Jay Huber told me about this. It's a book called Empty L.A., which consists of photos of Los Angeles with no people in it. A special effects technican named Matt Logue is responsible...and I'm guessing what he did was to shoot multiple photos of busy areas, then use Photoshop or something of the sort to combine unpopulated segments of many pics. However he did it, the result is mesmerizing, especially if you're familiar with these locations in their usual, human-filled states. Take a look at the preview and maybe order a copy.
Here's an excerpt from an article I wrote some time ago. It was about the 1973 San Diego Comic Con (or whatever they then called the event we now know as the Comic-Con International)...
...the moment I recall most vividly occurred one afternoon in the dealer's room. A young man, maybe fifteen years of age, strolled up to a table of rare comics, scooped up about $500 worth and made a fervent dash for the exit. The fellow tending the display yelled, "Stop that kid! He's a rip-off artist!"
(A gracious touch, I thought. Wouldn't want to hurt the kid's feelings by calling him a thief or a robber, would we? "Rip-off artist" allowed him to retain some dignity...made it sound like he had some useful, aesthetic skill.)
The thief — er, the rip-off artist tore through the hall like Fran Tarkenton charging for the goalposts. Several con-goers tried to grab him but he bobbed and weaved and eluded their grasps. Nevertheless, when he reached the door, three guys were waiting and he was quickly taken into custody.
Ken Krueger, the con's treasurer (and a charter committee member and an important figure in comics 'n' science-fiction fandom) immediately took charge. Someone asked, "What should we do with him?" and Ken instantly replied, "Call the police."
That may seem like the most obvious answer in the world but at that moment, it hadn't occurred to anyone but Ken. It hadn't occurred to the rip-off artist/thief, either. He was incredulous that the San Diego Police Department might even be interested in a theft of comic books. He stammered, "Police?" as if he'd thought the worst that could happen to him was being drummed out of the Merry Marvel Marching Society.
The sudden intrusion of the Real World into our little Pretend Fandom World, I found fascinating. Had the kid attempted to pilfer $500 in cash or $500 worth of records or clothes or elbow macaroni, there would have been no question. That would have been stealing.
But filching a stack of Action Comics — even a stack of Action Comics for which someone would pay $500 in legal tender — somehow struck both the crook and a few of his captors as kind of a toy crime. It was as if your schoolyard playmate took your Fig Newtons. You wouldn't call the police over that. You'd look like a bad sport for even telling the teacher.
Ken was, however, one of the few adults on the premises — chronologically, if not emotionally. When an onlooker suggested that this could be handled, sans gendarmes, Ken said, "No. This is a crime and it has to be treated as a crime." The police came, they took the lad away and I never heard for sure what happened after that. The rumor was he got some sort of suspended sentence, but it really didn't matter, except probably to him.
What mattered back in the dealer's room that day was (a) stolen comics had been recovered and (b) the thief had been caught and handed over to the authorities. A dealer-friend of mine reacted like he'd just seen one of the great social injustices of the century suddenly righted.
"I can't believe it," he said around 37 times. "Every con where I sell stuff, someone rips off something. The security always stinks and even on those rare occasions when they catch the guy, no one ever does anything.
"I did one con where these two kids were working in teams, sneaking stuff out, hiding it outside, then coming back in to get more. Merchandise was disappearing all day but no one knew who was doing it. Finally, they got so brazen that they got caught...but the con didn't want to get mixed up in filing charges, risking lawsuits or something. They just told the kids, 'You're barred forever from our cons' and let them go. The thieves didn’t even return most of the stuff they'd stolen.
"The con organizers act like you're just supposed to accept a certain amount of loss, like it's normal. At one con, I complained to the guy in charge and you know what his answer was? 'Raise your prices.' That was his solution — I should charge more for what I sell to make back the money I lose when I get ripped-off. Maybe if more conventions call the cops, it'll make a difference."
I don't know that it did or didn't...but I do know that, if you do it today at almost any convention, police will be called and you will be prosecuted. That was just the first time anyone heard of it happening. I know that a lot of sellers appreciated what Ken Krueger did that day.
This was far from the greatest contribution Ken made to the con or to the world of comic collecting. I just thought it was a good example of how he operated...a kid at heart but an adult whenever one was required.
Recently, much attention was given to the passing of Shel Dorf, who was described as the founder of the Comic-Con International. Not to take anything away from Shel but attention must be paid to another person who, even if he never claimed that title, was as vital to the creation of that convention as Shel or anyone else. Let me say this very clearly in a standalone sentence...
Ken Krueger was as much responsible for the creation of the Comic-Con International as anyone else, alive or dead.
Sadly, Ken is now in the latter category. He passed away last night from a heart attack...and I regret that I don't know his age, but I'm guessing somewhere in his eighties. Ken had been around long enough to have attended the very first science-fiction convention in 1939 and to be a member of the exalted "First Fandom."
His experience with s-f conventions was one of many things he brought to the nascent Comic-Con when he signed on in 1970 as its first chairperson. Another was his lifelong love of comics and fantasy. Professionally, Ken operated a string of bookstores throughout this life and also dabbled in distribution and publishing. As a publisher, he gave many talented artists their first in-print experience, including Dave Stevens, Scott Shaw!, Greg Bear and Jim Valentino. (He was the Best Man at Valentino's wedding and an obvious father figure to Jim and others who came up through the San Diego fan community.)
But perhaps his greatest contribution to the early cons in San Diego was that he was the Grown-Up. The majority of those on the original convention committee were kids in need of adult supervision...someone with some experience in handling business matters. Most were too young to even sign the hotel contract so Shel Dorf and Ken did that. At the early cons, he was the go-to guy for any problem, any crisis, any decision. He didn't get or seek the attention for all he did but believe me: He did a lot. And then, as he saw others rising to the responsibilities, he quietly stepped aside and became, for the most part, a happy attendee.
As health problems permitted, he attended the con. He was there this past July for the 40th anniversary celebration...in a wheelchair but, damn it, he was there. We had a nice conversation, mainly about how much the con had grown. Ken was like a proud parent, and at the same time modest about how much he'd contributed.
I have a story about Ken that I'll post here later because I want to get this up on the web. Ken never got the credit he deserved in life. Maybe we can get him some now...better late than never.
Ronald Brownstein takes us through the cost-control elements in the current version of the Senate's Health Care Reform bill. And yes, I know very few people debating this bill from either side seem particularly interested in what's actually in it. But in case you do, there you are.
As I've mentioned here, Frank Welker is the current voice of Garfield the Cat, replacing our dear friend Lorenzo Music, who passed away in 2001. Lorenzo was so identified with the role that a lot of people didn't know he wasn't the first voice of the character. When Garfield was first animated, it was for a short segment in a special on newspaper comic strips, and the character's voice was supplied by an actor and radio personality in San Francisco named Scott Beach. Soon after, the first animated Garfield special was sold and that's when the character's creator, Jim Davis, decided he wanted a different voice. They auditioned every actor in L.A. about nine times before they found Lorenzo.
Between the time Lorenzo died and the time Frank got the gig, a few other actors did Garfield for little-seen commercials and public service announcements...and of course, Bill Murray spoke for The Cat in the live-action Garfield movies. But the lasagna-guzzling feline had one more voice during the time Lorenzo was still voicing the character.
For a number of years, Garfield adorned the labels of Alpo Cat Food and did the commercials, and Lorenzo did the voice for those commercials. But in the midst of those campaigns, there was one batch that somehow triggered a money dispute. Lorenzo wanted a certain amount. The sponsor wanted to pay a different amount. You can guess which was higher.
98% of the time in show business, one side comes down enough and the other side goes up enough to make the deal. This time was in the 2% and another actor wound up supplying the voice, at least when the commercials debuted. I think Lorenzo may have later redubbed the voice after everything finally got settled...but this clip has the fill-in voice, which you may recognize.
Wanna guess who it is? It's someone rather famous...someone you've probably seen and heard. See if you can figure it out. Whether you can or can't, you'll want to click here to get the answer. But before that, click below and watch the commercial...
November 23, 2009
