Speaking of TiVo: During the recent Writers Guild strike, we tried to make a point here of why it was so important that the Guild get jurisdiction over shows made for Internet distribution and also that writers get compensated when their work, including work not made for the 'net, is disseminated that way. There are/were many fine reasons but one we mentioned a few times is that the line is blurring between the various delivery methods. It's getting harder and harder to tell what's a broadcast TV show and what's an Internet one these days.
It's only going to get blurrier and another step will be taken later this year. The TiVo folks have announced that those of us who have later models of their wonderful machines will soon be able to download YouTube videos to our TiVos.
This is a major development. It means that, for example, NBC can upload Jay Leno's monologue to YouTube and I can then download it to my TiVo. Then I can watch it on the same set in the same way I'd watch it via its traditional method of transmission. Or some civilian, unaffiliated in any way with the network or show, can capture the monologue and slap it up on YouTube...and by the time NBC tells them to take it down, it'll already be on my TiVo. This is going to change a lot.
One of the many friends I've made through this site is a gentleman named Dave Sikula, who occasionally sends in corrections or items that oughta be posted here. Dave is a contestant on Jeopardy! this coming Wednesday. Like all who appear on that show, he is forbidden to let anyone know how he fared at the taping so I have no idea if he won or lost. He's a bright guy but how fast is he on the button? I don't know. Let's watch on Wednesday and find out.
Shortly before Christmas of 1960, my mother entered and won a contest at the Robinson's Department Store in Westwood. It was one of those contests where it was hard to not win — hundreds did — and what she won was an invitation to bring her child (i.e., me) to a Special Disney Preview of a forthcoming movie called 101 Dalmatians.
It took place on a Saturday morning at the Ambassador Hotel near downtown Los Angeles. We reported at the assigned hour, checked in and were herded like cattle (or worse, Magic Kingdom visitors) into separate ballrooms. My mother was held captive, more or less, in a presentation for parents. They were served adult-type food and subjected to what I gather was an extended commercial for going to Disney movies, buying Disney toys for the kids, taking them to Disneyland, watching Disney TV shows, etc. The gist of it was that you weren't a good raiser of children if you denied your offspring any part of the total Disney experience. A decade or two later while visiting Las Vegas, she and my father got roped into one of those scams where in exchange for allegedly free show tickets, they had to sit through a hard sell pitch to buy time share condos, and were almost forbidden to leave without doing so. When she got home, she said it reminded her of that Disney gathering.
Meanwhile back at the Ambassador, I was taken into the other ballroom, the one for kids, which was decorated as if for a child's birthday party. There were dozens of little tables and I was stuck at one with a bunch of other eight-year-olds I didn't know and didn't particularly want to know, and we were served hot dogs and potato chips and ice cream and cake. Some of this was eaten but most of it was thrown around or up. Disney cartoons were run and there was, of course, an extended preview for 101 Dalmatians along with training on how to properly throw a tantrum if our parents did not take us to see it again and again and again and buy us every last bit of 101 Dalmatians merchandise.
There was also a live show. A woman dressed as a fairy princess of some sort sang Disney songs and then Clarence "Ducky" Nash performed with his Donald Duck puppet. I didn't understand a word he said in either voice but I knew enough to know he was the man who spoke for Donald, and it was thrilling to see him in person. There was also a Disney cartoonist — the "Big Mooseketeer" Roy Williams, I think — doing charcoal drawings of Mickey and the gang right before our eyes. I liked that part a lot.
At the end, before we and our respective parents were released from Disney custody and reunited, there was a drawing for prizes where everyone present was destined to win something. I wanted one of the charcoal sketches but had to settle for a 78 RPM Little Golden Record that featured two songs from 101 Dalmatians. One side had the movie's best tune, "Cruella De Vil." The other side had a title song that was very catchy and very bouncy and in the weeks that followed, I played it often on my little phonograph during the following weeks. The ending went...
Picture one hundred and one mischievious creations
One hundred and one puppy birthday celebrations
One hundred and one, that's a lot of doggy rations
One Hundred and One Dalmatians!
To my surprise when I made my parents take me to see the movie, that song was nowhere to be heard. It was not on the LP soundtrack of the movie, either. Throughout the sixties, long after I'd lost or broken my Little Golden Record I had that tune running through my head but could not find a copy of it to save my life. I couldn't even find any evidence that it had ever existed. Around 1970, when I began to meet Disney scholars and asked about it, none of them had ever heard of it. One told me I'd obviously made it up. "I didn't make up those lyrics when I was eight years old," I replied.
One day last year, I lunched with Greg Ehrbar, co-author (with Tim Hollis) of Mouse Tracks: The Story of Walt Disney Records, the exhaustive book on the topic, and I thought to ask him about it. He knew of the song and thought it had been written by the team of Mr. Disney's favorite tunesmiths, Richard and Robert Sherman. When he told me this, I felt like more of a ninny than even usual because I know Richard Sherman. For some reason — a lot of mutual friends, I guess, plus the fact that we're both members of the Magic Castle — I run into him at least once a month somewhere. I could have asked him about it years ago!
I did, the next time we were together and he was quite amazed that I knew those lyrics and could sing them, albeit poorly, from memory and from when I was eight. He was also quite flattered (who wouldn't be?) and he told me the story of its creation and omission. Basically, Mr. D. came to them. They were new in his operation, this being before Mary Poppins or The Parent Trap or all those great songs they wrote for Disneyland attractions. The Great and Powerful Walt suddenly decided 101 Dalmatians needed a bouncy title song and they whipped one up which everyone liked but which they couldn't find room for in the movie. That Little Golden Record I won was apparently arranged before the movie was locked, at a time it was still believed the tune would get in. That it didn't was allegedly because some other high-ranked Disney official (not Walt) lobbied successfully for its exclusion.
Before I could ask my next question — where the hell do I find a copy? — Richard told me he thought it was being included among a bevy of "cut songs" on the new, then-forthcoming two-disc DVD release of 101 Dalmatians. I was delighted and a few weeks ago, while Costcoing, I picked one up and came home, gleefully anticipating being able to, at long last, hear this song I've had running through my brain since 1961 and last heard around then.
Well, guess what. It's not on the DVD. It's a great DVD, of course, and here's a link if you don't plan on doing any of your own Costcoing soon and you wish to order one. It does have some omitted tunes among its many and splendid special features but the song of my obsession is not among them.
It turns out that a stereo remake of The Song (very nice but not the original) is reportedly on a special 101 Dalmatians CD that you get if you purchase the DVD from WalMart. Here's a link to that deal if you're interested. But like I said, it ain't the original.
So am I forever frustrated in my yearning to again hear the original? Happily, no. Through other means, I finally got my hands and ears on a copy just this last weekend, plus someone sent me a link to an online excerpt that I think is/was part of an Amazon sample. It's not a fabulous song but I've had it caroming around inside my skull since around '62 or '63 or whenever I lost/broke that Little Golden Record, and I missed the one or two places it's appeared since then. This is satisfying to me in a way that cannot possibly mean as much to you. I'm also delighted that my memory of the lyrics was dead-on accurate all these years. So I'll close this by offering you the last thirty seconds of the record, the 45 year itch that I was finally able to scratch. Hope it doesn't haunt you as long as it's haunted me...
Happy news for those of us who've enjoyed the annual Mid-Ohio Con in Columbus, Ohio. Founder Roger Price had announced he was done with it unless someone bought him out...and someone has!
Yesterday, we linked to a sketch from Saturday Night Live with the late Chris Farley playing his character, Matt Foley, a motivational speaker. It's a shame Chris died when he did and took Matt with him...but at least, we still have Matt Kissane, a professional Chris Farley impersonator. Here he is in an outta-sync YouTube video...and a hat tip to "Balloon Entertainer" Smarty Pants, who told me about Mr. Kissane...
James Surowiecki explains the whole mess with Bear Stearns. I can explain it even quicker: The way business works in this country now is that a company like that can take any sort of wild, reckless risk with the money they hold because they know that if everything tanks, the federal government will bail them out and make good on their losses. And of course, either way, if they succeed or fail, the senior execs will take many millions of dollars home with them.
March 25, 2008
