Posted by admin to Original Posts, contrasts, gardener, gardeners, heronswood, horticulture, new, plants, shakespeare on 2008-02-29, 17:51:58

Abraham Lincoln had a modest library, as befitted his focused outlook, humble origins and elegantly simple yet formidable mind. He possessed some law books, since he passed the bar exam by reading and memorizing the various laws, statutes, regulations and cases. He didn’t set a foot in college, much less a law school. (Today most states prohibit this; in fact, I don’t know anywhere in the US that a member of the bar is allowed not to complete law school.) However, the core of Mr. Lincoln’s library was unusually small, if shelf feet is the standard of measure. The books he both consulted and reread most often were the complete works of Shakespeare (especially the tragedies), and the Holy Bible. It is said that in his latter years, he read nothing else. After all, he was leading a vast and newly constituted nation of a size and political structure the world had never seen. With these two works by his side, he utterly transformed the nation and laid the foundation for the world in the twentieth century.

Imagine Lincoln today. Perhaps it’s not so different, after all. New York City had an extraordinarily vibrant publishing industry that took its cues from the gigantic British book empire that was headquartered in mid 19th century London. Of course, the Internet is certainly much larger and more convenient, yet the issue persistently remains the same: the search for eternal wisdom.

When I was visiting Mexico in the mid 70s, I spent several weeks in the capital city or “day-efeh”—Distrito Federal. Mexico City, one of the largest cities in the world, was founded by the Aztecs, and in the 70s its growth was explosive and there was a constant boom—even the beggars were busy. Construction was at a fever pitch and the sprawl there defines the term. Serenading everyone was a big noisy radio station, nicknamed “El Tigre”, that had a unique play list—they played only “Beatles” and “Credence”, as they were called, all day and half the night. Remarkably, it worked—this seemingly dull combination was, in fact, a perfect coupling, like a martini, or a rum and coke. To this day I marvel at how they pulled it off.

I thought about this also when I considered Macbeth and Hamlet on the one hand, and Job and Paul on the other. In contrast, I contemplate the anemia of most public and even much private education. They assign children books like Chicken Soup for the Soul in order to be “relevant”. Here and there are bright spots—find an Asian minority in a public school and hang on tight. I have a friend in LA who moved across town in order to be in a school district composed of Chinese and Indian subcontinent immigrants.

Back in the garden, if limited to only two titles, I recommend that the Heronswood customer own and thoroughly enjoy Liberty Hyde Bailey’s Cyclopedia of Horticulture in one of the early to mid 20th century editions, usually ranging 4 to 6 volumes; and Michael Dirr’s Manual of Woody Plants. Granted, none of us are guiding a young democracy through civil war, rather we’re earnestly pursuing an active and detailed hobby. So there may be shelves and shelves of law books, so to speak. I must have at least 50 titles in my small horticulture library. But the best input, and certainly the most enjoyable, can be found only in Bailey and Dirr. I. H. Burkill’s Dictionary of Economic Plants of The Malay Peninsula is very rare but a precious gem as well. Also, highly recommended is The History and Social Influence of the Potato by R. N. Salaman. The whole universe in a spud.

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Posted by admin to Michael Grgich, Original Posts, Uncategorized, Warren Winiarski, gardener, gardeners, heronswood on 2008-02-21, 12:25:49

My dad hated “throwing money at problems”, yet he was as guilty as most folks in business, and even more of us in our personal lives.  Money easily seduces its owners into madness.  Its abuse leaves long and terrible hangovers.  Always better to “work the problem”. 

Just as mythological as the silver bullet of money is the magical power of technology.  Money does nothing more than buy you things; technology merely extends the range of existing abilities.  Technology is as deaf, dumb and blind as ten million dollars.  The true romance of resources is found in the miner’s tale, the farmer’s story, the captain’s log, the soldier’s diary, the death of a salesman.

So what’s it all about, Alfie?

The greatest challenge in commerce is to serve the public, to sell to the masses.  I’ve had many talks with scientists and inventors who insist on “a little more time” or “more space” or—most frequently—”more money” to achieve their perfect goal.  The curse of the PhD in business is to develop his work to the full capacity of its technical range, with no regard to the fact that the customer does not want it.  The secret to product development is in the intermediate range.  “But I can do this,” the breeder protests, when you announce the release date of his new cultivar.  There is nothing more fatal than a “perfect” product.

Usually given to the breeder by a dissertation advisor, this wretched curse of the goal of perfectibility weakens over time.  The alternatives are enduring a miserable collegial environment, or quitting for another profession, such as religion (not uncommon).  However, often a research professional finds an effective niche in business with savvy marketers.  It doesn’t happen very frequently—but neither does a rousing success.  The tip of the pyramid is small.

Whether the industry is automobiles, consumer electronics, fine food or gardening, greatness results from a balance between the possible and the desirable.  Wine is a great example.  If you want to blast through an evening, Two Buck Chuck, or the ubiquitous box wine, does the trick.  For a less crude experience, you may choose from several hundred more expensive, distinctive and enjoyable wines.  At the top, for a truly memorable long night, there are several dozen wineries that demand about fifty dollars a bottle.  For these wines to be successful, the winemaker goes not to the full extent of his technical ability, but works out a balance between his resources of time and money on one hand, and personal and collegial talents on the other to find the taste that hits the bull’s-eye.  It is complex work that requires huge energy, talents, and sensitivity.  The tastings by the judges are run blind, ranked on a numerical scale and published in widespread wine magazines.  I stumble over stacks of them at the local Borders.  No amount of money or technological resources created the stunning achievements of  Warren Winiarski or Michael Grgich, the two Napa winemakers who beat the best of French wines in 1976.  Rather, they literally lived with the vines, worked hundreds of sleepless nights in the wineries, and intimately understood their customers’ palates. No technology or money involved.