Show Biz – Page 4 – News From ME

Vegas Blogging

Posted on Saturday, November 7, 2009 at 1:43 AM

I hereby take back every nasty thing I ever said about Southwest Airlines. A near-perfect flight. Even though it left 15 minutes late, that was due to air traffic controller stuff, and we only arrived five minutes late, which was more than made up for by the fact that my suitcase was the first one down the chute at Baggage Claim.

On the flight, I read — and am thus now recommending — William Knoedelseder's book, I'm Dying Up Here. It's a history of the stand-up comedy scene of the late seventies when you could go up to the Comedy Store on a given night, as I did back then, and see up-and-coming kids named Leno and Letterman and Dreesen and some new, hyper guy named Robin Williams. There were others who either didn't make it or did but not for long, and this is the story of many of them and in particular, the 1979 strike at the Comedy Store in which comics who'd been working there for free thought it might be nice to be paid.

The book has a few unfortunate errors…things like misspelling comedians' names and referring to Tom Snyder's post-Carson NBC show as Late Night, rather than Tomorrow. But I was a sidelines witness to an awful lot of what Knoedelseder reports and what he writes matches what I saw and heard. Not only does he get the history right but he understands the emotions and personalities that shaped it. Comic/ringleader Tom Dreesen rightly comes off as the hero and there's a lot about Steve Lubetkin, the comic who committed suicide not long after the strike was settled.

One issue that comes up in the book — and is not directly addressed because the players in the drama seemed unable to address it — is how much you owe those who help you. If someone does something that is beneficial to you — say, if you're a beginning comic and Mitzi Shore, proprietor of the Comedy Store, lets you play there — you owe that person something. But how much? And what do you do when what they think you owe them is considerably more than what you think you owe them? I'm sure this dilemma pops up with some frequency in every venue but it's often front and center in show business where people help (and by "help," I sometimes mean "exploit") those who are new and/or needy.

At some point with some people, you have to say, "I think I've more than paid you back." That was more or less the story of the Comedy Store strike…a very ugly but probably necessary chapter in the history of stand-up mirth delivery. You might enjoy reading about it so here's an Amazon link to get a copy of this fine, necessary book.

Dean 'n' Jerry

Posted on Monday, September 7, 2009 at 6:31 PM

Several folks have written me to say that they heard (in one case, from one of Jerry's sons) that when Dean walked out onto the telethon in '76, Jerry knew about it in advance. That's possible, I suppose…but I tend to believe not. Two people who worked on the telethon that year told me Jerry didn't know. Moreover, it seems to me that if Jerry knew, he'd have been a lot better prepared with clever things to say. He comes across kinda stunned and out of control of his own show. I just think that if he'd known, he would have ready with something wittier…maybe hand Dean money and say, "Here's the five bucks I owe you." Or something.

And I suspect the staging of the whole thing would have been neater. It's all so clumsy — with Frank not knowing where to stand and all that weird stuff with the microphones. Frank and Jerry are standing there. Each has a microphone. Dean enters. Frank takes Jerry's microphone away from him. This is apparently so Jerry's hands are free to hug Dean, which is fine.

But then Frank hands Jerry's mike to the bandleader so we have this moment where Martin and Lewis are standing there…reunited but neither one has a microphone. Frank, whose utterances matter the least of the three, has the only mike and he keeps babbling, trying to be a part of a moment that is about two other guys. Finally, they hand Dean and Jerry each a microphone so they can talk a little — interrupted needlessly by Frank, I might add — and then Frank comes in and takes Jerry's mike so he and Dean can perform the medley.

That's not how you stage things if you've had thirty seconds of planning with the host involved. First off, you tell Jerry to turn more towards the camera so they can get a decent shot of his face when he sees Dean. Secondly, you have Frank hold Jerry's mike until the two men hug, then you have Frank give it back to him and hand the other mike he's holding to Dean.

Then when it comes time for Dean and Frank to sing, you have Jerry suggest it so he doesn't look like Sinatra just took his telethon away from him and kicked him off the stage. And then when the medley is over, you have Jerry come over to personally thank Dean and give him another hug…and you don't have that awkward staging of the exit.

Jerry is way over on the other side of the stage, looking like he's afraid to go near his former partner. Frank is trying to drag Dean off. But Dean is the only one there with enough show biz savvy to realize that the historic Martin-Lewis reunion needs a closing and that he can't exit without saying something to Jerry. So he has to yell across the studio and fight Sinatra trying to get him off stage.

Dean goes for a joke. He says, "All you got is $733 and nineteen-sixteen cents," and if there'd been any prep on all this, any rehearsal with Jerry, Jerry would have known enough to say, "That's the phone number." But Jerry doesn't know what to say and he's on the other side of the room so Dean has to button the joke himself.

I just think Jerry comes across as dazed and clueless and not sure where to stand or what to say…and this is a guy who goes to every possible length to be in command of every situation. A few years after the telethon reunion, he was a guest star on a show I wrote. He arrived with a huge entourage of employees who had to make sure everything was to Mr. Lewis's liking…even (and I am not making this up) the toilet paper in his dressing room.

The tissue had to come off the roll from the front as in the left-hand picture. It could not come off the back as in the right-hand picture. Before Jerry arrived, someone had to check because, we were told, it could affect Jerry's performance. As it turned out, our stage manager had already gone in to make sure it was right. He'd worked with Jerry before and knew all about the toilet paper thing. That's the level of control that the man exerts.

It's possible Jerry knew and he said, "Sure…just send Dean out and we'll wing it." But watch the clip again and show me one moment when anyone seems to know where to stand or how to get to the next item. That's what makes me think it was a genuine surprise for Mr. Lewis.

Will the Real Jerry Lewis Stand Up?

Posted on Sunday, August 16, 2009 at 12:32 AM

Jerry Lewis and Bernadette Peters. In some show sometime.

A company called Infinity Entertainment has announced and Amazon is taking advance orders for a DVD set of The Jerry Lewis Show…but don't click on this Amazon link yet. My question is: Which Jerry Lewis Show? There have been many…

There was The Jerry Lewis Show we recently discussed here…the two-hour live talk/variety show that debuted on ABC in 1963 with enormous fanfare only to disappear thirteen weeks later.
There was The Jerry Lewis Show, a one-hour weekly variety series on NBC from 1965-1967.
There was The Jerry Lewis Show, a syndicated one-week "pilot" talk show in 1984 that did not turn into a regular series.

There were also a number of pre-1963 specials called The Jerry Lewis Show and this set could be a collection of them.

So which is it? The announcements and Amazon page don't say and if there's a webpage for Infinity Entertainment, it's doing a good job of hiding from Google. We see that this the set is supposed to have a running time of 780 minutes so that would seem to eliminate the '84 talk show. It only ran one week of one-hour shows. The various specials Lewis did in the fifties would also probably not total 780 minutes.

There are two problems with it being the two-hour 1963 show. One is that Jerry reportedly wanted that buried forever and I think he controls the rights. The other is that 780 minutes is not divisible by 120 minutes.

That would lead us to suspect that the set contains a half season of the '65 variety show…and it may. Or it may also be a conglomeration of different Jerry Lewis appearances all being packaged together under the title. Or maybe the thing isn't actually 780 minutes or maybe it's one of those products that gets listed on Amazon but never actually comes out. It's also worth noting that a couple of sites that are taking orders for this DVD list Jerry Lee Lewis as its star. So maybe this is all a DVD of The Jerry Lee Lewis Show and someone left out a Lee.

I've exhausted my sleuthing abilities here. If someone gets some info on what this set is actually all about, lemme know.

My Son, the Litigious Parody Writer

Posted on Saturday, August 15, 2009 at 10:36 AM

Okay, here's the Allan Sherman story I teased a week or so ago here. This took place in 1965. I was 13 years old and attending Ralph Waldo Emerson Junior High School in West Los Angeles. Sherman had a hit record out called "Crazy Downtown," which was a parody of the Petula Clark mega-hit, "Downtown."

Like Stan Freberg, MAD Magazine, Soupy Sales, Laurel and Hardy and a few others I could name, Allan Sherman was a huge influence on me. Even at that age, I was writing a lot of silly poems and song parodies…and I guess he was my second-favorite writer of the latter. (My fave was Frank Jacobs in MAD. Mr. Jacobs is the gent to whom we gave the Bill Finger Award this year at the Comic-Con International…and I'm currently lobbying to get someone to publish a book collecting Frank's fine work for that publication and to include a CD of gifted folks singing some of his better efforts.)

Anyway, what you need to know is that I was in Junior High and that Allan Sherman was kind of a hero. His son Robert was a classmate and while we weren't close friends, every now and then Robbie would tell me how his dad was going to be on some TV show or had a new album in the works. I couldn't believe that I was even that close to the guy who wrote and sang those funny records I played over and over and over.

So one month, a campus group called the Girls League decided to stage a talent show/benefit with various students and teachers performing to raise money for I-don't-recall-what-cause. The festivities were to commence with an elaborately-staged (elaborate for a show with zero budget) dance number to "Crazy Downtown." The school orchestra knew the tune and some male student who, sad to say, looked a lot like Allan Sherman would be singing the lyrics while everyone did the frug and the pony around him.

That was the plan until two days before the event. That was when Mr. Campbell, who was the school principal, received a call either from Allan Sherman or Allan Sherman's lawyer vowing to sue if Mr. Sherman's lyrics were used. The obvious assumption was that Robbie had told his father about it. Mr. Campbell explained that this was a pretty low-profile event; that the number was to be performed but twice (two shows) in a Junior High School auditorium before, collectively, less than a thousand people, and that the money was going to a worthy charity. This made no difference to the caller.

With a deep sigh, Mr. Campbell called in the organizers of the benefit and told them to drop the number. They said they couldn't drop the number. It was the opening of the show and there was no time to write and stage something else. "Well," Mr. Campbell suggested, "How about dropping the Allan Sherman lyrics and just singing the real lyrics of "Downtown?" The students argued that, creatively, the number they'd staged really cried out for silly lyrics. Mr. Campbell said, "I'm sorry but this is final. You can't use Allan Sherman's lyrics."

The students behind the show didn't want to use the real "Downtown" lyrics so one of them — a way-too-cute girl named Cady — came to me at lunchtime and said, "Hey, you're always writing funny poems and things and reading them in class. Can you write us a new set of funny lyrics to 'Downtown?'" If Cady had asked me to trisect angles, I probably would have been motivated to learn how but this request was in that small subset of things in this world that I think I can actually do. She took me over to a rehearsal for the show and I watched the number. Then the next morning, I handed her a set of parody lyrics to "Downtown" that used none of Allan Sherman's jokes or even rhymes. I no longer have a copy of what I wrote but I can recall the opening. It went…

I'm feeling low
'Cause every radio show
Keeps telling me to go…Downtown.
All of my friends
Say it's the newest of trends
The party never ends…Downtown.

And from there on, it was all about how the singer was such a terrible dancer that he didn't dare go downtown and attempt to join in the fun. I do remember being pretty proud that I rhymed "fugue" with "frug" and that I got in a reference to Mr. Campbell, whose name I happily decided rhymed with "gamble." But what I really remember were a couple of big tingles 'n' thrills, first when I heard my lyrics being sung on a stage in what seemed almost a semi-professional fashion (a first for me) and then getting some decent laughs at the actual performances (another first).

And then I remember the summons, a few days later, to the office of Mr. Campbell. I didn't know what it was about but I knew I couldn't possibly be in any real trouble. My entire time in school, I never got in any real trouble. This was about as close as I ever came.

Mr. Campbell had someone on the phone when I walked in. My memory is that it was Allan Sherman himself but as I think back, I'm wondering if it wasn't Sherman's attorney who, in turn, had his client in his office or on another line. In any case, Mr. Sherman had heard that most or all of his lyrics had been performed at the benefit and he was going to sue Emerson Junior High, win, tear the school down and put up a Von's Market on the site…or something like that. He was also going to sue all the students involved, including whoever it was who, he insisted, had just "changed a few words" of what he'd written, hoping he [Sherman] wouldn't catch on that his lyrics had been used. I guess that meant me.

Cady and some other Girls League officers were in the office already and they'd explained eleven times that I had written completely different lyrics that had not employed a syllable of Mr. Sherman's work. The person on the other end of the phone refused to believe that.

So it came down to me reciting my lyrics — which I remembered in full then even if I can't today — and Mr. Campbell repeating them, line by line to either Allan Sherman or to a lawyer who was, in turn, repeating them to Allan Sherman. They didn't sound particularly clever that way but eventually, my hero was convinced and he agreed to withdraw his threat. I wish I could report that he also said, "Hey, whoever wrote those may have a future in this business" but no such compliment was voiced.

That was pretty much the end of the story except that it took a while before I could listen to Allan Sherman without getting a tight feeling in my tummy. Years later, I met some of Sherman's associates and learned that I was in good company; that though generally a decent guy, Allan was known to threaten to sue waiters if his soup was lukewarm. Despite that, I still love his work and can probably sing 90% of everything he wrote from memory. That's right. I can remember his lyrics but not my own.

Incidentally: A few years later at University High School, I was called upon again to write last-minute lyrics for a talent show. Students in this one were performing a number of recent hits. The faculty advisor decided that some of the lyrics of these songs, which were played non-stop on the radio, were too "suggestive" to be sung by high school students. I had to "clean up" the lyrics to a number of tunes, including "Never My Love" (a hit of the day for The Association), "Young Girl" (Gary Puckett and the Union Gap) and even the Doors' immortal "Light My Fire." In the last of these, I had to take out the part about lighting the guy's fire.

I did, and the revised lyrics passed inspection by the faculty advisor so the show could go on. But during the actual performance, as all the singers had agreed among themselves, they abandoned my laundered versions and sang the real lyrics. This struck me as the proper thing to do.

We all kept waiting for the faculty advisor to stop the proceedings or haul all the singers out to be shot…but if she noticed, she decided to pretend she didn't. In later years, writing for TV shows, I often employed the same trick of feigned compliance…and you'd be amazed how often it worked. The things you learn in junior high school…

Lot of Trouble

Posted on Friday, August 14, 2009 at 10:32 AM

Forgot to tell you what happened to me the other day. I had a meeting over at a big movie studio. I drove over and they made me park in one of those "double-deep" spaces where another car will likely park behind yours. The driver of that other car is supposed to leave his or her keys with the attendant because you can't get your car out until they move that one.

Went in, had the meeting, came out…and there, parked right behind my auto was a gleaming, silver top-o'-the-line Mercedes. I waved to the attendant and gestured that he needed to move it so I could drive my much less impressive vehicle home. Nervous and apologetic, the gent came up to me and said he was sorry but he couldn't do that. The driver had not left the key. Then he added, "I noticed it and started to run after him to get the key but then I saw who it was."

Sensing a cue, I asked, "Who was it?"

"I shouldn't tell you," the parking lot guy said. "Someone very important." Another attendant who'd wandered over to join the conversation added, "Very big movie star."

"But you won't tell me the name," I said.

"We shouldn't tell," the second attendant said. And I realized they weren't sure why but they figured I might do something in reprisal that would get that Very Big Movie Star riled and cause them to be fired. Like I might run upstairs, find out where he was and barge into his meeting. Or worse, I might post his name on my blog.

I pulled out my ignition key, pointed it at the Mercedes and said, "I really need to get somewhere. Tell me whose car this is or I'll key my initials into the side of it." The attendants went so pale that I quickly pocketed the key and assured them, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

We waited about twenty minutes but the V.B.M.S. did not return. They moved out the cars on either side of mine and one of the attendants kept asking me if I thought I could somehow swing my car out from there…without, of course, damaging the Mercedes. I had about three inches between my rear license plate and his front plate so I said no. I'm not that skilled a driver. Finally, one of the younger parking lot guys said, "I think I can do it."

So we let him get into my car and it was then about ten minutes of five people guiding him and yelling, "Back another inch" and "turn the wheels to the left" and "back another half-inch" and so on. All through it, the head parking attendant guy was ashen with fear that the Mercedes might get nicked but it didn't. The kid defied all laws of Physics and got my car outta there without a mar on either. I gave him a big tip and, so everyone could hear it, told him he was not to share it with anyone else, especially the guy who let the Very Big Movie Star get away without leaving his key.

While the hero was extricating my vehicle, I heard one of the other attendants mention the name of a Very Big Movie Star and I will forever assume that was the owner of the Mercedes. Since I don't have first-hand proof though, and don't want to get the parking lot guys in trouble, I won't mention that name here. But if it was indeed him, I think I understand a little more. If I were a lowly-paid studio parking attendant, liable to get yelled-upon or dismissed for not being properly deferential to the super-important, I'm not sure I'd have chased after this person and demanded his keys. Or at least, of the two, I would have been a lot less worried about pissing off Mark Evanier…

Rumor Rumor

Posted on Monday, December 29, 2008 at 4:28 PM

Someone is spreading the word around Ye Olde Internet that the great comedy writer Larry Gelbart was recently incapacitated by a stroke and is on the cusp of taking the permanent dirt nap. Mr. Gelbart has since posted a few messages here and there suggesting that as far as he knows, this is not true. I hope, for his sake and all of ours, he's right.

Some time before Larry does leave us, it would be nice if someone would put a certain great, neglected masterpiece out on DVD. I'm talking about Movie Movie, a 1979 release which starred George C. Scott, Art Carney, Eli Wallach and a bunch of other fine folks. Stanley Donen directed and Gelbart co-wrote with our pal Sheldon Keller, who left us last September. I once heard Sheldon talk about the film over lunch at Jerry's Deli and if you could have recorded that and put it out as a commentary track, there would have been the danger of the commentary track being funnier than the movie…and the movie's pretty damn funny.

The film is actually two short movies in one, plus a trailer for a third movie. All feature the same cast. All feature the same warped sense of humor, spoofing their respective genres with great affection. This article in The Washington Times makes the case that a DVD release is waaaay overdue and it's the first thing in that paper all year I've agreed with. Let's make a little noise in the direction of seeing that happen.

Another Pendragon Miracle

Posted on Saturday, September 30, 2006 at 9:55 PM

The other day here, I linked to a video clip of Jonathan and Charlotte Pendragon performing an amazing feat of magic. Jonathan would seem to have done the impossible again, surviving what would usually have been a fatal injury.

According to a message that Charlotte just posted to a magician's discussion forum, Jonathan was attempting to hang a light fixture when he fell onto the non-sharp end of an arrow from his archery set. The arrow pierced his stomach, his liver, an artery and went several inches in his heart. He underwent several hours of surgery, some of it of the open-heart variety, and is now recovering. Charlotte credits his survival to "speed of hospitalization, modern surgical techniques and Jonathan's will to live."

I'm happy to hear he's going to be around for a while. I've had the pleasure of spending time with Jonathan and he's one of the real gems in the field of magic — dedicated to his craft, brilliant at inventing new illusions and generous with his time and talents. Let's all send good thoughts in his direction. As soon as he's back on a stage somewhere, try and go see him.

Remembering Lennie

Posted on Thursday, September 28, 2006 at 7:14 PM

In the above photo, the guy in the middle is Red Skelton. Very funny man. The lady at left is character actress Mary Wickes, who was also pretty funny. But let's focus our attention on the man at the right.

That's Lennie Weinrib…also a very funny man. Lennie, whose obit I sadly had to post here last June 28, was an on-camera actor (The Dick Van Dyke Show, Magic Mongo). He was a cartoon voice actor (Inch-High Private Eye, Flintstone Kids). He was the voice of hundreds of commercials and many a Sid and Marty Krofft series. He was the writer and voice of H.R. Pufnstuf, for instance. He was also a good friend to many of us.

A whole mess of Lennie's friends here in Los Angeles will gather to remember him and celebrate his talented existence on Thursday evening, October 26. One of his daughters, Linda, is throwing the event and I think I'm the Master of Ceremonies. There will be stories and video clips and wonderful anecdotes and food and glorious memories. If you knew Lennie, drop me an e-mail and I'll send you the details of how to be there. It's just our way of spending a little more time with a great talent and a great friend.

Bigger Than a Breadbox

Posted on Thursday, July 28, 2005 at 12:57 AM

As you probably know, the entire staff and management of this website (i.e., me) is a big fan of certain old game shows, including the classic What's My Line? As of last evening, I am also a big fan of the new What's My Line?

What's that? You didn't know there was a new What's My Line? You want to know what channel it's on? Well, it isn't on any channel. It's a weekly (every Wednesday evening) live show at the Acme Comedy Theater in Hollywood. Host J. Keith van Straaten, who some of you might know from the Beat the Geeks series, picks up the mantle of the late John Daly. He can't compete with Daly in convoluted explanations of obscure technical points but in every other capacity, he's as good or better.

He and his crew have put together a highly professional and entertaining version of the old show with celebrity panelists and genuine Mystery Guests. Last night, the panelists were author Jonathan Ames, actresses Mink Stole and Rachael Harris, and comic actor Gary Anthony Williams. Mr. Williams was especially funny as he and the others guessed (or in two cases, failed to guess) the contestants. The first was a man who made toilet seats. The second was a lady who taught others to speak Tibetan. And the third was a woman who plays the Chinese Zither, and who treated us to a lovely demonstration of the instrument. Lots of fun.

But it was when we got to the Mystery Guest(s) spot that things exploded. The panelists donned blindfolds and out came the host of Let's Make a Deal, Monty Hall, accompanied by the lovely Carol Merrill, who modelled prizes on that show. Two game show legends! The audience (and Mr. van Straaten) could not have been more thrilled, and after Gary Williams guessed who it was, J. Keith conducted a good, amusing Q-and-A spot with Hall and Merrill. Unlike the TV version, the show isn't crammed into a half hour minus commercials. Since van Straaten's a pretty good interviewer, the time is put to good use.

You can learn all about upcoming shows over at this website. As you'll see, my buddy Len Wein is an occasional guest panelist, having first gone on the show as a contestant. Even when he's not on stage, Len is there almost every week and this time, he got me to go with him and his lovely spouse, Chris. He told me I'd have a great time and he did not oversell it. If you go over the next few months, you may see me there.

Book Report

Posted on Monday, July 25, 2005 at 12:17 PM

I think Robert Klein is one of the ten-or-so most brilliant stand-up comedians of all time. I enjoyed his new book, The Amorous Busboy of Decatur Avenue, but I think I'm going to enjoy his next book more.

When I read biographies (or especially, autobiographies) of folks whose careers interest me, I usually skim or even skip the parts that detail their lives before the career got going. I'll go back and read that material later but, first time through, I cut to the chase and I'll bet I'm not the only one. Most autobiographies written in the seventies and eighties seemed to start with some pivotal moment in the author's career — getting their breakthrough job, getting an award, some life-changing moment — and then Chapter Two would flash back to their birth, parents, childhood, etc. Clearly, someone had figured out that readers have less interest in that stuff, and when they're browsing through a book at the store, it makes them not want to buy.

Mr. Klein's new book is mostly pre-career stuff. It's only in the last few chapters, as he gets seriously into acting and performing, that it starts being about the Robert Klein we know and love. In fact, it ends just before he makes his television debut. The last anecdote is about how he was hired to do this on The Dean Martin Show but the day before taping, the producers made him do his act for them in an office without an audience. This is every comedian's nightmare because, as happened with Klein, it never seems funny in there. In this case, it seemed so unfunny that they cancelled his appearance…and you have to wonder what they thought, just a year or two later, when he became a pretty big star.

Before we get to those last few chapters about bit parts on Broadway, working at Second City and being mentored in stand-up by Rodney Dangerfield, we get a lot of stories about being a busboy, toiling in rotten jobs, growing up and so on. Particular emphasis is placed on itemizing every woman he ever slept with, and I got to wondering why some of the names and certain details had to be included. Even with that reservation, the stories are fun and colorful, but…I dunno. It's kind of like buying a book about the life of Willie Mays and it ends just before he gets called up to play for the Giants.

Still, like I said, I enjoyed it and if you'd like to order it from Amazon, this link can make that happen. I hope lots of folks buy it, the better to hurry along Mr. Klein's next book, the one that will presumably start with him making his TV debut and blossoming into one of the best comics of his day. That book, I think I'm really going to like.

And if you'd like to hear why he was so good on stage, let me run down his three albums for you. All three came out on CD in 1992 but only the first seems to have been kept in print since then…

robertklein03

Child of the 50's is very good, especially the bits about being a kid during various nuclear scares. You can pick up a CD of it for less than ten bucks on Amazon.
Mind Over Matter is his best one. The routines about appearing on Celebrity Jeopardy! and long before that, on Ted Mack's Original Amateur Hour, are priceless. This one is difficult to find and those who have it want thirty smackers and up for it. I have no info on any new repressing but I find it hard to believe there won't be one soon, since it's really one of the finest comedy albums ever made. In the meantime, there are some online audio clips over at Amazon, as well as a chance to pay top dollar to get the CD now.
Lastly, New Teeth is the weakest of the three. There's still a lot of good stuff but it pales by comparison to what came before. Laugh.com has the CD for fifteen bucks and it can turn up for slightly less if one shops around.

Even better than all these is the news that his many HBO specials will soon be available on DVD. The minute anyone hears that can be ordered, let me know.

A Howie Morris Story

Posted on Wednesday, June 1, 2005 at 10:23 AM

howardmorris05

In 1966, Hanna-Barbera produced a prime-time animated special that for some reason has not been rerun much since then, nor has it ever been released on home video. It should be, because I recall Alice in Wonderland or What's a Nice Kid Like You Doing in a Place Like This? as a pretty good little story. It took the famous Lewis Carroll tale, updated it and put it into Hanna-Barbera style. There were some nice songs by the team of Lee Adams and Charles Strouse, who are today better known for writing the tunes for Bye Bye Birdie, Applause and many other shows. (One wonders if there was any connection between them doing this job and the fact that George Sidney, who directed the movie of Bye Bye Birdie, was then on the Hanna-Barbera Board of Directors). Bill "Jose Jiminez" Dana worked on the script and cast Jose as the White Knight.

The voice of Alice was provided by veteran radio/animation actress Janet Waldo, and it's worth noting that if they made this show today, there's no way Janet Waldo would have gotten the job. The lead voice would be by Britney Spears or Paris Hilton or someone else who was "hot" in some other venue. Actually, even then the trend to "celebrity voices" was starting. Sammy Davis Jr played the Cheshire Cat and in addition to Mr. Dana voicing his character, Zsa Zsa Gabor played the Queen of Hearts and gossip columnist Hedda Hopper had a cameo. The rest of the cast included folks who were otherwise in the H-B voice talent pool: Daws Butler, Don Messick, Harvey Korman, Allan Melvin…and Howie Morris as The White Rabbit. Howie had been on almost every Hanna-Barbera show in recent years, including The Jetsons, Atom Ant and The Flintstones.

(And speaking of Flintstones, there were two animated cameo guests in Alice: Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble showed up to perform one musical number. Alan Reed and Mel Blanc supplied their voices but the recently-deceased Henry Corden provided Fred's singing voice.)

alicerecord01

Anyway, the Howie Morris story: Howie recorded his part in the special and a few weeks later, he was scheduled to come in and record another version of the voice track, this one to form a record album that H-B Records (the studio's own label) would release around the time the special aired. The entire thing had to be redone for the LP because (a) Sammy Davis was under contract to another record company so his voice couldn't be used and (b) some dialogue had to be changed so the story could be followed without the visuals. Scatman Crothers was hired to assume the role of the Cheshire Cat and a few other parts were changed. But Howie was supposed to repeat his role.

Unfortunately, Howie had a schedule conflict the day the record was supposed to be recorded. He was directing Hogan's Heroes or playing Ernest T. Bass on The Andy Griffith Show or something else…but it was a problem. He probably could have squeezed in the H-B recording on that date but it would have been an enormous inconvenience, and made for a very exhausting workday. His agent so informed the studio and it was agreed that Howie would be recorded on another day, apart from the other actors. This was a fairly common practice, and Howie was told that they were willing to make the accommodation since he was so good and since he had frequently juggled around his schedule when they needed him. Then, for reasons unknown, someone at the studio changed their mind about Waiting for Morris and the day they recorded the album, they had Don Messick perform the role of the White Rabbit.

Shortly after, Howie was in the studio to record something else and he innocently inquired when they wanted him to do the White Rabbit material for the record. Joe Barbera told him that it wouldn't be necessary; that Messick had already done it. Howie was angry. Words were exchanged with Mr. Barbera explaining that they couldn't wait for him and Mr. Morris explaining that he could have been there if someone hadn't assured him the recording could be done later. Tempers flared and Howie finally told Joe Barbera, "Go fuck yourself!" And he walked out of the building…and out of Hanna-Barbera forever, he thought.

Howie did not work for Hanna-Barbera again for years. Messick took over some of his roles, like Mr. Peebles the pet shop owner on Magilla Gorilla, as well as the voice of Atom Ant. Howie worked for Filmation Studios, where he played numerous roles, including Jughead, on the various Archie cartoon shows. In fact, he was on most of the Filmation shows for years, and also worked for Disney voicing Gopher in the Winnie the Pooh featurettes, and for other studios. Then one day, Hanna-Barbera called again.

When Howie told this story, he always said the job was for the Jetsons revival, which was done in 1985…but he'd worked for them again a few years before that. In 1979, for instance, Hanna-Barbera produced a live-action TV special called The Legends of the Superheroes with various actors playing DC comic book characters. Howie, in a fit of apt casting, played Dr. Sivana, the arch-enemy of Captain Marvel.

Whatever it was, there came a day when Howie returned to the H-B Studios for the first time in more than a decade. He was very nervous about running into Joe Barbera, fearing there would be some sort of angry confrontation. He got through his business without encountering J.B. and then, just as he was turning to leave, he looked down a hallway and saw the handsome figure of Joseph Barbera coming his way. "Howie," he heard Barbera call out. Howie froze in fear…but Barbera came up to him, gave him a big hug and told him how happy he was to see him again after all those years.

"You're not going to throw me out?" he asked Joe.

"Of course not, Howie. Why would I throw you out?"

Howie stammered, "Well…the last time I was here, I told you to go fuck yourself."

Barbera grinned and said, "I took your advice."

Lalo

Posted on Sunday, May 23, 2004 at 12:45 AM

Some call Lalo Guerrero the King of Chicano music…or at least, the King of funny Chicano music. He's written and recorded some wonderful serious songs but a lot of us first knew him for his parodies and comedy tunes. He pressed his first record in '39 and followed it with hundreds more. I am not as schooled on his career as I'd like to be, but it seems like at one time or another, he recorded every kind of song he could think of, proving himself a master at all kinds of music. (If you'd like to learn more about him from someone who really does know about his career, try this article by his son Mark, who is following in his father's footsteps, occupation-wise.) Lalo has produced an astounding body of work and it has recently served as the basis for a new musical.

Last evening, my friend Carolyn and I attended a "workshop production" of Lalo, which was described as a work-in-progress. There are still some rough edges but it would not surprise me at all if the folks behind it can file them off, mount a full production and have themselves a genuine hit. Lalo's songs — most of them in English — are wovenly skillfully through the story of his life and the struggle to find his identity and success as a musician. A lot of that involved bridging the cultural divide between races, and a number of his early successes spun that problem to great advantage by burlesquing Mexican stereotypes.

This production was one of the first things to be staged in the new Ricardo Montalbán Theater, which is the old James Doolittle Theater in Hollywood. (And before that, it was the Huntington Hartford and before that, it was the CBS Radio Theater and so on…) It is now in the custody of a group that has renamed it for Señor Montalbán and which intends to mount theatrical productions for and by the Hispanic community. This is a much better use than the building has been put to for some time.

I have to mention something interesting about the set-up of the theater. A few years ago, there were a couple of plays like Noises Off and Footlight Frenzy that showed you backstage activities as seen from backstage. The back wall of the set in both those productions was a tableau of an audience and the actors often faced them so you were seeing their backs, as if you were on stage looking out at the seats. The current configuration at the Montalbán is that for real. They aren't using the 1100 theater-style seats in the house. The aisles have ramps that take you onto the actual stage, which is both the performing and seating area. You sit in folding chairs set on staggered risers that surround the performers on three sides. (I'm explaining this badly so try and imagine this: The actors are facing away from the fixed seats and the audience has been moved onto stage in front of them.) It's a very odd but intimate way to watch a small musical and I think it added to our enjoyment. The shows being mounted there are certainly too small for the whole, traditional stage…though I'm confident that, as the company flourishes, that will change.

Keeshan Legends

Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 at 9:20 PM

Here, just to tie together two recent topics on this page, is the cover of a Little Golden Record of Captain Kangaroo…with Mitch Miller and the Sandpipers. And I thought I'd answer a couple of messages I received asking about famous stories relating to Bob Keeshan. This one is from Mark Skertic…

Like just about everything on your website, I enjoyed your piece on Capt. Kangaroo. But given the history of the Keeshan's career that you outlined, does this mean the story often told about the last Howdy Doody show is not true? The story I've read several times is that on the very last show, Clarabelle ran around during the show with a sign promising a big surprise. Then, at the last minute, just before fade out, Clarabelle approached the camera and talked, for the first time, speaking the words, "Bye, kids?" So did that happen, and was that Clarabelle played by Keeshan?

Yes, Clarabelle did that on the last show in 1960 (He actually said, "Goodbye, kids.") but a gent named Lew Anderson was playing the role by then. Keeshan was long gone by then, having been fired in a purge just before Christmas of 1952.

In case you're interested in the chronology of Mr. Keeshan's shows: After being banned from Doodyville, he went off and took a job with his father-in-law but it didn't work out. He returned to television (local, in New York) in August of 1953 with a show called Time for Fun, in which the entire cast consisted of him as Corny the Clown, plus his dog. That was when he had to learn to speak on camera. Before '53 was out, he added a second show and a second character. On Tinker's Workshop, he played an old toymaker named Tinker. I've never seen any of these but Keeshan always told people that Captain Kangaroo was basically Tinker with more pockets in his coat.

Captain Kangaroo started on October 3, 1955. Most folks don't know it but that wasn't Keeshan's final characterization. During the 1964-1965 season, he turned up on CBS Saturday morning with a show called Mr. Mayor. Mr. Mayor looked and sounded exactly like Cap'n Kangaroo but he was a different guy in a different outfit and with a different set and supporting cast. (The set had a wonderful, elaborate toy train layout.) At the time, I wondered why Bob Keeshan was playing one guy Monday through Friday and a different but similar character on Saturday. When I finally met him, it was one of the first things I asked about and he told me the following story…

It seems that when Captain Kangaroo was launched, Keeshan had an unwanted partner. I think (but am not sure) he said it was related to the fact that the Captain had evolved out of the Tinker character so someone who had a business interest in that show wound up with a percentage of Captain Kangaroo. As he explained it, Keeshan was having trouble with this partner and finally decided he wanted to have total ownership and control of his character. He tried to buy out the partner's interest but when the guy declined, Keeshan threatened to give up Captain Kangaroo and to create a new character…one in which the partner would not share. The partner said, "You wouldn't dare," and Keeshan decided to go ahead with his bluff. When CBS decided they wanted to add a Saturday morning installment of Captain Kangaroo, Keeshan insisted he would do it as Mr. Mayor.

And he did. It was essentially a way to convince the partner that he was serious about abandoning Captain Kangaroo. "I was prepared to do that and continue as Mr. Mayor," he told me. "But what I really hoped was that it would convince him to sell out his interest in Kangaroo." That was how things played out. The partner sold out his share and the following season, the Saturday morning hour of Mr. Mayor was replaced by an hour of Captain Kangaroo. I always thought this was a fascinating story…how close Captain Kangaroo came to disappearing due to a business dispute.

Getting back to the urban legends, there are a dozen different stories around about Lee Marvin and Bob Keeshan serving together in the Marines. In most, they served heroically in Iwo Jima and were awarded many medals. In truth, Keeshan did serve in the Marines but never saw combat and never saw Lee Marvin. There are also stories about Keeshan accidentally uttering a naughty word or doing the show with his fly open, but as far as I know, those things never happened.