There's more to come in the next dispatch.
©2024 SummitCityScribe
There's more to come in the next dispatch.
©2024 SummitCityScribe
The first three Samantha Stanton Adventures |
In fact, the majority of the first two hundred posts here were about the characters, plot inspirations, and settings of the first three books in that series. Even the blog's title, Dispatches from Aldeburgh, is a nod to the hometown of my fictional protagonist, Samantha "Lizzie" Stanton.
After three years, I opted to move all of that content to another website, and Dispatches from Aldeburgh transformed into a place where I could write about whatever was on my mind at the moment.
Recently, however, I've become occupied with another bit of writing—the fourth book in The Samantha Stanton Adventures.
So, although I'll be posting here less frequently over the next few months, the end result should be an exciting new tale involving Lizzie and her friends exploring Aldeburgh's uniquely amazing library.
Thanks for your patience!
There's more to come in the next dispatch.
©2024 SummitCityScribe
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, 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.
SCTV stalwarts: Levy, Candy, Thomas, Moranis, O'Hara, Flaherty, and Martin.
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
Barbara Rush (1927-2024) |
When Worlds Collide & It Came from Outer Space |
Rush in Moon of the Wolf (1972) |
©2024 SummitCityScribe
A Total Solar Eclipse |
Trump in 2017: he looked right at it. |
There's more to come in the next dispatch.
©2024 SummitCityScribe
Three years ago this week, in March 2021, I was extremely grateful to finally get vaccinated against Covid-19 through my local health department.
On the day in question, I joined a large number of my fellow Hoosiers also hoping to do the same over at the Allen County Memorial Coliseum.
In years past, I'd attended circus performances, hockey games, concerts, and even my high school graduation at the venerable arena, but never a mass-vaccination during a global pandemic.
I remember being quite nervous that day—Covid-19 was killing people all over the world, and I wanted to get the shot before it got me, too. There was also an additional concern—I have allergies and wasn't sure if this new Pfizer shot would trigger any of them.
Those of us with similar concerns that day were instructed to report post-vaccine to a waiting area, where we sat on metal folding chairs for 15 to 30 minutes to see if we suffered any adverse reactions.
Two nurses from the Allen County Health Department hovered nearby to render assistance to those who did feel any ill effects.
I've always liked to diffuse tense or nervous situations with a bit of humor, so after sitting in silence for a moment or two with a dozen or so my fellow vaccinees, I posed a question to one of the nurses.
"I know it's only been a few minutes," I said to her, "and I feel okay so far, but do you think I'll be able to play the piano after this?"
The nurse looked up from her laptop with a reassuring smile.
"Oh, of course," she told me. "That won't be a problem."
"Wow," I replied, "that's great, because I never could play it before."
It took a second for one of the oldest jokes in vaudeville to sink in, but the very calm medical professional eventually laughed.
Immediately afterward, I sensed her sizing me up as some kind of wiseacre (which I am), but after 30 minutes had elapsed and I hadn't turned blue, she graciously allowed me to exit the waiting area.
As I stepped outside the Coliseum that afternoon, I felt a great sense of relief and security—something I hadn't felt in the months since the Pandemic first hit US shores. The little laugh I'd shared with the nurse made me feel better, too, if only as a way to relieve some tension.
Still, while it's often said that laughter is the best medicine, if the global pandemic taught me anything, it's that there's no substitute for actual science-based medicine. Thanks, Pfizer!
When I first realized this week marked the three-year anniversary of my first Covid shot, I recalled that old campaign slogan: "Are You Better Off Now Than You Were Four Years Ago?"
Remembering how truly terrible 2020 was: the rampant fear, uncertainty, and death—along with widespread school and business closings—it's incomprehensible to me how anyone say anything but a resounding "yes!"
There's more to come in the next dispatch.
©2024 SummitCityScribe
Earlier this month, I posted colorful, vibrant TV Guide covers from artists Ramon Ameijide and Bob Peak. Today's dispatch features the work of Richard Amsel (1947-1985).
Amsel at the movies: Flash Gordon & Raiders of the Lost Ark |
Amsel's Hart to Hart and Shogun |
Amsel's Magnum P.I. & Miami Vice |
There's more to come in the next dispatch.
©2024 SummitCityScribe
Bob Peak's Marcus Welby & Mannix Covers
The late Bob Peak (1927-1992) is legendary for the iconic posters he designed for films such as My Fair Lady, Apocalypse Now, The Spy Who Loved Me, Star Trek: The Motion Picture, and Excalibur.
Peak Film Posters—Star Trek: The Motion Picture & Excalibur |
Sci-Fi Heroes: The Six Million Dollar Man & Man from Atlantis |
Fantasy Island & Search |
Bonanza & The Beverly Hillbillies |
The cover style varied from week to week: sometimes photographs were used, other times sketches, paintings, or collages.
Among the talented artists employed by the magazine: LeRoy Neiman, Peter Max, Bob Peak, Jack Davis, Al Hirschfeld, Ronald Searle, Charles Addams, Richard Amsel and Ramon "Raymond" Ameijide.
The Waltons & Barney Miller |
M.A.S.H. & The Love Boat |
Ameijide's Christmas covers from 1974 and 1981. |
There's more to come in the next dispatch.
©2024 SummitCityScribe