Gary Tischler •

Has President Obama, in the hot political jargon of the day, regained his mojo? In other words: is the Barack Obama of the presidential election campaign back in full view?

I write this not knowing what has been said in the State of the Union Address scheduled to be given by the President tonight (I wrote this on Tuesday morning, January 25), an address that is to be given in a new atmosphere of politeness. If the Dems and the GOPs haven’t been speaking with each other, they will at least be forced to sit with each other for the duration of the speech, which could get awkward.

The President’s long-standing unwillingness—some have said inability—to fight with the GOP toe-to-toe seems to have paid some dividends. The new age of cooperation, and a growing political assurance on his part, let the President come out of the ashes with some momentum after the Republican’s spectacular victories in the mid-term elections, which saw them regain control of the House of Representatives. Eager to extend the Bush tax cuts—largely benefiting the wealthy—the GOP bartered away opposition to the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, went along with the nuclear arms reduction treaty extension, and extended unemployment payments and allowed benefits for 9/11 survivors.

As they say in politics, you never know what can happen; things can change on a dime. And the shocking, tragic shootings in a Tucson, Arizona Safeway parking lot gave President Obama the opportunity, and perhaps the responsibility, to reemerge as the inspirational leader of the country, the great uniter.

While liberals and conservatives were shouting at each other, the President rose above us all with great heart and inspiring rhetoric, asking us to look to our better selves. He was moving and convincing; he eulogized the victims and placed no blame on the National Rifle Association or anyone else for the tragedy.

He was the President many of us have wanted him to be for some time, and the State of the Union address is another opportunity for him to rise to the occasion. It is an opportunity to test and be tested by the new Republicans in Congress. There are some, like Mitch McConnell of the Senate, who insist that the main GOP business is to make sure that Obama doesn’t get reelected, a purely political goal not appreciated that much in troubled times.

Obama showed his statesman-like qualities during the State visit of the Chinese President who, when pressed by Obama, admitted that China might improve its human rights policies. When is the last time a President has been able to negotiate with China on human rights?

More than that, Obama is looking to the future of foreign and national investments to put large dents into the deficit, as opposed to wholesale cuts in spending programs.

Here the GOP has to deal with its Tea Party firebrands, some of whom wouldn’t mind cutting out the Department of Education, slashing social security, and burning the health care legislation on the steps of the Capitol.

We’d like to think that the President has found a way to use his special gifts: his ability to inspire the people, to negotiate and work with opponents, and persuade those remnants of moderation in the GOP ranks to resist the slash and burn tactics that come from the Cantors andthe Tea Party maximalists. Can he do it?
Stay tuned. In fact, tune in, and let me know what happened.

Gary Tischler •

In this age of wall-to-wall news, the results of a special April 26 election to fill a vacated at-large city council seat in Washington, DC is a small matter, probably not worthy of national attention, and barely noted even by city media.

Yet, in Washington, the election on Tuesday, won by the ever-present, two-term city council member (1998-2006) Vincent Orange, is all of a piece. There is a serendipitous, recurring quality to the campaign, which could be said to have begun in early January when Sekou Biddle, a board of education member, was appointed to the seat vacated by Kwame Brown, who had handily beaten Orange in a race for the city council chairmanship back in November.

Our city is the poster child for the notion that all politics is local. People who live here live in distinct neighborhoods, in areas with distinct qualities, atmospheres, residents and histories. However, the elephants in the Washington neighborhoods are the White House next to Lafayette Park, the Capitol Building, and the people who work in it. Those two places, the members of Congress, the government and the President all make us the center of the world, and entangle our daily lives and local politics in larger national and international issues.

The at-large council race didn’t concern too many people in the beginning, nor did that state of mind change—in the final tally of votes, it showed that 9% of eligible voters took part. It did not concern Mayor Vincent Gray or Chairman Kwame Brown much, except that they supported Biddle for the interim appointment, which in the end did not help Biddle.

Folks did come out to throw their hat into the ring: Sekou Biddle, of course; Bryan Weaver from Ward 1, a liberal community activist with smarts to spare; the youthful Republican Patrick Mara, who had once run for an at-large seat before, in which he managed to beat veteran Carol Schwartz in the GOP primary only to lose to well-know independent Michael Brown; Josh Logan, the young, Hispanic Fenty operative; and inevitably, there was Vincent Orange, not in the least deterred by his previous electoral setbacks.

The campaign did not really get rolling until the last two months, with forum after forum popping up all over the city. In such a race, barring some shocking revelations, forums are the medium and the message rolled into one.

Elsewhere things were not so quiet. Mayor Vincent Gray’s inauguration had been a big success, a one-city dream launched in spite of a looming budget crisis. However, things unraveled after that. Unsuccessful mayoral candidate Sulaimon Brown unleashed a stink bomb of a scandal with charges of payoffs and job promises by the Gray Administration, all the while the council investigating Gray’s hiring practices. Kwame Brown, meantime, had his own troubles over ordering up a fully loaded SUV for himself amid questions about missing money from a 2008 campaign.

Investigations, as they say, are ongoing.

The scandals, as they are now lumped, had an effect on the campaign, which eventually had the candidates attacking the ethics of the city council, the administrations, and calling for ethics reform. The once-red-hot education reform issue was still talked about, but at the national level.

Bigger news tends to flatten council races and local governance: the crisis in Japan sucked the air out of local matters for weeks, while the Middle East spring of revolutions and upheaval in Egypt, Libya, Tunisia, Syria and other places took up everything else for a while. Today there is a daily standing headline in the Washington Post: “Turmoil in the Middle East.”

Besides causing all kinds of havoc in the White House, there is this: the Exxon Station at the end of Lanier Place in Adams Morgan is now selling regular gasoline at $4.45 a gallon. No one knows exactly why, except Glenn Beck, who says it’s the Federal Reserve that’s at the bottom of all financial plagues.

During the courses of the campaign, we have lived through Ann Hathaway’s Oscar gown changes, Lady Ga Ga, Justin Bieber (one of Time Magazine’ s l00 most influential people), and yes, Charlie Sheen and one more yes, Donald Trump.

Lest you think this is of no importance and without connection to politics or daily lives: Sheen, full of tiger blood and whatnot, had a tour date at the DAR, was an hour late, and got a full-scale police escort which he tweeted about. Not only that, but he agreed with Donald Trump that he had problems with the president’s birth certificate.

We will survive Donald Trump, of course. The president has now seen fit to present his long-form birth certificate, berating Trump and the birthers for “the silliness.” Trump is not satisfied, but he wants to run for president anyway. This in spite of the fact that he appeared to have no clue what the constitution said about privacy.

You can suspect that the only time Trump is being genuine is when he stands in front of the mirror in the morning and says “I love you.”

Trump has had low points, but as one GOP said, “you can’t fall off the floor.” Actually, Charlie Sheen proved that you can. He was dumped by one of his porn star consorts.

Then there was the budget crisis—not ours, which is coming up in a hearing soon—but the nation’s. There was a big scare covered to within an inch of its reality by the local press: What will happen if the government shuts down?

Well, for one thing, your trash doesn’t get picked up, which surprised many people who did not know how closely we were sleeping with the enemy.

A breathless near-midnight watch produced a tentative agreement signed on by the President and both parties (with major grumbling by the Tea Party house members). For the District, the result was a kick in the butt: the loss of abortion funding, the inclusion of a Boehner private school funding project, the loss of funding for needle exchange programs. The mayor and a number of council members were so incensed that they got themselves arrested in protest, and were forced to stay incarcerated until 3 a.m.

Mistrust was running so strong however, that many locals saw this as a political ploy, especially for Gray who needed a good showing somewhere. Biddle also took the jail route. Ward 8 councilman Marion Barry abstained this time.

You can see how the shadow of the budget debate might darken the thoughts of local politicians. What will the city be forced to give up next? Baseball tickets? Home Rule?

With the election looming fast, interest did not materialize in any strong way.

If campaign signs are a measure of community interest, this is what it looked like on Lanier Place: Several signs for Weaver (he is, after all a local boy), one for Biddle, a number of those ubiquitous “Don’t’ Tread on DC” signs (which now reek of irony, given the voter turnout), and a goodly number of “Scoop your Dog Poop” signs.

The election was held with another horrible and deadly weather story in progress in the South. The turnout was low. Vincent Orange was back on the council.

So it goes. All the news that wraps around itself.

Gary Tischler •

Mayor Vincent Gray, who has presented himself as a big supporter of the arts, has nonetheless seen fit to include a six percent ticket tax on all ticketed arts events in the District of Columbia as part of his 2012 District of Columbia budget proposal he sent to the city council.

That includes, we presume, all live performances and arts events throughout the District at any venue holding ticketed arts events and performances. While it’s as yet unclear as to what this includes, it likely encompasses major venues like the Kennedy Center, all of the District’s theater groups (Arena Stage, Source Theater, etc.), its dance groups and any ticketed music. Does it include theater and performance events held in schools, museums and churches?

But in short: If you’re buying, you’re paying the 6% tax.

Washington’s arts and theater community such as the Helen Hayes Awards, Cultural Tourism DC and the Cultural Development Corporation have mounted campaigns to stop this from happening.

The proposal, which becomes part of the Fiscal Year 2012 budget unless the council disapproves or eliminates it, comes in a climate that’s been difficult for the nonprofit arts and cultural community, which has seen corporate giving decline and grants from state and federal government sources cut heavily. Especially at the federal government level, tea party mania to reduce government size and spending has hurt the arts throughout the country.

The Helen Hayes Awards has argued against the proposal, arguing it would reduce the number of theater patrons facing choices on spending, which in turn would endanger arts organizations heavily dependent on ticket income.

Fewer theater and performance patrons means fewer patrons for Washington’s large restaurant community, which has drawn heavily from those patrons. If people stop eating out, the District would actually lose money from the loss of anticipated restaurant tax income.

We could not disagree more with the proposed tax, of which the income generated to aid the District’s budget deficit would be negligible. This proposal could indeed damage the performing arts in Washington, and especially its smaller theater and dance groups—not to mention arts education in the schools.

Mayor Gray probably cares about the arts in the District, but this tough love for the arts community, which generates positive tourist income and a highly respected reputation, is not the right cut to make.

While cultural institutions have benefited mightily from the Meads, the Kogods and the Harmans of our community, this sort of thing from the local government seems to be part of a prevailing national mood: When times are tough and the economy is bad, why miss an opportunity to make the arts community take a hit?

I’m sure its not the intention of DC government to do such a thing, but the tax proposal echoes more sinister cuts and outcries from the conservative GOP stalwarts who would like nothing better than to see the government out of the grant business for the arts, and would love nothing more than to eliminate Public Broadcasting, NPR and support for art exhibitions and performance pieces they detest or don’t understand.

This kind of anti-intellectualism has always been a part of the American cultural mosaic in some way or another. What do the arts do here in DC besides bring in tons of tourists?

In hard times like these, they lift our spirits. They provoke us to think and imagine when we most need to, reminding us of the lofty flights of achievement of which we are capable. In the arts, both high and popular, we find reflections of our better angels and our inner selves. We find beauty amid economic struggle. We find created beauty and poetry.

In the 1930s, in the worst times this country had experienced, the government, far from cutting support for the arts, created programs that enlisted poets, playwrights, actors, painters, sculptors and educators to create works of art that became shared experiences for We The People. Evidence of that national spirit, presided over by President Roosevelt, can be found in memoirs, in collective memories, stories, novels, paintings, films, compositions and plays from that era that amount to a kind of golden age. Governments did not hike taxes on ticket prices to movies, to plays or to concerts. You could make a fair argument that because the arts were so accessible to even the poorest, the national psyche weathered the debilitating effects of daily life in hard times.

If you want to voice your opposition directly to the ticket sales tax, you can go to the Helen Hayes Awards website, which includes a petition, an opposition letter template and information on the tax and its effects. Visit HelenHayes.org.

The council is slated to hold final votes on the budget May 26.

Gary Tischler •

It will all be the same. Thousands upon thousands of visitors will jam Washington’s Tidal Basin to see a miraculously beautiful work of nature when the National Cherry Blossom Festival commences Saturday, March 26 and runs for three weekends, sixteen days.

They will show up for the opening ceremonies at the National Building Museum, and they will jam the hillsides near the Sylvan Theater on the National Mall for traditional and contemporary Japanese and American performance artists throughout the festival. They will go to the spectacular Cherry Blossom Parade, to the Japanese street festival, to the lantern walks at the Tidal Basin.

The thousands will watch as the blossoms from these trees, lining the Tidal Basin near the Mall and Memorials, linger among the symbols and icons of our own brief heritage and history, with the bliss of their blossom beauty elevating them to a keener iconic status.

It will be the same as always—white and pink blossoms, astonishing beauty and sights, thousands walking or gawking from inside their cars. Hundreds of events, restaurant specials, street music and performances, talks and dancing, the click of thousands of digital cameras.

It will be like that, and then again it won’t. It will be the same, but hardly so. If petals can weep, they will be moist this year without the help of dew or rain.

In the wake of the gigantic 9.0 earthquake and immensely destructive tsunami that hit northern Japan, and the subsequent – and still ongoing -nuclear reactor crisis in the devastated area, it might be necessary to take the word “festival” out of the Cherry Blossom Festival.

“Commemoration” might be better, for what has happened to Japan lies like haze over everything in the festival. There is a blanket of sorrow accompanying us all even as we move among the trees that are perhaps the most precisely apt symbol we have on hand.

Traditionally the festival, which commemorates a long-standing relationship between the United States and Japan, is a celebration of the basic friendship between the two nations, both commercially and economically powerful movers in the modern world. The festival commemorates two gifts to the United States of cherry tree transplants from Japan. The first grove arrived in 1912: a gift of 3,000 cherry trees from Tokyo Mayor Yukio Ozaiki to the city of Washington DC, formalized with a ceremony in which First Lady Helen Heron Taft and Viscountess Chinda, wife of the Japanese Ambassador, together planted the first two trees on the North Bank of the Tidal Basin in West Potomac Park. A second gift of trees came in the 1960s.

The Cherry Blossom Festival evolved over the years into a major tourist attraction that celebrated the early spring budding of the tree’s blossoms, and it is now a national event. And today and for some time to come, it is a sad one.

The Cherry Blossom tree, depending on what history and opinions you find, is much revered in Japan because of the short duration of the life of its blossoms. They create the kind of beauty that breaks your heart: the way a mother’s heart breaks on seeing her grown son in uniform, or a young boy’s heart breaks when he sees for the first time a truly beautiful girl who never looks at him.

Japanese culture, which includes the practice of Hanami or social gatherings like picnics for flower viewing, teaches that the cherry blossoms are even more beautiful because of their ephemeral lifespan , a lesson about the nature of life itself. If ever there was a need for the cherry blossom, it is now, because it teaches the same lessons of earthquakes and tsunamis—the uncertainty and brief duration of life. But the blossoms also symbolize renewal and rebirth and hope. If they are fleeting, they are so nonetheless a promise of peaceful and warm months to come.

Festival organizers have added a “Stand with Japan” event for March 24, at 6:30 p.m. at the Sylvan Theater. From there, attendees will walk to the Tidal Basin and reflect on the ongoing tragedy borne by the Japanese people. (Donations can also be made at that time.)

For over a week now, a book of condolences has stood open outside the Embassy of Japan. The latest reports place the number of deceased at 8,000, though the number of people that remain missing may raise that figure to roughly 18,000. Most buildings themselves actually withstood the earthquake itself —which broke all records for magnitude in Japan— fairly well, following the structural improvements made in the wake of the Kobe quake of the mid-nineties. Yet tsunami was devastating to coastal communities and the industrial centers of the Northeast. The Japanese economy has taken a huge hit. Nothing will be the same after this.

The Japanese people have suffered terribly, yet the survivors have shown an example of behavior and reaction to the world that others could only hope to emulate. Walking through the wreckage wrought by a tsunami that caused entire villages to simply disappear, scattering pieces of former homes for miles, the Japanese in the Sendai area, have proven to be proved to be incredibly stoic – not brittle and numb, as they have visibly grieved, but doing so without self-pity or hysteria. There were no reports of looting anywhere as there were in almost any other areas of the world where riots, political upheaval and natural disasters have struck in the past, including the United States.

In a matter of minutes, thousands died, disappeared, were swept away, lost everything they owned, saw their lives forever disappear in muck and mud and crumbling rock. Yet in this moment of devastation, the Japanese appeared to draw on their cultural traditions for remembered guidance. This is not necessarily a religious matter, but a question of codes of behavior, of honor and helping each other, of community and acceptance that life for humans, as for the cherry blossom, is brief.

The prime minister offered words of hope, and the Emperor himself went on national television: a public appearance that had not happened since the end of World War II. But it seemed to observers from thousands of miles away that the people themselves, full of an overwhelming sense of loss, were the ones who stood tall.

What changed all that was not so much Nature as the destruction of human artifacts: the instability set off at a collection of nuclear reactors in the Fukuskima prefecture. The burdens of the nuclear age resonate in Japan, the only country in the world ever to have suffered nuclear attacks. People began to evacuate, and then move far and further away, unable to trust the experts, the air, their food, their water, the sky itself. Uncertainty shook the Japanese people more than the earth did.

In the end, nature comes upon you wrathful and sudden, a wave of destruction that leaves the survivors lost, not knowing what happens next or when. So too is the Cherry Blossom dependent on the vagaries of wind, rain, the natural ways of the universe to last long enough to create a dazzling beauty that assuages us like clean, cold water in the desert. We are, in the midst of loss, astonished yet again.

This year as we walk among the blossoms, people will marvel. But the magnitude of what has happened will linger in the air like blossoms refusing to fall. As blogger/haiku poet John Tiong Chunghoo put it: “In the flurry of tsunami/death radio news/Cherry Blossoms Fall.”

Gary Tischler •

On any given Sunday, there’s always some foot traffic on Massachusetts Avenue along Embassy Row, especially if the weather is ideal and spring-sunny as it was on May 7.

But hey, what was this: crowds pouring into the British Embassy and coming out with tote bags emblazoned with the flag of England? What were the lines of people snaking around the block, making their way to the Embassy of Greece, the Embassy of Ireland, or the Latvian Embassy? And just what was going on at the Embassy of Finland?

It was the beginning of the fourth annual Passport DC celebration, an ever-increasingly popular city-wide event produced by Cultural Tourism DC, with the participation of over 60 embassies, which fling open their doors to the general public in a wildly successful annual event that celebrates the international presence of world embassies in our city.

Looking at the crowds, you could well agree with Cultural Tourism DC Director Linda Harper, who said: “Passport DC is a chance to honor and explore the many cultures that are represented in Washington, DC. There is no better place to have this grand celebration…a truly global city.”

This all began four years ago when member embassies representing the European Union decided, without out much elaborate planning, to hold open houses for most of their embassies, allowing tourists and residents to come in and visit, meet embassy officials, and share in the cultural offerings and history of the respective countries. Some 70,000 people showed up.

The European Union folks knew they were on to something and joined up with Cultural Tourism DC to produce what is now a month-long celebration of international culture and conviviality. Last year, around 160,000 people participated in the events that make up Passport DC.

Round one was another edition spearheaded by the European Unions called Shortcut to Europe, and the British effort looked to be the splashiest affair, like a sweet hangover from the recent nuptials of Prince William and his Katherine. You could tour the English gardens, which included an impressive, essence-of-horse-nobility sculpture of a horse reputed to be a famous British racehorse whose kidnapping was never solved.

British soldiers, real ones and dressed up ones were there. There was whiskey tasting, music and a bit of English pudding, and it was all very English—proving once again that we may have rebelled against the king to form a more perfect union, but we still love our cousins across the pond.

The embassies were far flung: Ireland, the Brits, Iceland, Latvia, Greece, Luxembourg, Portugal, Finland (all along Mass Ave.), and the Embassy of Austria and Slovakia at International Square, France and Germany on MacArthur Boulevard, and the list goes on. From the looks of it, the celebration will probably exceed last year’s crowds, the weather gods permitting.

This weekend, it’s the All Around the World Embassy Tour from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. all over the city, featuring 35 embassies from six continents. Needless to say, the embassies won’t just be from all over the world, but will be located all over the city. They included the Bahamas—a very popular destination last year where the annual festivities of Juckanoo will play a key part; Australia where you can hear the didgeridoo, an Aboriginal musical instrument, among other activities; Bolivia, which is now called the Plurinational State of Bolivia; Ghana, with a splendid display of its unique arts and crafts; and the Republic of Iraq, a free democracy. In fact, you can blaze a trail through the countries most affected by recent upheavals from Egypt to Bahrain. History in this city is alive and moving full steam ahead.

There will be shuttles available and special bus stops to the various embassies and residences which are scattered throughout the city

Other upcoming events in May include the National Asian Heritage Festival and the Fiesta Asia Street Fair, May 21 at Pennsylvania Avenue between 3rd and 6th Streets, which also celebrates Asian Pacific Heritage Month. Live music, dancing, Pan-Asian Cuisine

May 21 will also feature the annual Meridian International Children’s Festival, 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.

There will also be special events on a daily basis at embassies, museums, and international cultural centers like the Goethe Institute and the Mexican Cultural Center, including jazz concerts, Kids World Cinema, Embassy Series concerts, the Eurovision Song Contest, workshop and classical music, film and so on.

For a complete list of all the events, times, schedules and locations for Passport DC, go to the Passport DC section of the Cultural Tourism website at www.culturaltourismdc.org

Gary Tischler •

When I was a kid I wanted to run away with the circus.

I would meet the boss clown, I would walk with the ringmaster, be buddies with the guy who trains the big cats, and I would date the girl who gets shot out of a cannon.

I became a journalist instead. Same thing, except for the cannon girl, the big cat guy, the ringmaster, and the boss clown, although I may have spent some time with a contortionist once.

These days, at my age, it’s no good trying to run away with the circus. And “walking away with the circus” doesn’t have that zip thing going for it.

But yesterday I saw pachyderms marching down Washington streets.

And yesterday I talked with the ringmaster and met the boss clown.

They tell me that ladies are no longer shot out of cannons.

Two out of three isn’t bad.

The ringmaster is Jonathan Lee Iverson, and the boss clown is Sandor Eke, and they’re at the head of the pack when the circus come to town. That would be the Ringling Bros and Barnum & Bailey’s 2011 show, “Barnum’s FUNundrum!” celebrating the life and legacy of the founder, P.T. Barnum. The circus is camped at the Verizon Center through March 27, then moves to Baltimore and Fairfax, Virginia.

As always, it’s the greatest show on earth, sparkling like a firecracker with hyperbole: come see 230 performers from six continents, watch the 100,000 pounds of elephants perform, see the cowboys, the pirates, the mermaids, the tigers, the Flying Caceres with their quadruple somersault on the flying trapeze. Watch the Puyan Troupe from China do their bouncy stuff on a two-tiered trampoline, and, there’s the body benders and the Mighty Meetal, the strongest man in the world. And don’t forget Duo Fusion, the married couple of hand balancers, in which the wife does the heavy lifting. Just like in real life.

The elephants and clowns and ponies and performers marched through parts of Washington yesterday for an annual parade that signals the arrival of the circus in town and delights hundreds of children and tourist along the road.

Leading the way was Iverson, decked out in red-white-and-blue and top hat—the man who gets to say the iconic words at the start of each show: “Welcome Children of All Ages to the Greatest Show on Earth.”

Iverson, who started out wanting to be an opera singer but sort of ran away with the circus instead, holds some firsts for the circus: he’s the first African American ringmaster and the youngest ever to hold that high-stepping, master–of-charisma, beguiling cheerleader of all cheerleader jobs.

A New Yorker now in his thirties, he’s performed (at age 11) with the Boys Choir of Harlem and got a degree in voice from Hartford’s Hart School. Shortly after graduating, he was offered a job with the circus.

“I couldn’t believe it,” he said. “I know I saw myself as a singer, but to be able to perform in the circus in that kind of role, well, who’s going to say no to something like that.” Not Iverson, that’s for sure. “They kidnapped me,” he quipped.

Watch him work the crowd, picking up little kids, posing with moms, his voice clear over the noises of the downtown city. For a while he left to broaden his horizons, performing off-Broadway and in productions of “The Magic Flute” and “Showboat,” sang with the USO and did some freelance writing as J. Frederick Baptiste.

But now he’s back, this time hitting the rails with family—wife Priscilla and children Matthew Felipe and Lila Simone—in tow.

He’s got the charisma of a ringmaster, a compelling stance and lively face. We asked him if he did anything special to create a persona for the ringmaster. “Are you kidding?” he said. “Look at me—In this outfit, folks are going to pay attention to you.”

That’s true, but he fills the outfit with his persona, as if born to the circus. “You look pretty,” a woman tells him. “I do, don’t I?” he says and preens. Welcome to the circus in Washington. “Great to be in this city,” he says. “I’m sort of like Henry Kissinger with a personality.”

Sandor Eke, on the other hand, looks a little like a crash dummy.

That’s his outfit, his persona, a puff of tomahawk hair on his head, spots of color, loose, colorful, dummy clothing and big, sometimes sad eyes. “I’m a white clown,” he says, explaining clown etiquette. “Like a black clown would be the guy that plays tricks on the white clown.”

But he’s also the circus boss clown.

“Makes me the guy who takes care of the other guys,” he says. “You know, who bunks with whom, dressing rooms, schedules, food, problems, the guy who talks to management on behalf of the other clowns…You wouldn’t believe how important dressing rooms are.”

Eke who is 35, lives in Budapest on the Danube River in Hungary, but doesn’t get to go home much. His parents, both circus folks, live there. “With this schedule, it’s a little crazy. My father was a tentmaker, my mother was a ringmaster.”

Clowns and circuses are time-honored professions and institutions in Europe. It’s where the best of them came from, and it’s why most circuses have an international flavor to them. Eke attended the Hungarian State Circus School—can you imagine that in an American state budget?—and started with a Swedish circus, but eventually made his way to the Ringling Brothers as part of a Hungarian teeterboard act

“Everything that circus performers do is difficult and takes so much practice,” he said. “But it is not very useful on the outside. Imagine explaining your job resume: I was teeterboarder.

“I love this life. I am an acrobat, a clown, I am totally a circus person,” he said. “I would not do anything else. My life is here. My friends are here. They are my best friends, people you can call in the middle of the night.

“I can say I have 50 real friends in the circus. They are not on Facebook.”

Asked about his future plans, he quipped “I have no future.”

“Actually, what I want to do is teach, teach other young people how to be clowns,” he said. “That is my hope, my future.”

Gary Tischler •

Legacy, like passion and professional, is an overused word today. Lives lived in full to the end let us see the real meaning of legacies—passion in action and professionalism as a matter of course and duty. Herewith, we celebrate the lives of three men who embodied those qualities.

Sidney Harman

Only last year, Sidney Harman, past ninety, bought the national news magazine Newsweek for a dollar, picking up its considerable debt. Harman, who loved news and newspapers and magazines, was thinking about how he could turn around the venerable and respected magazine in an age where publications of any sort are in decline and at risk.

This is a little like the story about the 100-year-old man who married a young girl and drew up plans for a nursery. Harman, as you may know from his history, was an optimist, a forward-looking-guy with a boundless curiosity about his fellow man.

In the course of a lifetime that was rich in achievement and experience, Harman, who passed away from complications from acute myeloid leukemia at the age of 92, April 12, managed to create a legacy of family and community, as an enterprising and empathic businessman and employer, and a philanthropic citizen with a keen love of culture which benefited and enriched everyone.

Hearing of the death of a 92-year-old man shouldn’t be a shock, but Harman’s death seemed like a surprise. The man exuded energy; he had a look-you-in-the-eye way about him and a pretty strong handshake. There wasn’t much he hadn’t done and there wasn’t much he didn’t know about, and if by chance he was in the dark, it’s certain that he would correct that situation.

Today’s billionaire tycoons might take note of the model Harman presented as a businessman and employer. His company, which specialized in sound systems, was famous for initiating quality of life programs for its employees.

Among many things, he was trustee on many boards, including policy institutes and symphony orchestras. He served as Undersecretary of Commerce under President Jimmy Carter, wrote books, golfed into his 90s, was a higher education leader and left a good chunk of his own money in a way that will outlive him far into the future.

The most visible legacy is Sidney Harman Hall, the downtown state-of-the-art theater, which houses Shakespeare Theatre Company productions, visiting performance arts institutions and the Washington Ballet at times.

“Sidney Harman enjoyed an extraordinary life, characterized by great passion for his wife, for the performing arts, for ideas and for life itself, said Michael Kahn, Artistic Director of the Shakespeare Theatre Company. “All of us, privileged to know him, enjoyed our own lives more because of him.”

He loved music. He was the co-inventor of the high-fidelity stereo back in the 1950s. He loved the arts and he always looked for new challenges. He was married to Jane Harman, a Democratic Congresswoman from California. He is survived by his wife, six children and ten grandchildren.

Also surviving is his reputation as a modern Renaissance man, a historical description that moves far into the future. He was a man who lived a life in full.

David Broder

The Washington Post, the newspaper for which he worked most of life and won a Pulitzer Prize for, described him in its headline for his obituary and appreciation as the “Dean of Washington Press Corps.”

He was 81. He was a man passionate about politics, the subject he wrote about all of his life. He was a professional in the entirely true sense of the word. He made you proud to be a part of the profession he practiced just by reading his work, because he brought honor to it all of the time, with his judicious care for the truth, with a keen passion to get it right, with a curiosity that died only when he did.

Covering politics, being a part of it that way or any way, isn’t always considered a noble profession. Hackery lives here, as does the indelicate art of brown-nosing, affliction from the kind of pollen that fills the air in the spaces occupied by proximity to power, or worse, the desire for power. Broder more often than not ennobled the profession; he took it seriously enough not to let his biases get in the way of accuracy and completeness.

They say he loved politicians as types perhaps a bit too much, an experience that can be a little like being in love with the girl that you know will always have other boyfriends. He didn’t wear his heart too much on his sleeve, and he took little that politicians or elected officials said for granted. What got into his columns was the process, and he was astute in its observance, and what he got from it came from regular people, who talked to him about the issues they cared about, what mattered in their towns and workplaces. He got that right almost all of the time. The love was in going on the road to see campaigns in action. What got into his columns were such qualities as accurate information, hard-nosed intelligence and insights fed by years and every minute of his experience.

He got it right and gave his readers and his peers respect and the right stuff.

Few like Broder remain.

Sidney Lumet

No one every accused Sidney Lumet of being a fancy-pants artist. This prolific film director, who died at the age of 86, came to the movies by way of the theater and live television from “You Are There” to the estimable Playhouse 90. Faces and words, words and faces were the cornerstone of his work, not fancy, haunting camera work.

Maybe that’s why a good chunk of his movies are classics, along with the words and faces: Picture Peter Finch yelling out the window “I’m Not Going to Take It Anymore” in the classic and prophetic “Network.”

Picture Henry Fonda browbeating bigots Lee J Cobb and Ed Begley in the claustrophobic jury movie “Twelve Angry Men.”

Picture Al Pacino as “Serpico” and Treat Williams as “The Prince of the City,” two classic New York cop movies, and Paul Newman in his best-ever performance as the lawyer-as-drunk in ‘The Verdict.” (For the record, my favorite line is when Newman asked about his adversary James Mason. “Is he any good?” “Good?” says gruff Jack Warden. “He’s the f—–g prince of darkness.”)

He was a pro. He left a huge film legacy underwritten by a social conscience, an eye for urban landscapes and a love of the human species. “Every picture I did was an active, believable, passionate wish,” he said. “Every picture I wanted to do…I’m having a good time.” Plus he spent married time with remarkable women, like the actress Rita Gam, the socialite Gloria Vanderbilt, Lena Horne’s daughter Gail Jones and Mary Gimble, who was with him at the time of his death on April 9 from lymphoma.