R.I.P. Hunter Brumfield III
Thanks for the memories: Randall Roberts' obituary on Hunter Brumfield III was good ["Won't Be Worried Long," August 10]. I knew Brumfield as Toast back in the day, when I played bass for Son of StarChild. We became friends. I'm so sorry to hear about this. Thank you for writing a story on him.
Peace and God bless.
Lincoln B. Calvin
Heaven rocks: Upon seeing the cover of the August 10 RFT, I had to get inside and find out just who the man in the photo was. I was familiar with the names of the bands Hunter Brumfield had been in but had never seen them. Too bad, I would have liked to observe his talent in whatever expression it was taking at that particular time.
Having attempted suicide myself (but obviously surviving), I felt an empathy for him, which resulted in making sure I got to church on time today and prayed a decade of the rosary for the peace of his eternal spirit. Maybe his soul will be fortunate enough and happen upon Marc Bolan!
Thank you for doing the article and my sincere condolences go out to his people.
Why'd Brown go and shoot Cannon? Dennis Brown makes several valid points in his recent review of The History of Bowling, which we presented in collaboration with HotCity Theatre Company ["Spare Me," August 10]. While the play's humor is welcome, I agree that playwright Mike Ervin missed or perhaps chose not to engage in some opportunities to make a deeper statement. But it is a play worth presenting, especially within the context of the GreenHouse, the development arm of HotCity. There are few new contemporary plays that deal with disability. Yet disability directly affects over 55 million Americans as well as their families, friends and society as a whole. This is an area that merits exploration and emerging playwrights need a space in which they may be heard and where their work can grow.
What I cannot fathom is Brown's mean-spirited attack on Sarah Cannon, one of our town's more versatile, articulate and winning actors. Perhaps in the interest of being clever, Brown took some potshots that seemed personal and, frankly, out of line.
Many of us theater veterans are pleased that New York Magazine finally parted company with legendarily caustic critic John Simon, who made a sport out of being cruel. Let us hope that the Riverfront Times is not encouraging Brown to understudy that unnecessary role.
Joan Lipkin, artistic director
That Uppity Theatre Company
To hell with the fashionistas! I witnessed part of the interview between Annie Zaleski and the members of SoTheySay ["Say Anything," August 10]. For the record, very little they had to say was worth printing.
Drop the obnoxious STLpunk fashionistas; try reviewing music for a change.
RAC = wack: After reading Ivy Cooper's comments on the St. Louis art scene, my husband and I drove into town to see the "Six Shooters/Six Visions" show at the Regional Arts Commission gallery. It was around 3:30 p.m. on a Thursday. The gallery door was open, and my husband and I walked in to see the work. We were interrupted by a young man who told us that viewing the exhibit was "by appointment only" and gestured for us to leave. I can only guess that we did not look art-groovy enough. It insulted me and gives me another reason to totally bypass St. Louis and go directly to Chicago for the art scene.
I am an artist myself, and I would be really disappointed to know that a potential buyer was turned away from my work in this manner. Nowhere did a sign say that the exhibit was by appointment only. Thought you might like to know.
The Big, Bad Bottle
The 40-ouncer -- half-full or half-empty? I enjoyed Mike Seely's article on the 40-ounce bottle, but he neglected one fundamental point ["Behold the Forty," June 8]. The corporations that produce the intoxicating product (beer) have a vested interest in keeping the customer in a weakened state of being. Those that own the alcoholic beverage plants are also heavily invested in the prison industry, the military-industrial complex and other less savory endeavors. These elitists revel in human misery. The decision not to carry the 40-ounce is not an assault on freedom; rather, it is a very small victory over our puppet master. While Seely's article attempted to be funny, I just found it to be sadly incomplete.
Just my two (or forty) cents.
"Won't Be Worried Long," Randall Roberts' August 10 obituary of musician Hunter Brumfield III, incorrectly reported where Brumfield committed suicide. Brumfield died at his stepfather's home in O'Fallon.
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