Gene Deitch, an animation director with a long and varied career, has penned an on-line autobiography which is presently posted on the Animation World Network site.  Here's a direct link to Mr. Deitch's memoirs, which are well worth the attention of any cartoon buff.

Any cartoon buff will also enjoy my pal Jerry Beck's website, Cartoon Research, from which I cribbed the above item.  In payment, I will plug an upcoming installment of Toon Heads, the Cartoon Network series that digs up rare or otherwise special films.  The episode that airs on Sunday, July 1 is subtitled "The Wartime Cartoons" and it's co-written by Jerry (with George Klein) and packed with clips and entire cartoons from that era.  That's Sunday, July 1 on the Cartoon Network.  It airs at 10:00 pm in most time zones but you'd better check, because you won't wanna miss it.

And another in my endless series of pals who write well — Andy Ihnatko — has a good article on comic collecting you can read here.  And you can access Andy's fun website at www.cwob.com.  Check out his portfolio of sketches featuring the Marvel character, Tigra.  You can reach that directly by clicking here.

As you probably know: when a movie filmed in widescreen format is shown on TV or retooled for home video, they do a process called "panning-and-scanning" to it, cropping the image for the smaller screen area.  Sometimes, we don't realize how much of the movie is missing due to this process.  If you'd like to see some examples that make this point, click here.

The DVD release of It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World is currently slated for 9/18/2001.  No word yet on when the complete 1776 will hit the same format.

The original production of Follies hit Broadway in April of 1971 and lasted a little more than a year (522 performances).  The book was by James Goldman, the songs were by Stephen Sondheim, and the whole affair was a critical but not a financial success.  Briefly, Follies is the tale of a troupe of former showgirls who once trod the runways for an impresario not unlike Flo Ziegfeld.  The theatre where they once starred as Weisman Follies girls is about to be razed to make way for a parking lot…and so they gather for one last celebration, bringing along memories and a few long-unresolved feelings.

Front and center among the dangling problems is that one of them, Sally, still has feelings for an old beau, Ben, who married her best friend, Phyllis.  They all sing about their problems, the other showgirls reprise their big numbers of yore and, at times, ghostly images of their younger selves appear to perform flashbacks or even to interact with the present-day players.  Everyone, of course, luxuriates in the Sondheim score, which contains some of his richest music and lyrics.

After any number of false alarms, Follies finally returned to Broadway last March with a new production, courtesy of the Roundabout Theatre Company, which offers the world a mix of new, experimental plays and revivals of neglected classics.  It stars Blythe Danner, Gregory Harrison, Judith Ivey, Treat Williams, Betty Garrett, Polly Bergen, Marni Nixon and any number of other fine performers.  Reviews have been mixed, the Tony awards passed them over, and the production is closing in mid-July, well before its producers hoped.  One might say that a few of the actors could have been or should have been stronger in their roles…and one would be correct.  One might also say that the sets and costumes are not as opulent as the material requires…and, again, one would be correct.  Still, this "one" had an utterly terrific time watching a show that pulls the emotions in any number of directions, often simultaneously.

My friend Carolyn made the comment that she'd loved the score for years and welcomed this chance to hear all those songs in proper dramatic context.  That was one of the joys for me, as well…as it will be for anyone who can get to the Belasco Theatre before July 14.

I'll probably do you a favor if I don't rave overlong about the new musical version of The Producers, which I saw last Wednesday evening.  Is it good?  Yes.  Is it a wonderful evening in the theatre?  Again, yes.  Is it as spectacularly earth-shattering wonderful as the reviews, buzz, Tony Awards and wait for tickets would lead you to believe?  No…but what could be?  "The new Mel Brooks musical" — as all the blurbs call it, presumably to distinguish it from all the old Mel Brooks musicals — is funny, clever and never for one moment dull, and Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick are both sensational.

I laughed a lot — more so at the new lines, than those recycled from the film, which so many of us know by heart and incorporate in our everyday speech.  A lot of the old dialogue isn't quite as wonderful in the new, faster-paced, leading-up-to-the-next song context, plus Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder are hard acts to follow.  On the other hand, I suspect at least a passing familiarity with the movie is required to fully appreciate the stage version, which hustles past some of the plot points as if you already know them.  [NOTE: If you haven't already heard about the screen-to-stage plot changes and don't want to, stop reading now.]  L.S.D., the role played by Dick Shawn in the movie, is gone.  Instead, author Franz Liebkind is cast as Hitler but, thirty minutes before curtain on opening night, he breaks a leg and the appallingly-gay director Roger DeBris goes on in his place.  If the idea is that the cast substitution is what causes Springtime for Hitler to turn into a successful comedy romp, it's a pretty illogical notion, as DeBris is perfectly cast in the campy production they've doubtlessly been prepping for weeks.  Makes you wonder what fuhrer-lover Liebkind was doing during rehearsals.

So that makes no sense and you know what?  It doesn't matter.  Because by the time we get to that scene, the audience is hopelessly in love with Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, The Producers, everything.  We forgive it and certain other leaps o' logic — or perhaps mentally transpose them from the movie — because we're having too good a time to stop and quibble.  Some of the songs are funny but quickly-forgettable, and the newly-injected romantic subplot between Leo Bloom (Broderick) and Swedish secretary Ulla (Cady Huffman) comes close to slowing up the proceedings.  But through it all, we're having way too good a time to care.

Lane is, as always, very funny.  He has that star quality of insistence.  Something about him insists you watch his every move and gesture, for all are amusing.  Broderick has the harder task and his version of Bloom starts out a bit too cartoony, squeaky voice and all, but soon wins you over.  The whole cast is pretty good but I would single out Brad Oscar, who plays the Nazi playwright, for special praise.  This is because he genuinely stops the show with one of his numbers, "Haben Sie Gehoert Das Deutsche Band?", not because he arranged for me to get house seats.  (Thank you again, Brad!)

Getting to see The Producers is, of course, the current great sign of status.  Everywhere we went in Manhattan, folks were asking us, "How'd you get tickets?" as if we'd just booked passage on the Space Shuttle.  I'm told that if one calls TeleCharge, they're talking May of 2002 as the next availability for good seats…which is amazing, if true.  Lane and Broderick have only announced their intent to stay through March, so some purchasers are gambling they'll stay longer or — less likely — be replaced by someone equally wonderful.  And of course, it's become a huge guessing game to speculate on who that might be, either on Broadway or in the countless touring companies and regional productions yet to come.  I have a feeling it'll wind up being like The Odd Couple or The Sunshine Boys which, eventually, provided work for every single actor in America who could read a funny line.  And I still think it would be terrific if Mel Brooks goes to prison because he expected the whole enterprise to fail and secretly sold 25,000% of the play to investors.  Wouldn't that be wonderful?

It's not something that will ever make my résumé but last year, I worked for two months at Stan Lee Media, the Internet company founded to promote the new creations of the exiled guru of the Marvel Universe.  My personal affection 'n' respect for Stan sucked me into an enterprise that everyone seemed to know was doomed, at least under its then-current configuration.  I am pleased to report that the affection and respect remain undiminished even though I got the hell outta there in July, six months before the operation crashed and burned.  Since then, four individuals — none of them, of course, Stan — have been indicted for some version of stock fraud and/or manipulation.  I understand very little of how it allegedly worked but this article and this article may explain it for you.

A recommendation: I have most of my video and audio equipment in Rackit™ units I purchased from Per Madsen Design in San Francisco.  They sell these wonderful, modular wooden units that are relatively easy to assemble (especially if you have a power drill, though I've done them without) and very sturdy.  You select a base, with or without wheels, and a tabletop…then, in-between them, you can stack a VCR rack, drawers for CDs, shelves for tapes, etc.  In other words, you design your own cabinet with shelves or drawers wherever you want them.  Browse their catalog or order at www.rackittm.com.

Lastly: If I owe you an e-mail, please be patient.  I'm having tech problems sending them out, and even greater problems reaching anyone at my Internet Service Provider with an I.Q. over double digits.  It should all be cleared up in a day or three.  I hope.

A new trend in show biz biographies is something I call a "corrective."  You, famous and beloved celebrity that you are, pen your autobiography.  Then, a few years later — probably after you're dead — someone else writes the book that unearths your skeletons and says, in effect, "He made half that stuff up.  Here's what really happened."  For example, Joseph McBride's Frank Capra: The Catastrophe of Success was a corrective to Capra's own The Name Above The Title.

One of my favorite Broadway memoirs, Moss Hart's Act One, now has a corrective in Dazzler: The Life and Times of Moss Hart, a new book by Steven Bach.  Hart's widow, Kitty Carlisle-Hart, declined to cooperate, possibly because Bach was interested in things like Moss's sexuality, which he suggests (on pretty vague evidence, it would appear) was diverse.  Bach is also at times overly-critical of Hart's lesser works and seems to dwell overlong on the negatives of many projects.  Still, he has unearthed an amazing array of facts about the man, many of them contrary to what Hart himself wrote in Act One.  For instance, most of that autobiography is about how he got his first play — Once In A Lifetime, co-written with George S. Kaufman — to Broadway, and how everything was riding on its success.  Bach reveals that Hart had already had one (unsuccessful) play on Broadway and also that, when Once In A Lifetime went up, he already had a contract for further work.

Dazzler is full of things like that…facts we needed to know, even though they undermine some of the drama and fun of Hart's version.  More interesting to me are the corrections made to previously-published works about the making of My Fair Lady, which Hart directed.  These chapters act as a corrective to another of my favorite autobiographies, Alan Jay Lerner's The Street Where I Live.

I suppose my main complaint about Dazzler is that much of it is dry and that it keeps its subject at arm's length.  Hart wrote or co-wrote brilliant comedies and was constantly around brilliant, witty people, but this book is curiously unfunny and remote.  This surprised me because I really enjoyed Bach's previous book, Final Cut: Dreams and Disaster in the Making of Heaven's Gate.  Bach was the studio exec who shepherded Michael Cimino's famously over-budget flop and his recollections were fascinating and involving, perhaps because he was involved.  But his new book isn't, and it also sets me to wondering about the accuracy of all first-hand accounts, including his own.  Perhaps, even now, someone is working on a "corrective" to Final Cut.

Sight unseen, I'm going to recommend The John Buscema Sketchbook, a forthcoming release from my pal J. David Spurlock and his Vanguard Press.  (How can I recommend a book I haven't seen?  Well, I've seen David's other entries in his "sketchbook" series about folks like Al Williamson, Carmine Infantino and Neal Adams, so I know he always does his subjects justice.  And I know the work of this subject.  John Buscema has been a comic book "workhorse" for years but, boy, he draws better than just about anybody.  Matter of fact, I expect I'll find his "sketchbook" even more interesting than his finished art.  During all those years drawing for Marvel, John would routinely flip over the page he was drawing and sketch something, just for his own amusement, on the back.  Collectors of original art actively seek out these little treasures and fret over which side of the page is more deserving of framing.)

An e-mail from David informs us that the book is doing to press shortly, despite the fact that his ad didn't make it into the May issue of Previews, the catalog from which comic book shops advance-order their wares.  It has to go to press in order to be out for this year's Comic-Con International in San Diego, where Mr. Buscema will be making a rare West Coast appearance.  (I'll be conducting an interview with him on Thursday at 1:00 and he'll be part of a Marvel Bullpen Reunion on Saturday at 4:00.)  This means that the deluxe edition — signed and numbered by Buscema and including a bonus portfolio — may be in short supply.  There will be other editions later but you might want to keep your eye peeled for the fancy $39.95 one…perhaps tell your local comic shop owner and reserve a copy.  For more info, peek in at www.creativemix.com/vanguard.

Frightening statistics dept.: Gary Grossmann is a rabid fan of Groo and other aberrant comic books that I do with Sergio Aragonés.  He's been helping me with a complete Groo Index that will soon be added to this site and he informs me that, as of today, we have done 3793 pages of Groo stories.  Looking at our back-up features, we find 75 pages of Sage stories, 59 pages of Rufferto stories, 9 pages of Li'l Groo stories, 6 pages of The Minstrel, 6 pages of Pal & Drumm, 35 puzzle pages, and 68 misc. pages.  All of this comes out to a total of 4051 pages.  This does not include the letter pages or the covers, and there have been something like 200 covers.  Sergio is, by the way, presently drawing the first issue of our next Groo mini-series, which is subtitled "Death and Taxes."  Neither of us have any idea when it'll be out…or even what happens in the second issue.

Steve Gibson runs Gibson Research at www.grc.com.  I don't know the man except by rep.  He's a world-class expert on computer security and his efforts, wholly independent, have exposed numerous flaws in commercial software, most notably flaws that might allow someone to bust into computer and steal data.  I admire his efforts, and was fascinated to read his story about how his own site was recently knocked off-line by a hacker who turned out to be a 13-year-old kid!  Here's a direct link to his article, parts of which are way too technical for me and probably for you, as well.  But you should be able to get the gist of it.

Showtime recently ran a fine documentary called Hail Caesar!, all about the various Sid Caesar TV shows.  It did not perpetuate all of the popular misconceptions we've mentioned here — though somehow, a lot more attention was paid to Woody Allen than to Mel Tolkin and Lucille Kallen.  However, as reader B. Baker points out to me, they did decide that Larry Gelbart had won an Oscar for writing the movie, Tootsie.  This will come as news to Mr. Gelbart, who believes he was nominated but beaten by the guy who wrote Gandhi.  It's apparently one of those "press recount" deals like they've been doing in Florida.

Good article by William Raspberry on the allegations of vandalism at the White House by departing Clinton staffers.  Here's the link and, if you're in a hurry, just read the last couple of paragraphs.

Noel Blanc, son of Mel, discusses his work and his father's in this article.  And there's a nice interview with Stan Freberg over at The Onion.  Here's a direct link to that.

Today, we have a correction to make.  In an article on this site, I state that the first voice job done by the great Stan Freberg was for a Warner Brothers cartoon called For He's A Jolly Good Fala.  It involved him doing an impression of Franklin Delano Roosevelt but when F.D.R. died, the cartoon was scrapped and never completed.  (Some of the material that was animated for it, none of which included Stan's vocal work, later turned up in the cartoon, Fresh Airedale, directed by Chuck Jones — this, despite the fact that the Fala cartoon was reportedly directed by Bob Clampett.)  That all seems to be true.  But then I said that Stan's first completed cartoon was Bugs Bunny and the Three Bears (1944) wherein he played the role of Junior Bear.

This is apparently not correct, even though it's the popular wisdom and was once confirmed by Mr. Freberg.  As absolutely no one has pointed out to me since that column was first published and as I just realized last evening, Roosevelt died in April of 1945.  So that scenario doesn't track, especially since Bugs Bunny and the Three Bears was released in February of '44, more than a year before Roosevelt's death.  (There's also no evidence that the large baby bear was called Junior Bear — or Junyer, as it was sometimes spelled — until the character was revived years later.  By the way, Fresh Airedale was released in August of '45.)

Moreover, Stan recalls getting his first cartoon job, whatever it was, in the Summer of 1944 — and that was long after the Three Bears cartoon had passed through theaters.  And he recalls recording his first cartoon on the set of the Humphrey Bogart movie, The Big Sleep.  This may be a slight error on his part, as sources indicate that The Big Sleep began filming in October of '44 and finished early in 1945.

Listening to Bugs Bunny and the Three Bears, I'm inclined to agree with voice actor/expert Keith Scott, and with Graham Webb in The Animated Film Encyclopedia, that the big baby bear was voiced in that film by Kent Rogers.  Rogers was the studio's best celebrity impressionist for a number of years.  He did all the male mimicry in Hollywood Steps Out and was the original voice of Beaky Buzzard — an imitation of Edgar Bergen's Mortimer Snerd — in Bugs Bunny Gets The Boid.  He sometimes also did non-impression roles…most notably, Horton the Elephant in Horton Hatches The Egg.  A fine acting career was cut short when he went into the Air Force and became a casualty of World War II.  The Internet Movie Database, though a most useful resource, erroneously credits him with a role in the 1959 Teenagers From Outer Space.

Stan took over the role of Junior/Junyer Bear when the character returned, with his Maw and Paw, in 1948's What's Brewin', Bruin?  He also performed it for their subsequent appearances:  The Bee-Deviled Bruin ('49), Bear Feat (also '49) and A Bear for Punishment (1951) and took over some other voices that had been originated by others, such as Bertie of "Hubie and Bertie."  Contrary to several reference books and the ever-fallible Internet Movie Database, he was not in the 1943 film that introduced those mice, The Aristo-Cat.  In that cartoon, they were voiced by WB storymen Tedd Pierce and Michael Maltese.

Mr. Freberg is probably correct that his first job was the F.D.R. imitation and it may even have been in the Summer of '44.  As Keith notes, WB sometimes did record voice tracks up to a year before a cartoon was to be released.  My guess is that it was Freberg's second or third cartoon that was recorded on the set of The Big Sleep.  Now, as for what that cartoon was…well, I think I know but, having been once-burned, I want to do more research — and huddle with both Keith and Stan — before I say so in public.  So watch this space for what will I hope will be a complete filmography for Freberg's cartoon voice work.  And any day now, I should be able to announce a rather exciting new project which I'm working on with Stan.

P.S. Keith Scott was the principle subject of the column I'm correcting on this page, and you can read that column by clicking here.  Not only that but you can hear some of his incredible vocal feats by visiting his site, which is — you guessed it, cousin — www.keithscott.com.

Good article by Michael Kinsley (here) on the Republicans' silly belief that they have some sort of mandate or entitlement to lead.  What I'd like to see is someone point up the inherent silliness of talking about "the reds vs. the blues" and showing the map of which states went for Gore and which went for Bush.  They keep talking like everyone in the blue states voted for Gore and everyone in the red went for Bush.  Here's Jonah Goldberg in The National Review…

Everyone knows what RvB refers to.  The electoral map of the United States shows a stark political split in America that tracks geographically.  The blue parts hug the coasts and the major urban centers.  This is Gore country.  The red parts form the vast bulk of the United States — "fly-over country" according to people who order off-menu.  This is Bush country.

Will someone point out to these people that the red states are full of Gore supporters?  (Bush won Nevada 49%-46% and Tennessee 51%-48%)  And the blue states are full of people who wanted Bush.  (Gore won Iowa 49%-48% and Oregon by less than 1%)  Gore won New Mexico by less than 400 votes and, of course, we all know about Florida.  Even the landslide states contain hundreds of thousands of Americans who wanted the other guy.  Why are we pretending they don't exist and that the whole state represents one mindset?  Frankly, I think most of the states should be colored purple.

Programming note: Starting Monday, June 11, the Trio cable network is running old episodes of Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In, Monday through Friday…and they're running them in the hour format, with only a few trims to accommodate more commercials.  These shows were briefly (and unsuccessfully) syndicated in chopped-up half-hours some time ago; oughta be interesting to see them today.  Of course, unless you have a satellite dish, you probably won't.  Not very many cable companies in this country carry Trio.

I want to elaborate on something mentioned earlier here.  There have been many histories written or, more often, written and televised about the making of Sid Caesar's various TV shows: Admiral Broadway Revue, Your Show of Shows, Caesar's Hour, Sid Caesar Invites You, As Caesar Sees It and a couple of subsequent specials.  Way too often, they treat the whole body of work as if it were one program called Your Show of Shows.  Not true.  Then they act as if anyone who was a writer on any of them was a writer on Your Show of Shows.  Also not true.  And, most annoyingly, they focus disproportionately on those writers who are today well-known for their other work — especially Woody Allen, who actually did relatively little work for Caesar and did it later, when Sid was generally in decline.  The core of Caesar's writing staff over the years was Mel Tolkin, Lucille Kallen and Mel Brooks plus Neil and Danny Simon.  To this were added, at various times — but after Your Show of Shows — Tony Webster, Larry Gelbart, Sheldon Keller, Gary Belkin, Aaron Ruben, Selma Diamond, Joe Stein, Lou Solomon, Mike Stewart, Woody Allen and a few others.  Sid, Carl Reiner and Howie Morris were also involved in the writing process, though they did not receive credit as writers.

For what it's worth, when I worked with Sid in the eighties, he told me that, as far as he was concerned, Kallen and the two Mels had probably, between the three of them, accounted for around 75% of everything he did on TV…and Imogene Coca felt that Kallen had written most of her best material.  So it was a little maddening that, when Lucille Kallen passed away, most of the obits made it sound like her great achievement was being one of the writers, along with Larry Gelbart and Woody Allen, on Your Show of Shows.  (Larry spends a lot of time correcting people who think he worked on that series and also that he somehow "created"  M*A*S*H, long after it was a book and a movie.)

This may all seem kinda trivial, and perhaps it is.  But if we can't get this stuff right when most of the people involved are still alive and being interviewed, what hope do we have of knowing who did what, a hundred years from now?

One of the great things about writing comic books is also one of the bad things:  It demands constant and consistent output over a long period of time.  To make anything resembling a living, you have to write three or four complete stories a month, often juggling them simultaneously, finishing one and then leaping, sans hiatus, to the next.  The playwright, George S. Kaufman, once said to Irving Thalberg, when Thalberg was demanding a certain script be handed in, "Do you want it good or do you want it Thursday?"  Writing comics is one of those fields where the answer is, "We want it as good as you can make it by Thursday."  The assembly-line hand-offs require us to keep churning it out.  And churning it out and churning it out.

There have been some very prolific writers in comic history — Robert Kanigher, Joe Gill, Gardner Fox, Paul S. Newman, Vic Lockman — and while he might fall short of matching those gents in page count, no one has maintained a consistent standard over more tales than Denny O'Neil.  Folks who recall his fine work on Batman and on Green Lantern/Green Arrow sometimes forget that all of that represents a fraction of the work he's done…and not a very large fraction.  How does he do it?  He tells some (not all) in a new book out any day now…The DC Comics Guide to Writing Comics.  I'm among several "guest lecturers" who inhabit its pages but never mind that.  Anyone who aspires to be a writer — and not just a comic book writer but a writer of anything — can profit from reading what Denny has to say about story construction, pacing, crafting expressive dialogue, etc.  End of plug.

I expected not to like Laughter on the 23rd Floor, the new Showtime movie written by Neil Simon and drawn from his days working for Sid Caesar.  Critics have been generally unkind to it and, besides, I liked but did not love the Broadway play of the same name, which also starred Nathan Lane in a role corresponding to Mr. Caesar.  But of course, I had to watch this new work, fascinated as I am by the history of Your Show of Shows and Caesar's other programs.  (And isn't it interesting that, with no other TV show, do we see so little of the show itself but get endless documentaries and dramatizations about the backstage stuff and the writers' room?)  But I really enjoyed the film, in large part because I thought Mssrs. Simon and Lane, working seamlessly in tandem, etched an amazingly-penetrating portrait of Mr. Caesar.

That was, for me, missing in the stage version, where Lane seemed to be playing Jackie Gleason, and Simon seemed to be extra-cautious about not offending his former colleagues.  Neither is the case in the TV-movie, which skews more dramatic and gets more in-depth, not about the Camelot aspects of the Caesar output but of its slow, pain-filled disintegration.  For good or ill, it all struck me as an honest portrait, if not of reality, then certainly of the reality Simon witnessed.  And for those of you who need help with the little game of Who Represents Who?, here's a quick crib sheet…

• Max Prince was based on Sid Caesar and played by Nathan Lane
• Val was based on Mel Tolkin and played by Mark-Linn Baker
• Milt was based on Sheldon Keller and played by Dan Castellaneta
• Carol was based on Lucille Kallen and played by Peri Gilpin
• Kenny was based on Neil Simon and played by MacKenzie Astin
• Lucas was based on Larry Gelbart and played by Victor Garber
• Ira was based on Mel Brooks and played by Saul Rubinek
• Harry was based on Dave Caesar and played by Richard Portnow
• Brian was based on Tony Webster and played by Zach Grenler

Were it not for its roman à clef simplifications, this film might be the definitive biographical portrait of Sid Caesar, but I suspect it won't be.

Sweet, brilliant and sometimes even more befuddled off-screen than on, Imogene Coca has left us.  She was 92 and had been in and out of a Connecticut rest home, trying to fashion an autobiography between flare-ups of Alzheimer's.  We hear so much — rightly so — about the comedic genius that is Sid Caesar.  We hear not nearly enough about the lady who could do everything he did, plus go out and do a strenuous, hilarious dance routine while Sid, Carl and Howie were backstage changing for the next sketch…which she was also in.  All three men agreed that she had the hardest job on Your Show of Shows and the toughest constitution.  She may even have been the funniest.  I was fortunate enough to work with Imogene a few times.  She was a true delight and way too unassuming for her own good.

Once, when she was showing me around her New York apartment, I noticed an Emmy Award that was broken in two.  I asked how long it had been in pieces and she said, "Oh, it came that way."  She'd had it more than 40 years.  I told her that, during that time, she could have called the Academy and gotten a replacement.  She shrugged and replied, "Oh, I didn't want to bother them.  I figured I might win another one someday."

It was said without a scintilla of ego.  It just wasn't that important to her.

This was in 1994.  I had arranged while I was in Manhattan to take her to see the on-stage version of Laughter on the 23rd Floor, the Neil Simon play that referenced his days writing for Your Show of Shows.  Since I was bringing her, it was arranged for us to sit in Mr. Simon's house seats.

A few days before, Imogene began to worry that her attendance would be exploited for publicity purposes.  She was bothered, she told me, that all the articles and retrospectives about Your Show of Shows were giving less than proper credit to Lucille Kallen, who — in Imogene's opinion — wrote her best material.  She said, "I'd feel bad if I were used to promote a play that didn't give Lucille her due."  To prevent this, I called the theater's manager (or someone in his office) and was assured that Ms. Coca could attend, quietly and without fanfare.

That was insufficient promise for Imogene, who told me she was developing a "bad feeling" about it.  She asked if we could go to some other show and I did some reshuffling.  The night after, I was going to take another friend — cartoonist Carol Lay — to see Crazy For You, so I swapped dates.  I took Carol to Laughter on the 23rd Floor, with Nathan Lane brilliantly playing Jackie Gleason and calling him Max Prince, who was supposed to be Sid Caesar.  At the close of the performance, an obviously-professional photographer scurried down the aisle and began searching the front rows, looking in vain for Imogene Coca.

The next night, I took that very person to Crazy For You.  We dined first at Sardi's, where the reception could not have been more regal, had I arrived with Princess Margaret on my arm.  Mr. Sardi himself came over, kissed her and told me I was with the most talented woman in the business.  Yeah, like I didn't already know that.  Then, at the show, an array of fans approached her, endorsing that view.  One was a tall, skinny young gent who insisted on serenading her with the entire theme song of It's About Time, a short-lived situation comedy she did in the sixties.  Another was an even younger man who asked if she was — quote: "the old lady in National Lampoon's Vacation."  When she said she was, he asked with genuine curiosity, "Have you done anything else?"

After a few such folks, she turned to me with a genuine amazement and said, "You know, I think this is the first time I've been out in public and nobody's mentioned Sid Caesar."  But then the next fan to approach spoiled that record.

Following the performance, she asked if we could walk around the theatre district, where she hadn't ventured in many years.  We walked past the St. James Theater wherein, in '78, she scored a triumph with her performance in On The Twentieth Century.  We walked past Mamma Leone's restaurant and she recalled some wonderful parties that were held there, back in the Caesar days.  We stopped in front of a video store where there was a display from the Vacation movie and she said, "You know, I don't remember a thing about making that film…and when I saw it, I didn't have any idea what was going on.  I died in it and it was supposed to be funny.  I don't think that's funny."

She died this morning for real and I don't think that's funny, either.  One of the very few times she wasn't.

The late Bob Crane was best known as the star of Hogan's Heroes, though I recall him from when he was a darn good disc jockey/radio personality on KNX here in Los Angeles.  How he became "the late" Bob Crane apparently had a lot to do with his penchant for having sex with a wide array of women and taking pictures of these encounters.  Well, Bob Crane, Jr. is publishing a book…a fancy pictorial history of his father's life, including a generous sampling of the motel room photographs.  So if you're dying to see a dead sitcom star in the act of humping Denny's waitresses whose faces have been digitally obscured, hurry on over to www.bobcrane.com.

(Sarcasm Alert: I am not actually suggesting you purchase said volume or even visit the website.  I'm just reporting it because it's so weird and because it substantiates my theory that, eventually, every single piece of writing, video or audio that has ever existed will be available on the Internet.  Yes, that includes the Polaroids you keep in that shoebox in the back of the closet under your old sleeping bag.)