Monthly Archives: January 2006

I'm still sifting through e-mails in response to my question about tipping. But I thought it was worth posting and replying to this message I received from Mike Guerrero…

Even though this is only slightly related to your question, I hope either you or your readers can help me out. Are we as a society at the point where we can't question the act of tipping? [or have we been here all this time, and no one told me about it?] Should I just stop asking why I have to subsidize the service economy?

If a plate with Filet Mignon weighs about the same as a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, why do I have to tip more?

At the very least, I'd like to know where the boundary line between what the employer's paying for, and what my tip is paying for. In the example you gave, isn't the bellhop supposed to handle your baggage for you? Unless I'm mistaken, he was likely hired by the hotel to do just that, among other things. If we're talking about asking someone in the next room to carry your bags, that's a different story.

Is the tip a plea so your bags won't get thrown down the stairs, or rifled through by the staff? Or is it a bribe so they'll do it to someone else's? And what if they did it anyway? "Wow, that meal was great. And, because I said no pickles and there were no pickles, I'll throw in another 8%"

I will admit, so far in my life I've yet to work in a field where tipping was a part of my livelihood, so my perspective might be skewed.

Look, Ticketmaster sticks you for a "service charge." Why can't other places do it too? At least you won't have to wonder what formula to use, or you could choose to avoid places that have them.

I think there's a pragmatic answer to this and a philosophical one. The pragmatic is that there's a well-established economic model here and it presumes there will be tipping. Yes, the hotel pays the bellhop to carry guests' bags but they pay them a salary which is insufficient on its own and only becomes a living wage when tip money is added in. With some jobs where tipping is assumed, the Internal Revenue Service not only withholds part of the employees' salary but a portion of some rough estimate of their tips, as well. I've known people who essentially lived off tips. If they gave me lousy, insulting service, I might be able to justify not tipping. But I wouldn't want to cost them part of what they need to pay their rent just because I don't like the inconvenience of tipping.

I used to struggle with how much to tip in certain situations, and think like you do; that it would be great if they'd just institute fixed service charges. That way, the waiters and valet car parkers and everyone could take home the same pay and I'd be relieved of the responsibility to figure out who gets 15% and who gets 20% and whether you tip everyone who assists you in some venues or just the last guy. Eventually though, I learned what to do in most (not all) situations and I came to see it as a nicetie and not a hardship. Which brings us to the philosophical answer.

My "tipping policy" is something I stole from Bill Gaines, the publisher of MAD. His philosophy was to give standard, non-exorbitant gratuities to service employees he didn't expect to ever see again, and to tip lavishly in places to which he'd probably return soon. So I tip 15% in a strange restaurant and somewhat more in my regular places. It's a matter of establishing a bit of relationship with the folks who work there; of telling them you appreciate them. Some customers are enormously rude to food servers, car parkers, cleaning ladies, etc. I'd like to make it clear I'm not one of those rude people. Over the years, there have been many occasions where tipped employees have done way more than the minimum and helped me out, so it's been a wise investment. But that's not why I do it. I do it because it's a less impersonal way of saying "thank you" than paying a fixed service charge. And, speaking of tips…

You've been hearing that Jack Abramhoff is a very bad man. Here, in the Jewish Journal, a writer-friend of his presents a different view. I don't think I buy it but on this site, we sometimes link to something just because it offers a unique way of looking at someone or something.

There have been many movies, TV shows and cartoons that have given life to the classic comic book character, Batman. So far, my favorite is the one recently done with Lego blocks.

In the spirit of the In-n-Out 100×100 burger, Don Porges calls my attention to a place in Pennsylvania that serves a fifteen-pound hamburger. I think the classy thing to do with something like this is to order it with a Diet Pepsi and say, "I'm watching my waistline!"

Have you got four and a half minutes to watch a great act? Chris Bliss is a good stand-up comedian and an amazing juggler. He has three performance video clips over on this page of his website. Watch the one named "Must-See Finale." And if you enjoy it, thank Gregg Berger, who sent me the link.

When one goes to an In-n-Out Burger, one has the option of ordering extra burger patties and/or extra cheese in one's burger. It's not on the official menu but In-n-Out has all sorts of undocumented ways of modifying one's lunch. Some call it their "secret menu" but it's about as secret as William Shatner's hairpiece.

Their conventional Double-Double has two patties and two pieces of cheese but if you ask for a 4×4, you'll get four of each. A 3×5 is three patties and five pieces of cheese and so on. Recently a group of people went into one outlet and had them prepare a 100×100. See what happened.

Michael Kinsley on the state of the Democratic party. Such as it is.

Writers and directors will be interested in this. There's a lawsuit about an off-off-Broadway production that raises the question of what a director contributes to a play and to what extent that contribution is a copyrightable creation. This article in the New York Times will tell you about the dispute.

A lot of classy, intelligent people read this weblog so I thought I'd tap into your wisdom. Here's a situation I encounter almost every time I'm checking out of a hotel…

I call downstairs for assistance with my luggage. A person we'll call Bellhop #1 comes up with a cart and gets my suitcases. I tell him or her (it's usually a him) that I want to check them for later retrieval. He says fine and we go downstairs. He deposits my bags in a room near the Bell Desk and then either he or someone we'll call Bellhop #2 gives me some little tickets with which I will claim them later.

Hours later, I go back to the Bell Desk and give my tickets to Bellhop #3, who retrieves my bags. He hands off to Bellhop #4 who winds up helping me into a cab or car and loading the suitcases into the trunk.

Okay, here's the question: How many of these guys do I tip? My habit has just been to give a hefty one to the last guy and assume it'll be shared with all the others, even if the first couple were on a different shift. Is that the right thing to do?

Aardwolf Publishing is bringing out METHo.d. — thirteen dark tales by author Clifford Meth with art by Steve Lieber, Al Milgrom, Jordan Raskin, Michael Netzer, Wm. Messner-Loebs, and the Cockrums, along with an introduction by Peter David. The cover and book design are by Jim Steranko, his first notable project in years. Go here for more details.

Last week after I attended a public memorial for actor Hamilton Camp, I wrote something here that drew a great deal of e-mail response. Most of the event was wonderful, with people who knew Hamilton well telling tales that reminded us all what a special, gifted man he was. But there were a couple of folks who somehow seemed to think, "Ah! A microphone and a chance to talk at length about my career!" This has unfortunately been true at most of the funerals and memorial services I've attended the last few years, and not just those where a "show biz" crowd was gathered. Some people just don't seem to understand that you pay tribute to someone by talking about them, not about yourself, and that very few speeches are worth much more than about five minutes.

The two best eulogies I've ever heard were delivered by Alan Alda (at the funeral for writer Don Segall) and by Carl Reiner (at the services for Howard Morris). I think Alda spoke for around seven minutes and Reiner for about six, and those ought to be the benchmarks. Don't go over five unless you're as clever and talented as Alan Alda and Carl Reiner. And don't go over eight at all.

My posting last week brought notes of agreement from more than a dozen folks who were at the Camp memorial, and as many more who weren't there but have cringed at other such events when someone got up and made everyone sit through a half-hour infomercial for themselves. As one noted, and as I should have, "Part of the problem is this idea that at a public memorial, anyone who wants to should be able to get up and speak for as long as they want. Setting it up that way is practically inviting people who have very little to say about the deceased to get up at the podium and ramble on and on and on about whatever they feel like talking about."

This afternoon, I spoke at a different kind of memorial event. Every January, A.S.I.F.A. (the International Animated Film Society) joins with The Animation Guild and Women in Animation to stage "An Afternoon of Remembrance." It's kind of a mass service for everyone in the cartoon business who passed away the previous year. They had a lot of them this time: Don Adams, Rueben Apodaca, Henry Corden, Howard Morris, Ed Friedman, Vance Gerry, Joe Grant, Wendy Jackson Hall, Gene Hazelton, Selby Kelly, Derek Lamb, Norm Prescott, Joe Ranft, Thurl Ravenscroft, Hal Seeger, Paul Winchell and 38 others. Some friend or associate spoke about each, with speeches ranging from less than a minute to a strictly-enforced maximum of three. A gent in view of the rostrum held up a sign to indicate "one minute left" and another to tell people to wrap it up.

It worked very well. At least while I was there, no one used the whole three minutes but no one was rushed and no one really had the time or inclination to speak of anything but the deceased. I talked about Don Adams and Howie Morris…and I could have gone on about either of those guys — Howie, especially — for twenty minutes if I'd just wanted the joy of commanding an audience and if I hadn't cared about forcing people to sit there for too long. It was no hardship at all to keep it brief. If you ever find yourself about to get up at a memorial service to speak about a departed friend, show his friends and family the courtesy of keeping it brief. And it helps if you talk about the dead person.

I agree with this editorial in The New York Times about the Bush program of spying on whoever they feel like spying on, and ignoring laws that say they can only do so with judicial oversight.

I doubt he has the necessary web access to read this but I wanted to send out good thoughts in the direction of veteran character actor Charles Lane. He is seen above in his recurring role of Homer Bedloe, the mean old man who wanted to scrap the Hooterville Cannonball on the TV series Petticoat Junction.  It was just one more of his eight million screen roles, most of which cast him as a similarly-mean old man.

Mr. Lane is 101 years old today. It's a Wonderful Life, indeed.

As I've mentioned here before, there's a wonderful show every Wednesday night at a theater in Hollywood — a live re-creation of the classic game show, What's My Line? You can find out all about it here after you read this message I just received from Tom Michael…

Tonight I attended What's My Line? at the Acme Comedy Theater. I want to thank you for mentioning this event on your web site, and especially for plugging the current run. As I live in Montgomery, Alabama, this would otherwise have been totally off the radar to me. It's a delightful show in an intimate setting.

The panel went 0-4, missing the professions of a nice woman who sold cemetery plots, and a gentleman who balanced a ladder on his face for a living. Julie Newmar was the Mystery Guest, in honor of her appearance on the original show 45 years ago this week. (My God, she is tall! Even in flat shoes, she towered over everyone.)

Thank you for your wonderful website, and thank you again for plugging this show. If I get back in town during the current run, I will be trying to catch it again.

It's a great show and since it's different every week, you can go back again and again. I went last week when the Mystery Guest was Alan Rachins from L.A. Law. I wanted to get there last night because the producer, Jim Newman, tipped me off about the salute to our favorite holiday…a fact I couldn't mention here since at least one of the panelists reads this blog.

Ms. Newmar is quite tall — a little under six feet, I believe. If you're in the L.A. area this Friday or Saturday and would like to meet her and buy an autographed pic, she'll be among the many celebrity guests at the Hollywood Collectors Show out in Burbank. In fact, much of the cast of the Batman TV show — Adam West, Burt Ward, Yvonne Craig, Lee Meriwether and Julie — will be there. So will Richard Chamberlain, Jayne Meadows, Tab Hunter and many more.

Here's a photo from a party I attended the day after Christmas of 2004. Let me identify the folks in it. The man at the far left is master satirist Stan Freberg. To the right of Stan is actor Robert Forster. The guy in the center at the top is Chuck McCann and to the right of Chuck is me. The woman at the far right is Alice Maltin (spouse of Leonard Maltin) and to the left of her is Betty McCann, wife of Chuck.

The gentleman in the center of the picture — the one wearing the magenta turtleneck — is Fayard Nicholas who, sad to say, just became the late Fayard Nicholas. He died Tuesday at the age of 91. Here's a link to the U.S.A. Today obit.

Fayard was, of course, one of the Nicholas Brothers. And the Nicholas Brothers were, of course, the greatest tap dancing act of all time. Has someone ever compiled a DVD of all the times those gentlemen danced on film? Someone should. They were electrifying and many a movie came to a standing stop after their performance because nothing could follow it.

You never saw the Nicholas Brothers dance? Well then, you haven't seen tap dancing.

It was a thrill to meet him at that party. We talked for maybe a half hour with person after person coming by to tell him how much they loved his work, not just as a dancer but also as a choreographer. He seemed genuinely humbled by the attention, though I can't imagine he hadn't been hearing praise like that for…oh, maybe sixty or seventy years.

There was one moment I have to tell you about. Also in attendance at the party was a fine, fine musican named Ian Whitcomb, who specializes in ragtime and "tin pan alley" music. Someone else had brought a ukulele and at one point, Ian picked it up and strummed and sang a few tunes with everyone joining in where appropriate. We all sang a couple of Sherman Brothers songs in honor of composer Richard Sherman, who was present. And then Ian began playing…gee, I'm not sure of the number now. I'm thinking it was "Ain't She Sweet?" but maybe it was "Sweet Georgia Brown." What I do recall — what I'll never forget — was that Fayard Nicholas started dancing to it.

Of course, he was a much younger man at the time. He was 90.

His feet barely moved and most of the tapping was with his cane. But the man was dancing, no doubt about it. His whole body was vibrating in perfect time with the tune and you could sense the connect of man and music. He had a big smile on his face, much like he sports in the photo above, and that was half the magic right there. That smile. It was a performer's smile. It was the smile of a man who was proud that he could do whatever he could do at that age to delight the people around him. The applause when he finished was thunderous.

I love people who can do something, whatever it is, about as well as it can possibly be done. In his youth, Fayard Nicholas danced about as well as anyone ever has or maybe ever will. And even in his ninetieth year, he could still remind you of just how damn good he was.