On a quiet Sunday, young Americans faced a deadly crisis

"The Long Road Home" -- the book and the cable mini-series -- tells a compelling story of young men caught in a deadly ambush. I had a chance to talk to two of the soldiers who also were military advisors for the mini-series. Here's the story I sent to papers:

By Mike Hughes

These men seem like
everyday slices of Americana.

-- Eric Bourquin is
a towering Texan. He's married, with four kids, ages 4 to 11.

-- Aaron Fowler
summarizes his life cheerily: “I'm a ballet dad,” he said. That's
sort of like being a soccer mom, except it involves whisking his
three kids to lots of ballet classes.

They seem to be in a
different universe than they were on Palm Sunday of 2004. That was
the start of a fierce ambush, vividly retold in Martha Raddatz's “The
Long Road Home,” now a cable mini-series.

“It has been part
of the healing process, getting the story out,” Fowler said.

Bourquin – a
military advisor on the film with Fowler – agreed. “I'm still
realizing what happened,” he said. “You don't understand it until
after the fact.”

At 6-foot-3 and
solid, Bourquin strikes a strong image. “Now I know him for the
sweet circus bear that he is,” said Jon Beavers, who portrays him.
“But at (first), he looked very intimidating.”

Bourquin left home
on his 16th birthday and was on his own. A few years
later, he joined the Army with, Raddatz wrote, “a strange fantasy
that some bad Iraqi would take a few wild shots at him.”

Even that seemed
unlikely when his unit arrived from Fort Hood in April of 2004. That
was a year after Saddam Hussein's statue was toppled, 11 months after
George W. Bush stood in front of a “mission accomplished banner,”
four months after Hussein was captured.

The men in his unit
were new to this. “The vast majority had never seen combat,”
Fowler said.

Bourquin was 23 and
a staff sergeant. Assigned to a quiet Baghdad suburb, the men had
been in country for four days and were leading a convoy to take
sewage trucks to a disposal spot.

Then came the
ambush, leaving them with no way to get out. “I could see the look
in my soldiers' eyes,” Bourquin said.

And, perhaps, in his
own eyes, when he was point man in a harrowing moment: Trapped in an
alley, the men needed to get into a top-floor apartment that had roof
access. Bourquin had to shoot open the door and charge in, ready to
kill anyone who fired at him.

Such moments awe the
actors portraying them. “They will literally walk into a room where
there's a man with a gun on the other side of the door,” Darius
Homayoun said.

In this case, he
held his fire. Inside, Raddatz wrote: “Two Iraqi men stood frozen
in panic; three small children sobbed and shook in the arms of an old
woman. From an adjacent room, several other women could be heard

As it turned out,
Bourquin said, “they were very helpful.” That could have been
deadly for them or for him. “It was something I think about –
what could have gone wrong.”

Another crisis came
as the attackers tried an unprecedented strategy: They marched down
the alley, with riflemen in the back and children in the front. He
fired his grenade launcher twice; as did the soldiers, he tried to
aim above the children's head. Soon, more than 100 bodies were being

The fighting
continued for days, until rescuers (including Fowler) could finally
break through. Eight Americans had been killed and more than 60
(including Bourquin) had been wounded.

Bourquin would
re-enlist; in all, he spent 16 years in the Army, including two
stints in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, and retired as a sergeant
first class. Since then, he has tried nursing studies ... has walked
the 2,180-mile Appalachian Trail, to publicize the needs of veterans
... and has raised his family.

“These men have
worked incredibly hard,” Raddatz said.

Each man has
adjusted to a ballet, Little League world that's far from any
alley-shootout past. “He's become a good husband, a good dad,”
Raddatz said. “He's fought just as hard to be a good person.”

-- “The Long Road
Home,” eight-hour mini-series, National Geographic Channel

-- Opener is 9-11
p.m. Tuesday (Nov. 7), repeating at 11; it repeats at the same times
Saturday (Nov. 11), wrapping up a Veterans Day marathon of military

-- Subsequent hours
are 10 p.m. Tuesdays, rerunning at 11

-- The Martha
Raddatz book was 2007, G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2008, Berkley


"Flint": A gentle approach to a gritty crisis

If you scroll a few blogs down, you'll see the storty I sent to papers about the "Flint" movie on cable's Lifetime channel. Here's one more thing, a review:

By Mike Hughes

The Flint water
story could have been told in many ways.

It could have been
stuffed with rage and frustration. It could have been political,
swinging at Michigan's power structure.

But “Flint,”
debuting Saturday (Oct, 28) on Lifetime, goes another way. It's more interested
in heroes than villains. It's sharply acted, beautifully filmed and
good-spirited – the approach that director Bruce Beresford
(“Driving Miss Daisy”) is known for.

“Flint” settles
on three real-life heroes – LeeAnne Walters, Nayyirah Sharif and
Melisa Mays (Betsy Brandt, Jill Scott and Marin Ireland). Sometimes
dismissed as “housewives” with no science background, they
battled the experts.

Oddly, a fictional
character (well-played by Queen Latifah) is added. That leaves us
with a muddy fact-fiction blur.

“Flint” is
harshest on Dayne Walling (Flint's ex-mayor), Steven Busch (district
supervisor of the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality) and
Jerry Ambrose, who was
Flint's emergency manager for four months. It spares Gov. Rick
Snyder, except for brief criticism of state inaction.

Mostly, it
criticizes government for failing to listen to people ... and praises
the people who insisted on being heard. It also transports two

-- The “smoking
gun” discovery that corrosion controls weren't used. Other reports
say that came from conversations between Walters and the EPA's Miguel
Del Toral; in the film, the women find it together.

-- The idea of
having Dr. Mona Hanna-Attisha, a Flint pediatrian, study records of Flint children. Other reports say that
came from a conversation with her former high school classmate; in
the movie, it comes from Latifah's fictional character.

But the overall
story – non-experts confront their government and sometimes win –
remains consistent. For a tragedy, “Flint” has some feel-good


-- "Flint," cable's Lifetime channel.

-- Debuts at 8 p.m. Saturday (Oct. 28); reruns at 12:02 a.m. and then at 10 a.m. Sunday

Poe's image was dark,demented ... and mostly untrue

This Halloween season has lots of creepy things, a few funny things ... and on excellent portrait of Edgar Allan Poe. That's Monday on PBS; here's the story I sent to papers:

By Mike Hughes

Each Halloween
season, Edgar Allan Poe seems to loom.

His poems
(especially “The Raven”) are recited. His stories (“Tell-Tale
Heart,” “Pit and the Pendulum”) are retold. His books are
reprinted. His solemn face is reviled.

He becomes, somehow,
a symbol of evil. “His reputation was buried, practically from the
moment he died,” said Eric Stange, whose “American Masters”
portrait reaches PBS on Halloween eve.

One of the first Poe
obituaries was written by an enemy. Poe's death, at 40, “will
startle many, but few will be grieved by it,” wrote Rufus Griswold,
who described a man as dark and demented as the characters he

That was false,
Stange said, but it was soon accepted as fact. “I knew the Poe that
most people know from the Griswold biography, this invented

And that version had
just enough truth to remain believable, he said. Poe:

-- “Had a terrible
way of getting horribly drunk after one or two drinks and doing
ridiculous things.”

-- Married his first
cousin when he was 27 and she was 13.

-- And “had a way
of antagonizing everybody.”

He wrote brutal
reviews. He was quick to point out flaws in people who published him
(including Griswold) and employed him. He even attacked Henry
Wadsworth Longfellow, a beloved figure.

But this was also a
careful craftsman. He was, said “Masters” producer Michael
Kantor, “determined to re-invent American literature. Poe was an
influential and brutally honest literary critic and magazine editor.
He invented the modern detective story and refined the
science-fiction genre.”

Denis O'Hare, who
portrays Poe in the “Masters” film, said he's always admired the
precision of his poetry, but didn't know the rest. “I didn't know
how well-embedded he was in the actual world of literature and
magazines at the time .... He was somewhat of a literary

And he was much more
than the fragile man people expect, the film says. He was a good
athlete and a good soldier, becoming a sergeant major at 20. He was a
West Point cadet (until he started mocking his teachers) and a
popular party guest (until he drank).

Still, there was
also that fragility. This was someone, Stange said, who “lost every
woman he loved, starting with his mother and foster mother and
everyone else.” He felt “just not part of this world. One of his
most famous poems, and I think one of the most moving, is called

Poe's mother, a
popular actress and singer, died when he was 2. His father had
already abandoned them and he was raised by a rich family, loving the
woman and arguing often with the man.

Later, he clung to
his aunt and her daughter, Virginia Clemm. “A rich cousin was going
to sort of adopt young Virginia and pay for her schooling,” Stange
said. When Poe heard that, “he just lost it .... His last bit of
family (was) slipping away.”

His solution was to
marry Virginia (then 13) and have her and and her mother move in with

“It all sounds
very creepy and it's certainly weird,” Stange said. “But in the
context of his intense loneliness” it makes sense. “No one knows
whether the relationship was chaste for many years. People think it
was much more of a big brother, little sister relationship for quite
a while. And all the neighbors thought they were a wonderful, loving

But she died of
tuberculosis at 24 and Poe descended further into despair. He
rebounded, gathered financing for a new magazine and then died at 40,
under mysterious circumstances. “I think he ran afoul of the
political gangs that were warring that particular week in Baltimore,”
Stange said.

Critics (including
Griswold) called it the end of a decadent life. A generation later,
supporters (including Walt Whitman) called him a genius. Either way,
he's a huge figure at Halloween or any time.

“American Masters:
Edgar Allan Poe: Buried Alive,” 9-10:30 p.m. Monday, PBS (check
local listings)



Disney dreams -- and Broadway stardom -- do come true ... eventually

By Mike Hughes

The world, we're
told, is full of little girls with Disney dreams.

A few do star in
Disneyland, then retreat to non-glitter lives. One eventually
conquered Broadway.

That's Stephanie J.
Block, who stars Friday in the “Falsettos” musical on PBS. It
includes her “Breaking Down” number, with enough big moments to
make Carol Burnett or Jim Carrey envious.

“I just kept
adding and adding,” Block recalled. “And (director James Lapine)
never kept cutting and cutting .... It became four minutes and 36
seconds of circus.”

She got the role
only because Lapine rejected previous people who wanted to produce
the show. “They wanted a big star,” he said. “Which,
unfortunately, is what drives a lot of commercial theater.”

Hey, Block knows all
about that. She spent years in a lead role when “Wicked” was
being developed. Then the show went to Broadway and she didn't get
the role.

“'Wicked' was a
tough sting,” Block said. “I won't even mince words. Yeah, I
invested about two years in creating Elphaba, with Winnie Holzman and
Stephen Schwartz.”

But it was a
mega-show and she had no Broadway experience; Idina Menzel – fresh
from “Rent” and “Aida” -- got the role. “When she's
standing up there with a Tony ... I got drunk. That stuff happens.”

Block did the role
on tour, changing her life: “I met my husband (Sebastian Arcelus),
we bought an apartment, I have a child .... She got the Tony, I got
the Sebastian and it all worked out fine.”

Don't assume she
takes a let-it-be attitude. Those Disney duties didn't come easily.
“My mother forged my birth certificate, so I could be in the
Disneyland parade,” Block said.

That didn't turn out
the ways she'd expected: “I thought I'd be a princess, because my
sister was always cast as a princess. I became one of the three
little pigs .... I'm not legally supposed to be working, let alone
wearing this 30-pound head, Then I took a break; that really jaded me
a bit.”

But as someone born
and raised in Southern California, she wasn't ready to abandon her
Disney dreams. At 18, she wanted to star as Belle in Disneyland's
first “Beauty and the Beast” stage show.

“They were keeping
these really doe-eyed, blonde-haired (beauties) for their Disney
princess,” she said. “And I was like, 'That's not Belle. I'm
Belle. You know: I read a lot; I've got dark hair.'”

She was sent home,
then resisted. “I turned my little car right around and I just sat
in a chair and said, 'Well, if you have time, I'd love to sing for
you.' They'd come out and they're like, 'She's still there.'”

She got the job. “It
felt like I had conquered the world at 18,” making $127 for six

That was followed by
a decade of regional theater and commercials and the “Wicked”
close call. She reached Broadway at 31, playing Liza Minnelli in “The
Boy From Oz.” Eventually, there would be lots of off-Broadway
praise, plus Tony nominations for “The Mystery of Edwin Drood”
and “Falsettos.”

The latter started
when William Finn wrote the music and lyrics for a one-act show about
a woman, her son and three men – her ex-husband, his lover and the
therapist who becomes her husband. Lapine is listed as writing the
book, although there are few words. “He made sense of the
material,” Finn said.

Almost a decade
later, Finn had a dream about the characters “having the Bar
Mitzvah in the hospital room” during the early days of the AIDS
crisis. That became the second act.

would reach Broadway in 1992, winning Tonys for its book and score.
It returned briefly a year ago, getting nominations for most of its
no-big-name cast.

-- “Falsettos,”
9 p.m. Friday, PBS, under the “Live From Lincoln Center” banner

-- Part of a
Broadway-on-Fridays string that started a week earlier with “She
Loves Me.” Coming are Noel Coward's “Present Laughter” on Nov.
3, a rerun on the making of Lin-Manuel Miranda's “In the Heights”
on Nov . 10, “Indecent,” Nov . 17 and Irving Berlin's “Holiday
Inn,” Nov. 24.

In Flint, "housewives" battled officials and (sometimes) won

At times, we might forget how good a TV movie can be. The bad ones -- there are many -- can be brash and dim-witted; the good ones can take profound looks at important issues. Michigan people saw that long ago, with "The Burning Bed"; now they see it with "Flint," a compelling film that debuts Saturday (Oct. 28) on Lifetime. Here's the story I sent to papers.


By Mike Hughes

For three years of
rage and conflict, one place has seemed to be a symbol for
wide-ranging issues.

This was city vs.
state, people vs. government, “housewives” vs. officials,
anecdotal stories vs. accepted information. It sometimes seemed
like it was Flint, Mich., against the world.

“Even in a poor,
broken, poisoned town, we banded together,” Melissa Mays said. “And
we fought. We fought and we win.”

Well, there have
been some victories – indicted officials, a switch in water
sources, gradual changes in the water lines – and waves of

Flint's water crisis
has been a Time magazine cover story, a “60 Minutes” feature, a
“Nova” hour; now it's a cable movie, directed by Oscar-nominee
Bruce Beresford (“Driving Miss Daisy,” “Tender Mercies”) and
produced and co-starring Queen Latifah.

She plays a
fictional character, but the others play real women who say officials
kept resisting them. “They belittled them,” said Jill Scott, who
plays Nayyirah Shariff. “They called them housewives. They made it
seem like (the women) were lying.”

Mostly, said Mays --
who is a graphic artist and music buff, in addition to being a
“housewife” with a husband and three sons -- they ignored them.
“The least they could do is go to our house and test it.”

The problem started
when Flint – with 41 percent of its people below the poverty line –
hit a financial crisis. The state appointed an emergency manager who
made financial cuts. Instead of buying its water from Detroit, the
city would take it from the Flint River.

That began in April
of 2014; by September, the city sent notes advising people to boil
the water.

The problem was
already beyond that, Mays said. “We had seizures, tremors, kidney
disease.” There were rashes; hair fell out. Her youngest son had a
broken bone from a simple fall off a bike.

Eventually, she
said, they found others with the same problems. “My husband and I
made a map of it.” This became a collision – experts who said it
was fine, regular people who said something was wrong.

“If my kids are
breaking out in rashes, breathing problems, losing hair, catching
pneumonia in the summertime, you'd better listen to me,” Mays said.
“I am expert, because I'm living it.”

For advice, she
contacted Erin Brockovich and Lois Gibbs. (“I found them by
Google.”) Both had previously been non-experts, battling giant
companies over environmental issues; in movies, they were played by
Julia Roberts and Marsha Mason. Now the Flint women are played by:

-- Scott. a singer
who starred in HBO's “The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.” She
plays Shariff, a long-time activist. “Nayyirah is silly and easy,
and she's sweet,” Sott said. “But she's focused.”

-- Marin Ireland, a
cable star via “The Divide” and “Sneaky Pete.” She plays
Mays. “She's funny, she's strong,” Ireland said. “She was
deeply inspiring to me.”

-- Betsy Brandt, a
“Life in Pieces” star who grew up an hour from Flint, in Bay
City, Mich. She plays LeeAnne Walters. “She didn't set out to be an
activist,” Brandt said, but she “saw her kids getting sick.”

Mays didn't plan on
being an activist, either. She grew up in Batesville, a Southern
Indiana city of 6,500, best known for its casket company; she
literally married the guy across the street.

They moved to Flint
for work reasons; in 2009, they settled into a four-bedroom home with
their three sons. Then the water crisis linked her with Walters,
Shariff and others, pulling them into the spotlight.

Eventually, some
professionals joined in – an EPA official in Chicago ... a Hurley
Medical Center pediatrician in Flint ... a professor and his students
from Virginia Tech. Some state officials resigned; some have been
indicted, accused of failing to use required corrosive control and
then lying about it.

But overall, Mays
says, this is a story about the people. “It was not experts who
swooped in and saved us as we sat there and cried for help. We did it
ourselves. We fought and we are still fighting today.”

-- “Flint,”
8-10:04 p.m. Saturday (Oct. 28), Lifetime

-- Repeats at 12:02
a.m., then at 10 a.m. Sunday