Dispatch #444: That's All Folks

 

I hope all those who visited Dispatches from Aldeburgh have enjoyed their time here—it's been fun for me, too. Of the 400-plus items I posted to this blog from 2020 to 2024, I'm leaving up the most popular.

Update: January 2025. With the return of the Tangerine Palpatine to the White House, it seems appropriate to mourn the end of the good old USA as I knew it—in addition to my late blog.

© 2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #440: Joe Flaherty 1941-2014

 

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

Over the last several months I've posted obituaries here for Marty Krofft and Barbara Rush. 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 #412: Some Thoughts on Racism

 

Recently, an online controversy erupted when right-wingers angrily rejected the notion that Black folks can't be racist. As I see it, their problem stems from a continued refusal 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 Black folks 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. 

Of course, right-wingers also like to whine about "racism against white people"— which is not only something that doesn't exist (see the helpful formula two 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: Elon Musk and Bill 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 a very pertinent quote:

 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

Dispatch #314: Marty Krofft 1937-2023

 

Marty Krofft shares the stage with H.R. Pufnstuf

    Marty Krofft—who, along with his brother Sid—produced some of the most imaginative kids shows ever seen on American TV, has died at the age of 86.

     Most of my Saturday mornings during the late 1960s and early 1970s were spent on the living room floor in front of my family's TV, where I eagerly watched Krofft offerings such as H.R. Pufnstuf, Lidsville, Electra Woman and Dyna Girl, Sigmund and the Sea Monsters, and my favorite, Land of the Lost.

     Krofft shows were colorful, wildly creative, and highly original—unlike so much modern children's fare, they weren't based on preexisting toys or games. They were also never mean-spirited or cynical.

     Long before I was reading comic books or watching genre movies, Saturday morning shows by people like Sid & Marty Krofft (along with Joe Barbera & Bill Hanna) really helped to fuel my young imagination. I know my childhood would have been much poorer without them.

    Writer Mark Evanier, who worked on several Krofft projects over the years, published a nice piece about his former boss at his blog, where he also recommends a Variety obit for Marty that's a good overview of a remarkable career.

Marty Krofft (1937-2023) R.I.P.

  There's more to come in the next dispatch.

  ©2023 SummitCityScribe

#304: Ghosts of Junkyards Past

 

When I was a kid, there was a huge scrapyard on Clinton Street directly across from Fort Wayne's Lawton Park. Despite a tall, corrugated metal fence bordering the property—which was originally known as Superior Iron and Metal—stacks of junk cars and scrap metal eventually grew so tall they were easily visible to passing motorists on Clinton.

Thankfully, that junkyard eyesore is long gone, but the recent announcement about a new development slated for the property—to be called the North River Fieldhouse (which you can read about here) made me wonder how many people remember what used to be on that land—and what may still be there.

Back in the year 2000, a soil study of the former junkyard revealed unsafe levels of argon, cadmium, lead, mercury, and PCBs—all pretty bad stuff—and spills of diesel fuel, gasoline, and cleaning solvents were reported on the site. At this point I'm sure you're thinking: but that report was over 20 years ago, so surely everything's all good now, right? 😟🤞

Normally, I think any news about the continued development of downtown Fort Wayne is good news, but in this case, I intend to steer well clear of any future developments on the old OmniSource site. I mean, who wants an ice-cold PBR with a PCB chaser?

    There's more to come in the next dispatch.

    ©2023 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #292: The Time(s) My Mother Took Me to a Slasher Film

John Carpenter's Halloween turns 45 this month, and lately I've been thinking about the first time I saw that classic fright flick up on the big screen.

As I wrote in a much earlier Dispatch, my mother loved movies, and among her favorite kinds were thrillers and murder mysteries.

One of my earliest childhood movie memories is watching Stanley Kubrick's Killer's Kiss on the living room couch with my mom—eventually pulling a blanket over my head when the picture's creepy climax in a warehouse full of mannequins became too much for me.

On that same living room couch we also watched Barbara Stanwyck in Sorry, Wrong Number, Dorothy McGuire in The Spiral Staircase, Ross Martin and Stephanie Powers in Experiment in Terror, and a very scary Bette Davis as The Nanny.

As I got older, mom and I would often spend Saturday afternoons at one of our local cinemas. We saw all kinds of films during those weekends in the 1970s, but in particular a lot of thrillers—both good and bad: Jaws, William Castle's Bug, Grizzly, The Eagle Has Landed, The Cassandra Crossing, Twilight's Last Gleaming, The Boys from Brazil, Capricorn One, and Phil Kaufman's Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

In late October 1978, mom saw a commercial for a new flick she thought looked pretty scary and chose it for our weekly movie outing. 

 As it turns out, she was right, but I don't think either of us were prepared for the intensity of John Carpenter's Halloween. This wasn't a murder mystery like Agatha Christie's Ten Little Indians—it was a full-on slasher film, and it scared us silly that Saturday afternoon. 

As I hadn't seen any of his earlier films (Assault on Precinct 13, Dark Star), I remember thinking beforehand it was pretty bold the film was advertised as John Carpenter's Halloween, a privilege usually only afforded to established directors such as Alfred Hitchcock. 

Afterward, I realized it was pretty clever, assuring that everyone knew the name of the man behind the stylish, low-budget thriller—who would later go on to give us The Fog, Escape From New York, The Thing, and They Live, among other iconic films.

That screening of John Carpenter's Halloween wasn't the only time my mother and I saw a rather intense film together, either. Thanks to our weekly movie ritual, we also saw Midnight Express, The Deer Hunter, Apocalypse Now, and Ridley Scott's Alien, too. 

As these features were all R-rated, I was usually the only kid in my class to see them, but even for those of my intrepid peers who did manage to sneak into a Halloween screening back in October of '78, I think it's safe to say that none of them saw the spooky slasher film as I did—with a movie-loving mother by their side. 

Several months later, in the summer of 1980, mom took me to see another thriller with a high body-count: Friday the 13th. Yes, that's right: I actually saw two iconic slasher films with my mother. 

Unfortunately, Friday the 13th's director, Sean Cunnigham, was no John Carpenter, leaving us both disappointed. "I can't believe Betsy Palmer was in such a lousy picture," mom grumbled as we walked out of the theater. 

Obviously, we had no idea at that moment how Jason Voorhees would continue to haunt movie screens for decades to come—we just agreed that Friday the 13th couldn't hold a candle to those old black & white thrillers we used to watch together on the living room couch.

There's more to come in the next dispatch.

©2023 SummitCityScribe