The post office is joining forces with the Star Wars franchise. This will not change anything as far as I'm concerned because my mail is already delivered by a Wookie.
I can't recall the last time I watched it...but I'm still saddened by the decision of the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce to discontinue the annual Hollywood Christmas Parade, a holiday tradition since 1928. Generally referred to as "The Santa Claus Lane Parade," it caused no end of traffic nightmares as floats and stars (including some you actually had heard of) marched down Hollywood Boulevard and sometimes portions of Sunset on, usually, the day after Thanksgiving. Here's an article about the decision and there's also some video and a photo gallery.
As a kid, I used to watch it every year. A local TV host named Bill Welsh often covered it live, running out to every passing car that contained a celebrity for a quick chat. I remember one year when Walter Matthau was riding in the event to promote his then-current film, Cactus Flower. Matthau had a little blooming cactus plant as a prop and I think he'd decided to see if he could set some sort of world record for the longest, most shameless plug in television history. He made his driver stop in front of the TV cameras and Matthau began relentlessly selling the film into Welsh's microphone, talking about how funny it was and how great it was to work with Goldie Hawn and how everyone had to go see it. The whole parade just came to a total halt and Welsh stood there with nothing to report on...nothing he could do but let Matthau go on and on, which he did, until a sheriff on horseback came by and ordered the driver to move it. If he hadn't, Bill Welsh and Walter Matthau would have remained on that stretch of Hollywood Boulevard until long after Cactus Flower had come and gone.
Oh, well. At least now if I have to go anywhere near Hollywood on the day after Thanksgiving, I may be able to get there.
I'm of the opinion that when people talk about the great comic talents of the previous century, they don't make nearly enough mention of Marty Feldman. We swoon over the madness that was Monty Python but the Feldman shows I've seen — sadly, not all or even most — often seem as clever and funny as anything the Python boys did. Don't go by that disappointing Beau Geste parody movie he made. See if you can find some of his British shows...and if so, let me know so I can get copies.
For now, I'll call your attention to a half-hour radio documentary that aired this morning on the BBC and which can still be heard online. In it, Gene Wilder narrates and other friends and co-workers remember the man with the unusual eyes. Here's the link and I don't think it'll be active forever so don't delay.
Feldman was a wonderful talent and, going by the one time I met him, a very nice man. I still haven't quite forgiven Sergio Aragonés for killing him.
More Spike Jones. This is his version of Khachaturian's "Sabre Dance" and he does a xylophone solo in there — complete with more cowbell — that reminds you what a good musician he was. One of the reasons his strange kind of music worked so well was that the guy really knew what he was doing. Here we go...
Once upon a time — to coin a phrase — Jack Hanrahan was one half of the hottest comedy-writing team in Hollywood. I knew the names of Phil Hahn and Jack Hanrahan from Mad Magazine and I believe before that, they were among the top writers of humorous greeting cards for Hallmark. They went from Mad to very successful careers writing for TV shows including Get Smart, Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In, Sonny and Cher and many others. They also wrote a lot of animation, including the 1967 Fantastic Four cartoon show, Birdman, The Banana Splits and whatever else Hanna-Barbera was producing around then. On his own, after he and Phil went their separate ways, Jack later wrote Inspector Gadget, Heathcliff, Beverly Hills Teens and dozens of other shows.
I knew Jack casually in the eighties. He was a lovely, funny man who told great stories about show business. There are some comedy writers who are among the unfunniest human beings on the planet and others who are as entertaining and flamboyant as anyone who performs their material. Jack was solidly in the latter category...and he even did occasional acting roles. A friend of mine once produced a quickie VHS tape called Video Psychiatrist, which consisted of an hour of a well-dressed man in an office welcoming you and asking you to sit down and tell him your problems. That was how it opened but the bulk of the tape was him sitting there going, "Uh-huh...well, how do you feel about that?" Jack played the psychiatrist. He was also in a movie called Up Your Alley in which he played an eccentric homeless guy.
In a tragic case of life imitating art, Jack Hanrahan is now an eccentric homeless guy. Several of you, starting with Tony Isabella, sent me this link to an article in the Cleveland Plain Dealer. [Warning: The site may ask you for some harmless personal data.] [Second Warning: This article is very depressing.] Jack came from Cleveland and now he's returned there to live on its streets. He is sick. He is penniless. He is in a very bad way.
Among other things, the article notes that Jack's Emmy Award is in hock. Let me tell you how Jack got that Emmy. It was for the 1967-1968 season of Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In. The writing staff that year consisted of Chris Beard, Phil Hahn, Jack Hanrahan, Coslough Johnson, Paul Keyes, Marc London, Allan Manings, David Panich, Hugh Wedlock and Digby Wolfe. Back then on the Emmy Awards telecast, all the names of nominees had to be read aloud and there were several separate nominations for the Laugh-In staff, which was essentially competing with itself for the trophy. So some presenter had to read that list several times and they stuck Don Rickles with the job of presenting, figuring he'd get rightly pissed-off and therefore funny.
Rickles was all that and every time he came to Jack Hanrahan's name, he stumbled over it, pronouncing it something like, "Harrahannahan." When the writers won, it seemed like half the audience went up to accept. Jack walked directly to the microphone and he was the first of the winners to speak. He said, "The name's Hanrahan, dummy!"
He got one of the biggest laughs I've ever heard on an award show. How does a guy like that wind up homeless?
March 23, 2007
