He wuz the Lolrus

From a variety of sources: The "walrus" from the famous Lolrus picture was actually a southern elephant seal named Minazo, who was a denizen of the Enoshima Aquarium in Yokahama, Japan.

Unfortunately, the stress of performing has lead to Minazo's early demise. There is no word on the disposition of Minazo's famous bucket, although it was quoted thusly.

Louis Armstrong: Good-Will Ambassador

Today's NY Times has an op-ed remembrance for the fiftieth anniversary of the Little Rock high-school desegregation battle starring an unlikely hero.

[Journalism student Larry] Lubenow was first told he couldn't talk to Mr. Armstrong until after the concert. That wouldn't do. With the connivance of the bell captain, he snuck into Mr. Armstrong's suite with a room service lobster dinner. And Mr. Armstrong, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, agreed to talk. Mr. Lubenow stuck initially to his editor's script, asking Mr. Armstrong to name his favorite musician. (Bing Crosby, it turned out.) But soon he brought up Little Rock, and he could not believe what he heard. "It's getting almost so bad a colored man hasn't got any country," a furious Mr. Armstrong told him. President Eisenhower, he charged, was "two faced," and had "no guts." For Governor Faubus, he used a double-barreled hyphenated expletive, utterly unfit for print. The two settled on something safer: "uneducated plow boy." The euphemism, Mr. Lubenow says, was far more his than Mr. Armstrong's.

Mr. Armstrong bitterly recounted some of his experiences touring in the Jim Crow South. He then sang the opening bar of "The Star-Spangled Banner," inserting obscenities into the lyrics and prompting Velma Middleton, the vocalist who toured with Mr. Armstrong and who had joined them in the room, to hush him up.

Mr. Armstrong had been contemplating a good-will tour to the Soviet Union for the State Department. "They ain't so cold but what we couldn't bruise them with happy music," he had said. Now, though, he confessed to having second thoughts. "The way they are treating my people in the South, the government can go to hell," he said, offering further choice words about the secretary of state, John Foster Dulles. "The people over there ask me what's wrong with my country. What am I supposed to say?"

. . .

the next morning Mr. Lubenow returned to the Dakota Hotel and, as Mr. Armstrong shaved, had the [Grand Forks] Herald photographer take their picture together. Then Mr. Lubenow showed Mr. Armstrong what he'd written. "Don't take nothing out of that story," Mr. Armstrong declared. "That's just what I said, and still say." He then wrote "solid" on the bottom of the yellow copy paper, and signed his name.

The article ran all over the country. Douglas Edwards and John Cameron Swayze broadcast it on the evening news. The Russians, an anonymous government spokesman warned, would relish everything Mr. Armstrong had said. A radio station in Hattiesburg, Miss., threw out all of Mr. Armstrong's records. Sammy Davis Jr. criticized Mr. Armstrong for not speaking out earlier. But Jackie Robinson, Sugar Ray Robinson, Lena Horne, Eartha Kitt and Marian Anderson quickly backed him up.

What a wonderful world.