenario in which talented yet alienated hackers are kidnapped by the National Security Agency and are forced to develop systems for intercepting international military communications and rewriting control codes for enemy weapons systems. Military personnel fail to inform the president fully on these clandestine capabilities and the potential impact and side-effects of their actions; high-level politicians and staffers strategize highly complex battle plans that they fail to run past the military and intelligence professionals, and historical “what ifs”that we dread today, such as invasion of Taiwan by mainland China, actually happen, albeit accidentally. The unintended consequences are predictably disastrous. Does this sound familiar? This book has been robbing me of sleep, and although I am not yet finished, it is hard to put down. It is a perceptive and chilling peek into the future of America and the free democratic world. This $13.95 paperback is available at the Ladue Barnes & Noble, can be ordered through any bookstore and is online at www.amazon.com.

Also in March, I presented my dad’s story to a joint meeting of the St. Louis Post and the Scott Air Force Base Post of the Society of American Military Engineers. Although this was admittedly an easy crowd, including many of my longtime friends and colleagues, several people bought autographed copies. And I received some thoughtful comments on the type of aircraft that ferried my dad from Guam to Pearl Harbor, after his miraculous release 24 hours after it was permissible from military service. On seeing the picture that appears in the book, they agreed with Lew Lynch that the B-24 was not a Liberator, as I stated in the book, but a Privateer, the Marine Corps version of this aircraft. My tale of the struggle back on the home front also appeals to families of veterans and those who are serving in iraq and Afghanistan today.

In his report on the meeting in the post newsletter, Post President Glen Cherry, my colleague and friend, wrote: “One of the goals of the SAME St. Louisand Scott Field Posts is to keep things interesting. While we attempt to provide as many opportunities for our members to obtain Professional Development Hours, for example, we occasionally like to stir in a little lighter message. Such was the case at our March 22nd luncheon…that featured long-time SAME member Peter Green’s presentation about his new book. Pete’s talk featured many interesting anecdotes about his father’s (Ben Green) period of service with the Marines in Guam during World War II, as recounted in Pete’s book. Ben wrote more than 400 letters home during his 18 months abroad, and Pete painstakingly gleaned from them an authentic, and charming, account of his dad’s challenges and accomplishments during the war. Ben has a unique place in history as the Guam radio station’s manager who announced the Japanese surrender to the world. Take a break from your busy life for a moment and
visit www.dadswar.net for a peek at this truly interesting bit of history!”

Perhaps most gratifying of all, the publishers received word of our first book notice, by James A. Cox in the Midwest Book Review, which is quoted here as it is currently posted on Amazon.com:

An intimate biographical account of the life of journalist Ben Green and his illusive enlistment… March 7, 2006

“Dad’s War With The United States Marines by Peter H. Green is an intimate biographical account of the life of journalist Ben Green and his illusive enlistment… As a trusting citizen, Green signed himself into the Marine Corps as a combat intelligence officer without understanding the intent of the military, which was aimed at exploiting the aspirations of the 35 year-old man. The reader will follow Peter’s family through their struggle of an unsure outcome of marginal living conditions and of situational manipulations in Dad’s War With The United States Marines. Sure to inspire the reader to thoughtful reflection given current demands on the American military arising from the ‘war on terrorism,’ Dad’s War With The United States Marines is very highly recommended to all general readers and a welcome addition to the growing library of military memoirs and biographies.”

From wondering if I even ought to be writing at all to getting a little bit of attention from people I’ve never met: that seems like a big step for me. It’s also another reminder that if you believe in something strongly you should keep trying: eventually you will get through to people who understand you.

That’s it for now. Keep readin’ and writin’!

Pete

Peter Green’s journal of little victories and defeats, funny encounters and random thoughts for his family and friends.

–St. Louis, January, 2006 (gg newswire)

Welcome to the greenskills grapevine, a web log that is part of our new look for 2006. I figure with half a million people blogging around the world, perhaps one more can sneak in without doing too much additional harm. Unfortunately, I haven’t read enough of those efforts, so I am more than likely to repeat all of their mistakes. Bear with me here while I report our little victories and defeats, funny encounters, random thoughts and a journal of my progress toward that elusive goal we all chase, self actualization. And how fitting that my first jottings in the grapevine should happen to be about greengrocers.

Last week we went shopping in St. Louis’s historic Soulard market, founded in the 1830s (or even before–it’s claimed by some to be the first public market west of the Mississippi) and still thriving in a full square block of venerable steel-framed, open-air sheds built in 1929. We walked up and down the aisles, which were bursting even in winter with oranges from California, tangerines from Florida, purple, red and green grapes from Chile, bins overflowing with lettuce, okra, beans, onions, peppers and cucumbers in all shades of green and yellow bananas from the tropics, tended by rough looking men and sharp eyed women, whose temperaments ranged from surly to sweet. Since we had arrived at the early opening hour, we had the place to ourselves and the vendors had time to be particularly attentive and talkative. Fully loaded with all we could carry for less than thirty dollars, we spotted a stand on our way out that had a good deal on apples: three pounds for two dollars. I picked out an assortment of various kinds, put them in a bag and gave them back to a skinny man with a weathered face and bowed stature to be weighed.

“Hey you’re good, that’s three pounds exactly,” he pointed out.

“Maybe you should hire me,” I offered.

“Fifty cents an hour and all you can eat.” He looked up hopefully and then glanced wryly at my wife and added, “But he’s not worth it.”

What is an architect and planner doing writing anyway? And he writes books also, you say. It’s a long story, starting with parents, a housewife and an ex-Marine, who were both writers and publicists, a grandfather who was a construction contractor and me, a person that just loves to tell stories. My choice of architecture was a matter of interest and aptitude, but it also had something to do with finding a “practical” way to earn a living. And for a long career I have designed buildings, planned development sites and promoted my firm, all activities that I still enjoy. My favorite among these, however, was always describing the projects and getting people excited about hiring our team. This resulted in millions of words cascading from my computer screen over the years. That’s a lot of writing practice when you think about it. Then, after a nostalgic trip to Annisquam, the scene of my sixth summer in 1945, I was aware that there was a story worth telling (see my Foreword ). When I stepped down a year and a half ago from my day job (temporarily, as it now seems), I had time to peruse some 400 letters that my dad had written home during World War II, some funny stories he wrote about his personal war with the Marine Corps and a script Mom wrote for Dad’s surprise “This Is Your Life” 48th birthday party. Then over the next year, the story, which I had only begun in fits and starts, poured out and became my nonfiction family memoir, Dad’s War with the United States Marines.

The rest is the history that I’m here to tell you, if only in little bits and pieces. Once the writing was done, it was merely necessary to find an agent and a publisher. In case you haven’t checked lately, unless you’re the next Tom Clancy literary agents don’t even want to hear about you, much less answer your e-mails and faxes. That’s often because–despite your book’s readbility and potentially wide appeal–they can’t have a bidding war over your next great American novel with the five or six big publishers that remain unacquired and unconsolidated in the English-speaking world. Most of those charming little presses like Borzoi Books and Doubleday, Doran & Co. have been snapped up by the great leviathans that today rule the commercial book world.

But just as I was about to give up all hope, Roger Hayes, the published writer of a Viet Nam war story (On Point, St. Martin’s Paperbacks, 2001), whom I met through my military clients in St. Louis, said, “Forget everything you’ve been told: just approach the publishers directly.” My search then began in earnest, and I discovered that, as small to medium-sized publishers were acquired on the demand side, even smaller firms were being created or still existed on the supply side. After a renewed Internet search and a new flurry of inquiries and submittals, on a day last May one of my e-mails brought an answer. I met Jim and Lynne Rock of the Seaboard Press, an imprint of an established publishing house, one of those boutiques that still do exist. The tender loving care that they invested in the publication of my work, especially their fascination with my father’s hand drawn sketches sent home in his letters for me, his six-year-old son, was far in excess of what I might possibly have coaxed out of Simon & Shuster, even if they had beat down the door to publish it. I was on my way.

As the fall publication date neared, I put on my publicity hat and let the local press know that my dad had played a special role in the war’s history. On August 14, 2005 Harry Levins of the Post-Dispatch broke the story, on the 60th anniversary of V-J Day, that it was my father who scooped the news of the Japanese surrender to the world (See News and Reviews page) from his outpost at Armed Forces radio station WXLI on Guam. Other media attention was soon to follow: John Pertzborn interviewed me on KTVI Channel 2. From there, I dashed over to a downtown hotel, where Charlie Brennan was broadcasting a Veterans’ Day program on KMOX radio and raising money to provide phone cards for the troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. He devoted the entire morning to interviews appropriate to the day’s celebration, including one with me about my book. In our lively exchange, Charlie couldn’t get over the fact that during the war we used to save bacon grease and other meat drippings in Mason jars and take them to the butcher. We were told that the government could turn them into explosives for our troops, although I still have no idea how they did that. (If you know, please post a comment.) That same day I held two other presentations and book signings in St. Louis and the book’s sales campaign was underway.

This, then, is a brief explanation of and apology for an architect who attempts to write books. You, dear reader, can be the judge of how well I am doing. It has been a fulfilling and a wonderful diversion, although I miss my friends back in the office. Now I am busy getting back to my consulting world, assembling teams for new projects, designing projects and visiting construction sites. Maybe I’ll see you back in a business meeting one of these days.

And my next book? I can’t decide whether to write a science fiction story about a future flood in St. Louis or to continue on my family series: my mother has a story as interesting as my dad’s. Well, it took thirty years for the first one to bubble up to the surface. Time will tell.

Till next time,