DALY TRAVEL

Superb Use of Video by Trafalgar Tours

This is a posting about a new video by Trafalgar Tours.  It’s how travel companies will have to market themselves.

Iron Gate Inn

This is a posting about our stay at the Iron Gate Inn in Cedar City, Utah while we enjoyed a weekend at the Utah Shakespearean Festival.

CEDAR CITY, UTAH (July 27, 2008) – There’s nothing better than making new friends. Susan and CR Wooten are the latest.

Susan and CR own this inviting bed and breakfast, the Iron Gate Inn which is also known as The 1897 Iron Gate.

My wife Teri and I, along with our friends Frank and Gerri Tussing, spent a delightful, intellectually stimulating, and relaxing weekend with Susan and CR as we saw four plays at the Utah Shakespearean Festival.

The Iron Gate has seven rooms, a guest cottage, and a carriage house. All together they can take 26 people at one time. The grounds resemble an English garden; so much so that locals have weddings, receptions, and baby showers here.

The rooms are tastefully decorated with various Americana. The house’s structure, though originally built in 1897, has been renovated. All the amenities are there – even wireless. The only thing missing from the rooms is television which is typical in most B&Bs. You can even bring a small dog to stay in the cottage. (Check with them ahead of time.)

What sets The Iron Gate apart is Susan and CR. Guys, there’s good news and bad news: Susan’s very attractive; CR’s a big man who worked construction. But that’s not it. And it’s not the fact that she is an interior designer that makes the house so inviting. And it’s not CR’s construction background that makes the house so livable. No, it’s simply them.

“We like to interact with our customers,” Susan told us. They spent time between shows with us offering us wine and snacks. We even spent a late Saturday night discussing everything from Shakespeare to living in Las Vegas, which they did for ten years. They did this with all their guests this weekend. “We get to know what our customers really like,” she explains.

We saw it first hand. A restaurant lost our reservation for dinner. Susan was on the phone to the restaurant, using her contacts from the past six years to make sure we got the reservation and would be on time for the show.

When Susan found out Teri didn’t like bananas, which would be the foundation for one of her great breakfasts, she made Teri a special eggs, cheese, and spinach dish. It was waiting for Teri in the morning.

That’s the only thing she Susan requests of her guests: “If you got something you can’t eat, tell me ahead of time.” She wants to avoid any food allergies.

Don’t think they’re intrusive, though. As Gerri says, she and Frank always go back because of the combination of “privacy and sociability. We never feel like we’re intruding on them.” And vice versa.

There’s a delicate balance here Susan and CR seem to have found. It’s a difficult task to make someone feel your home is their home while also making them feel like special guests. So if you enjoy the B&B owner you only see for breakfasts or to drop off the key, then this could be a place for you as well.

Susan told us about one of their first guests – a newly married couple. They made “themselves at home’ by coming down to breakfast in their pajamas, but besides that, they stayed in their honeymoon room and “we didn’t see too much of them,” Susan explained.

Cedar City is not a hotbed of nightlife. Sure, there are bars; it’s not entirely dry in this Mormon town. But if you’re looking for an all-out party, you’ll have a hard time finding it here.

This is a place to getaway from it all. Susan directed us to an incredible hiking trail that meandered along some rivers and water falls while we saw some of those salmon-colored mountains. After a good hike, there is plenty to enjoy around the Shakespeare festival and with the addition of some decent restaurants. The two we enjoyed were: Milt’s Ranch House, a ten minute drive on the highway; and The Garden House which is walking distance from The Iron Gate.

Besides their website, Susan and CR do little advertising. Word of mouth works best. That’s how we got here. Frank and Gerri have stayed there three other times, so we didn’t question their choice.

And that’s the way Susan and CR like it. She told me the only thing more exciting than meeting new people is knowing their previous customers are returning.

Enjoy some time with them. I highly recommend it. As I write this, we’re planning a September weekend with Gaius Julius Caesar, Marc Anthony, Brutus and the gang, and of course, Susan and CR.

Disclosure here: I have no financial agreement with CR and Susan.

Shakespeare in Utah

This is a posting about a weekend in Cedar City, Utah attending the Utah Shakespearean Festival at Southern Utah University. I highly recommend you take some time there during remainder of the summer and into the fall. I also recommend a stay at the Iron Gate Inn which you can read about in an earlier post.

CEDAR CITY, UTAH (July 27, 2008) – This is one of Las Vegans favorite escapes. We drive north on I-15 where it’s a little cooler, the mountains are shaded salmon, and we think we’ve landed in Mayberry western style.

But instead of Andy and Opie, we have The Bard. The center of Cedar City is Southern Utah University, a lovely little campus. But the center of SUU is the Utah Shakespearean Festival, founded by Fred Adams, who, in 1961 as the school’s theater professor, saw the flood of summer tourists with little or nothing to do.

Today his vision has been immortalized with a bronze statue on campus. Knowing Fred since 1990, I knew what a hallowed event monument this would be for him. “My ass is not that big,” he shouted to me in a recent interview. I didn’t check.

But Fred’s image, his vision, his passion, and, needless to say, his sense of humor are all much bigger, at least figuratively, than his bronzed backside.

Yes, the Utah Shakespearean Festival has been around now for more than 40 years. Sure, they won a regional Tony Award in 2000. But what amazes me is this. Las Vegas, the cauldron of gaudiness, lacking any intellectual threads, is a major source of support for the festival. I’m amazed at each visit the amount of people I meet from Las Vegas. And we’re not talking the upper income earners; no it’s usually working class folks with their kids.

That’s because Fred and the festival staff have made Shakespeare fun and relevant. In September and October, the festival will perform Julius Caesar in a 2008 setting. It’s no coincidence, Fred tells me, that Caesar will run only months and weeks before the election.

Fred’s pre-performance talks are a delight. If you’re new to Shakespeare take in Fred’s words and then you can relax and enjoy the performance.

Another change to the festival over the past ten years was offering non-Shakespeare plays; for instance, this year audiences saw the musical Fiddler on the Roof, the Nineteenth Century classic Cyrano de Bergerac, and Moliere’s The School for Wives.

This is my first trip here in a number of years. While I was a news anchor in Las Vegas from 1990 to 1996, I not only attended the festival and saw every play, but I also brought up a camera crew and produced a 30-minute show. The bulk of those shows were lively and fascinating interviews with Fred – though kept for posterity in my mind, not necessarily for his previously mentioned posterior.

Frankly, I’m kicking myself from being away so long. National TV shows and other ventures were the causes of my absence for those years — but no more.

Our good friends/clients Frank Gerri Tussing joined us for three days, two nights, and four shows.

The four shows we saw were: Two Gentleman from Verona; Othello; Cyrano de Bergerac; and Fiddler on the Roof. The four of us recommend them all.

My favorite, to my surprise, was Fiddler. Usually, I gravitate – or fixate – on the tragedies. (English major!) But this musical performance was near flawless. Every actor held their role, as I put it, to completion. I didn’t have to suspend belief and I was moved. That says a lot when you consider they break out in song and dance. Sure, the live orchestra helped too.

That’s not to say the other shows – Othello, Cyrano, and Two Gentleman – lacked good performances; to the contrary.

Brian Vaughn was brilliant as Cyrano and as Lance, the servant in Two Gentleman. He was witty and poignant, stealing roles whether as a principle or ancillary. Over the years, I rate Brian as one of my top five favorite performers here.

Jonathan Earl Peck, who played Othello, was spell-binding. He captured the subtle metamorphosis of content husband to deranged and influenced jealous lover. My first live performance of Othello was with James Earl Jones more than 25 years ago. Peck’s performance rates with it. Like any great performance of Othello, Macbeth, or Hamlet, the audience needs to loath yet suffer with these main characters. Peck’s performance made you want to go up on stage and say, “Dude, what are you thinking?”

His counterpart, James Newcomb, who played the evil Iago was equally captivating, so much so you wanted to strangle him yourself.

These three, along with many others, are experienced actors from stage and screen. Along with the Directors, they give the Utah Shakespearean Festival, to quote Cyrano, all the panache of Broadway.

There are also some young well-trained performers who are just cutting their teeth. These young thespians know their lines, but, at times, lack the experience and miss moments that fulfill the true essence of a character or, at times, their youth fails to interpret gestures or actions that will give the audience new meaning. Doing this is not easy. Their inexperience, however, takes nothing away from their performances. In fact, for the seasoned theater-goer, watching these up-and-comers search and struggle for their acting identities is an added intrigue to the experience.

Jimmy V Celebrity Golf Classic: Join Me & the Knuckleheads

This is a posting about my time at the Jimmy V Golf Classic and how you can participate.  Click here to read the entire column at WorldGolf.

A Week in Mexico

This is a posting from December, 2006 trip to Mexico. We stayed at the Eldorado Royale, a Karisma Resort.

PLAYA DEL CARMEN, MEXICO (December 10, 2008) — There I was in a foreign country probing into the underbelly of Mexican life…

Yeah right. Talk about media deception.

Alright, I wasn’t in Mexico City covering the inauguration of President Calderon. Although I did watch on Mexican TV and I don’t understand Spanish. And I wasn’t examining the effects of the Mexican drug trade or the migration of Mexicans across the U.S. border.

No, I was near Cancun, the Mayan Riviera to be precise, on a working vacation. Can you sense my writing’s tan shades?

Still, I was able to observe some issues thanks to a number of interviews with regular Mexican folk and some people who do business in Mexico. My observations will be written in a series of postings to follow.

I’ll cover a number of different topics including travel, immigration, and the economic conditions that most Americans only see from a far. Again, I was near Cancun, nowhere near Mexico’s political and economic epicenter. But there is still a ripple of information I can report to you that will give you some perspective of our neighbors to the south.

I also was fortunate to have enough good reading material – including a survey by The Economist on Mexico.

We stayed at the Eldorado Royale, a Karisma Resort.  It’s an all-inclusive resort meaning you had a concierge always available and you didn’t touch your wallet. Yes, there were plenty of mai tais, pina coladas, and marguerites on the beach. The food was incredible and cutting edge – despite the fact it was included in the price. And the Mexican warmth beat the December chill in Las Vegas.

Despite all that good living, there was plenty of time in a cabana reading and thinking.

Lubo Krstajic

Lubo is a giant. He’s 6-foot-8, a former player on the Kosovo national basketball team about 15 years ago.

But he is also huge in the travel industry in Mexico. Lubo is co-owner and Executive Vice President for Karisma Hotels & Resorts.

Lubo hosted a dinner for five of us at the Italian restaurant at Eldorado Royale. It was a fabulous meal. The osso bucco was as tender as Ferraro’s in Las Vegas, considered by many the best in the world. The wine was a Cabernet Sauvignon from California’s Far Niente Vineyard. However, the conversation was about The Balkans.

Lubo tells his fascinating story. He is a Serbian, raised in the embattled Kosovo region of Serbia, formerly in Yugoslavia. That region is now controlled by a United Nations Administrator after NATO bombings halted the Kosovo civil war. Albanian Kosovars, who are mostly Muslim, wanted autonomy from Serbia whose government was accused of brutal repression, similar to the repression and cases of genocide in the Bosnian War in the mid 1990s.

Long before the civil war in 1999, Lubo was forced to leave the region. He told me that he and other Serbs couldn’t live in Kosovo. They were harassed by Albanian Kosovars, Lubo said, for petty things like unwarranted traffic violations. Lubo says he played on the Kosovo national basketball team with Albanian Muslims. They had no problem playing basketball together. But Lubo said the two people – Serb and Albanian Muslims – living together was impossible.

Lubo was also restricted from moving and starting a career in Belgrade, the capital of Serbia. The Serbian government apparently didn’t want a flood refugees leaving Kosovo and moving into Belgrade.

So, Lubo left for the Dominican Republic. He worked in the resort industry and then learned the business and built some resorts of his own that became a chain. He eventually sold that chain for a nifty profit and then moved onto his new endeavors at Karisma.

Lubo is very successful. He lives in Miami with his German wife and two kids, but he is constantly in Mexico at his resorts. What was impressive about Lubo was the respect he attracted from his employees. It wasn’t a fearful respect, but a thankful respect. Even though we were honored guests, I never felt he treated his employees any less. He enjoyed good laughs with us as he did with them.

He also showed off his resorts with an infectious enthusiasm. He had an incredible attention to detail about everything in the resorts that will bring his customers a better experience. For instance, everything is designed to make a couple feel comfortable and romantic. He built swim-up casitas, so you don’t have to go to the pool. You can be alone and also enjoy the pool at your room. The activities are set up for couples to enjoy them together. And even at the night clubs and entertainment venues have swing seats – with just enough room for two. Simple yet effective.

Alex, Jorge, Chewy

Lubo drove us along the lush Mayan Riviera. If you didn’t see palm trees, you might think you were traveling through a Carolina summer. The only thing interrupting the greenery of many trees were the cinder block buildings being built.

“Look at all that’s happening here,” Lubo said pointing to mile after mile of construction along Highway 307. Most of the building work was for new resorts. Although it’s not the construction boom I see in Las Vegas, the activity is substantial.

“People here don’t want to go to the United States,” Lubo said. And I heard that from many Mexicans in this region of the Yucatan Peninsula, just south of Cancun. It’s not true in many of the southern regions of Mexico where tourism and factory jobs don’t exist as much as in the north.

Back at the Eldorado Royale, we had plenty of time to talk to the bartenders and waiters who took care of us. They were great guys who were willing to share their stories.

Alex was one of the bar waiters. He’s in his late 20s, tall and thin, but athletic. He told me he left Houston, Texas even though he had a valid green card. He worked construction and then played professional soccer for the MSL team in Houston.

“Why did you come back?” I asked.

“To care for my mother,” he said.

Alex is the youngest of eleven kids, so the care of his sick, single mother fell to him. Still, he was not bitter about missed opportunities in America.

Jorge was our main bartender. He is a quiet man with a sheepish smile. At 40, he believes he is old. At first, we laughed. But then I realized he was being honest. Although life expectancy is around 72 for men (77 for women) in Mexico, which has gone up lately, Jorge was still beholden to the jobs that are created by Mexican tourism. When I asked where most Mexicans go on vacation, Jorge and some of his fellow workers say they go back to the villages where they were born to see family.

Jorge, like many others at the Eldorado Royale, lives in Cancun. He is bussed forty five minutes to an hour each way to work, because they cannot afford homes or apartments near the resorts. The land prices are too expensive. As a result, he works at night, so he is sometimes asleep only hours before his daughters wake for school.

Buying a house in Mexico is difficult. Banks charge interest rates somewhere in the 30% range, according to some of the Mexicans I met. The only way to buy a house is cash. That’s how Jorge did it. But the way Mexicans buy homes may be changing — thanks to Wal-Mart.

The Arkansas-based retailer is regarded as the Evil Empire by many Americans and many small retailers. I understand the anger. But Wal-Mart has also pushed the world to lower prices and more efficient distribution of products in a world controlled by Chinese manufacturing.

Wal-Mart is close to offering banking services in Mexico. (Read the post from my friend John Ray about this and the free market hypocrisy in the United States.)

Nearly 80% of working class Mexicans has no bank account. Most Mexicans banks carry too many restrictions like paper work and minimum balances. Of course, Wal-Mart is hoping to drive more customers to their stores and products. But eventually, Wal-Mart will start providing loans and mortgages for homes. And once credit is provided to a small community, growth in housing and business will happen.

Let me give you two examples. The first is Muhammad Yunnus, the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. He just received the honor today. His concept of micro banking in Bangladesh has been proven to move people out of poverty. I first read about him three years ago in Steven Covey’s book, The Eighth Habit. If you haven’t read about Yunnus yet, try his website. If there is such a thing as a feel good economic story, this is it.

The best example of the success of extending credit is Ireland. David McWilliams’ book, The Pope’s Children explains how in the 1980s credit was one of the main reasons that led to the real estate boom and the Celtic Tiger economy in the 1990s that remains today. Remember, Ireland was a Third World Country twenty years ago. Granted, Ireland has some other major benefits that Mexico doesn’t. The first is an educated population. The second is a glut of investment dollars from European, namely German, retirees. The third reason is peace. Sectarian violence ended once Ireland’s government and people forfeited its desire to unify with British-led Northern Ireland.

But still, the extending of credit will help Mexico. Wal-Mart’s presence will also force other Mexican banks to compete for the Mexican populace which will lead to better rates and a growing economy.

Jorge, Alex, and Chewy and Donata, two other bartenders, didn’t know about Wal-Mart’s new plans. When I mentioned it, they nodded with approval.

Still, these guys were all pessimistic about Mexican politicians. They said, “They tell you something and then they don’t do it.” No translation needed. It happens in any language.

The big problem seems to be the inability of the police to stop the drug trafficking – especially since the police appear to be a part of it through bribes and intimidation. So, these guys are not optimistic that newly-elected President Calderon can do much to stem the violence of the three major drug gangs throughout Mexico. Although the problem on the Mayan Riviera, if there is one, was certainly out of sight from us.

Still, Jorge is more optimistic about his daughters’ futures. He said they have a chance to go to college, which he didn’t. In fact, he barely finished high school and he admits his reading and writing skills are not good. But he said he would try to correspond by email – when he can get to a computer.

There are signs for that optimism in Mexico’s scientific future. The Technico, a technology partnership between the Mexican government and business, has set up 30 technology campuses around Mexico. And here’s a fact that most Americans need to pay attention to. Since 2003, because of Technico, Mexico has turned out more engineers than the United States, China, or India. That comes from November 18, 2006 edition of The Economist and its survey on Mexico.

The future of Mexico is brighter than most Americans think.

Trust But Verify

While spending time in Mexico, Ronald Reagan’s famous Cold War-ending phrase kept repeating in my mind: trust but verify.

Americans should trust the desire of many Mexicans and other Latin Americans who want a chance for a better life here. But we also need to verify who crosses our borders. In other words, be optimistic but vigilant.

This is a balancing act of two opposing views – some would say extreme views. But I think we need to listen to the Minutemen and the Hispanic advocates equally.

The Minutemen want to protect our borders. Some of them may seem bigoted. But I believe the majority of them have reasonable goals and fears – especially in our post 9/11 world. I also have a good friend who is a homicide detective in Phoenix and he says the murder rate climbs when the migrant workers return. We’ve also seen the stress on social and medical services in other large cities like Los Angeles and Dallas.

However, as many Latino advocates tell us, Americans need to realize, like it or not, Mexico and the Hispanic population is becoming a bigger part of our society. Economically, we need this infusion of Latin, low-cost workers now. They help keep down prices for many products such as food and a wide range of services.

In the future, we will need them even more as our society ages. Those Hispanic workers of today and their kids will be a major part of our work force taking care of retired baby-boomers. In other words, be nice to your gardener, his kid may be saving or prolonging your life in decades to come.

Miami Herald columnist Leonard Pitts, Jr. says it best. To see the future of America, we should look at the complexion of Miami’s population today. He writes, “for most of the years of the American experiment, our dialogue about race and diversity has been strictly bipolar: black and white, minority and majority. But by 2050, the conversation will be three-way — black, white and brown — and none will have dominant numbers. We will all be minorities.”

With that, here are some proposals, some a little controversial.

1. Beef up border patrol and electronic surveillance are needed to stop illegal workers, terrorists, and the drug cartels. Illegal workers drain social services in some cities while taking away jobs from unskilled American workers. Terrorists can easily use Mexico as an unnoticed port of entry. And the violence among the drug cartels is now spilling over into the U.S, according to a report by Stratfor (www.stratfor.com).

2. No fence needs to be built. It’s a waste of money. If anything, it’s symbolic.

3. Beef up enforcement of U.S. businesses should reduce the flow of illegal immigrants. That is, if you believe that most border crossers are only looking for work. Penalties on business could dry up those jobs.

4. English only laws will help immigrants who legally work here. Yes, some laws seem discriminatory. But look at the immigrants in decades past from Europe who didn’t have bi-lingual laws. They survived and so will today’s immigrants.

5. Americans, conversely, need to become fluent in Spanish and other languages – namely Chinese. This is not to placate foreigners, but to help our kids achieve success in the future world economy.

6. Economic union, but not a political union, would force Mexico to use the U.S. dollar as its currency and drop the peso. Check out my April 17, 2006 podcast interview with Clyde Prestowitz, the author of Three Billion New Capitalists who offered this idea originally. To me, it makes sense since most Mexicans come here to work and send dollars back to Mexico. Let’s give them dollars and a more stable currency that could hopefully raise Mexico’s production capacity to compete with China. There have been a number of proposals for a North American Union similar to the European Union. Politically, that wouldn’t work in the United States, Canada, or Mexico. Look at the political problems in Europe, but the euro has not been too bad for Europe’s economy.

7. Legalizing and controlling drug trade would hopefully reduce the demand for drugs like cocaine and heroine. This is highly controversial and it could lead to a higher rate of drug abuse. But it might reduce the power of the drug cartels and give the government more revenues. Nothing is perfect.

One thing that needs to be said comes from The Economist and its recent 14-page survey on Mexico. It is time for the Mexican people and their government to step up and take advantage of some opportunities now.

Smeraldi’s At Millennium Biltmore LA

This is a posting about a fantastic meal at one of my favorite hotels – made even better by two new friends going the extra mile in an Italian restaurant that is and isn’t Italian.

 

LOS ANGELES, CA (June 22, 2008) – Downtown LA is one of my favorite places on a Sunday evening.  The streets are slow, calm, and cool.  It gives you time to marvel at the modern, eclectic architecture that finally speaks the history of this city that is the core of Southern California.

 

My favorite hotel here is the Biltmore, now the Millennium Biltmore Los Angeles.  It’s a throw-back to the 1930s when LA was becoming LA.  If you pause for a moment you can hear the echoes of silent film starlets and Raymond Chandler throwing down a few.

 

I had spent time here in the 1990s while seeing shows or operas on weekends away from Las Vegas.  So, I was enthralled when my assistant Jaime (pronounced Jay-mee), unbeknownst to me, booked me in the Biltmore.  (Good assistants know this stuff.) 

 

On this Sunday night as I prepared for the Monday conference with BNY Mellon, I decided to get a quick dinner.  When the Asian restaurant Saisai was closed, I was fortunate enough to find the Italian restaurant Smeraldi’s.

 

What a find in many ways.

 

My first good fortune was to get Tom Chavez as my waiter.  “What’s the best on the menu?” I asked.  He didn’t disappoint.

 

I had the Cocktail Mediterranean which was a scrumptious medley of fresh oysters, shrimp, crab cloves, ahi tuna, and Norwegian Salmon.  I highly recommend it as an appetizer.

 

The entrée was North American Halibut sautéed in Swiss chard, braised baby fennel, couscous, and tear drop tomato relish.  It was heaven and healthy.  It blended perfectly with my reading of asset management, trusts, working capital solutions, derivatives, and private equity.  Seriously, I had to concentrate on my reading; that’s how good it was.

 

The dinner cost about $80 with tip and a glass of Jordan Chardonnay.

 

Of course after dinner, I had to have some fun.  That means “breaking balls”.  Understand that the creator of “breaking balls” — while making friends — was my Dad, John F. Daly.  Pops could get away with saying almost anything that might be construed as offensive, yet the target of his barbs knew instantly that Pops was only making friendly.

 

However, my good buddy Jack “Jake The Weasel” McCarty has taken “ball busting” to nuclear heights. Jack became good buddies with a Japanese tourist even though he told this Japanese gentleman that Curtis Lemay had somehow missed him during the bombings in 1945.  That’s right.  Jake The Weasel could joke about the worst atomic attack in the history to a Japanese man – and they still had fun together. 

 

Granted, this Japanese gentleman had the ball busting gift too.  When he found out Jack was from the Boston area, he patted Jack’s tummy and said, “that’s why you have robster belly.”

 

My ball busting is tamer, more sophisticated (I like to think), and safer.  So I brought out my usual repertoire for an Italian restaurant.  I told Tom the waiter “if this is really an Italian restaurant, then you will have Strega.”

 

Strega is an Italian liqueur similar to Sambuca with the yellow tint of Galliano.  I feasted on it as a student in Italy; it’s part of my drinking DNA.  However, many places don’t carry it in America.  And of course, I knew it wasn’t on Smeraldi’s drink menu.

 

So, I knew I had clearly stumped Tom the waiter adding the coup de grace (don’t know the Italian equivalent), “Then you can’t call this place an Italian restaurant.”

 

Tom was not done, though.  He noticed Jaime Gallardo, the bartender, in the restaurant talking to the attractive hostess.  “He’ll know.”

 

After catching Tom’s eye, Jaime (pronounced Hi-may) walked to my table with urgency to hear my dim-witted diatribe about Strega.  “So you’re really not an Italian restaurant,” I concluded again.

 

“Well, sir,” Jaime responded seriously, “It’s not an Italian restaurant.  The name is only Italian.”  Then he smiled. 

 

Not only had I met my match, but he trumped me.  What a pleasure to ball-bust a ball-buster.  Then Jaime disappeared. 

 

Five minutes later, Tom arrived with a gift from Jaime, a snifter of … you guessed it … Strega.  Perfect.

 

“I thought we had some in the main bar,” Jaime later told me when I tracked him down to thank him.  We spoke for a while and he told me he was heading to Mexico City for four weeks vacation to see his mother and his new grandchild.

 

So truly Smeraldi’s is an Italian restaurant.  But it has nothing to do with the great food.  Sure, the food has Italian style, but it’s California cuisine, too.  And the Italian label has nothing to do with them having Strega; although that helps.  Smeraldi’s is real Italian thanks to Tom Chavez and Jaime Gallardo who made sure a hotel restaurant felt like a visit to someone’s home.

 

Besides Smeraldi’s at The Biltmore LA, there is plenty of stuff to do in LA.  Call my gal Vicki, a virtuoso travel agent, at (972) 243-9704 for an American vacation in SoCal.

Golf Blog

This is a posting announcing my new golf blog.

LAS VEGAS, NV (June 22, 2008) — This new blog is at www.lasvegasgolf.com.   Although I’ll be writing a lot about golf in Las Vegas, you can be sure I’ll be talking about the golf courses I travel to around the world.

Why Is This Man Smiling? Read The Next Post

A Hole In One At The Duke

This is a posting about a friend who experienced the ultimate golf gem – a hole in one. The problem is the dope with the camera forgot to start rolling until after the ball went in the hole.

DURHAM, NC (May 31, 2008) – The golf gods can be gratuitous in their cruelty. Both bad and good golfers suffer the fate of a bad bounce or quirk of fate that destroys a well-hit shot.

And then there are times when the golf gods rewards those who deserve it. It happened at the Duke Golf Course on the campus of Duke University. I was there as a celebrity guest playing in the 35^{th Duke Children’s Celebrity Classic. No, the golf gods did not pay attention to me. Instead, they bestowed a moment of immortality on one of the good guys – Clint Davidson.}

The golf gods, however, allowed me to witness it. Let the record show: on this day May 31, 2008, Clint Davidson had a hole in one on the 12th hole at the Duke University Golf Course.

Clint is the VP of Human Resources for the Duke Children’s Hospital. Clint’s one of those guys you quickly become friends with – no matter who you are.

Fortunately for me, this was my second time playing with Clint in this four-man scramble event over the past four years. He’s a good partner in a scramble since he’s a 16 handicap and he hits the ball fairly straight and consistently.

Before I explain the shot and the circumstances surrounding this hallowed day, let me tell you what happened on some previous holes.

We were given a sign of Clint’s impending meeting with glory as we played the first hole, a 400-yard plus par-4. Clint hit a shot for our team from 180-yards. It was near perfect. It landed at the front of the green, took two bounces and then ran right at the hole. The ball disappeared. I yelled, “It went in!”

But it hadn’t. The ball disappeared, but it had really run just behind the pin. (Yes, I might need my eyes checked.) But the ball was literally a tap-in away.

A few holes later, Clint excused himself from our team. He wanted to spend time with his five-year-old grandson who was at the putting green involved in some of the festivities with the other kids and entertainers at the event.

So, we missed Clint for two holes. Little did we know the magic he would bring back.

As we approached our final hole, a tricky par-3 over water, we were all contemplating what club to hit. We were found under par – clearly not in the running for first place. Still, everyone wants to conquer this hole. It’s, in my view, Duke’s answer to the 17th at the TPC Sawgrass.

The pin was up front – about 20 feet from the water. The green, as usual, sloped toward the wet stuff. The pin, by my estimate, was 125 yards from the tee. To the left of the pin: a hump. It was not the Donald Ross kind of hump that reminds you of an elephant burial ground. It was more like Louie Anderson laying on his side with green covers. Either way, the hump would have to be navigated since the green flowed from left to right starting there and past the pin.

Besides this mound of putting surface, there were two other diagnostic problems for the golfers: first, the wind was there, but above the trees which surrounded the green; second, it was a hot muggy day. So, the humidity and the wet air over the pond would probably deaden the flight of the ball.

All this was going through my head as Clint addressed the ball. He took a short, easy compact swing; almost like a chip shot. The ball stayed low, well below the tree line.

It was heading right for the hump. And for some reason, the flight of the ball seemed like a precursor to a soft-landing. So, I shouted my usual cheapskate phrase when someone is threatening a hole in one: “I drink Louis XIII at $125 a shot.” This way when the ball goes in the hole the creator of the shot, whose job it is to buy the drinks, will not be blind-sided by more order. Tee hee.

As I finished the sentence, the ball landed on that hump and gently moved to the right in the direction of the pin. It rolled about ten feet and then it seemed disappear.

I wasn’t going to be fooled again. It’s probably sitting behind the pin a cup width away. But then the gal who was our scorekeeper and sometimes forward caddy, who was closer to the green with a side view of the cup, let out, “it’s in.”

We crowded Clint like he had just won the White House by one vote. He was either too stunned that the ball went in the hole or our two other playing partners, Peter Chauncey and Earl Jukes, along with me, were so ecstatic that Clint’s reaction may have only appeared subdued in comparison.

That’s when my heart sunk. Your intrepid reporter here has a video camera in the golf cart. I decided instead of bringing it out all day, I’d just roll from some video on the last hole. But as you just read, I was fairly intent on how to hit my shot – rather than rolling video on a shot. I could have documented Clint’s great moment, but I missed the opportunity. As my good friend John Dancy, the former NBC correspondent, said to me, “You really aren’t a good journalist.”

So, better late than never. I took out the camera and videotaped Clint explaining the shot and removing the ball from the hole. That video will be part of a video blog here soon. I also have a shot of Clint – in a still photo – with the ball at the hole.

The odds of getting a hole in one on a moderate length par-3 are 8200 to 1. That’s why I think it’s so special just to see a hole in one. I believe it’s the second one I’ve witnessed in person. A gentleman who was paired with me and my buddy Sal Mentasana hit one from 155 yards at Revere in Las Vegas. He paid for a couple rounds of Cape Codders afterwards.

I’ve come close two times. The first was at Pebble Beach on Number 17 from 184 yards away. It sat on the lip. The second was at TPC Las Vegas (formerly TPC Canyons) in 2000 on the second hole from 160 yards – a few inches away.

So, Clint, thanks for the memories. And I’m still waiting for that shot of Louis XIII.

Let the record show also: Clint tried to take us into the bar to pay for drinks. We refused because the hospitality room was set up with free drinks for us anyway. And we were more interested in telling the story of Clint’s hole in one to as many folks as possible.

Remembering Russia Six Years Ago

This is an article I wrote nearly six years ago while in Moscow. Granted, this is a political piece, but you can still enjoy some of the places I visited that were pure treasures, along with some of the Russian folks I met and still think about.  Anyone been lately?

MOSCOW, RUSSIA (October 21, 2002) — A car bomb explodes at a Moscow McDonald’s. Two days later, a regional governor is assassinated on a busy Moscow street. Four days later, Chechen extremists take theater-goers hostage leading to more than one hundred deaths.

I was there days before the week of carnage in Moscow. A potential client flew me to Russia to see if my production company would produce videos for a joint Russian-American investment fund. Daly Productions has negotiated a contract. But even if we hadn’t, I can still make the case for Russia – despite Chechen rebels, organized crime, and recent financial failures.

The main reason is the people I met. But the most important reason came from one woman’s gasp.

She is the wife of one of our Russian hosts. The gasp echoed over the twelve vodka-laced voices enjoying a feast of meats, cheese, salad, and wine. Neither Chechens nor organized crime caused the two-second jolt of terror. It was far worse. She was staring at Joseph Stalin.

The ghost was really an impersonator. He was an employee at Stalin’s Bunker, an elaborate underground hideout built for the Soviet leader in the 1930’s, now a museum and the setting for dinner.

Stalin’s double toasted us then departed to his working class family. Yet the ghost of the real Stalin lingered. Call it a frightened glance over an historical shoulder.

Alexander Nikinov, a colonel in the Russian Air Force, raised a glass to his American guests. “We are not Americans and Russians. We are people working together.”

Victor, a successful entrepreneur, also toasted: “Let us remember the times we were allies in the Great War.”

There was no talk of the Cold War or the Cuban Missile Crisis, just friendship from a distant, victorious past. Despite recent events in Moscow, most Russians are gasping in horror about the past, not the future.

Giving birth to capitalism has been a long, painful delivery for Russia. But, like parenthood, a free market society will be worthwhile eventually.

One labor pain is the lack of western-style service. At the Moscow Airport, I needed directions to baggage claim. “Excuse me,” I asked a female airport employee, “Do you speak English?” Without missing a step or an English syllable she said, “No, I do not.”

In many restaurants you cannot deviate from the menu. At the Metropol Hotel bar, I ordered a turkey sandwich. I asked for Swiss cheese on the sandwich. “It’s not possible,” the waiter said – even though Swiss cheese was on the menu with another sandwich.

That waiter was the rule; Nadia was the exception. Nadia is a waitress at a chain restaurant called Yaukey Paulkey. Victor, our translator, gave Nadia our order; she wrote it down; then she read it back to him perfectly. We complimented her for her service; then our Russian guests asked for her name and number to consider her for future work.

Another breach in the Russian economy: Bribes. Again, at the Moscow Airport, a customs guard spotted the computer boxes I was delivering. He apparently wanted dollars in return for not putting the boxes through a lengthy Russian paper shuffle. One of my client’s Russian business partners talked to the guard privately; then the computers were released.

An hour later, our Russian driver made an illegal U-turn and got pulled over by a police officer, who then escorted him inside a police van, out of sight, for ten minutes. Our driver kept his rubles, though. He had better government connections.

Even the Russian adoption agencies have joined the bribery game. An American businesswoman we met told us this story. An American couple went to Russia to adopt two children only to discover the adoption fee had doubled well into the tens of thousands. The businesswoman was summoned to Moscow to pay the added fee (bribe) before the children could be taken to the United States.

Many Russians resent the shakedowns by civil servants. They use jokes to endure it.

A man is stopped by a Moscow cop. But before the cop says anything the man tells him, “I have a political joke for you.” The cop, who is a part of the political structure, is astounded. “Why would you tell me a joke like that?” “Don’t worry,” the man says, “I will tell it to you slow and twice.”

In defense of Russian civil servants, they are paid poorly and for a good reason. Russian President Putin has delivered three consecutive balanced budgets. Any surplus pays off the country’s debt from the financial collapse of 1998 – not to salary raises. Seen this way, you realize the Russians are suffering from the pains of progress.

However, not all Russian government workers are corrupt.

Andre is a Russian sailor. He makes one hundred dollars a month to support three boys and his wife in a small apartment. To survive, he is part of the new underground Moscow economy. Two days a week, he drives around Moscow picking up people who need a ride. A traveler simply sticks out a thumb, a driver stops, you negotiate a fee, and you get to your destination. No taxi authority is necessary.

Like Andre, many Russians are learning how to work the system.

Kirill Galetski is twenty-five and Russian-born. He looks like a young Johnny Unitas with the baby face and blond crew cut. He spoke English with an All-American accent, too.

Kirill’s American-born mother and Russian-born father divorced when he was five. Kirill went to America with his mother where he eventually earned a journalism degree from Portland State University.

When I met him, he was writing for an English language newspaper while interpreting during a business seminar in Moscow.

I asked him why he returned to Russia. His answer floored me. “I want to act,” he said. Kirill was attending one of the world’s great acting schools: The Stanislavsky School of Acting.

Russian men speak with great pride about another treasure: Russian women.

Every block, a super model look-a-like walks by: tall, thin, dressed as if they strolling The Champs Elysee or Fifth Avenue; many blondes but some exotic Mediterranean beauties as well.

“Russian women are loyal and traditional,” Kirrill offered. The typical scene at a McDonald’s was of a beautiful woman, dressed in fashionable business attire, with a young child and a husband. “There’s not much of a feminist movement here,” he said.

That has led to a growth in dating or husband-finding agencies in Russia for American men. Alla, a cherubic twenty year old who translated for me one day, said many of her friends had applied at one of the agencies.

There are also plenty of corporate executives popping up in Russia as well. We met an owner of a software company; among his employees are 6 PhD’s. His software will provide immediate translations from one language to another for text and voice.

Another man, a developer, had plans for hotels and office buildings.

I spoke with a group of businessmen who obtained scientific know-how from Russian military experts to create new technology, including a way to analyze blood without having to draw it from the person.

A scientist, who had worked at Lawrence Livermore, was creating a device to detect biological and chemical agents.

Las Vegan Rex Farris, the owner of Global Express Capital Corporation, marvels at the opportunities in Russia. Rex is the client who created that half-billion dollar investment fund for Russia.

He believes Russia’s abundance of land and untapped natural resources resembles “America after World War II.”

The numbers confirm that. The IMF reports that Russian GDP will increase 4.4% for 2002 and 4.9% for 2003. The Russian stock market jumped 82% over the past two years, according to the Wall Street Journal. “Foreign investors account for 20% of the money invested in Russian stocks,” the article on November 20, 2002 states.

That’s on paper, though.

I witnessed plenty signs of a society trying to blossom. A woman stood in front of the Moscow Prosecutor’s Office holding a sign. She was accusing Moscow’s mayor of murder.

Three of Moscow’s state-run museums, dedicated to preserving the history of the Russian military, did not varnish the truth. My Russian guide showed me photos of nine Russian generals, all members of the Russian Military Council in the 1930’s. Stalin executed 77 of these men in 1936. “We lost the top people of our army,” my guide said. “The Germans knew it would be a good time to invade.”

She also guided me to displays honoring the men and women who fought in Afghanistan and Chechnya, Russia’s Vietnams.

Still, the Russians take great pride in their military victories – especially in World War II. One artifact was a jacket worn by Hitler that I actually touched. It had burn marks so it must have been worn during his final days. The inside pocket had the inscription: tailored for Adolf Hitler.

The museum also had two huge photos displayed on a huge wall. One photo was the massing of Russian soldiers in Red Square as they prepared for the Nazi assault. The other photo was the victory parade in Red Square as a staff that bore the name Adolf Hitler was carried by one of the Russians. The actual staff rests on the ground at the base of the photo.

Colonel Nikinov oversees all the military museums. He says he wants to display the museums’ exhibits throughout the world — mainly the United States.

Nikinov is a handsome man with white hair and a young face; one of those people that make the world a good place. At our final dinner, he prefaced his toast like this: “You know I don’t care about making money. I care about friendships and peace between our countries,” he said. Ironic when you consider for most of his career, he was trained to kill Americans.

Nikinov made me think of Tom Friedman, the foreign affairs columnist for The New York Times, whose latest book, “Attitudes and Longitudes” is about the new world after September 11th.

Most of the book is about the Arab world. But Friedman writes about a trip he took to Moscow. He saw the early stages of capitalism in Russia and compared it to the Arab world.

In my final toast to our Russian friends, I paraphrased Tom Friedman. I admit to being eloquent, but the credit goes to Friedman and vodka.

“Tom Friedman says the world is no longer east versus west or free market versus communism. It is the civilized world against the uncivilized world. At the height of the Cold War, Friedman says, the Soviets still cherished life. You knew,” I said pointing to my Russian guests, “destroying us meant also destroying yourselves. Neither of us did it. We cherish life unlike the terrorists today destroying the world and themselves. What we are doing here tonight, having dinner, telling stories, making lasting friendships, that is what civilization is all about. So, a toast to civilization, my friends.”