Monthly Archives: May 2011

I'm in the recording studio all day today directing episodes of The Garfield Show, then tonight I'm going to that event with Dick Van Dyke and Carl Reiner, then when I get home I have work to do and…well, you might not hear much from me here the next day or so. Hey, I hear tonight Mr. Van Dyke will announce that he and Julie Andrews will reunite for a remake of My Fair Lady with him in the Rex Harrison role. It'll be a little different, this time. In this version, Liza will try to teach Higgins how to gain a proper Cockney accent. No, but I wanna tell ya…

Back soon.

Tom Spurgeon has posted his annual list of tips for Comic-Con, which is so exhaustive you'll need no other. He did, however, leave out the very important one about how you should make a list of every panel I host and attend. There are, believe it or not, a couple of folks who just about do this every year. (One of my pet peeves, as I think I've mentioned before here, is when someone complains to me that there's not enough at the con about classic comic books…and this person didn't show up for, or even know about the panel I did with all the surviving Bob Kane ghost artists, the panel I did with Denny O'Neil and Neal Adams discussing their run on Batman, the panel I just did about Harvey Kurtzman and MAD Comics, etc. Hey, folks. It's there for you. Turn out and support this stuff with your presence and there'll even be more of it.)

Tom mentions the Ralphs Market near the Convention Center. It's at the corner of 1st Avenue and W. G St. and it's open 24/7. During the con, its aisles are often full of congoers, many still sporting badges as they pick up snacks or supplies or even whole meals. If I ever found an evening at the convention where I didn't know of a party but I wanted to be around convention folks and maybe run into friends, I think I'd just hike over to the Ralphs…which, by the way, I'm told has been completely remodelled and rearranged since we were there last year. It's truly become a part of the con and I expect to soon begin panels there, probably near the deli case where it's cool.

Speaking of which: Last year, a cash-strapped friend of mine told me how he saves money at the con…or anywhere he travels by car. He bought a tiny microwave oven (I think one of these) and he takes it and the appropriate groceries along and just heats up meals in his room. He told me this in the Ralphs where he was buying the one necessity he'd forgotten to pack — a can opener. He also told me he's learned to call ahead and ask if the hotel has microwaves because he'd recently hauled his along on a trip and found there was already one in the room.

I'll probably think of other things to suggest about the con before it happens but not many that you won't find in Tom's guide. Did I mention about going to my panels?

Those of you who live in or around Los Angeles might be interested in this. The Writers Bloc — that group that stages the best author-pushing-a-book events in the world — will feature Albert Brooks on June 28. He'll be interviewed by TV producer-documentarian Bob Weide and afterwards, you can buy a copy of the new novel by Mr. Brooks and get him to write his name inside your copy. Go here to make a reservation.

When I'm asked who or what is the funniest thing I've ever seen on a stage, I sometimes mention the time I got to see Albert Brooks in one of his last standup comedy engagements. And when I say this, no one ever makes an odd face and says, "Albert Brooks? Really?" They all nod with envy and say, "Yeah, I wish he still did that."

This Tuesday night, Writers Bloc will be hosting an event at which Carl Reiner will interview Dick Van Dyke. It is long since sold out but I will be reporting on it here. You'd do well to keep an eye on the Writers Bloc website because they always have things like that and most of 'em sell out rapidly.

My great friends Paul Dini and Misty Lee do a weekly podcast, aided by their two dogs and a sock monkey named Rashy. Recently, I agreed to be a guest for what we all thought was going to be one show, maybe a half-hour or 40 minutes in length. Somehow, we got to yakking and it turned into three shows, all longer than the one was supposed to be. You can listen to Part One, which runs a hair over an hour, at this link. Part Two will be up next Sunday and Part Three will follow. In this episode, we talk mostly about how I got into the writing business, how I met (briefly) folks like Groucho Marx and Bob Hope, hanging out at the Magic Castle, how I wound up writing Garfield cartoons, a little about comic books and other vital topics of my life. If that sounds like something you'd like, tune in Radio Rashy.

By the way, you'll also get to hear me scramble the names of the great comedy writing team, Bill Persky and Sam Denoff. That's who they are. They are not Bill Denoff and Sam Persky or whatever it was I called them. This is why they don't let me on the radio very often.

As I mentioned here yesterday, I really have only one great memory of riding public buses. This, folks, is it…

It was an afternoon around early 1970. I was on a bus going from Hollywood to West Los Angeles and a man got on…an older man, about in his mid-seventies and somewhat overweight. He seemed so familiar that I stared at him until I realized that he seemed to be Billy Gilbert.

Billy Gilbert was a great character actor who worked, usually in support, of most of the great film comedians. He was in a lot of Laurel and Hardy movies, including their most famous short, The Music Box. (He was the professor who hates pianos.) He worked with Keaton. He worked with Fields. He worked with Chaplin. He worked with Moe, Larry and Curly…and then later, he was teamed in a few films with Shemp Howard. That's him with Shemp in the picture above.

He even did voices for Mr. Disney, including Sneezy in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Oh — and he worked with the Marx Brothers. He was in A Night at the Opera. He played (without credit at the time) the musician who tries to stop Harpo and Chico from playing "Cosi Cosa" on the ship's deck. That's Billy on the left here…

In other words, this was a man who was involved in a lot of movie history, particularly in the kind of movies I most enjoy. I said to myself, "Self, you can't miss this opportunity to say hello to him," and then I hesitated. I thought it was Billy Gilbert but I wasn't 100% sure it was Billy Gilbert. But he sure looked like Billy Gilbert, at least the way Billy Gilbert had looked on a recent TV appearance.

Then I heard another passenger (an older woman) lean over and say to him, "They ran that movie last night…the one you did with Alice Faye."

Okay, so it was Billy Gilbert. I slipped over into a seat nearer to him and said, "Mr. Gilbert?" He gave me a startled look that would not have been out of place in a Three Stooges comedy.

I said, "I don't mean to bother you but I'm an enormous fan of your work and I just wanted to tell you how terrific you always are."

He seemed puzzled and I guess it was because of my age. I was 19, remember, so I probably looked like a child to him. He said, "Thank you," then quickly added, "Do you really know who I am?"

I said, "Yes" and then I ticked off a brief list of his credits from memory. It seemed to satisfy him that I knew who he was. He seemed pleased and that, of course, pleased me. Because everything he'd done on film had pleased me and I figured I was returning the favor, just a little.

Just then, he said, "My stop's coming up" and he asked me to pull the little cord that buzzed to inform the driver that someone wanted off. I did, when the bus stopped a few seconds later, I helped him out of his seat and to the door. He shook my hand, thanked me and semi-stumbled down to the curb.

I don't know why but it didn't occur to me to get off with him. Maybe I could have walked him to wherever he was going and we could have talked a bit more. Just didn't think of it.

That was the only time I ever saw him. And it was my favorite moment that ever occurred on a bus. As favorite moments on buses go, it was a pretty good one.

John Bengston seems to be the world champ at tracking down and documenting the filming locations for silent movies. Even if you're not familiar with the films themselves, you may enjoy his weblog where he shows you "then and now" pics of Los Angeles and other places where non-talking movies were made.

I learned to drive in 1972 when I was twenty years of age. My friends all started earlier but I had a little mental block against it which I had to overcome. I suspect my father inadvertently contributed to it. He loved to drive friends and family members around. For a long time, he discouraged my mother from learning to drive because he so enjoyed chauffeuring her about. Going to the airport? My father would insist you not waste money on a taxi and instead let him take you. He was the original Super Shuttle.

Then when I was around ten, he read a newspaper item about a child who had died…I don't know the exact story but it was something like this: A kid had been injured and he might have been saved if his mother had had a car and been able to drive her son to the hospital — but she couldn't drive and she didn't have a car. Whatever the details, the report prompted my father to change his mind about my mother driving. She got a license and a car but she didn't like driving and did it rarely — usually just to the market and back, doing well under the speed limit both ways. She drove me to doctor appointments occasionally but never had to rush me to an emergency room.

So my father drove me everywhere and discouraged me from driving. Further discouragement came from a Driver's Education teacher I had in high school. His name, so help me, was Mr. Break…and I was disappointed when I learned he spelled it that way. He'd introduce himself to classes by saying, "My name is Break, as in 'your neck!'" And then he'd scare the hell out of us with his lessons. I remember some "safety film" that was full of mangled bodies and blood, showing what would happen if you drove your car into a brick wall at 60 MPH.

I guess it worked. I've never driven my car into a brick wall at 60 MPH or even much slower. But it and Mr. Break also put me off the whole idea of getting behind the wheel. When I had to do it in class with him, he made it sound like if I accidentally turned the radio on at the wrong moment, the car would explode and everyone in the vehicle would die a fiery death.

I only recall one positive/constructive lesson I learned from him. We were driving around the neighborhood, a few blocks from school — me at the wheel, him in the passenger seat, three other students squished in the back awaiting their turns. A red sports car zoomed past us, doing well over the posted limit and swerving — briefly but dangerously — into the opposite lane. Mr. Break said, "Remember that car."

As we drove along, he explained, "In a residential area — practically anywhere except wide open roads with no stop signs or signals — driving like that usually doesn't get you there any faster. Watch. We're driving along at a safe speed and the odds are we'll catch up to that guy."

I drove us about another ten blocks until I had to stop for a light…and sure enough, right next to us was the red sports car.

For a long time after when a car zoomed past the one I was in, whether I was driving or not, I'd play that little game. I'd remember the car and see if safe-and-steady driving allowed me to catch up. It didn't all the time but it happened often enough to make the point. Alas, that was the only lesson of value I got from Mr. Break. He made driving sound difficult and deadly and I'm still not sure he wasn't secretly being paid by the Santa Monica Bus Lines to keep me as their customer.

So when I started dating at age 17, the girl had to drive. They all said they didn't mind and one lady I went out with for a while — her name was Lynne — even preferred it. She'd been on dates where she felt like a prisoner, she told me. The guy drove, took her to some faraway locale and wasn't about to take her home until he was good and ready, hint hint. It wouldn't bother me as much today but back then, making the lady drive felt wrong to me…finally so wrong that I overcame whatever it was that was holding me back. I took private lessons, got my license and while I never grew to actually enjoy the sheer act of driving the way some folks do, I quickly came to regret waiting as long as I did. I still don't really like it but I like what it does for me.

My father took the occasion of my drivers license to buy himself a new (used) car and to give me his old one. It was a 1965 Buick Skylark with the engine of a Buick Wildcat, which gave it plenty of pep. Prior to that, I got around town via my father and, when he wasn't available, public bus lines. I knew all the relevant routes and the schedules by heart and could often get from Place A to Place B in a breeze. Then again, there were the occasional slow breezes and times when it was hard to avoid crazy people. Tomorrow in this spot, I'll tell you about the one memorable, happy thing that ever happened to me on a bus.