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 Allan Asherman, David McCallum, Marty Krofft, Norman Lear, Charles Dierkop, Richard Lewis, Ron Harper, and 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 #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