An early appearance on The Merv Griffin Show by the great handler of cards, Ricky Jay…

• Searched TV all day for someone talking sense. The closest was a little black girl who wants to turn her brother into a puppy.

I'm still kinda reeling from yesterday's Supreme Court decisions on Gay Marriage. So in a different way are the folks who've dedicated their lives (often, quite profitably) to stopping that. A lot of them are complaining about the Justices who effectively invalidated California's Proposition 8, thereby overruling "the will of the electorate." But as William Saletan notes, that's the electorate of years ago they're talking about. The electorate of California today would defeat a new Proposition 8 so soundly that no one will dare introduce one. Having lost a lot of elections lately, the forces who think they can stop Same-Sex Wedlock will presumably be wise enough not to initiate any votes anywhere unless they're really, really sure they can win by a landslide.

And again, we see Congressfolks and Senators calling for a Constitutional Amendment that will reverse some legal setback. We need to institute a tax: Every time a public figure calls for a new Constitutional Amendment and it goes nowhere, they have to pay the treasury a thousand dollars. We'd pay off the deficit in no time. (What is the actual precentage of such proposals that ever get as far as actual proposals? I'm guessing it's way under 1%.)

I'm pretty happy about this. No, the Supremes didn't make Gay Marriage the law of the entire land…but that gives many of those who oppose it the chance to slowly come around and accept. Not all of them will but enough. Give 'em time. Some of them are going to be pretty shocked that it doesn't destroy their own heterosexual marriages and bring the wrath of God down on the United States…though we can count on it being blamed for the next few tornados, earthquakes and Super Bowl outcomes.

What I'm wondering is how long a certain segment of the right will keep falling for apocalyptic predictions that don't come true. How many times does Pat Robertson have to be wrong about the earth being destroyed before people wonder if maybe, just maybe, that same God who assured him Mitt Romney would win big has these guys on his Do Not Call list?

In the past, I plugged the many theatrical productions of the Reprise Theatre Company here in Los Angeles. They did generally-marvelous short-term revivals of past Broadway musicals, working wonders with limited budgets and even-more-limited rehearsal schedules. I thought it was a great enterprise and I was proud to get involved with them, serving as "expert" for some of their Saturday lectures.

The main reason Reprise shows were so good is that top-notch people hired other top-notch people. The secondary reason may have been that they spent considerably more money on most of their productions than they took in. For a time, donations and fund-raisers managed to keep things afloat but the economy is what it is and costs are up and they had to abort their last season partway through and go on hiatus. Sad to say, it's become permanent: We who subscribed or worked with them all received e-mails the other day saying, basically, that they couldn't find a financial path to resuming…so no more Reprise.

That's a shame. I loved about 85% of everything I saw there, which is way above my appreciation level of all other shows I go see. The more I learned about how little time they had to prep, the more impressed I was. I often attended opening nights when you'd think there'd still be bugs and mistakes but I can't recall any more than I've seen in long-running Broadway hits. I'm going to miss those shows…a lot.

Have I ever mentioned here how much I like Audra McDonald's singing? She's just wonderful. If you aren't familiar with her work, click below and become an instant fan…

Regarding the bogus scandal that Obama directed the Internal Revenue to target right-wing groups, Andrew Sullivan has a memo to Peggy Noonan.

And you know, I used to like Peggy Noonan. I think I linked to a lot of her pieces here a while back. But she, like a lot of people who are desperate for an Obama impeachment, have resorted to just plain lying.

That's right: I said "Three brief topics" —

1. I'm taking a brief respite from the discussions of who played Superman at the 1940 World's Fair. We'll get back to it in a few days.
2. I'm starting to feel sorry for Paula Deen and to feel that the punishment does not fit the crime. Note that I'm talking about the specific wrong that Ms. Deen may have done, not the general wrong that is most racism. It's feeling to me like some folks are getting the two confused.
3. The knee is getting better…not as rapidly as I'd hoped/expected but it is getting better. I oughta be fine for Comic-Con and if not, Tony Isabella has volunteered to give me piggyback rides from room to room. Thanks to all who've sent well wishes for a speedy recovery. You may soon need to send those to Tony.

This is a rerun of an old video I embedded here years ago but that link is dead and this is a much better copy, away. Here's what I wrote at the time…

Tonight Show clips from the sixties are very rare. As you may know, most of the tapes were erased…an act about which Mr. J. Carson was known to curse and moan. I once heard an NBC exec complain about Johnny's complaining, saying (in effect) that for a very modest amount of cash — or even for nothing if he'd demanded it of the network — Johnny could have had those shows preserved. But he knew they were being dumped and said nothing about it for more than ten years…whereupon NBC suddenly became the villains who'd destroyed his heritage.

I wouldn't take sides in that debate, and there may be more to it than the above. All I know is it's nice when a new clip surfaces…like these from the Tonight Show for New Year's Eve, 1965/1966. This was back when the show was based in New York and the bandleader (who you'll see briefly in the second clip) was Skitch Henderson.

This features Criswell, who I wrote about back here. Criswell, with his pompous manner and daffy forecasts, appeared at least annually with Mr. Carson for about a decade, usually around the first of the year. You'll notice he's reading awkwardly from cards. This was probably to make sure he did all the lines in the right order. Johnny, obviously, was sitting there with a page of pre-written "ad-libs" to inject after each Criswell Prediction if and when it suited him. (Carson knew enough to only glance down at them when Criswell was speaking, so the attention and camera were elsewhere but you can catch Johnny peeking once or twice.)

As the years went along, Carson took to mocking Criswell more and more with each appearance. The last few times, it got pretty insulting. Don Rickles was also a guest on what I think was Criswell's last time on the show, and he and Johnny just howled at the silly predictions and at the style with which they were delivered. I remember some TV critic of the day writing that Carson and Rickles had gone too far with embarrassing a guest…but I doubt Criswell minded. You could tell that he didn't even believe his own act…and besides, it was still the best show biz exposure he ever had. Pretty much anything is better than his previous claim to fame, which was starring in movies directed by Ed Wood, including Plan 9 From Outer Space.

And now without further ado, here's Criswell…

I don't understand a lot of the logic behind this morning's rulings on Gay Marriage. Scalia's dissent in the overturning of the Defense of Marriage Act reads to me like the rebuttal to his support the day before in the castration of the Voting Rights Act. I once heard someone on TV say of the High Court, "These guys decide how they want it to go in the same way that you and I decide how we want it to go. The difference is that they then have to look at the statutes and legal precedents and figure out how to parse them to justify the decision as based on law, not emotions." I'd like to believe that isn't always the case but clearly there's something to that.

Among folks I consider close friends, I don't think I have any who think that Same-Sex Wedlock will doom "real marriage" or humanity or cause God to smite us all. There were some a few years ago but they all seem to have "evolved" or maybe just accepted reality. Sometimes when you find yourself on the losing side, it's easier to get off the team before the final inning.

I just turned off the TV news coverage, having seen a spate of outraged dissenters promising, "This battle isn't over." It's understandable that we should hear that, especially from folks who've been able to demagogue the anti-gay position for a lot of money and/or attention…and they're right, in one sense, on a state-by-state basis. It'll be years before Adam and Steve can walk down the aisle in some states. But I dunno…if I was against Gay Marriage, I think I'd invest my time, donations and support in some cause that has a chance of succeeding.

Yay.

So everyone's saying that the Supreme Court decision on Gay Marriage will be rolled out tomorrow at 10 AM Eastern Time. Those who predict what the Supremes will decree have been wrong enough lately that I'm ignoring all forecasts but they're probably right about the When.

As readers of this blog know, I think it's shameful that gay folks even have to make the case that they should be allowed to marry whoever they want to marry. Given how public opinion has shifted on this issue, I'm sure we will see the end of that in the foreseeable future. It would be great if the Supreme Court could get us to that day tomorrow but I suspect a split decision of some kind is more likely. The New Yorker has whipped up an interactive chart that shows us how each possible combination of the two pending decisions would impact the states.

Ten minutes of Merv Griffin interviewing Gene Wilder in 1979…

Some folks are telling me the first day cover envelopes that make the rounds, including the one I posted, are either forgeries or they're real FDCs that have had additional art and text added to them at a later date. That may be so — I dunno — but that only underscores the central question if we're to unlock this mystery: Where did the identification of Ray Middleton as the guy in the Superman suit come from? The first time someone said it was him, what was the source? Anyone know?

My knee surgery yesterday reminded me of a Tale of My Mother I haven't told yet. You'll see the punchline to this one coming well before we get to it.

Over the years, due in no small part to a lifetime of cigarettes, she was losing her ability to walk. Both legs were very bad and her right knee hurt her terribly. One of her legion of doctors finally told her that knee replacements would be necessary. They'd do one and then after she had recovered from that surgery — and that could take quite a while — they'd do the other. My mother didn't like the idea of such extreme surgery but she less liked the idea of not being able to walk. Extensive x-rays and tests were done and a date for the first operation was set. A few days before, I took her into the hospital to meet the surgeon who'd actually be performing the procedure. He announced, much to her horror, "We're going to do the left knee first."

This was to her horror because the right knee was the one that had really been aching her. She knew both were bad but the left knee, at least, didn't hurt much. She asked, "Can't you do the right knee first, doctor?" He put the x-ray up on one of those wall-mounted lightboxes and began pointing out things on it that we would both have to have graduated medical school to understand.

"I understand the right knee's the one giving you pain," he said when he finally dialed it down to Layman's English. "But the left one is the one that's about to go. It could just about explode on you at any time. If we do the right knee first and then the left one goes before you can get around on the right knee, you'll really have trouble."

She understood that but said, "I just dread the idea of having to get around on the painful right knee for six or more months."

It was at this point that I asked the question that you would have asked, too: "Doctor…I apologize in advance for this but could you just please humor me for a second? Could you check and see if these x-rays you're pointing at aren't mixed-up?"

"Certainly," he said. He put each x-ray in turn up on the lightbox for even closer study and within moments, we heard him exclaim with his own horror and embarrassment, "Jesus Christ…these are mislabeled." The left said RIGHT on it and the right said LEFT on it.

He was furious with the folks in the x-ray department and he immediately picked up the phone and read someone the Riot Act, the Trespass Act, the Stamp Act and at least two of the three acts of The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton Under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade. He assured us repeatedly that the mistake would have been caught well before they operated but…well, the whole thing would have made you uneasy, too. We went to my mother's primary care physician who, in addition to being a brilliant and trustworthy man who'd taken care of her for many decades, was a senior official with the hospital.

He read the remaining act of Marat/Sade to many people and I think got someone fired or at least transferred to a less critical position. I imagined this person being reassigned to the hospital cafeteria and sitting there all day, labeling the egg salad sandwiches as tuna. At her primary doctor's urging though, we agreed to trust the surgeon we'd met with.

Well, almost trust. The morning of the operation before I took her in, I took a big marker and wrote WRONG KNEE on the wrong knee.  That day, the right knee was the right knee.

Yesterday when I went in for my knee operation, I thought of doing that but right after I got into the humiliating gown, the nurse produced a marking pen, asked me to point to the knee they'd be working on and then she scrawled something on it. A few minutes later, my surgeon came in for a pre-surgery conversation and he had a pen and he asked me to point to the knee they'd be working on. I showed him it had already been tagged…but as he started to put the pen away, I said, "You know, a great artist is supposed to always sign his work." He laughed and added his initials to my right kneecap. (I wonder if they're still on there. It's all bandaged up at the moment.)

Getting back to my mother: They did operate on the correct knee and according to her primary physician and everyone else there, it went as well as could be expected with a woman in her mid-seventies and in as bad physical condition as she was. It took an awfully long time to heal and she began to announce that when the time came to have the other one done, she wasn't going to have the other one done. Too much pain, not enough gain. As it turned out, by the time her left knee might have come up for consideration, her health had deteriorated in too many other ways. The doctors said it was too dangerous…and unlikely to help her much even if it was successful.

For about the last sixteen years of her life, she got around her house in short distances using a walker. When we took her anywhere, she was wheelchaired about…or more correctly, transportchaired about. There's a difference between a wheelchair and a transport chair, though even people who know that difference use the terms interchangeably. She had a transport chair, which is also known as a companion chair. Briefly, the difference is that if you're in a wheelchair, others will push you about but you can propel and steer yourself around to some degree. In a transport or companion chair, someone else has to push you all the time. In fact, I bought her two transport chairs.

One was a fancy, expensive-looking (but not that expensive) and sturdy one that I kept in the trunk of my car. In fact, when I bought my current car in 2010, I told the saleslady, "Okay, I'll take it…if we can fit my mother's wheelchair into its trunk." I hauled it out of the old car, placed it into the one I was about to purchase and said, "Okay, write it up!"

She was very pleased with that chair. Made of shiny, dark blue metal and sporting a thick seat cushion, it had a Nascar feel to it. When I took her to the hospital, as I seemed to do daily for a while there, there'd be other folks around in wheelchairs — drab, battered ones that the hospital had around. My mother loved being seen in her "throne." It seemed to say that someone cared about her. Which was true…and it wasn't just her son who did.

Then she also had a lighter, foldable one I got her. It too looked snazzier than the chairs transporting most patients around the hospital. She kept this one at her home and it was used by her various caregivers when they took her places. They'd take her to the market or take her to the hairdresser. That is, when they weren't robbing her. She liked this chair, too.

When she passed away, I gave the Nascar one to someone else in my life — a performer of some note and a person I love a lot. This person needed a chair and I couldn't think of a better recipient.

I kept the foldable companion chair because I figured, "One of these days, someone else I know is going to have a need for it." And last week, I found someone who did: Me. In preparation for my knee surgery, I had a whole day of running around Cedars-Sinai Hospital and I decided it would be a lot less painful to make it a whole day of two friends pushing me around the place. I didn't stay in the chair all day. They'd push me to an office and then I'd hop out and use my limited ability to walk to get around. Others in the waiting room would look at me like I was Guy Caballero on SCTV, being pushed around in a wheelchair he didn't need, just to make others work and wait on him.

I didn't feel the slightest bit of shame at that. What I did feel was a lot of, "So this is what the world looked like to my mother all those years."

This has been Tales of My Mother #16. I'm only up to Tales of My Father #3 so it looks like I have a lot of catching-up to do with Dad. Watch this space.

I hadn't expected to get this deep into The Mystery of Who Played Superman at the 1940 World's Fair…but we're into it so let's take this a little farther. I'm becoming convinced that the man in the suit wasn't actor Ray Middleton and I have a new theory to throw out there. First, let's look at some faces. The middle one is the guy who played Superman. The left and right ones are, I'm told, Ray Middleton…

Does the guy in the center pic look like the guy in the other two pics? Not to me. I wouldn't send someone to the gas chamber based on a photo I.D. like that but I might say it's not the same guy. The photo at right was sent to me by several folks. The photo at left was sent to me by my buddy Jim Brochu, who knew or knows every actor who ever set foot on a Broadway stage. Jim writes, " I got to know Ray in his later years and I would swear (even though Wikipedia and IMDB says it is) that he was not the guy in the Superman suit. I've attached a 1942 pic of Ray and you can see the chin and hairline are very very different. Ray was tall (6'3 or 6'4) and very barrel chested and this guy in the pic doesn't have the same body type." I'm inclined to agree.

So now here's what I'm thinking. Where did the identification of Ray Middleton as the man who played Superman originate? Did it possibly come from this first day issue envelope?

Because if it did, I have a thought. Let's look a little closer at what it says there in the lower left-hand corner…

"Ray Middleton appeared as Superman at the fair for a live radio broadcast." It doesn't say he put on the costume. Is it possible that to play Superman in the live radio broadcast, they hired Mr. Middleton, who was a trained actor…and then to ride the float dressed as Superman, they just found some muscular guy who looked kinda like the character Joe Shuster was drawing? Wouldn't that make sense? That would sure explain the New York Times reporter seeing Middleton functioning as a judge but not identifying him as the person who played Superman.

So my question is: Is there any other source that says Ray Middleton dressed up as Superman and posed for photos that day? Because if there isn't and the identification of him came wholly from that envelope…well, that envelope doesn't say he did. It just says he played Superman in a radio broadcast.

I have quite a few messages arguing the Jerry Siegel/Bill Gaines identification, including some from folks who are pretty sure of opposing views. But I'll get to that tomorrow or the next day. I also have more than fifty messages from people who made the same joke; that the reason the Times reporter couldn't identify Middleton as Superman is that Middleton disguised himself by wearing glasses.