Dispatch #441: Minerva's Owl

 

As a long-time cinephile, I enjoy watching old movies and TV shows, and as a bibliophile, I love books, libraries, and bookstores.

Occasionally those two loves combine—as when a character in a film or TV show I'm watching enters a library or bookshop. This happened the other day during an episode of the 1970s cop drama, The Streets of San Francisco.

In The Bullet, an episode from 16 December 1972, police inspector Steve Keller (Michael Douglas) pops into a local bookstore to purchase a volume of verse by poet Ezra Pound as a gift for his partner Lt. Mike Stone (Karl Malden).

During this sequence, viewers get only a brief peek at the store's interior, but that was enough—along with the shop's name: Minerva's Owl—to intrigue me.

Aside from my love of bookstores, this also interested me because my Young Adult fantasy e-book series, The Samantha Stanton Adventures, features a luxurious Victorian mansion with an extensive private library—a library with a painted mural of Athena and her owl on its high ceiling. In Greek mythology, Athena was known as goddess of wisdom, but the Romans knew her as Minerva.

For this reason, Minerva's Owl struck me as a most appropriate name for a bookstore, and one I might perhaps visit someday. During my research, I managed to learn its address: 2181 Union Street in San Francisco's Cow Hollow neighborhood, but I also discovered—much to my dismay—that Minerva's Owl is no longer in business.

It wasn't all for naught, however, as I did learn some facts about the shop's history and its co-owner, Carol Field, a woman with a most interesting life. As I ended my search knowing a bit more than when I started, I like to think that Minerva, goddess of wisdom, would have been pleased.

There's more to come in the next dispatch.

©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #440: Joe Flaherty 1941-2014

 

Joe Flaherty as Guy Caballero, Count Floyd, and Floyd Robertson

I've posted a depressing number of obituaries here over the last seven months—for Marty Krofft, Norman Lear, Richard Lewis, Barbara Rush—and today's dispatch adds another name to that sad roster: Joe Flaherty.

My life-long love for absurdist humor can be traced back to a few sources: Mad Magazine, Monty Python's Flying Circus, Saturday Night Live, and Second City Television, or SCTV.

In 1981, NBC—looking for a replacement for their late-night Friday concert show, The Midnight Special—slipped a Candian comedy import, Second City Television, into the timeslot. 

At the time, I was already on the lookout for something to tickle my funny bone. Saturday Night Live had just said goodbye to its original cast and creator/producer Lorne Michaels after five seasons, and the early episodes I'd seen from season six weren't very promising. 

ABC's Fridays had shown initial promise as an alternative to SNL, but its quality varied so much from week to week that I'd already given up on it by 1981.

SCTV stalwarts: Levy, Candy, Thomas, Moranis, O'Hara, Flaherty, and Martin.

SCTV, on the other hand, was hilarious right from the start and only seemed to get better each week. Much like SNL's original Not-Ready-For-Prime-Time-Players, SCTV boasted a superb line of comic actors: Eugene Levy, John Candy, Dave Thomas, Rick Moranis, Catherine O'Hara, Andrea Martin, and Joe Flaherty.

Flaherty created a bevy of original characters for SCTV: station owner Guy Caballero, horror-host vampire Count Floyd, talk show host Sammy Maudlin, and news anchor Floyd Robertson—not to mention his hilarious celebrity impersonations like Bing Crosby.

I suppose it was Flaherty's performance as Count Floyd that most endeared me to him. Having grown up with a local horror-host of my own, I just loved it when the Count exited his coffin to introduce a schlocky fright film like "Dr. Tongue's House of Cats."

It takes a lot to stand out among a cast of comedy pros, but Joe Flaherty's SCTV performances—much like those of Phil Hartman on SNL— were always pitch-perfect and hilarious. Fellow cast-member Martin Short referred to Flaherty as the show's anchor.

Mr. and Mrs. Weir

Fifteen years later, when he was cast on NBC's Freaks and Geeks, Flaherty got to riff on his Count Floyd character during their Halloween episode. For this SCTV fan, those appearances as the grumpy but loveable Mr. Weir were usually the highlight of any episode.

Life has its share of ups and downs—sometimes more of the latter—so it's important to laugh when we can. Whenever I needed a chuckle most, Joe Flaherty always delivered the goods. 

You can read his New York Times obituary here.

There's more to come in the next dispatch.

©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #437: Barbara Rush 1927-2024

Barbara Rush (1927-2024)

After a long life and a remarkable career, actress Barabara Rush has died at 97.

Rush's big-screen co-stars included Rock Hudson (Magnificent Obsession), Paul Newman (The Young Philadelphians), Kirk Douglas (Strangers When We Meet), and Frank Sinatra (Robin and the Seven Hoods). She also had a prominent role on TV's first primetime soap opera, Peyton Place.

As a kid growing up in the 1970s, I hadn't seen any of that yet. Because of my predilection for mystery, horror, and science fiction, I knew Barbara Rush primarily from her film & TV performances in those genres.

When Worlds Collide & It Came from Outer Space

My earliest memories of her are from a pair of classic sci-fi flicks, When Worlds Collide (1951) and It Came from Outer Space (1953), both of which I saw on late-night TV. Rush was especially good in the latter—playing both plucky Arizona schoolteacher Ellen Fields and her alien doppelganger.

Rush with Yvonne Craig (left) and Lindsay Wagner (right)

Later roles such as the villainous Nora Clavicle on Batman and the mystery woman who-may-or-may-not be Jamie Sommers' mother on The Bionic Woman only increased the affection genre fans like me already had for her.

The Forms of Things Unknown (1964) and Cool Air (1971)

I especially enjoyed Rush in spooky fare such as The Outer Limits (The Forms of Things Unknown with Vera Miles and David McCallum) Rod Serling's Night Gallery (an adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft's Cool Air with Henry Darrow) and even a 1972 TV movie about a Bayou Loup-Garou, Moon of the Wolf, with David Janssen and Bradford Dillman.

Rush in Moon of the Wolf (1972)

Beyond those roles, Barbara Rush turned up on scores of other shows I watched back then, including Cannon, Fantasy Island, Ironside, Knight Rider, The Love Boat, Mannix, Magnum P.I., McCloud, Marcus Welby M.D., Maude, Medical Center, The Mod Squad, and The Streets of San Francisco—to name just a few.

Rush was a classy, terrific actress—much better than the material she usually had to work with—but that's why I enjoyed it so much whenever she turned up on the shows I watched—her performance always elevated them.

Barbara Rush (1927-2024) R.I.P.

There's more to come in the next dispatch.

©2024 SummitCityScribe

 

Dispatch #436: It's Impolite to Stare

 

A Total Solar Eclipse

It's been hard to escape the media blitz surrounding the total Solar Eclipse due next week—which will be the last one visible in the contiguous United States until 23 August 2044.

Trump in 2017: he looked right at it.

One thing I would never do is stare directly at a solar eclipse—you'd have to be the world's biggest idiot to do that.

There's more to come in the next dispatch.

©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #412: Some Thoughts on Racism

 

  Recently, an online controversy erupted when Conservatives angrily rejected the idea that Black folks can't be racist. As I see it, their problem stems from the continued refusal of those on the Right to acknowledge systemic racism. 

  Look, Black folks can exhibit racial prejudice against white folks, but while such behavior is bigotry, it isn't racism, for the simple fact that racism = prejudice + power.

 For Blacks to be considered racist, they would have to systemically benefit from that bigotry, and in the history of the USA, only one group has ever benefitted from such a system: white folks.

  That's why it's so ludicrous when rich white folks like Elon Musk and Bill Ackman claim that Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) programs are racist, when, in fact, those programs are meant to help combat racism.  

  Musk and Ackman whine that such programs amount to "racism against white people"—which is not only something that doesn't exist (see the helpful formula three paragraphs above) but on Jeopardy would probably be known as "Things White Supremacists Say".

  To summarize: black folks can be bigoted, but not racist. White folks, on the other hand, can be both (re: Musk and Ackman)

  As an eternal optimist, I continue to believe that someday all of us will live together free from the blight of racial strife—but when one side fails to even acknowledge the existence of systemic racism, that struggle remains an uphill battle.

Update: Just read this interesting article from the UK's Guardian which contains this very pertinent quote:

 There's more to come in the next dispatch.

 ©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #410: Richard Lewis (1947-2024)

 

Richard Lewis as King John in Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993)

  When I read about the death of Richard Lewis, my first thoughts were about the many times he made me laugh over the years—in his stand-up specials, late-night talk show appearances, and series like Anything but Love and Curb Your Enthusiasm.

 I was also reminded of the time during the 1990s when I had a brief exchange with the legendary comic on the streets of NYC.

  It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon—July 18th, 1995—and I was on the Upper West side of Manhattan, walking south along Broadway.

 Minutes before, I'd purchased a brand-new LaserDisc at Tower Records—this was the 1990s, remember—and was carrying it in one of Tower's iconic bright yellow plastic bags as I walked along.

One of Tower Records' bright yellow bags

  Before I go any further, a brief digression: the Upper West Side Tower Records opened at 66th Street and Broadway in 1983, just north of Lincoln Center. This 24,000 sq. ft. store sold all kinds of music but was renowned for its wide selection of jazz and classical.

  In 1994, however, the building housing that Tower underwent a massive renovation, requiring the music retailer to find a temporary home for nearly two years until that work was completed.

The Ansonia Building, 2109 Broadway, NYC

 

 Tower settled on a similar-sized space just a few blocks north, in the basement of the Ansonia Building, on Broadway between 73rd and 74th Street—which also served as the inspiration for the fictional Arconia in Only Murders in the Building.

 From 1968 to 1976, the Ansonia's basement space was home to The Continental Baths, where performers such as Bette Midler and Barry Manilow got their start. Then, from 1977 to 1980, it was home to Plato's Retreat, a seedy swinger's hangout.

  My knowledge of NYC history was still nascent in 1995, however, meaning I knew nothing about the former inhabitants of Tower's temporary home. Before that time, I was really only aware of the Ansonia from the movies I'd seen it in—such as 1992's Single White Female.

  Anyway, when Richard Lewis stopped me that July afternoon on the Upper West Side—having spotted the bright yellow bag in my hand—and asked where Tower Records had moved, I put aside my surprise, pointed over my shoulder, and explained that it was in the Ansonia's basement. The comic nodded and offered his thanks before heading north on Broadway.

  Twenty-nine years later, that ten-second exchange remains one of my favorite celebrity encounters—primarily for how mundane it was. Sure, I didn't get to tell Richard Lewis how hilarious I thought he was, but I did help him find Tower's temporary home, and that's pretty cool.

The renovated Tower Records at 66th St. & Broadway.

  Over a year later, on November 16th, 1996, I was on hand when Elton John, NY mayor Rudy Guiliani, and Placido Domingo cut the ribbon outside the completely refurbished—and greatly expanded (45,000 sq ft)—Tower Records at 66th and Broadway. 

  After nearly two years at a rented spot beneath the Ansonia, Tower was finally back at its home at 1961 Broadway, near Lincoln Center. It was a truly great store and I loved shopping there, but as the public increasingly turned to the internet for their music, the location eventually closed in December 2006.

  English poet Geoffrey Chaucer is credited with the expression "all good things must come to an end" which one could apply both to Tower Records and the life and career of Richard Lewis. For me, the two will always be inextricably intertwined in my memory.

There's more to come in the next dispatch.

©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #406: Jimmy Carter's Unique Achievement

 

US President Jimmy Carter

  Over the USA's nearly 250-year history, it's nearly impossible to find a Commander-in-Chief without a single shot fired in anger by American forces during their time in office. The exception to this rule: our 39th President, James Earl Carter, Jr. 

  This remarkable achievement—first noted by the Washington Post's William Grieder upon the completion of Carter's first year in office—continued for the entirety of his term.

  It's fitting that a man known for a commitment to peace—as evidenced by his administration's signature achievement: the Camp David Accords—can also lay claim to this singular honor. 

  At his current age of 99, he's also our longest-living former President. Way to go, Jimmy!

 There's more to come in the next dispatch.

 ©2024 SummitCityScribe

  

Dispatch #389: Nani Darnell: Zatanna's Inspiration?

 

Zatanna as she appeared in the 1960s.

  The popular DC Comics character Zatanna was created by writer Gardner Fox and artist Murphy Anderson. Zatanna, a magician, was a Silver Age legacy character tied to a Golden Age hero, Zatara (who also happened to be her father).

  In her 1964 debut, Zatanna wore a version of her father's top hat and tails—but substituting fishnet stockings for trousers. Over the years, I've often wondered if Zatanna's Silver Age appearance might have also been inspired by the attire worn by the wife of a popular stage magician.

Mark Wilson and Nani Darnell in the 1960s

  In their stage act, Nani Darnell played the role of magician's assistant to her husband, illusionist Mark Wilson. During the 1950s, the two performed together on a local Texas TV show, Time for Magic. 

  That show's popularity eventually translated into a syndicated series, The Magic Land of Allakazam, which aired nationally from 1960 to 1964, first on the CBS network and then ABC.

  Zatanna made her debut in the pages of Hawkman #4, which went on sale in August of 1964—during the final season of The Magic Land of Allakazam on ABC. Murphy and Helen Anderson were raising three children in their New Jersey home at this same time—making it likely they were familiar with Mark Wilson's TV magic show. 

Zatanna's 1964 debut in Hawkman #4 by Murphy Anderson (left), Nani Darnell drawn by Bob Jenney in a 1962 coloring book (right).

  It's not unheard of for comic book artists to be inspired by TV or films. For instance, many believe Jack Kirby's design for the villainous Mole Man in Fantastic Four #1 was inspired by actor Anthony Quinn's look in the 1961 film, The Savage Innocents.

Anthony Quinn and Jack Kirby's Mole Man, both 1961.

  So, was artist Murphy Anderson inspired by Nani Darnell's stage costume when he designed Zatanna's look back in 1964? In my opinion, you don't need to believe in magic to reach that conclusion.

 There's more to come in the next dispatch.

 ©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #377: Footprints Across Time

 

Ice Age Earth footprint, Apollo 11 lunar footprint

  It's hard not to be discouraged living in a modern world still plagued by war, superstition, sexism, and bigotry. 

  That's why it helpful to step back occasionally and look at the big picture—to remember where humankind began and just how far we've come. The photo at the top of today's dispatch illustrates that concept quite literally.

  On the left is a fossilized human footprint—said to be around 23,000 years old—found near a dry lakebed in New Mexico. Meanwhile, over on the right we have a boot print on the lunar surface, left by an Apollo astronaut in 1969.

 Those Ice Age humans—who doubtlessly gazed up at the Moon each night—couldn't possibly conceive that their descendants would one day walk the lunar surface. In that same way, we modern humans have no idea what our forebears might accomplish in the future.

Lascaux cave painting, Van Gogh's Starry Night

  That's why it's good to remember that humans aren't always bent on finding new ways of hurting or killing each other. We're not always hateful, petty, or stupid. Sometimes we can do great things—inspiring things. 

  Here's to that next great thing.

 There's more to come in the next dispatch.

 ©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #363: Stop Motion Animation/Claymation

FX wizard Ray Harryhausen at work

   As a kid, I was enthralled by films featuring the FX wizardry of Ray Harryhausen. Whether it was the science fiction tale First Men in the Moon, a sword-and-sorcery epic like The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, or a steampunk adventure such as Mysterious Island, I dearly loved them all.

  Harryhausen brought all manner of fantastic creatures to life—from winged stallions to a towering cyclops—using Stop-Motion Animation, a process in which an object is physically manipulated by an animator in tiny increments between individual frames of film so that it has the illusion of movement when the film is played back.

  The creation of Harryhausen's creatures usually began with stainless steel or aluminum armatures that were then covered in foam latex. For show-biz appeal, he called his stop-motion process Dynamation.

  My pet peeve is when people refer to the painstaking effects process Harryhausen used to animate his fantastic creations not as stop-motion animation or even Dynamation but as Claymation instead.

  The term Claymation was coined by animator Will Vinton (of California Raisins fame) in the late 1970s to differentiate his FX work from that of his competitors. 

  Claymation—aka plasticine animation—is a form of stop-motion animation, but one using clay models—as seen in work by Vinton, Art Clokey (Gumby) and Aardman Animations (Wallace and Gromit).

  Since Ray Harryhausen's magnificent models were made of foam latex and not clay, it's proper to refer to his work as Stop-Motion Animation or even Dynamation but not Claymation.

  I doubt today's dispatch will do anything to correct this common mistake, but as a life-long fan of Ray Harryhausen, I had to try.

 There's more to come in the next dispatch.

 ©2024 SummitCityScribe