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Nathan Chavin, Jewish ad exec who wrote a raunchy country western hit, dies at 78
(JTA) — In a 30-plus-year career in advertising, Nathan Chavin wrote everything from signs on construction site scaffolding to classified ads to campaigns for several Trump properties, including Trump Tower and Mar-a-Lago.
But he was perhaps best known for the raunchy country music songs he wrote and recorded for a novelty album, “Country Porn,” released in 1976 by the nascent Penthouse Records label.
The album sold more than 100,000 copies, and included a minor hit, “Asshole from El Paso,” a parody of Merle Haggard’s 1969 song “Okie from Muskogee.” It was covered by Willie Nelson and Richard “Kinky” Friedman — Chavin’s old friend from the University of Texas — and Friedman’s band, The Texas Jewboys.
In the days before digital downloads and the internet, “Country Porn” was sold through the mail. The songs on the record had sexually explicit lyrics and, even 40 years before #MeToo, the record was criticized as puerile and misogynistic.
But for a brief moment it made Chavin a member of a tiny fraternity of popular Jewish country-and-western musicians, including Steve Goodman, Ray Benson and Friedman, his actual fraternity brother at UT.
“Chinga went way over the line, [saying things] that people didn’t think he should be saying,” Friedman said last week, using Chavin’s nickname. “Anything that was not suitable was perfect for Chinga.”
Chavin, also known as “Nick,” died in Boca Raton, Florida on March 15. His death was confirmed by his daughter, Brandi Chavin, who said the cause of death was uncertain but that many of his organs were failing. He was 78.
Chavin’s advertising career brought him into contact with some of New York City’s major real estate moguls. He became very close friends with Robert Durst, when he was still better known as the scion of the Durst real estate family rather than a convicted murderer. Durst hung around Chavin’s band when Chavin first came to New York, said Michael Bart, a bandmate who also worked with Chavin in the advertising industry. Bart attended the bris for Chavin’s son, at which Durst jokingly brandished a butcher’s knife.
“Durst thought that was hysterically funny,” recalled Bart.
Chavin and Durst started running around New York together in the early 1980s and, according to Rolling Stone, partied at the Plato’s Retreat sex club and the Mudd Club, the seminal punk rock venue. In a deposition given a year before Durst’s murder trial in 2020, Chavin told the court that Durst had confessed to killing their mutual friend, Susan Berman, the crime for which Durst would be convicted. And Chavin said that before she died, Berman told him that Durst had admitted killing his wife.
Chavin was born in Chicago on July 3, 1944. His parents, Muriel and Irving Chavin, moved to El Paso when Chavin was in the eighth grade.
Chavin took the nickname Chinga because he liked the alliteration and, no doubt, because it was Spanish slang for the act of sexual intercourse.
As an undergraduate at the University of Texas, Chavin was thrown out of Tau Delta Phi, one of four Jewish fraternities at the university at the time, according to Friedman. Friedman proudly recalled that during their time as members the fraternity they tried to admit African-American students, an effort that was ultimately thwarted. Chavin and Friedman graduated in 1966.
Chavin moved to California where he earned a graduate degree in creative writing at San Francisco State College. He lived in the Haight Ashbury district during the Summer of Love in 1967.
“Every other word out of his mouth was, ‘Far out man,’” recalled Ken “Snakebite” Jacobs, another Tau Delta Phi fraternity brother who ended up playing in Chavin’s “Country Porn” band.
Bart, who said he worked for Chavin for “eight or nine years,” remembers that Chavin had a flair for one-liners.
“He just had this ability to come up with great stuff on the spot,” said Bart. “He came up with a lot of it in crosstown cab rides and told our clients it took six months to create.”
His daughter Brandi said Chavin was quite proud of a slogan he thought up for a new shopping center on Sixth Avenue, now known as the Manhattan Mall: “Something’s Coming Between Macy’s and Gimbels.” The mall is located between Macy’s at Herald Square and the building that once housed Gimbels department store.
And he could write poetry.
“He wrote pretty good poetry in college,” said Friedman, reached at his ranch in Texas. “Might have been some of his best work.”
But for many of his friends, Chavin’s finest hour was that parody, “Asshole From El Paso,” which he co-wrote with Jacobs when they were living in Marin County, north of San Francisco. Haggard’s hit criticized the counterculture and anti-Vietnam War protests; Chavin’s version mocked its reactionary narrator.
“We wrote the song in the car coming back from a recording session,” Jacobs recalled. “We were in hysterics.”
Larry “Ratso” Sloman, a friend of both Chavin and Friedman, said, “Chinga was always dying to get up on stage. That was his first love. He was never able to parlay it into a [performance] career, though.”
But Chavin often did have a ball sitting in with Friedman and his band when they came to New York and played the old Lone Star Café in Greenwich Village or B.B. King’s in Times Square.
Friedman said of his Jewish frat brother: “He’s a guy who had a lot to offer. He really walked his own road.”
Chavin is survived by his wife Teresa Weldon, his sons Maxfield and Drew, his daughter Brandi and his first wife, Marsha Parker.
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In 1989, Harold Pinter and Jerry Schatzberg made the perfect Holocaust movie for 2026
The first hint that Reunion is an unusual kind of Holocaust film comes from a music cue.
An older man has traveled from New York City to Stuttgart, a trip that has clearly brought him immense psychological pain. His flashbacks to Nazi marches lead us to assume he lived in the German city during Adolf Hitler’s rise — but he doesn’t seem to know any German, opening every conversation by asking if the other party speaks English. Then he arrives at a warehouse, presumably to filter through belongings left to fester for decades after World War II, and begins a journey down a hallway that seems almost infinitely long.
As he walks the path back toward his past, the music marking his steps, composed by Philippe Sarde, is buoyant and lilting. The tune comes as a surprise. What’s this tripping sense of joy doing, following this man toward what we have every reason to assume is a museum of miseries?
Reunion, a 1989 film by director Jerry Schatzberg, with a screenplay by Harold Pinter based on a novel by Fred Uhlman, barely made a splash when it premiered in the United States, despite a largely positive European reception. Now, it’s being re-released, beginning with a two-week run at Manhattan’s Film Forum that opens this weekend. It’s almost a perfect Holocaust movie for our times — because it chronicles a moment much like our own, in which the gradual dissolution of society began to make itself known through the gradual dissolution of personal relationships. (Spoilers follow.)
The old man is Henry Strauss (Jason Robards) — who was once Hans (Christien Anholt), a lonely Jewish teenager at an elite all-boys Stuttgart school. The trip to Germany is his first since before the Holocaust. And the music, we quickly learn, is the soundtrack of what seems to have been the one great friendship of his life: it recurs at moments of particular meaning or joy during his brief, almost romantic engagement with an aristocratic boy called Count Konradin von Lohenburg (Samuel West).
The story of that adolescent friendship is the core of the film, an extended flashback to a time of great happiness as well as great peril, threaded through with that same uplifting melody.
Konradin is a bright, brave boy — ready to defend Hans to an antisemitic relative, or join his friend in striking back at Nazi youth who bully those without swastika armbands. But it’s also clear that he’s destined to get sucked into the Nazi machine: everything about his heritage, not to mention his prototypically Aryan looks, foreshadows that future. So from the first moment of his friendship with Hans, when the two connect over a shared love of collecting — with Konradin’s choice of companion clearly shocking a school in which Hans, as a Jew, resides somewhere far below the bottom of the social ladder — there’s a dominating sense of an invisible clock, counting down.
But oh, the halcyon days of this doomed duo.
They walk one another home from school, giggling in the age-old manner of teenagers for whom political upheavals are not yet real. They practice archery. They bicycle through the Black Forest, staying overnight at inns without the oppressive presence of their parents, whom both boys find embarrassing. (Konradin’s mother hates Jews, and Hans’ father is painfully enamored of Konradin’s elevated status.) When Konradin confesses that Hans is his first true friend, and Hans grins with quiet glee, it’s impossible not to hope that, somehow, they’ll stay this way — lovely, young and unchanged by the times in which they live.
For months, the Nazi threat only hovers around the edges of their relationship. Then it overtakes them. Rapid ruptures follow. And then it’s the 1980s, and Hans is back in Germany, seeking to figure out what happened to his old friend.
What prompts him to make the trip? There’s never a clear explanation. But it’s hinted that Hans has come to feel that he needs, at long last, some resolution to this passionate, formative relationship. He’s willing to risk his sense of self — the identity of the man who escaped to the U.S., and refused to ever speak a word of German again — to close that loop.
The sense that Hans’ whole life has turned on the events that marked his friendship with Konradin makes Reunion a profound watch, one that I suspect will be more effective for audiences in 2026 than it proved in 1989. Many of us have had once-close relationships begin to crack under the pressure of extreme polarization, and the insidious tensions of a political environment characterized by conspiratorial suspicion. Many of us love people we can no longer talk to, at least not freely.
It’s tempting to write these rifts off as personal. Reunion‘s terse message: don’t. A society doesn’t collapse all at once. It succumbs to hairline fractures; provoking a critical number of them is a strategy.
A Holocaust movie that spends so much of its runtime on a period of real contentment is an odd object. The break between its heroes comes late, meaning much of Reunion is a pleasure to watch. That is the point: under authoritarianism, life is still good until it’s not. Citizens have freedom, until they don’t. Friendship is trustworthy, until human weakness interferes. Liberal values are easy to hold onto, until you shake the demagogue’s hand.
But what makes Reunion most timely isn’t its somber portrayal of the connection between the minor tragedy of Hans and Konradin and the major one of World War II and the Holocaust. It’s that the film is hopeful.
To spoil the ending would be a shame. It is enough to know that Hans’ searching leads him to unexpected places, and while some are miserable and vicious, others are not. To let things stay broken, or assume that humans can’t change for good as well as for ill, is a choice. So is hearing and following the better music — the call to connect, and to resist being persuaded of something you know is wrong.
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3 more men arrested in London arson of ambulances owned by Jewish emergency service
(JTA) — Three more men have been arrested in London in connection with a series of fires on ambulances owned by the Jewish emergency service corps Hatzola, London’s Metropolitan Police Service announced on Wednesday.
Two British men, ages 20 and 19, and a 17-year-old dual British and Pakistani citizen were arrested on suspicion of conspiracy to commit arson. The men were arrested at three different addresses, which were being searched, the police said.
The arrests follow the arrest last week of two British men, ages 45 and 47, in connection with the arson. Those two suspects were released on bail and are being closely monitored while they await a hearing, police said, and their identities have not been made public.
The ambulance arson, which occurred in London’s Jewish neighborhood of Golders Green, is being treated by law enforcement as an antisemitic crime, but authorities have not labeled it as terrorism even as the Metropolitan Police’s counter-terrorism unit is leading the investigation.
“Since this appalling attack last week, we have been working continuously to investigate and identify those responsible,” the unit’s commander, Helen Flanagan, said in a statement. “We know concern among the Jewish community remains high, but I hope these arrests show that we are doing everything we can to bring those responsible to justice.”
A group called Harakat Ashab al-Yamin al-Islamiya, or the Islamic Movement of the People of the Right Hand, has claimed responsibility for the attack.
French authorities announced Wednesday they suspect that the same group is also behind an attempted bomb Saturday on a Bank of America building in Paris. The group has has claimed responsibility for a number of attacks throughout Europe in recent weeks, all of them up to now on Jewish institutions. Security analysts know little about the group, which was unheard of until early March, but say it may be tied to pro-Iranian cells based in Europe.
The London ambulance arson has given rise to a new set of antisemitic conspiracy theories. On Monday, the mayor of Bath, England, resigned from his position after drawing criticism for sharing social media posts amplifying claims that the ambulance fires were a “false flag” attack staged by Jews or Israelis.
Police in London said they would deploy drones to monitor security in Jewish neighborhoods during the Passover holiday, with concerns about additional attacks running high.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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Influencer Myron Gaines performs Nazi salute, denies Holocaust death toll at Ohio University event
(JTA) — The influencer Myron Gaines visited Ohio University last Thursday as part of a national campus tour, performing a Nazi salute and claiming that the Holocaust’s death toll had been purposefully distorted.
Seated at a table on the campus of Ohio University wearing a hoodie that read “Let Em Cook – Oy Vey,” a meme mocking Jews who were murdered in the Holocaust, Gaines greeted the students gathered with a Nazi salute before saying, “Number one, women are stupid, Jews control America and Blacks are criminals.”
Later during the event, Gaines, whose real name is Amrou Fudl, was asked by a Jewish attendee how many people he believed had been killed by the Holocaust, to which he replied “271,000 at best.”
During the ensuing debate, Gaines attempted to cut off the student, saying “hold on one sec, Jew,” claimed that Israel had propagated lies about the Holocaust’s death toll to serve its “victim narrative” and denied evidence that rape occurred during Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel.
Referring to the war in Gaza, Gaines said, “If they could deny a genocide in 2023 all the way to 2026 with 1080p footage, what makes you think they won’t lie about a tragic event from World War II, from which they derive their victim narrative.”
Gaines’ visit to the school follows a series of incendiary campus appearances, including at the University of Florida and the University of South Carolina.
Best known for co-hosting the popular podcast “Fresh and Fit,” which centers on misogynistic views about dating and gender roles, Gaines has increasingly embraced antisemitic conspiracy theories since the summer of 2023, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center.
In October, Gaines defended a leaked group chat where Young Republicans operatives praised Adolf Hitler, writing on social media, “Yeah we like Hitler. No one gives a f–k what you woke jews think anymore.” In January, Gaines was among a host of far-right influencers including Nick Fuentes and Andrew Tate who drew outcry for singing along to Ye’s “Heil Hitler” at a Miami nightclub.
The Hillel chapter of Ohio University decried Gaines’ appearance on campus in a post on Instagram and hosted a lunch during the time period that he was slated to speak to offer students an alternative to his program, according to the Cleveland Jewish News.
“We are deeply troubled by the decision of our fellow Bobcats to invite a podcaster with a long and horrible track record of antisemitic, misogynistic, and homophobic content,” the Ohio University Hillel wrote. “At a time when our students are feeling especially vulnerable due to rising antisemitism, this choice is especially concerning.”
The editorial board of the school’s student newspaper, The Post, criticized the university administration for not releasing a statement denouncing Gaines’ appearance in an op-ed published on Tuesday. Ohio University did not immediately respond to a request for comment from JTA.
“A man who promotes antisemitic conspiracy theories, claims Jewish people control the world — as evident by the shirt reading ‘The Great Noticing’ worn by one of Gaines’ lackeys — and performs a Nazi salute on a college campus is not engaging in meaningful dialogue,” the op-ed read. “That is not a thoughtful debate, it is hate made into spectacle.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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