Eighty-one

Years ago, this week...

My high school art teacher, Pete Tortora, had been a jazz musician. When he signed up for the Army, in World War II, he was placed in a barracks with a lot of good ol’ boys from the South. He was horrified by the music they played all day. He suffered it, for a while, but eventually begged to be placed in another barrack.

No doubt, the Army decided that …