Friday, May 11, 2018
By Nick Romeo
January 27, 2015
In 1938, an American doctor wrote a book that predicted America’s war on drugs would create a $5-billion smuggling industry within 50 years. The logic was simple: Making drugs illegal grants a monopoly to criminals willing to sell them. And the evidence was persuasive: The chief drug prohibition officer in California was actually being paid by a Chinese drug dealer. The dealer wanted anti-drug laws enforced. When clinics, pharmacies, and other dealers were prosecuted or scared out of selling, the Chinese dealer would acquire a whole new set of customers.
Though estimates of profitability vary, drug trafficking is now a multibillion-dollar business. But was the doctor right to attribute the massive growth of this illegal sector to America’s drug policies? This is the central question of the British journalist Johann Hari’s ambitious and powerful new book,Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs.
Hari’s story opens in the first decade of the 20th century, long before the drug war had assumed anything close to its current proportions. American pharmacies sold many products made from the same ingredients as heroin and cocaine (including Coca-Cola). But this widespread availability coexisted uneasily with a racially-tinged hysteria about the dangers drugs posed to the purity of white America. Opium was presented as a sign of “oriental ruthlessness,” and mobs afraid of Chinese influence burned and lynched 21 Chinese people in Los Angeles. The New York Times ran stories with headlines like this: NEGRO COCAINE “FIENDS” NEW SOUTHERN MENACE.
The 1914 Harrison Act outlawed heroin and cocaine. But it granted doctors the right to prescribe these drugs as they saw fit, a loophole intended to help addicts quit slowly and safely. In the late 1920s, an employee of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics named Harry Anslinger began warning of the “unspeakable sexual depravity” and lust for white women that drugs would unleash. He claimed that marijuana produced violent and permanent insanity in every user. Even as the criminalization of alcohol was failing – it drove vast profits into the hands of bootleggers and caused dramatic spikes in violence as gangsters battled for market share – racial paranoia and public misinformation campaigns helped Anslinger convince politicians to fund stricter enforcement of drug prohibition. (Though many white singers and celebrities used drugs, he relentlessly tried to prosecute Billie Holiday).
The legacy of the racist claims that helped launch the drug war still persists in differential enforcement of drug laws. One study found that while 19% of drug dealers were African-American, they comprised 64% of those arrested for dealing. But even if racial disparities in enforcement disappeared, the example of Prohibition suggests that a deeper problem might be the laws themselves, not just inconsistent enforcement.
Before Prohibition consumers could walk into a bar and request a particular type of alcohol with reasonable confidence in its potency and quality. Making alcohol illegal removed regulation of production and often reduced the range of options. The result was that people drank whatever they could get, no matter how unsafe the product. Similar dynamics characterize illegal drug use: Consumers have no assurance of quality and simply buy whatever is available. This not only leads to overdoses, it also tends to push people toward harder drugs. Beer was the most popular drink in America before Prohibition. Once alcohol was illegal, smugglers quickly realized that transporting beer was not worth the risk. A truck of beer might supply 100 people, but packed with gin or whiskey the same truck could supply drinks to many more. Beer regained its dominance only after alcohol became legal again in 1934.
Prohibition not only endangered those who drank alcohol; the battles between organized crime and the authorities made many major cities likeChicago into chaotic and violent places. Successful raids against bootleggers did not reduce crime or alcohol consumption; if the leader of one gang was imprisoned, more violence erupted as rival successors fought to fill the position of their former boss. Homicide rates soared.
Hari makes a convincing case that this same cycle has engulfed large swaths of modern Mexico. Because drugs are illegal, criminal gangs control their production and distribution. Unable to settle disputes in court, rival cartels fight viciously at the slightest provocation and struggle to monopolize the immensely profitable industry. One of the people Hari interviews is a teenager imprisoned in Texas who once worked as an assassin for a Mexican drug cartel. His stories are terrifying.
Many argue, however, that legalizing drugs would only lead to chaos and crime and widespread addiction. Hari addresses this argument in two broad ways. First, he points to successful examples of decriminalization. Addiction rates actually fell in Portugal after drugs were no longer illegal. Overdoses and HIV transmission declined quite rapidly in Switzerland and the Netherlands after those countries allowed doctors to prescribe drugs to addicts. Money that was once spent on law enforcement was suddenly available to invest in rehabilitation programs and drug education campaigns.
Hari’s second reply to skeptics reverses the conventional wisdom that drugs cause crime. He argues that the criminalization of drugs – not drugs themselves – is responsible for much of the crime associated with drugs. Making drugs illegal allows criminal organizations to control prices. These organizations invariably establish a monopoly and charge as much as possible, which artificially inflates prices and creates an incentive for many users to become dealers to fund their addiction. These dealers then fight one another for territory, and the losers often turn to crimes like armed robbery as a source of income.
From Brooklyn to Mexico to Arizona, Hari shows the same depressing dynamics at work. But in Switzerland, Portugal, Uruguay, Colorado, and Washington, he finds hopeful evidence that legalizing – or at least decriminalizing – drugs decreases crime, increases the safety of users, and does not lead to the widespread addiction that many fear. His reporting is balanced and comprehensive; he interviews police and prisoners, addicts and dealers, politicians and activists. He also delves into different historical periods as case studies on the costs and benefits of the drug war. His book should be required reading for anyone involved in the drug war, and a glance at the national budget shows that anyone who pays taxes is involved in the drug war.
One of the most surprising of the many revelations in Hari’s book is that substance addiction is not exclusively or even primarily a chemical phenomenon. He cites one study that found that heroin users continued to use a product they believed was heroin even when it contained absolutely no heroin. They felt only minor symptoms of withdrawal. Another study found that only around 17% of cigarette smokers were able to quit with the help of a nicotine patch. If addiction were entirely chemical, the rate should have been much higher. Something psychological makes it hard for addicts to abandon their lifestyle.
Even a commonly cited study about rats and morphine turns out to be misleading. When isolated and given an unlimited supply, rats will consume staggering and often deadly doses of morphine and other drugs. The chemical theory of addiction would explain this behavior by saying the rats are in the grips of compulsive cravings that make it impossible for them to act otherwise. But once the rats were given a social and engaging environment with other rats, good food, and interesting games and activities, the amount of morphine they consumed dropped fivefold. They suddenly had more interesting things to do.
The same logic applies to humans. Portugal tries to help addicts with a holistic approach that re-integrates them into society by helping them find work, develop friendships, and build a varied and full life. In America it’s much harder for someone with a drug conviction to find work, housing, and community. Imprisoning addicts ensures that they remain marginalized and stigmatized, and this makes them more vulnerable to addiction.
Hari debunks many myths and fallacies surrounding addiction and the drug wars. But this book is also an eloquent reminder of an easily forgotten truth, one that the doctor in 1938 used as the title of his own book: "Drug Addicts Are Human Beings".
Thursday, May 10, 2018
by , For the Inquirer
May 3, 2018
No, Frank Sinatra never commissioned Kander and Ebb to “start spreading the news” or paid Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen to write a musical homage to our kind of ring-a-ding rocking town.
But listening to the first authorized concert recording of Sinatra captured locally at the Spectrum — part of the three-show package dubbed Standing Room Only (Universal Music www.sinatra.com) — it’s clear that Philadelphians held a special place in the pop icon’s heart. Back atcha, fella. On Oct. 7, 1974, the collective South Philly crowd cheered for his overtured entry so intensely, “we physically felt it, the sonic pressure pushing us back like a strong headwind,” remembers Sid Mark, the veteran — 61 years! — host of Sinatra radio shows (now Sunday morning/mid-day on WPHT 1210-AM), who walked Frank up the ramp to the Spectrum stage that evening.
And that roar wouldn’t quit. You’ll then hear Frank’s lavish 40-piece orchestra — Woody Herman’s Young Thundering Herd — vamping through the opening intro to “Tramp” (a.k.a. “The Lady is a Tramp”) a crazy six times over. Finally, the singer finds an opening to jump in with his swinging homage to that free-spirited scamp who never “dishes the dirt” or “bothers with people she hates.”
That was just for starters. The level of excitement and fevered response is equally palpable and unprecedented around Sinatra performances of the jazzy, finger-snapping “My Kind of Town” and “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.” Even more so when he takes on grand ballads that show off his pop-operatic flair. Like on the “not heard much” anymore “Ol’ Man River” and almost as demanding “Send in the Clowns.” It all underscored that the artist, then 58, hadn’t lost of speck of his skill set or his empathy for the downtrodden and brokenhearted.
Several times over, Sinatra pauses to remark about “the great love in the room” and declares, “This is the most fantastic welcome. We’ve been playing other towns and I can tell you, with all due respect, they’re marvelous in other towns, but they’re like a cookie sale. When you holler, you really holler here. I’m telling you something … [they’re] nothing like this.” And while Sinatra is often exuding the brash and mercurial playboy persona who has all the answers — slamming the press “bums” (Rex Reed, Rona Barrett) and comically squelching a chatterbox — there’s one moment during the Philly date where the veneer breaks, emotion gets the better of him. The man’s on the verge of verklempt.
A fitting tribute timed to the 20th anniversary of his passing at age 82, the Spectrum show release is bookended in this career-arcing package with a swinging, “I’ve just turned 50” 1966 show from Sinatra’s stronghold at the Sands Hotel-Casino in Las Vegas, backed by the walloping Count Basie Big Band, and conducted by Quincy Jones. On the other side, there’s a performance from Dallas in 1987, where The Voice shows weathering but the spirit remains strong. Even ragged notes are turned to dramatic advantage. The only technical/theatrical aids he’s needing are those still dazzling band charts, a serious sound system, and a low-slung teleprompter screen keeping song lyrics in his sights. Yeah, the man was slammed for bringing that cheatin’ TV tool to the stage. Today, virtually every arena artist uses a teleprompter as a security blanket.
But that middle-of-the-package Philly show is really one for the books — for reasons mostly, although not totally, grand. The recording captures Sinatra on the comeback trail with the Ol’ Blue Eyes is Back album and tour, marking his return after a cut-short retirement “to spend time with the family and paint” that “quickly drove the guy nuts,” mused Mark. “He missed the excitement, missed the music.”
And the fan base was now extra hot to fox-trot with the legend in concert. A marketing strategy milked by his national tour producer Jerry Weintraub and manager/attorney Mickey Rudin with a total of three ’74 shows in Philly. The first two in April (21-22) were part of a tour ostensibly benefiting Variety International, an entertainers-founded charity for children (known locally for its summer camp) that had honored Sinatra as its Man of the Year. Then came the Oct. 7 show that was a warm-up (and backup recording date) for “The Main Event,” a televised Madison Square Garden concert that took place six nights later, famously pumped like a championship prize fight by show announcer Howard Cosell.
“I can’t believe we’re back here so soon, but here we are,” Sinatra told the crowd surrounding him with love at that October Spectrum show. That’s the utterance wherein he’s almost losing it. “Frank liked a center stage to get him closer to the crowd,” recalls another longtime local DJ pal, Jerry Blavat. “Plus, in the round, he could pack in more people and sell more ringside seats.”
At the time, this fledgling music critic/reporter for the Philadelphia Daily News believed there was another reason Frank Sinatra had returned here so quickly. Namely, as an apologetic “make-good” date for the devotees who had been first in line to buy tickets to the April shows but oddly wound up with distant seat locations. So maybe that’s why we hear the fans yelling so aggressively on this October night?
First whispered in my ear way back when by agitated principals in the Spectrum organization, the story was that self-proclaimed “friends” of Sinatra — classic tough guys — had shown up at the South Philly arena’s offices and forcefully demanded preferred status to buy the best seats in the house, weeks before the tickets were offered to the public. Not a few dozen ducats, not a few hundred, but several thousand, which they would then resell on the street and through ticket brokers at greatly marked-up prices.
My informants were reluctant to go on the record and name names or affiliations, fearing for their “health.” But their concerns were later verified when tickets went on sale and first-in-line-buyers called me to complain how they’d been stiffed, sold seats 20 rows back. Or worse.
Ever protective of the Sinatra legacy, Mark, 84, still says “I don’t believe that happened.” Blavat, 77, acknowledges “Mickey Rudin held back tickets for Frank’s friends to buy, but 50 or a hundred per show, at the most 500.” As for the thought that Mafia mobsters might have engaged in a major ticket heist, the Geator scoffs, “That’s BS. It was always rumored, but I was with him close to 30 years, and traveled with Junior [now deceased Frank Sinatra Jr.] for much of his life. There were no such people around.”
So then we got in touch with Larry Magid, the seasoned Philly promoter whose Electric Factory Concerts aligned with Weintraub to produce the local Sinatra dates. And he finally spilled the complete story, guarded for 44 years.
“Frankie Flowers [D’Alfonso] — a big-time bookmaker and florist who I casually knew — called and asked for tickets for ‘friends of Frank,’” Magid related. “I said I was willing to sell him four. I think the top price was $12.50. Maybe $15. Then that Saturday he came to my office with this other beefy guy who said he was with the Teamsters. ‘Four tickets won’t do, we want to buy 2,500,’ Frankie told me in a soft ‘good cop’ voice. I told him we couldn’t do this, that it would look bad to the public. And over the years we’d learned that if you say ‘no’ to mobsters when they try to shake you down, they usually back off.”
Not this day. “Suddenly, the other guy threw himself across my desk, grabbed me by the throat, and started squeezing, choking, yelling he’s going to kill me if they don’t get the tickets,” Magid remembers with a bitter laugh. “So now I’m starting to figure out what ‘friends of Frank’ really means. Still, I told them that it wasn’t in my control to sell them that many tickets, as the distribution was under the Spectrum’s control, which is why they then went and paid a ‘social call’ to the Spectrum people and put the scare on them.“
But before blood was spilt, Sinatra’s consigliere Rudin got in on the act. He phoned Magid and repeated the mantra – “‘They’re Frank’s friends, just sell ’em the tickets to the April shows. Whatever they want, he wants.’ So finally, reluctantly, we did,” acknowledges the promoter. “And then, of course, took heat for it from the press and even on radio, surprisingly, from [WFIL DJ] Long John Wade.”
As for the wild exuberance of the crowd at that Oct. 7, 1974, Standing Room Only show, Mark has an alternative and equally plausible explanation. “The day before the concert, on my ‘Sunday with Sinatra’ radio show, I told listeners ‘If you’re going, I want you to be on your feet when the orchestra starts playing. Then I want to hear the loudest ovation ever, even before he sings the first note. Bless ’em, they all came through.”