In which we honor Ted Turner Debate

Correct me if I’m wrong on any of this…

Once upon a time there was high school debate. (My HS time, for the sake of full disclosure.) A team of two debaters argued one another over government policies, citing facts to support their positions. Each team had a shoebox of index cards on which were hand-written the facts they were presenting, collected mostly from magazine articles, discovered through using a library reference book entitled The Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature (which, BTW, still exists online). Over time, and thanks to Xerox machines, those index cards grew into giant files of 8x10 sheets of documentation; an elite team might wheel four giant Rubbermaid tubs of these files from tournament to tournament and from round to round. In order to use this vast collection of research, speakers had to talk fast. Eventually, at the so-called highest levels of debate, the speaking speed was virtually incomprehensible to anyone not trained in it. 

Phillips 66 is a petroleum refineries company that, as many major corporations do, sponsors community activities. For a number of years Phillips sponsored high school debate: let’s face it, it takes a bit of the thing Woody Guthrie called the do re mi to run a national tournament. One year around 1980, the story goes, Phillips execs visited the NFL (as NSDA was called then) national tournament to bask in the glow of all that beneficial do re mi. They made the mistake, apparently, of visiting a debate round, and found themselves in a tobacco auction. Can’t we have something our people can watch and actually make some sort of sense out of? 

Thus Lincoln-Douglas Debate was born, aimed to provide an alternative to the existing Cross-X or Policy debate. The goal was to create an event that wouldn’t have all year, including summer camps, to amass evidence, and for that matter, to debate on a more philosophical rather than practical/policy level. Maybe with these changes, perhaps the average civilian could drop into a round and not only understand it, but even adjudicate it. 

And it worked. For a couple of decades. But as computers and the pipes of the internet came into our lives, eventually, as with Policy, at the so-called highest levels of debate, the speaking speed was virtually incomprehensible to anyone not trained in it. The content wasn’t exactly orthodox either, as postmodernism and critical theory bubbled up from contemporary academia. (This infected policy as well, and probably first, for that matter.) LD was becoming a one-person analog to Policy. And once again only an expert adjudicator could make much sense of it. None of this is to support a claim that there is something wrong with an extremely parochial forensics event; I am simply reporting the reality. Personally I’m all in favor of all kinds of debate, as long as we keep them in perspective. I’ll defend that position elsewhere (and already have, often enough, come to think of it).

And now, around the turn of the millennium, enter Ted Turner. 

Turner was something of a controversial figure in his day; you can read his obituary to get the details. And he was a philanthropist, with plenty of the do re mi to philanthropize with. I do not know the details of how it happened, but one day the NFL/NSDA announced the creation of Ted Turner Debate. Loosely based on the CNN debate program Crossfire, the paradigm of this new debate event was who could make the most persuasive argument. Like the TV show, facts and/or reality were not as important as being convincing. The topics would change every month, so that teams couldn’t amass tubs (or at that point, portable hard drives) of evidence. Since extreme speed was anything but persuasive, that managed inherently to cancel that aspect out. And to put that in boldfaced underlined italics, the audience literally allowed to judge the event was, as much as possible, members of the community (for which read, parents). The people who were presumably responsible for the flaws of CX and LD—the non-teaching professional judges and whatnot, college kids I guess—were banned. Quickly enough Ted Turner Debate became Controversy debate became Crossfire debate, in some order or another. And finally it became Public Forum.

Public Forum has changed a bit over the years, and if you’re reading this, you probably know how. Some topics are monthly, some bi-monthly. There are no longer bans on judging, and parent judging is as often as not the main core of the pool. Which means that at a given tournament a team might face anything from an expert college debater to a local businessperson to a first-time parent in the back of the room, and must adjust accordingly. I think that’s one of the best things about the activity. Flipping for sides and precedence happens sometimes (the NSDA) and not other times (the NCFL). Loosey goosey evidence is still problematic enough, with most of the complaints coming against paraphrasing and bogus strategic challenges. And, say what you will, Public Forum is now the coin of the realm. At least around my region, it is the most popular event on the docket. I would ascribe this ultimately to its accessibility. Any good educator can coach it. Any determined student can master it. Any reasonably intelligent adult can adjudicate it. (Parent judges, as a bonus, do not need to be paid, and can also act as chaperones, a double whammy.) 

So Ted Turner, recently deceased, creator of CNN and TCM and God knows what-all, should be honored in our debate circles for being one of the reasons we have our most popular debate activity. 

Rest in peace. 

In which we get the NYCFL ready for 2026-7

There has not been Policy at States for as long as I can remember. I think the last time was in Albany, the year Richard Sodikow retired. LD that year was in a bleak high school with virtually no hospitality for the judges or the students. Policy, apparently, made our venue look like a stately pleasure dome in Xanadu. Why Policy went off the boards after that is a mystery to me. They may have rebelled against the State organization, or maybe the State organization rebelled against them. Since then, the shrinking number of Policy schools in the region hasn’t helped. Monticello, Newburgh, Lakeland, Edgemont, even Hendrick Hudson…All gone. In any case, a couple of us were pushing to get Policy back at States, even in its diminished condition. Given that there was no more space at our venue, Bronx Science, why not at least try it as a virtual event on Saturday, maybe live on Sunday for Elims? Or mayb all virtual? Having no portfolio for the NYSFL myself, all I could do was wonder aloud in the direction of Catholic Charlie, a Regional Director.

Maybe next year? I’ll keep wondering aloud. 

Business from two directions brings this up now, because I have spent a bunch of time this most recent week working on next year’s NYCFL debate tournaments. First of all, one of the local CX stalwarts was having difficulty figuring exactly what divisions were when in the whole shebang. This was a case of it looking perfectly clear to me, the exhibitor, but not to her, the exhibitee (so to speak). In this situation there are two possible ways to proceed: blame the viewer for not understanding your obviously clear as spring water exposition, or accept that the spring water of your exposition has a bit of mud in it. Putting all the tournaments up on tabroom solves the problem. You can find all the tournaments offered in a circuit, ours being obviously NYCFL, and when you go to one of those tournaments, the events offered are clearly delineated. 

(Which, BTW, brings up another issue. I tend to be pretty free in approving tournaments for our circuit. The problem with that is that when you look at our circuit on tabroom, it’s overflowing with tournaments that are not NYCFLs. Given that we run a goodly number overall, between the literal NYCFL and the ODL, I think it makes sense in the future to be a little more discretionary with these approvals to make things more manageable for our membership. If someone is nearby, say the Tri-State League centered in Brooklyn, or the Long Island or NJ events that are heavily attended by our NYCFL folks, it’s one thing. But if I can’t find you on the map, even though you are a friend of ODL, no one from our league is really going to need to know what you’re running because they’re never going to go there even if they wanted to. Sorry about that.)

The other business was a question that arose over the nature of an invitation. I claim, truthfully, that our in-person NYCFL debate events are open to non-members. (The speech and congress events, with I think one exception, are all members-only.) In fact, the more non-members the better insofar as creating a more diverse field. The membership accepts same-school debates as a necessary evil, and we do our best in tab to stir things up as much as possible, but different-school debates are way more desirable. Bringing in outside schools helps that happen. So by me, everyone is invited. But as far as this nebulous everyone is concerned, how do they know that? Once upon a time, pre-internet, we were invited to tournaments because they sent us an invitation in the mail. Or they faxed it (look It up, young Padawan). Nowadays, you post it on tabroom. Which means that my posting of all of next year’s debate events on tabroom not only informs regular attendees of what’s happening, but it presents the information in the most public place possible, the de facto information center. Add to that, literally opening the page for any of these tournaments immediately presents you with the information that you are welcome even if you’re a non-member, plus I’m still working on some main-page language explaining as briefly as possible anything a non-member needs to know. It’s not exactly a mailed invitation, but it acts as one in 2026. 

So, two tournament birds, one tabroom stone. Perfect? Not quite. Pretty close? Hopefully.

In which we make another visit to the music queue

There’s a documentary about “Aja” on HBO-Max that I just watched, part of a series on “Classic Albums.” This is the only one I’ve seen. I became a big Steely Dan fan after they broke up (and before they got back together).  It was my assistant at Doubleday, Nels, who first got me involved with them. Nels was a big music fan and performer, maybe a decade younger than me. This was during the period when I was mostly listening to jazz, show tunes, and classical stuff. I asked him to recommend something recent in rock that I would like, and his recommendation was “Gaucho.” And thus began my love affair with the Dan, as Fagen refers to them in Eminent Hipsters, one of the few books on rock that I’ve read. (I think the memoirs by Brian Wilson, Bruce Springsteen, Keith Richards, and David Byrne are the lot of them, but I guess I should include "500 Songs," since I just signed up for Hickey’s Patreon.) The Aja documentary is well worth watching if you’re a Dan fan. They’re a band famous (too famous) for working in the studio, and the program shows the how and why of it on this album. Perhaps a little too inside baseball? But I have a feeling that if you, too, are a Dan fan, you’ll enjoy it. 

The March of the Audit: As a reminder whenever I hear of an artist I don’t know that sounds interesting, I throw them into my audit playlist on Spotify, and every day pretty much I listen to an album or so in the mornings in the order in which I attached them. If I like them, I put their next album at the end of the list. Sometimes I even grab a song for my main rock playlist. Other times I might find an album needs more than one listen before making any sort of determination, so I toss it back in the mix. This is the latest listening review.

• “Up, Up and Away” by the Fifth Dimension. If you’ve been following me you know I love good harmonies, and 5D does that. I never really listened to them beyond the hits, so this is an attempt to rectify that oversight. The songs here that aren’t hits are very Mamas-and-the-Papas-ish; they even cover “Go Where You Want to Go.” It’s all very pleasant, and they have good taste. If nothing else, I want to be sure to collect all their hits in one of my appropriate playlists, and I’m pretty certain there will be a surprise or two as well. (BTW, if you haven’t seen the movie “Summer of Soul,” what is wrong with you?)
• “Asleep at the Wheel” is their second untitled and/or eponymous album. I had a bunch of their stuff on CD, and saw them live for the first time last summer. Bob Wills is still the king. 
• Traffic, “John B Must Die” — I remember when Traffic's first album came out. One look at the picture on that album and you knew you had to have this record. When they announced their breakup, already sans Dave Mason, hearts were broken among everyone I knew. And then, after Blind Faith—who weren’t as good as you wanted them to be but they were all right—John Barleycorn turned up in local racks. It’s a bit different from earlier Traffic—I’m doing a complete replay of their work in the queue—but a super record. If you’re picking a Traffic album for your GOATs playlist, is this the one?
• “Procol Harum,” more untitling/eponymousing — Well, it all sounds like Procol Harum. I still remember the day, sometime in the 90s, when I finally realized that they were saying “that her face at first just ghostly.” I didn’t even have a good mondegreen for it. I used to just “wawawawa” along with it before chiming in with “turned a whiter shade of pale.” Makes sense after the fact. More PH to come. They were more diverse later on.
• Chad and Jeremy, “Before and After” — Pleasant folky 60s British stuff. Sweet. I took a girl to one of their concerts when I first started dating. 
• Sagittarius - “Present Tense” — I listened to them again, and this time felt I had grokked them well enough, pulling a song or two for the main playlist only to find that they were already there. Time to move on. The 60s are over. 
• The Goldebriars were Curt Boetcher’s first group. He worked with Sagittarius, the Association, and the Millennium, all cited in a "500 Songs" episode, which is why these all run together. This one is pretty uninteresting folk stuff. 
• The Association, “And Then…Along Comes” — When it’s their hits, they’re great. When it’s not their hits, it almost sounds like their hits, with that rising “ah, Ahh, AAHHH” background. All pleasant, with memorable hits.
• The Millennium — When I was listening to this I was thinking of Jared from college. He was a Grade A hippie, a gentle soul at worst, and this was the kind of music he liked that always had me running from his room screaming. No doubt he ultimately became a longshoreman. 
• Curt Boetcher, also untitled and eponymous. Finally, the man himself. I enjoyed this album, and I think there’s some potential in it. Some of the songs go to interesting places. I threw it back for another listen. 
• Love, “Four Sail” — As in Cole Porter, "Love for Sale?" Or their fourth album, and they’re selling themselves, and they wouldn’t know Cole Porter from a porterhouse steak? Whichever. Arthur Lee has that unique voice, and their songs, like ‘em or not, are always interesting. A couple of quite good ones here. 
• David Johansen, “In Style” — Having gone away in the 70s and 80s (and 90s and 00s and 10s and, progressively more obviously, the 20s), I thought I would catch up. After listening to this I guess I’ll have to go back to the NY Dolls. I heard nothing that struck me but I did hear enough to know that I needed to hear more. So I will. 
• The United States of America— I vaguely remember this album. That cover, and that name, gave off extremely strong “buy me” vibes that, unlike with Traffic, I somehow managed to resist. If I had bought it, I would have regretted it to this day. 

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• Geese, “Projector” — Probably I queued this up from a mention by Petrusich in The New Yorker. It demonstrates, beyond any doubt, that she and I do not hear the same music. I do not have the words—and in general I’ve got words up the wazoo—to describe how I disliked this album.
• Joe Ely, the last eponymous album in the list, renewed my faith in music after having almost lost it listening to Geese. Artists who can play instruments? A singer/songwriter with all kinds of interesting things up his sleeve? It was his obituary back in December that led me to him, and I happily look forward to following his entire career from the beginning. This one is pretty country-ish, but I understand he went more rock later on. I’m willing to find out.

In which we bounce off of Spotify's biggest hits

https://gizmodo.com/spotify-reveals-its-most-streamed-music-of-the-last-20-years-2000750160

My personal listenings, according to Spotify in my year-end wrap-up, didn’t seem like anything I had actually listened to, until I remembered that it included all the stuff in my audit queue, which isn’t necessarily stuff I like and could easily turn out to be something I wouldn’t cross the street for. That said, I would imagine their listing of the most streamed music of the last 20 years would be, well, indicative of true popularity. It should come as no surprise that only 2 of the top 20 artists appear in my main playlist, to wit, Ed Sheeran and Bruno Mars. (And not much of them, honestly, but I like the ones I like.) OTOH, I have listened a bit to virtually all of the top artists except a couple I’ve never heard of (and that there are a couple I’ve never heard of should also come as no surprise). My hit rate does not change with most-played songs or albums, and I have listened to none of their top podcasts. Shockingly, I’ve read two of their big audiobooks, and you guessed them: Tolkien and Martin. (I’ve also read—and enjoyed—Taylor Jenkins Reid, but that was for the Day Job so it doesn’t really count.)

Did you do any better being hip/hep/cool/wired/plugged-in or whatever than I did?

In which we dabble more in the music queue

Music (Audit division)"

• Dan Fogelberg, 'Souvenirs." Lots of folksy stuff in his second album. When I originally came to him, it was a bit later, and he was a bit solider. That stuff that first drew me to him should be somewhere in the queue for the future. This one is not unpleasant, though.
• "Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn and Jones, LTD" by the Monkees is, I think 4th album. And is the predictable collection of hits and forgettables. But then “Cuddly Toy” came on, and I was reminded of the line in the documentary “Who Is Harry Nilsson (And Why Is Everybody Talkin' About Him?)” where someone said, after the Monkees recorded this song of his, that his life would change. It did. I am a big Harryhead, as they say, having come to him late (he was already dead when I came across a greatest hits collection that started me collecting all of his albums) and having never left. "Nilsson Schmilsson," for instance, is in my GOATs playlist. And one of my favorite pieces of trivia is that both Cass Elliot and Keith Moon died in Nilsson’s London apartment (although I’m pretty sure he wasn’t there on either occasion). Anyhow, I recommend the movie. (And I enjoyed this album.)
• McGuinn and Hillman’s cleverly named album "McGuinn-Hillman." A couple of Byrds, and I can always listen to anything by any of them. 500 Songs’s Andrew Hickey goes into great detail on Hillman, including giving him credit for much of what Gram Parsons always gets sole credit for. I tend to believe Hickey’s interpretation of things, and am on the hunt for all the Hillman I can get going forward. (I was already tracking down McGuinn.) We’ll see how that goes. Anyhow, this is a very enjoyable album.
• "My Life in the Bush of Ghosts" by Eno and Byrne. Electronica. Moby liked it, per the quote on the album cover. I didn’t.
• "Working on Time" - Maarten Altena Ensemble. I don’t know why this modern music album was in my list. It quickly went the way of "My Life in the Bush of Ghosts."
• The Remains, self-titled first album. This album was released in the 90s, but there was no question of its 60s sound. At first I thought it was some 90s group pretending to be a 60s group—the 90s were the Ironic Era, remember—but it turns out they really were a struggling American 60s group. The production isn’t great, but you can hear some very interesting songwriting despite none of the tracks standing out. When I looked them up I learned their interesting story, which includes opening for the Beatles, and bouncing from record company to record company, and then as artists playing on others’ albums. (Speaking of which, reading Dave Mason’s obituary, I didn’t remember he had played with so many others on their records. RIP.) There isn’t that much more the of the recorded Remains to listen to, but I will definitely listen to whatever there is.
• Larry Williams was a fantastic R&B singer/songwriter. He’s the man behind “Boney Maroney” and “Dizzy, Miss Lizzy” for starters. "Here’s Larry Williams" was his first album. It’s fantastic, and it was hard to avoid the temptation to toss literally all of the songs into my main playlist.

In which the NYSFL has its moment

Right now you are probably asking yourself, I wonder how States went over the weekend? Well, I'm happy to fill you in.

For reasons that will elude me to the grave—in fact, I can see myself on my death bed turning to the love ones around me, gathered there to see me off in some semblance of style, and whispering with my last breath, “Why the fig jam do they do that?”—the 5th and last round of the debate prelims is a flip round, even though in the previous 4 rounds were not flip. And this is both in LD and PF. What is the point? What is it about the 5th round that suddenly the basic business we've been handling the first four rounds is suddenly unacceptable? What were they smoking back in the Eisenhower Administration or whenever when they came up with this wrinkle? By the way, they also do this at CatNats. Go figure. 

I bring this up because making this happens requires a switch in the software before round 5 is paired. The switch makes all the rounds, in PF and then in LD, flip-for-sides. This is not a problem when you are then going into elims, which are all traditionally flip-for-sides. But if, in 2025 you have flipped that switch and then never switched it back, round 1 in 2026 is, voila!, flip-for-sides.

Oops.

Fortunately this was only a minor setback, and we probably didn’t lose too much time, since the first round is always rife with confusion anyhow. Still, it was a pain. So it goes.

The good news is that Kaz was back with us, She and I make a good team, and we get things done. One of the most fun parts of the deal is when you actually have to play with something, like balancing judge usage and judge rating in a large double-flighted round. You could just press the button and devil take the hindmost, but good tabbing evens everything out for the sake of the most possible fairness across the board. And, of course, it has to be done quickly. This is where teamwork is essential, meaning a good team is essential. Kaz and I (or any combination of Kaz, Janet, Vaughan, myself, Frank O’Bono, Catholic Charlie) can do this well. I mean, we do it all the time, and we pride ourselves on it: best possible pairings. (The other thing we pride ourselves on is fixing our mistakes quickly; we’re not perfect, after all. But we can see mistakes that may not be obvious, and quickly fix them one way or another. That is also a good tabbing skill.) So, three cheers, us. 

After that first minor setback, we zipped right along, and by the end of Saturday we were right on schedule. Sunday, with three judges in every round, had a realistic enough schedule to give the debaters plenty of time in between rounds. It was tight once or twice, but only because the occasional schmegeggie took forever to fill out their ballot. On occasion we would send our enforcer, Amy from Upstate, to set them on the straight and narrow. (I only ever see Amy from Upstate at States; she would be useful everywhere! What tournament doesn’t need some serious enforcement?) 

On Saturday, Mr. Softee (or the legal equivalent) showed up when the sun was shining and the air was warm, and before long he had an endless line for the rest of the day. Catholic Charlie and Rick O’Bono flashed their tab FastPass credentials to get to the front of the line, but when Kaz and I went out, we weren’t under any pressure and were happy to just stand out in the sunshine. And, after all, there was a nice chocolate sundae to be had for the waiting. Sadly, Mr. S  (or the legal equivalent) came back on Sunday for a cold, rainy day relatively free of ice cream seekers. Oh, well. He broke the bank on one of the days. That was, hopefully, good enough. 

And then it was over, another States in the books, and we were all very satisfied with the weekend as a whole. We’ll see you all again next April, back at good old Bronx Science. 

Next up, CatNats!

In which we listen to a little music

The initial pairings are ready for States tomorrow morning, so I'm using the downtime before dinner to write this...

Music (audit division): 

• "Wings Deluxe" is a recent compilation, and apparently it’s the definitive one, if the critics are to be believed. I listened to it and by the end realized that Wings had some good songs, but if they hadn’t existed, I wouldn’t have invented them. At least Sir Paul still had his voice back then, compared to his latest recording where he sounds old and raspy because, well, he is old and raspy. More power to him; I’m pretty old and raspy myself. But then again, I haven’t recorded any albums lately.  
• "Lyle Lovett and his Large Band" has some of his best work. He’s on my constant total-oeuvre replay, and I’ve seen him numerous times. In other words, I’m a fan.
• "Another Night" by the Hollies. Yet again the group puts out a couple of really good songs amid a bunch of okay songs. More power to them, too. 
• Maria Muldaur's "Open Your Eyes" was released in 1979, and somehow I missed it. She’s in my Lyle category; I constantly work through all her stuff, and when I get to the end, I start again. And I’ve seen her numerous times. In other words, I’m a fan of her too.
• Next up, Spotify’s playlist of the Essential Gladys Knight. Andrew Hickey, in "The History of Rock in 500 Songs," explains how Knight was, early in her career, poised to be another Aretha. Or vice versa. I don’t remember the details, but his discussion moved me to do a thorough canvass of her work. There’s perfectly good music to be heard, but nothing blew me away. The woman certainly can sing, though…
• "With the Beatles," because they too are on my endless replay. I won’t bother to defend my fandom.
• Redbone, "Already Here." This group, with Chicano and Native American heritages, would have been a big hit with me if I had known them at the time (69-77). I’ve been enjoying going through all their work chronologically, and occasionally popping a tune over to my main playlist. Solid rock. 
• Sanseverino X Lise. That is, Sanseverino and Lise Cabaret (whoever she is). I’ve been a buff of this old-fashioned “gypsy” style jazz (apologies for the use of that word) ever since “The Triplets of Belleville,” which led to Django, which led to Stephane Grappelli, except it really started with Grappelli with his great post-Django albums of swing violin from the 70s. (Okay, I don’t know where it started, but I know I started listening to Grappelli myself in the eighties.) Anyhow, that’s where Sanseverino fits in, and I like most of his stuff, although occasionally he gets a little outre for my blood. This was a good one, with a reprise of his big hit, “À l'enterrement de ma grand-mère,” the bounciest dead grandmother song ever. 
• After that, I ran through another big collection of Fats Waller, because, well, I love Fats Waller. So sue me. 
• I rewatched the whole Beatles Anthology series on Disney+ when the new episode came along, and then I listened to Anthology 4. TBH, it can’t hold the proverbial candle to the first three sets, which had plenty of truly revelatory music on it. The problem is that A4 covers mostly the same stuff, and, well, the best was already taken. So there’s a couple of interesting tracks of just harmonizing, or the background music, but no real rethinking of songs that make you marvel at how they created what they created. 
• I saw him rocking away on some TV show, so I figured I’d try Kenny Chesney’s Greatest Hits. It’s pure country pop, and probably as good as country pop gets. The thing is, I’m not a fan of country pop, so I was disappointed. Bottom line: he’s not making music for me, but the zillions of people he is making music for are getting their money’s worth.

And that's it for now. Excelsior!