Features
Both sides

Introduction: We were sent this short story by John Ginsburg, who is a Winnipeg writer. Given the constant stream of stories about students and professors being intimidated by forces championing political correctness, especially when it comes to anything having to do with Israel, we thought it timely to publish the story here.
June 2021 Mackenzie King College Walking east, past the Theatre building, the view was genuinely inspiring, especially in the bright morning sunshine.
To the right, the contemplative, Ivy-covered Arts Building and the century-old chapel. Straight ahead, the gleaming river and the lush green landscape beyond. To the south, the arching Unity Bridge. But the route to the classroom for Media Studies 32.455, Professor Latchman’s course, was somewhat less scenic. One had to walk around to the opposite side of the Theatre building, in through the small service entrance, and then down concrete stairs to the basement, arriving at a low-ceilinged, damp and windowless room. Such were the current circumstances of the Department of Media Studies, pursuing the noble heights of academic inquiry from the gloomy depths of a former workshop. Its old haunts, on the opposite side of the university, were being renovated from top to bottom.
The condensed, two-and-a-half-month course was entering its final few weeks. With the resumption of in-person lectures, the bright, doubly-vaccinated students had initially been swept in by a wave of camaraderie and intellectual enthusiasm. Reality, however, had soon intervened, an unrelenting schedule of jam-packed three-hour lectures, demanding term papers and nerve-wracking oral presentations. The dim subterranean venue only added to the hard-pressed feeling among the students.
Latchman’s course was entitled Political Correctness and Cancel Culture in the Media and the Arts. It was a senior-level honours course, requiring three term papers and two in-class presentations of each of its twenty-five earnest young scholars. They were a diverse lot, of all kinds of ethnicities and backgrounds. There they sat, in their sculpted, multi-coloured hair, with their necks, arms and legs artistically muralled with tattoos; their noses, lips, eyebrows, ears and navels sporting gaudy piercings; their epigrammed apparel and trendy jewellery on full display. At the front of the class, standing at the lectern, their middle-aged, conservatively-dressed professor was unfazed. The individual expressions of diversity and identity neither made him feel old nor out of place. It was simply the times. One moment might call for ethnic, racial and sexual identities to be completely ignored, while the next moment called for them to be pushed loudly to the front, singled out and magnified. However, for Professor Howard Latchman, it wasn’t a particularly difficult academic world to navigate.
Latchman was a full professor at Mackenzie King College, accomplished in his field, enjoying his twenty-sixth year as a faculty member. He was of medium height and build, with thin, greying hair. He had a warm and friendly manner and had always been well-regarded by his students. His annual student evaluations highlighted his high academic standards, as well as his accessibility and fairness. On the negative side, students found him rather boring at times, and his methods somewhat plodding. His non-academic interests were completely unknown to his students and would have come as an amusing surprise. From his teenage years right up to the present, Latchman had been a drummer in a number of rock and roll bands, most recently with The Heads, playing sixties and seventies songs in nearby towns and bars. Not to mention his tennis playing; he was good enough to compete in senior-level tournaments, once reaching the provincial quarter-finals.
Latchman was Jewish, but entirely secular. This was a constant sore point with his two older siblings, alienating him from them more and more over the years. Brought up in the same conventional Jewish home, he’d been expected to tow the line. Fortunately they lived halfway across the country, so their meetings were infrequent.
He was divorced, with two children in their late twenties. His area of specialty was Journalism. From a doctoral thesis on corporate bias in the western news media, his work had naturally evolved. With social media now dominating the flow of information, his methods of study had radically changed. But the same issues remained at the core: misinformation and the control of information; by large corporations and by special interest groups.
For the June 14 class, student presentations were scheduled for the entire lecture time. Each student had twenty minutes to speak, on a recent case of cancel culture, followed by ten to fifteen minutes of questions and comments from the rest of the class.
With only a few weeks remaining in the spring-session course, Latchman knew most of the twenty-five students by name and by appearance. The first speaker of the day was a Black woman named Letanya Wynn. She was a prominent figure in the class, very bright and always highly engaged, taking every opportunity to aggressively speak out, offering her own point of view on whatever was being discussed. She was very slight in stature, with closely-cropped orange and yellow hair, wearing massive hoop earrings and bright red lipstick. Latchman took a quick glance at the text message she had sent him, containing the title and summary of her talk. ‘Good morning everyone’ he said. ‘Our first speaker is Letanya Wynn. She is going to be telling us about a cartoon that was recently published, in a Seattle online magazine. A textbook case of cancel culture. We will follow the same format as previous presentations. At the conclusion of the presentation, we will entertain comments and questions. Ms. Wynn!’
Letanya Wynn made her way, a little awkwardly, from the back of the class up to the sixty-inch monitor at the front, where she inserted the small USB drive she’d been carrying. She selected the only file on the drive, a jpg file. It was a copy of a cartoon, recently published in The North West Record, a Seattle-based publication. The cartoon shows two men having sex, one Black and the other white, with their naughty parts concealed behind a chair in the centre foreground. The Black man is positioned behind the white man, who is bent over. A shirt is draped over the chair, displaying a large BLM logo. In the background, a grim-faced, white uniformed cop has entered the room, standing in a doorway. He is pointing a gun at the two men, with a talking bubble that says ”You’re supposed to be two metres apart, not two feet.” The caption underneath the cartoon says ”Basic Length Measurements”. This satirical take on the coronavirus pandemic and the BlackLivesMatter movement had been greeted with an immediate social outcry online. Its creator, a Black male cartoonist, was fired as a result, by his publisher, who was also a Black male.
Letanya Wynn’s presentation was focused and articulate, extremely well done. Latchman wasn’t surprised that she strongly supported the cartoonist’s firing, arguing that the themes represented in the cartoon were demeaning to Black people and personally offensive to her. But he was surprised by the subdued class response. Maybe it was because it was so early in the morning, he thought. Maybe non-Black students felt they didn’t belong in the conversation. Whatever the reason, only two students commented on the presentation, both Black men. They both disagreed with Letanya Wynn, instead finding the cartoon to be a clever work of satire, and seeing the cartoonist’s firing as an extreme overreaction.
Thinking further about the minimal class reaction, Latchman wondered if, compared to other recent topics, the class didn’t find the cartoon to be especially shocking or controversial. In any case, he was very impressed by the presentation. Twenty out of twenty, he thought. A great presentation.
Latchman glanced at his phone and quickly re-read the details for the second talk of the morning. It would probably be less engaging than the first talk, he thought. Less contentious.
‘Class, I would next like to introduce Mark Mazur. He is going to talk about the recent Facebook controversy. I’m sure we’ve all heard about it. Certain posts were not published at first, but then appeared later, after a reaction against the company. Mr. Mazur!’
The second speaker was evidently Jewish, and religious, wearing a kipa. He was tall and very thin, with a neatly trimmed beard and a friendly face. After being introduced, he stood up from his chair near the front of the room and walked over to the lectern, where he placed his notes. He was soft-spoken, with an easy and confident manner. ‘Good morning’ he said to the class, with a smile. ‘When I read about this recent Facebook controversy, I naturally read some of the posts that had not appeared for so-called ”technical reasons”. They were published a few days later, after people had complained that Facebook had shown an anti-Palestinian bias, by deliberately blocking the posts. Of course, this is not the first time that Facebook has faced these kinds of accusations, sometimes because they do allow certain posts. For example, when they published all the lies and distortions from Trump’s supporters, during the election campaign and after.’
‘There are three main questions here. First of all, is it just a coincidence that many of those posts – I didn’t try to read more than ten or so – promoted a completely one-sided picture of the recent war between Israel and Hamas? Secondly, does Facebook have the legal right, and perhaps the moral responsibility, to not publish whatever it deems to be inappropriate? Are Palestinian-run websites held to the same moral standards? Do we insist they publish pro-Israeli posts, balancing these with opposite points of view? Or do we think they should be free to decide which posts to publish and in what numbers? Thirdly, and what is most relevant to this course, is why did Facebook backtrack? Why did the policy change, with the posts being published after all? Was it political correctness, catering to an offended group, rather than just sticking to an otherwise reasonable and clearly defensible editorial stance?’
‘I’m Jewish, so some people might try to diminish what I have to say because of a perceived bias. Of course, such an ad hominem assumption of bias could be made against detractors as well. In any event, let me first summarize what I consider to be a truthful, balanced view of the war. To begin, the loss of life and the destruction of property, the traumatization of people, especially children, on both sides, is absolutely horrible. These are the terrible costs and results of war. However we measure the consequences, it is obvious there cannot only be a picture from one side. Hamas sent literally thousands of missiles into Israel, killing people and destroying property. The effects were greatly reduced because the Israelis were able to shoot down most of those bombs before they landed. Hamas fired those missiles with the intention of killing whomever they happened to kill, destroying whatever property they happened to strike. They were aimed more or less randomly. Consequences in return, to the population of Gaza, were horrendous. There were – ‘
At that moment, one of the other students interrupted, a woman wearing a hijab, sitting near the front of the class. She stood up, looking directly at the speaker. Speaking with an Arabic accent, her tone was fierce and accusatory. She was essentially shouting. ‘You are killing children’ she said to the speaker. ‘You are destroying hospitals. You are killing innocent people.’
Professor Latchman was somewhat caught off guard, but he quickly moved to stop the woman’s outburst. Having spoken to the woman on a few previous occasions, he knew her name was Jamila Fayad, and that she was an immigrant from Syria, having settled in the area a few years before, with her parents and siblings. She was one of four religious Muslims in the class, three female and one male. The others were seated side-by-side in the row behind her. In a class that consisted mostly of people of color, they hadn’t particularly stood out during the previous weeks of the course. As occurred to Latchman in this moment, this was likely because the course topics had centred almost completely around anti-Black racism and issues involving sexual identity.
Latchman, seated at the front of the room right beside the speaker, stood up and made a restraining gesture to the woman with his right hand. It was abundantly clear to him that the situation could easily escalate if he didn’t quickly take control. ‘Please. I must ask you to stop, Ms. Fayad. Please sit down’ he said, in a firm, resolute tone, addressing the woman as he did all of his students, using her last name. ‘You will have an opportunity to comment once the speaker has finished. Please allow the speaker to make his presentation. We have all agreed that there will be no comments until these presentations have been completed. And please, remember not to attack people personally. We can strongly disagree with what someone says, but let us challenge what has been said. No personal attacks or insinuations. That is very important. Okay. Mr. Mazur, please continue.’
‘Thank you, Professor Latchman’ said the young speaker, apparently unrattled by the outburst. ‘Justifying war and conflict and killing might be called a fool’s job’ he continued. ‘Yet, if people are not provided with an accurate historical picture of conflict, it can make the situation worse and lead to further violence and injustice. Hamas is a terrorist organization. Our country and other western countries have declared this to be the case. Their only goal in relation to Israel is quote, to drive the Jews into the sea. The idea of a peace treaty or peaceful co-existence is not even a possibility. The claims made about land can – ‘
Again Jamila Fayad stood up, confronting the speaker in the same defiant, angry way. ‘You must end the occupation’ she said. ‘You must give back our land. You are killing our people. We have the right to fight for the liberation.
Anticipating this second outburst, Latchman had already decided on his response, and he acted swiftly. He stood up and again addressed the woman. ‘That is enough’ he said, speaking somewhat forcefully while trying to retain his composure. ‘This presentation is over for now. Thank you, Mr. Mazur. I am sorry for the interruption. Class, we are going to take a fifteen minute break now, before the next talk. Would everyone please leave the room, except for Ms. Fayad. If you wouldn’t mind, Ms. Fayad, I would like to have a word with you before we continue.’
In his head, Latchman was rapidly composing a short speech he would deliver to Jamila Fayad, some careful form of admonishment. How she had attacked the speaker personally. How she hadn’t let him speak. How she had been rude and disrespectful. How she had denied him the same basic freedom of speech she would want for herself. But he never had the opportunity, as Jamila Fayad filed out of the room along with everyone else. For fifteen minutes, Latchman stood waiting for her to return, but she never did. When the students returned fifteen minutes later, she was not among them.
This was certainly not the first time a student had filed a formal complaint about some aspect of Media Studies 32.455. One of Latchman’s colleagues had faced a similar situation a few years before, when a Black student had objected to a class discussion on rap music. The professor had played a selection of songs in class, all laced with profanity and the N-word, which the student had found humiliating and demeaning. The professor had to appear before the Academic Standards Committee to answer for the material. He volunteered to meet with the student-complainant, and successfully diffused the matter. Most student-complaints never reached that stage. Though they were always taken seriously, such complaints were usually answered by no more than a polite note from the Dean’s office, thanking the student for the submission and emphasizing that it had been taken very seriously. The university was always striving to improve in its awareness of and sensitivity to student concerns, et cetera. It was virtually unheard of for any remedial or punitive action to result from such a complaint. So, when Howard Latchman was asked to meet with the Dean of Arts the following week, after a formal complaint had been filed by Jamila Fayad, he wasn’t particularly troubled by the matter.
On the day of his meeting with the Dean of Arts, Latchman came prepared, bearing a printed copy of the course outline for 32.455, as well as a detailed summary of the incident surrounding Mark Mazur’s presentation the previous week.
Like many faculty members at Mackenzie King College, Howard Latchman was mostly oblivious to administrative matters. He tried to have as little to do with meetings and committees and procedures as he could possibly get away with. For most of his years on the faculty, he would not even have been able to name the President of the university, or any of its senior administration. His focus was his teaching and his other academic work. As a full professor in his late fifties, he’d paid his dues, and he now purposefully managed his time with a minimum of aggravation and a minimum of futility. When he was escorted into his meeting with the Dean of Arts, by the administrative assistant, he was meeting the Dean for the first time.
Walking into the Dean’s inner office, carrying his documents, he was greeted by an exuberant, friendly-looking woman. ‘Hello, Professor Latchman’ she said. ‘I’m Amira Zuhar.’
Latchman only vaguely remembered the Dean’s recent hiring. People who had paid more attention would have remembered that she’d been highly touted at the time. She was a devout Muslim and well-known social activist. She’d been hired directly from the faculty ranks at the University of Toronto, with an impressive publication record in Political Studies, and with absolutely no prior administrative experience. Forty years of age, she was a shining example of Mackenzie King College’s commitment to diversity and inclusiveness at every level.
Dean Zuhar was wearing a beige hijab. She had a dazzling smile, immediately disarming Latchman. She motioned for him to sit down on one of the black leather chairs beside her oak desk, offering him water or coffee or tea, all of which he politely refused.
All of a sudden, Latchman’s situation seemed much more perilous. A hijab-wearing Dean was to pronounce on the complaint; on the confrontation between a hijab-wearing student and a male, Jewish student; a confrontation in which he, Latchman, himself Jewish, was deemed by the female student to be at fault. This might not go so well, Latchman thought to himself, nervously glancing around the spacious, well-appointed office. He decided he would wait for a moment before offering his documents to the Dean.
‘Professor Latchman’ the Dean began, flashing a quick smile, a smile Latchman was suddenly rather wary of. ‘Thank you for dropping by today. Jamila Fayad’s complaint… I’ve sent you a copy of what she’s written. I have spoken at some length with her.’ The Dean spoke evenly and quietly, maintaining direct eye-contact with Latchman. ‘Jamila says you silenced her. You stopped her from talking, from countering the pro-Israeli statements. She says you took the side of the Jewish student. Because you are Jewish. She says she can’t return to your class anymore, because you don’t give the same freedoms to all of your students.’
Latchman shuffled in his seat uneasily before offering a response. ‘Ms. Fayad stood up and interrupted the class presentation’ he said to the Dean. ‘She accused the speaker of killing children, of destroying homes. Accused him. He was not involved in the war. He’s not an Israeli; he’s a Canadian. She kept accusing him. It was horrible. She said things like ”You are killing children”; targeting her accusations directly at him. I politely asked her to stop, but she wouldn’t. She continued her personal attack. I had to stop the presentation entirely. It was embarrassing to expose my entire class to that kind of thing. I’ve prepared a detailed summary of the – ‘
The Dean cut Latchman off in mid-sentence. ‘As to the interruption and as to her point of view, she is obviously a passionate defender of the Palestinian cause. And she felt it was necessary to counter a one-sided justification of the actions of the Israelis. Her use of the personal pronoun ”you” probably has as much to do with second-language issues as anything else.’
Latchman was incensed at the Dean’s complete misreading of the incident. He struggled to remain composed. ‘No’ he said, his voice rising. ‘Her usage of ”you” cannot in any way be attributed to second-language issues. She very deliberately pointed to him, and targeted the accusations at him. There was no doubt about it at all. She is a bright student. She obviously knows the difference between ”you” and ”the Israeli army”. There were twenty-four witnesses to the incident, other than me. How many of them have you bothered to interview?’ His tone had quickly progressed to one of anger and impatience. ‘I’m guessing very few, if any. I guess I should have expected you to take her side, but what you are saying is patently ridiculous and simply wrong. All of those statements about the way things proceeded, and the accusations made about my reaction, they are all false. In fact, they’re libelous. She should examine her own behaviour. The ”Jewish student”, as she calls him, did everything he could to be even-handed, respectful and non-accusatory. The whole point was to address the political correctness involved in the matter. In Facebook’s reversing its decision to not allow certain posts that were clearly pro-Palestinian. Was it political correctness that pressured the company to reverse its position? The presenting student was admirably respectful and sensitive to the Gaza side of the conflict. He didn’t even get to fully express his thoughts on the matter. She jumped on him and fired off some very hostile, personal accusations at him.’
Dean Zuhar responded in a much sterner tone than before. ‘Professor Latchman’ she said, ‘I am very much disturbed by your implying my taking sides here. That is certainly not the case. I understand and I very much appreciate the sensitive nature of this classroom topic. Especially for both Jewish and Muslim students. But Professor Latchman, we can’t have students accusing our faculty of silencing their views. We can’t have our students saying it is impossible for them to continue their attendance in class; impossible because of their humiliation and their perceived mistreatment at the hands of their professors. This goes well beyond reasonable classroom behaviour and course management. I’m afraid I’m going to have to suspend you from any further involvement in this course. Your department chair, Professor Guilfoyle, will appoint a replacement to finish the remaining few weeks of lectures. I have spoken to him this morning. For the present, there are no further consequences to you with respect to this incident. However, there will be a full internal inquiry into the matter. I have asked Professor Nkosa, the chair of the Academic Standards Committee, to conduct a thorough review of the matter, including your role. Thank you for coming in this morning.’ Saying this, Dean Zuhar stood up to see Latchman out.
Latchman was stunned. It took him a moment to begin breathing evenly again. Getting to his feet, he was fuming mad. ‘Are you serious?’ he said to the Dean. ‘This is a travesty. There were twenty-four witnesses to the event. Did you talk to them? Does the truth matter? Do you -‘
Dean Zuhar cut him short. ‘Professor Latchman’ she said, firmly. ‘I’m very sorry. I have to interrupt you. I know you must find this very upsetting. I’m going to wish you a good day. This is a most unfortunate incident. Again, thanks for coming in.’
It was all Latchman could do, to simply walk out of the room, without lashing out at the Dean of Arts. He stormed out of the office, out of the building and onto the nearly empty quad outside, shaking his head in disbelief.
THE END
Features
Jews & Jazz: Baroness Nica of New York City
By DAVID TOPPER This true story is a sequel to “Jews in Strange Places.”
In the summer of 1964, living in Pittsburgh, I attended the city’s first International Jazz Festival. I remember sitting alone, high in the Civic Arena, looking down on the concert below. I would need to go on-line to retrieve names of who the musicians were that I saw that night – save for one. Sometime in the middle of the show, the entire arena went dark, except for a single overhead beam of light shining down on a solo pianist directly below. It was Thelonious Monk.

To describe Monk’s music to a general audience, I need to speak of dissonance, angular melodic twists, hesitations, and even moments of silence. It was also fascinating to watch him play. With his hands splayed out flat (breaking all the rules of piano etiquette) he jabbed at the notes, as if he was seeing and discovering the keyboard for the first time.
One of the most interesting examples of appreciating Monk’s playing was demonstrated by the experience of a particular jazz critic (but I can’t recall who it was). Having at first only heard Monk’s music, he didn’t like it. But after he saw him playing, he began to understand and eventually to like it.
At that 1964 concert Monk played “Don’t Blame Me.” Not only is it the only thing I remember over the entire evening, but it is, I’m sure, the only piece that made me cry. Yes, I was that moved by his playing. It was a magical musical moment in my life that I’ll never forget.
I don’t know which came first: that concert or my buying the record album on which the tune appears. The record is CRISS-CROSS (Columbia, 1962), and it features Monk’s quartet at that time, with that song being the only solo track. From the liner notes we learn that when Monk left home for the studio, he was asked if he was going to play “Don’t Blame Me.” He said: “Maybe, it depends how I feel when I get there.” At the studio, he sat down at the piano, played a few dance tunes – and with the recording equipment still on – he went straight into that tune. Interestingly, in the liner notes, the writer calls Monk’s music “pure magic” – a phrase, I see, that I also used above.
The writer of these liner notes was Baroness Nica de Koenigswarter, the focus of this story. Born in the UK in 1913, Kathleen Annie Pannonica (Nica) Rothschild, the youngest of four children, grew up in a quarantined life within manor estates. From an early age she showed talent in drawing and painting, later studying art history and branching off into photography (she became obsessed with the new Polaroid camera in the 1950s). It was her brother Victor who introduced her to jazz, particularly the work of Duke Ellington. This was probably in the late 1920s – and she was hooked.
Ever searching for excitement, Nica learned to fly an airplane. It was through flying that she met Baron Jules de Koenigswarter, ten years older and a widower, whom she married in 1935. They eventually settled into a 17th century chateau in north-west France. Over their years together they had five children.
Nica’s adult life is clearly divided into two parts. The second part, her role as the Jazz Baroness Nica in New York City (NYC), is the focus of this story. Nonetheless, some of the highlights of the first part provide some insight into the complexity of this fascinating woman.
Living in France in September of 1939, she experienced the start of World War II. Jules immediately joined the Free French Army as a lieutenant. Nica opened her doors to refugees and evacuees, until the Nazi army was advancing on Paris. Jules urged her to escape, and she did: with her children (she had the first two at this time) she got on the last train of refugees heading toward the English Channel. From the UK they went to the USA, settling in New York.
Jules was now in Africa. Nica (after leaving the children safely with friends in the Guggenheim family, on Long Island) joined him in January 1941 in equatorial Africa. She first worked as a decoder of intelligence, then a radio host, and finally an ambulance driver for the French Division in the North African Campaign. Having survived a bout of malaria in Africa, she was with the troops as they advanced on Rome. At the war’s end she was in Berlin and was decorated for her work.
If Nica hadn’t crossed the Channel in 1939, she may have suffered the fate of some of her family members who stayed in France, such as an 80-year-old aunt who was beaten to death in Buchenwald. Also, Jules had pleaded with his mother to get out, as Nica did, but she dismissed him. She died in Auschwitz, along with most of the rest of Jules’ extended family.
After the war, Nica and Jules were united with their children. Jules was then posted as a diplomat in French embassies – first in Norway and then in Mexico. During this time, their three other children were born. From Mexico City, Nica made occasional trips to NYC to listen to jazz, often alone. It seems that what became Nica’s obsession with the music was, concurrently, a major source of antagonism with Jules. He didn’t like jazz and said so. When they would fight, he would break her records. Inevitably, it led to their separation.
In 1953, Nica moved to NYC (taking along her oldest child, Janka, a teenager). After settling into a suite in the Stanhope Hotel in the Upper East Side, she bought a Rolls-Royce with which to jaunt around to the jazz clubs in the city; since she liked to drag race, she later traded it in for a faster Bentley. This was the era of the famous Five Spots Café, the Village Vanguard, Birdland, and other jazz joints. In a short time, with her upper-class British accent, she became known as the Jazz Baroness, having friendships with and being the patron of many jazz musicians.
Thus begins the second part of her life – and the reason for my story.
But before we venture there, we need to deal with drug addiction. Sadly, drugs played a major role in the lives of many jazz musicians in this era, and I need to discuss it, especially to put in the context of the endemic racism of the times. There were drug laws that the mainly white cops were ever anxious to enforce; and they didn’t hesitate to use their billy clubs to strike any black man’s head, if he resisted arrest. I am not exaggerating: several jazz musicians’ lives were shortened due to a severe beating by a cop. Moreover, the drug lords (some of whom owned the jazz clubs) were mainly from the Sicilian Mafia, who had access to an endless supply of heroin from Turkey, and they specifically targeted the black community. Blacks were easy targets, with their marginal existence within white society. Cramped in ghettos (such as Harlem) they could readily escape with drugs – and, sadly, too many of them did.
It was the bane of the otherwise flourishing development of modern jazz – as it evolved out of the bebop movement into cool jazz, then hot jazz, and on through hard bop and beyond. The names constitute a canon of innovative brilliance: Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Coleman Hawkins, Kenny Clark, Bud Powell, Charles Mingus, Teddy Wilson, Art Blakey, Bill Evans, and more. Nica was at the center of all this in NYC – living among these major players all those years.
Nica too was hooked. But not on drugs. She was addicted to alcohol, which probably shortened her life: specifically, Chivas Regal, the exclusive aged scotch whiskey – a bottle of which she inexorably carried in her purse.
Her hotel suite became a place where musicians could get a restful retreat after a gig (sometimes sleeping overnight), a meal (courtesy of Room Service), money (to buy groceries or pay outstanding bills) – and, of course, a place to have after-hours jam sessions. Black musicians (which most of them were) could only avail of these amenities by using the Service Elevator. Dealing with the endemic racism within the social fabric of NYC became part of Nica’s daily life.

The most famous (or infamous) event in her NYC life involved the death of Charlie Parker, otherwise known as Bird. (The jazz club, Birdland, was named after him.) A genius who revolutionized the alto sax with his fast tempos, virtuosic technique, and far-reaching chord structures – he was a major visitor to Nica’s suite. Sadly he was heavily addicted to heroin and on March 15, 1955, he died at the early age of 34. It happened in Nica’s suite, and she had to call a doctor. Upon writing up his report, he estimated Parker’s age as 50 to 60 – that’s what the drugs did to his body. The headline announcing the death in the next day’s newspaper was: “Bird in the Baroness’s Boudoir.” Being a single woman with lots of money that she freely spent, Nica was a lighting-rod for salacious gossip such as this.
It also was the catalyst for Jules to file for divorce. Thus ended their marriage. Not surprisingly, she also was kicked out of her suite.

I recently did an inventory of my record collection and found that among all the jazz albums I have, the one musician for whom I have the most records is the pianist Hampton Hawes. I have 12 records, plus a cassette and a CD. I mention this because he is also one of the few musicians in this significant era of jazz who knew Nica and who wrote an autobiography: Raise Up Off Me (1974). I love this book. Written in Hawes’ black lingo, his account throws light upon Nica’s critical role in the jazz community, especially her friendship with Monk.
But first, a bit about Hawes’ own life. Born in 1928, growing up in Los Angeles (LA), Hawes was the son of a Presbyterian preacher. Self-taught at the piano, he had no familial encouragement to play jazz music. But listening to Bird, Monk, Bud, and others, he became good enough by the age of 18 to jam with some top musicians in LA. By around 1950 Hawes’ career took off with record contracts and (except for a two-year stint in the US Army, stationed in Japan) he continued to play and record – being voted “New Star of the Year” in Downbeat magazine in 1956.
It was around this time that he met Nica in NYC, during a gig at The Embers, a fancy nightclub, where he was well-paid. He also met Monk for the first time. Let me quote widely from his book.
Upon looking out across the tables in the nightclub, Hawes immediately recognised Monk. “Bamboo-rimmed shade, carrying a bamboo cane – he looked like … one of those African kings, strong but beautiful. … He was with a middle-aged woman who gave off a waft of perfume that smelled like it costs $600 an ounce, and when he introduced me – to Baroness Nica – I knew I’d guessed right about the price.” She left before he finished his set. But Monk stayed. “Monk drove me in his blue Buick to Nica’s hotel penthouse on Fifth Avenue. When she opened the door I could hear my album playing – the track, ’Round Midnight that Monk had written. He said to me, ‘I didn’t tell her to put that on.’ I walked into the room where Bird had died a little over a year ago. [That dates this as sometime in 1956.] A lot of paintings and funny drapes, a chandelier like in an old movie palace. Steinway concert grand in the corner. I thought: this is where you live if you own the Chase Manhattan Bank. … Her pad was a place to drop in and hang out, any time, for any reason. … She’d give money to anyone who was broke, bring bags of groceries to their families, help them get their cabaret cards, which you need to work in New York. … I suppose you would call Nica a patron of the arts, but she was more like a brother to the musicians who lived in New York or came through. There was no jive about her, and if you were for real you were accepted and were her friend.” … She gave Hawes a telephone number for a private cab. “If I was sick or fuc-ed up, I’d call the number and the cab would come and carry me directly to her pad.” According to Hawes, Nica picked up the colourful black lingo too.
As noted, many musicians’ lives were cut short due to drug addiction (and sometimes beatings by cops). Again, Nica came through – often paying for their funeral and even the plot, if the family could not afford to. She was there for them, literally, to the end.
Of all the jazz musicians who passed though Nica’s life, the one who had the most significant impact on her was Monk. Even among the wide range of idiosyncratic jazz musicians, Monk still stands out for his uniqueness. He was quirky in his talk, his behaviour, and his music as well. It’s clear that there was some mental illness involved, but it was never fully diagnosed. One doctor insisted that Monk was not manic-depressive nor had schizophrenia. Nonetheless, he had episodes where he was not living in this world. Nica’s gentle demeanour was perfect for Monk. She nurtured and fed him, especially when he became too much for his family.
Let’s bring Hawes’ autobiography back into this story. Once when Hawes was wasted on drugs and stretched out on a bench in Central Park: “a familiar Bentley rolls up to the curb. Nica behind the wheel and Monk saying, ‘Man, get in this car, a good musician ain’t supposed to be sittin’ on no bench lookin’ like you look’.”
Another time he’s in Nica’s penthouse looking for Monk. Hawes “peeks through a doorway at a body laid out on a gold bedspread, mudstained boots sticking out from under a ten-thousand-dollar mink coat and the body’s mouth wide open, sound pouring out of it, and Nica tiptoeing over, finger to her lips as if I’m about to wake a three-week-old baby from its afternoon nap. ‘Shhh. Thelonious is asleep’.”
One notable incident among many: in Delaware in 1958, she and Monk were caught by the police with a small quantity of his marijuana. She took the rap and spent a night or two in jail. She saved Monk’s head, possibly literally. It’s not surprising that the saxophonist Sonny Rollins called her “a heroic woman.”
The year 1958 was also significant in Hawes’ life, for he became the target of a federal undercover operation in LA. Caught with drugs, he was offered this: if he squealed on his drug supplier, he would go free. Hawes refused. Hence, on his 30th birthday, he was sentenced to ten years in prison. An emerging career was cut short; and it was the start of a decade to be wasted. Then in early 1961, watching the prison TV, Hawes heard John F. Kennedy deliver his inaugural speech. Hawes was impressed by the new president’s words. He writes: “I thought. That’s the right cat; looks like he got some soul and might listen.” And so Hawes spent the next few years putting together the documentation requesting a presidential pardon. It was not an easy task. The prison staff were not accommodating. But he persisted, and so, the document was sent off to the White House. I like Hawes’ comment about the very end of his appeal: “To round it off I added some heavy legal sh-t in Latin I’d dug up in the library.”
In August 1963, Hawes was informed that the appeal was granted. (In fact, it was the next-to-last clemency granted by Kennedy; in November he was assassinated.) It cut Hawes’ prison term almost in half. Thus after 4½ years wasted, he was able to re-launch his musical career. He continued to record and travel, but never kicked the heroin habit. In 1977 he died of a brain haemorrhage. At age 48, he left a legacy of so many wonderful jazz albums, including the 14 that I own.
For Nica, her problem was finding a place to live. As noted, she was kicked out of her suite when Bird died. So, she moved to Hotel Bolivar, across Central Park – only to be eventually let go too, due to drugs and noise. Next was the Algonquin in midtown. Shortly thereafter, she was asked to leave that too. In the end, she purchased a house on a cliff over the Hudson River in New Jersey, from which she had a spectacular view of the NYC skyline, and an easy drive to the city through the Lincoln Tunnel. Jazz musicians called it her Mad Pad.
By the 1970s, when Monk dropped out of the jazz scene, he moved in with her. Eventually, he also stopped talking; remaining sequestered in his room, where he died in 1982.
Eventually the heavy dosage of Chivas Regal caught up with Nica. She died of heart failure in 1988 at age 74.
There are numerous songs by jazz musicians in tribute to her; the two most famous are: “Pannonica” by Monk and “Nica’s Dream” by Horace Silver. As well, several nightclubs around the world are named: Pannonica.
Features
Why casinos reject card payments: common reasons
Online casino withdrawals seem simple, yet many players experience unanticipated decreases. Canada has more credit and debit card payout refusals than expected. Delays or rejections are rarely random. Casino rules and technical processes are rigorous. Identity verification, banking regulations, bonus terms, and technological issues might cause issues.
Card payment difficulties can result from insufficient identification verification. Canadian casinos must verify players’ identities before accepting card withdrawals. If documentation are missing, obsolete, or confusing, the request may be stopped or denied until verified.
Banks and card issuers’ gaming policies are another aspect. Some Canadian banks limit or treat online casino payments differently from card refunds. In such circumstances, the casino may recommend a more reliable withdrawal method.
For Canadian players looking to compare bonus terms and payout conditions, check https://casinosanalyzer.ca/free-spins-no-deposit/free-chips. This article explores the main reasons Canadian casinos reject card payouts, from KYC hurdles to bank-specific restrictions, so you know exactly what to watch for.
Verification Issues: Why Identity Checks Matter
KYC rules must be activated by licensed casinos. Players need to submit proof of their identity, address and age. If any documentation is missing, expired or unclear, the withdrawal will be denied. In Canada, for instance, authorities like the AGCO or iGaming Ontario have been cracking down on KYCs by demanding that submitted documents – whether photo ID, utility bills or bank statements – be consistent with all account details.
Common errors are submitting screenshots, cropped photos or documents with names, dates or addresses that aren’t entirely visible. Just the slightest differences in spelling or abbreviations or formatting can get these blocks triggered.
Another possibility is that the account was red flagged if previous withdrawals were already made without partial verification. Keeping precise, readable documents helps facilitate approvals and cuts through delays and frustrating red tape, as Canadian gamblers access their winnings both safely and quickly.
Timing Matters
Verification isn’t always instant. Documents being submitted during the busiest times, or on weekends or holidays can only prolong that approval process, and the withdrawal sitting pre-approved – or refused for that matter – until the casino reviews the paperwork. A lot of players feel disappointment not due to mistakes, but only for that a verification team still hasn’t checked their documents! This can be especially frustrating when winnings come from free chips or bonus play and players are eager to cash out.
Keep personal information current and only submit clear legible files to reduce the processing time. Ensure that any scans or photos are sharp, fully visible and there is no detail missing. Preventing Gaffes With submission guidelines to read over ahead of time and directions for following them exactly, verification issues can often be significantly minimized, avoiding delay in accessing winnings and making the lie down withdrawal process that much smoother at Canadian online casinos.
Banking Restrictions and Card Policies
Not all credit or debit cards are eligible for casino withdrawals. Many Canadian banks restrict transactions related to gambling. For example, prepaid cards, virtual cards, or certain credit cards may allow deposits but block withdrawals. Even if deposits work, a payout can fail if the bank refuses incoming gambling credits.
Cards issued outside Canada can also be declined due to international processing rules. Currency conversion restrictions may prevent a CAD payout to a USD card, depending on the bank’s policies.
Banks keep an eye on abnormal or frequent transactions. Online casinos can flag large or multiple withdrawals as suspicious and in such cases may impose temporary blocks on withdrawals or outright decline the withdrawal until the issuing bank confirms them with its account holder. Contacting your bank in advance will avoid any surprises and make withdrawals go more smoothly. What to consider when using your card in Canada:
- Check if your card type supports gambling withdrawals (prepaid, virtual, and some credit cards may not).
- Confirm whether your bank allows international online casino payouts.
- Be aware of currency conversion restrictions.
- Monitor withdrawal frequency to avoid triggering fraud alerts.
- Contact your bank ahead of time to authorize or clarify online gambling transactions.
- Keep alternative withdrawal methods ready, such as e-wallets or bank transfers.
Being aware of these constraints prevents Canadian players from having declined payouts, delays and waste of time when it comes to handling the casino money properly.
Wagering Requirements and Bonus Conditions
Many Canadians chase casino bonuses, including deals built around free chips, but these offers always come with conditions, Wagering requirements usually require players to bet a multiple of the bonus before withdrawing. Attempting a payout before meeting these conditions will be automatically declined. Not all games contribute equally: slots often count 100%, table games 10–20%, and certain features nothing at all.
Misinterpretation of this, can make it appear as though a withdraw should be valid, while the casino believes there are unmet bonus requirements. Some casinos also impose a minimum withdrawal amount and will cap card payouts. And if you have more than the minimum in your account, a limit set off by your bonus could limit withdrawal. By testing these issues early on, you can save yourself a lot of aggravation. How to manage bonus conditions effectively:
- Have a close look at the terms of the bonus – check out wagering requirements, game contribution and time limits.
- Track your progress – note how much of the bonus has been wagered and which games contribute most.
- Plan your gameplay – prioritize slots or eligible games to efficiently meet wagering.
- Check withdrawal limits – ensure your balance meets minimums and bonus-specific caps.
- Avoid early withdrawals – never attempt a cash-out before meeting all conditions.
- Use trusted sources – platforms like CA CasinosAnalyzer can clarify real requirements and prevent surprises.
Following these steps helps players meet bonus conditions without stress and makes bankroll management smoother.
Features
What is the return on investment of US military spending on Israel?
By GREGORY MASON A recurring theme of Israel’s critics is that were it not for US spending on its war machine, it would be unable to wage genocide. I will leave the genocide issue (sic, I mean non-issue) aside as it has been well covered here and here.
Of course, right now (March 11), the war is going well for Israel and the US. In fact, the Israeli and American air forces are showing a level of coordination enabled by decades of close cooperation between the two militaries. I recall a conversation with an IDF colonel, the commander of a base near Eilat, in 2010, during a mission that gave participants access to high-level military briefings. Tensions between Israel and the US had soured, as they periodically do, and I asked whether this ebb and flow in political posturing affected military operations. The colonel said political leaders come and go, but the cooperation between the Israeli and American militaries is very tight. To quote him, “they need us as much as we need them. We are their eyes and ears in this part of the world.”
Many on both the right and left call for the US to disengage from Israel, especially with respect to defence spending. First, let us look at facts.

Table 1 readily shows the impact of the war in Ukraine, with Russia’s spending also reflecting wartime demands. Israel’s total commitment of 5-6% of GDP amounts to $45 billion in defence spending, reflecting its perpetual need to defend itself and maintain a permanent reserve force. Table 2 elaborates on defence spending as a share of public spending. Unlike other countries that have been free riding under the US military umbrella (and Canada is the most egregious of the lot), Israel has made very substantial commitments to its own defence. The $3.8 billion spent on hardware for US equipment is a fraction of Israel’s total defence budget of about $43 Billion. All U.S. financial aid to any country for military hardware must be spent on U.S.-manufactured equipment by law.

Critics of US defence funding for Israel miss two key points. First, as Table 3 shows, financing sent to Israel does not involve troop deployment. Israel does not want the US to station troops within its borders. The costs of maintaining troop deployments and all the associated support costs for NATO, Japan, and South Korea are orders of magnitude higher than the financing for the hardware it provides to Israel.

Second, and the current joint US/Israeli operations in Iran bear this out, Israel has dramatically improved the equipment platforms it purchased. Examples include:
- The F-15 has benefited from Israeli wartime use, resulting in major improvements, including a redesigned cockpit layout, increased range through fuel redesign, improved avionics, new weaponry, helmet-mounted targeting, and structural strengthening.
- Because Israel was an early partner in the fighter’s development and had access to its top-secret software suite, the Israeli version of the F-35 is a radically different plane than the model delivered. Improvements include increasing operational range, embedding advanced air defence detection, and integrating the fighter with Israel’s defence network, creating extensive system integration. This proved instrumental in the rapid establishment of air superiority in the 12-day war in 2025.
- The THAAD (Terminal High Altitude Area Defence) program has benefited from a joint research and development relationship between Israel and the U.S.
- Finally, Iron Dome has contributed to U.S. air defence development, particularly the Tamir interceptor technology, battle management, target discrimination, and the development of a layered air defence system.
No senior military or political official questions the return on investment American gains by funding Israel’s acquisition of U.S. military hardware.
