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 #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 #342: Reza Badiyi

 

  The late Reza Badiyi (1930-2011) was a showbiz legend who directed over 430 episodes of American television. Name a TV show that aired in the US from 1963 to 1999, and Badiyi was probably behind the camera for at least one episode.

  When I think of Reza, however, it's for the iconic openings he created for two of those shows: Hawaii Five-O in 1968 and The Mary Tyler Moore Show in 1970.

  After being hired by Hawaii Five-O's creator, Leonard Freeman, to create the tiles for his new cop series, Reza flew to the islands to shoot footage for the show's opening. In an interview with the Televison Academy, he spoke about the experience, which you can view here.

   Listening to that clip, it's incredible to think that the iconic big wave shot that's instantly familiar to any Five-O fan was almost lost. 

  Standing on a rocky outcropping (likely at Honolulu's North Point) Reza was drenched by the pounding surf while shooting wave footage—and his camera was filled with salt water. 

  Despite this potentially devastating setback, Reza sent the film off to be developed anyway—and TV history was made with the indelible wave image that survived.

  Almost as iconic as that big Hawaiian wave was Mary Tyler Moore throwing her hat into the air with joyous abandon during the opening titles of her 1970s sitcom. 

 While shooting exterior footage at the Nicolette Mall in Minneapolis, Reza impulsively asked Moore to toss her Tam o' Shanter into the air, which she did, thus creating another iconic TV image—and inadvertently making a minor celebrity out of puzzled onlooker Hazel Frederick.

   Reza Badiyi had a long, impressive career and an interesting life. Early on, he worked with close friend Robert Altman, was the assistant director on the 1962 horror classic, Carnival of Souls, and was stepfather to actress Jennifer Jason Leigh. 

  If you'd like to watch the full 9-part Television Academy interview with Mr. Badiyi, you can do so here.

  Directing over 430 hours of entertainment is quite a feat, but as a kid who grew up on 1970s TV, I'll always remember Reza fondly those iconic openings of Hawaii Five-O and The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

  There's more to come in the next dispatch.

  ©2023 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

Dispatch #310: On the Color of Mailboxes

 

Red, White, & Blue vs. Blue & White

   I watch a lot of vintage TV, and something occurred to me the other day after watching an episode of Mannix followed by The Streets of San Francisco.

  I can usually pin down when an old show originally aired from the hairstyles or clothing, but another way to narrow it down is to note the color of U.S. Post Office mailboxes on streetcorners.

  In 1955, the U.S. Postmaster General decreed that all street collection boxes would be painted red, white, and blue—and they stayed that way for 15 years. 

  Cost-cutting during the Nixon administration mandated a simpler blue-and-white color scheme (eliminating red would save money, the feds claimed). Although the USPS eagle logo has been streamlined, the boxes remain blue to this day.

  Mannix aired on CBS from 1967-1975, but as soon as I spotted a red-and-blue mailbox on a streetcorner in the episode I was watching, it was a pretty safe bet that it was filmed prior to 1970 (it turned out to be from April,1968).

  The Streets of San Francisco, on the other hand, aired on ABC from 1972-1977, so naturally all the streetcorner collection boxes seen in that show are of the blue-and-white variety.

   Anyway, the next time you watch an old movie or TV show, see if you can spot any mailboxes in the street scenes—and if you do, take note of the color scheme. 

   I suppose you could make a drinking game out of it, but I don't know how fun it would be. Sightings of those boxes in those old shows are infrequent, so you'd probably never empty your first glass.

  There's more to come in the next dispatch.

  ©2023 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #289: Fort Wayne's Horror Hosts

 

WPTA's Shock Theater in the 1950s (left), the 1970s (center), and WFFT's Nightmare Theater (right) in the 1980s

I've covered some of this material previously at this blog, but it's just a little over a week until Halloween, so what the heck...

Today's Dispatch spotlights Fort Wayne's horror hosts—that trio of spooky gentlemen who fronted broadcasts of horror movies on local TV over the years.

The first was WPTA's Dr. Meridian, who hosted their weekly airings of classic Universal Horror movies from their Shock Theater syndication package in the late 1950s. As the good doctor was before my time, I have no idea what he looked like or if his hosting style was campy or sinister.

Actor Jeff Gibson's Asmodius was the frontman for WPTA's Shock Theater airings in the 1970s that I watched religiously as a kid. Gibson's tone changed gradually during his tenure, going from mostly serious to fairly campy. Years later, I got to meet my childhood horror host when we worked together briefly at a Fort Wayne bookstore.

Finally, Summit City residents in the 1980s thrilled to weekly visits from The Shroud, a black-clad figure portrayed by Don Paris on WFFT's Nightmare Theater. In sepulchral tones, the deadly serious Shroud dispensed fascinating bits of trivia about the classic monster flicks he showed each week.  

In the early 1980s, I got to meet Paris in his Shroud persona when he did an autograph signing at Dick Stoner's legendary magic/gag shop in downtown Fort Wayne.

Sadly, the era of Fort Wayne horror hosts came to an end when Nightmare Theater ended its run on WFFT. These days, Summit City residents have to get their Saturday night fright-flick fix with out-of-town horror hosts such as Svengoolie or Lord Blood-Rah.

My childhood experiences watching Jeff Gibson's Asmodius led me to create the fictional horror-host Count Mortius, frontman for the Shock Theater broadcasts beloved by 12-year-old Samantha "Lizzie" Stanton in my e-book, Samantha Stanton and the Mysterious Library.

There's more to come in the next dispatch.

 ©2023 SummitCityScribe