There has been no funnier actor in the business than the late, great Hans Conried. I only had the pleasure of meeting him twice. Once was at a Tribute to Jay Ward. Hans was there, of course, because of his memorable voice work as Snidely Whiplash in the Dudley Do-Right cartoons, and as Uncle Waldo on Hoppity Hooper, as well as his on-camera hosting of Fractured Flickers. He was rightfully mobbed and when June Foray introduced us, I had just enough time to say, "It's an honor to meet one of my fav-" before someone dragged him off to be interviewed by a TV news crew.
I had a somewhat better allotment of quality time when I visited a writer-friend on the set of the TV show, Alice, and found that Mr. Conried was the guest star. While the rest of the cast rehearsed a scene he was not in, I got to finish my sentence, and Hans launched into wonderful anecdotes about working with Jay, playing Captain Hook for Mr. Disney, portraying Danny Thomas's Uncle Tonoose, etc. It was one of those "wish I'd had a tape recorder" moments.
At www.hansconried.com, a fan of this fine actor has set up a site full of photos and biographical material. It's just getting started but it's already worth a visit. If I can manage to recall some of the stories he told me, I'll try to post them here and offer them to that site, as well.
Okay, I got it wrong: The name of the coffee shop across the street from the Ed Sullivan Theater is Ferrara's, not Ficarra's. I coulda sworn it was Ficarra's. Oh, well. At least, it isn't a Starbuck's.
The Daily Howler is a website that cannot be read for more than a few days without an enormous loss of confidence in our nation's press. Its maker, Bob Somerby, does an amazing job of comparing news items and pointing out where a reporter has tap-danced past a lack of facts. Today's installment does an especially good job of exposing all those reports about the faux terrorists discovered in Georgia last week. But read through his archives and you'll find a lot more that will get you to wondering why more reporters aren't called on stories that don't stand up to even minimal scrutiny.
Comic strip characters are drinking less than they used to. Or so says this article in the Washington Post. (Thanx to Jerry Beck, lord of Cartoon Research, for the alert.)
If you've noticed weirdness on this site the last few days, it's because I made a coding error that caused bizarre formatting for those using certain screen settings. I think everything's back to normal now…but I've been wrong before.
You may have noticed that I removed from this item the address of the hospital where our pal Denny O'Neil is convalescing and awaiting surgery. The address was released by someone close to the situation but they've had second thoughts and would prefer that any actual mail be sent to the offices of DC Comics. In case you don't have a copy of Batman handy, the address would be:
Denny O'Neil
c/o DC Comics, Inc.
1700 Broadway
New York, NY 10019
By the way: This has nothing to do with Denny but I wonder how many people know that the above address (which also houses Mad Magazine) is directly across the street from the Ed Sullivan Theater, wherein David Letterman tapes. And I mean right across the street. You know that bit that Dave does on occasion where they try and see how many guys in bear suits they can fit into a coffee shop? Well, the coffee shop they usually use is Ficarra's — no relation to Mad editor John Ficarra — and it's in the ground floor of the office building with DC Comics and Mad. Just another bit of functionally-useless trivia to take your mind off a possible war with Iraq.
Here's another one of those "incredible coincidence" stories you won't believe. But I have witnesses to this one, and am quite prepared to take a polygraph that it happened just the way I say it happened.
For much of a decade, I wrote and voice-directed a cartoon show called Garfield and Friends. This was great fun because the Powers That Be (aka Jim Davis, creator of the lasagna-loving feline) allowed me to write pretty much whatever I wanted, and to cast whomever I felt suitable to do the guest voices.
One week, I penned an episode entitled, Lifestyles of the Fat and Furry, which burlesqued the then-popular TV series, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, hosted by Robin Leach. The program chronicled the indulgent creature comforts of folks with vast amounts of fame and/or cash, usually both. Teetering tenuously on the ledge of self-parody, the show drew much of its charm from the fustian, hyperkinetic narration of Mr. Leach.
Having written my parody of their parody, I set about to secure Robin Leach himself to do the voice of Robin Leach. I figured he could handle the role. About a week before we would be recording the voice track, I phoned his office in Los Angeles. They told me to call his office in New York.
I called his office in New York. They told me to call his office in Connecticut.
I called his office in Connecticut. They told me to call his office in London.
I called his office in London. They told me that Robin was on a six-week expedition down the Brahmaputra River, or somewhere equally remote. Wherever it was, he wouldn't be back 'til long after our tape date. So I shrugged and booked Frank Welker.
Frank Welker is the most gifted, amazing voice magician who has ever stood before a microphone in Hollywood. Frank can sound like anyone or anything. He is heard constantly in animated cartoons but also logs many hours doing voice matches and dubbing in live-action motion pictures. You hear him often in movies without knowing you're hearing him.
I knew he did a mean Robin Leach so I arranged with his agent for Frank to come in and play the part. I gave him a call time of 2:00.
Nine AM that morning, I walked into Buzzy's Recording Studio on Melrose Avenue for a full day of Garfield recording. I asked Marie at the desk, as I always did, if we were in Studio A or Studio B. She said — and I swear, I'm not making this up — "You're in Studio A. Robin Leach is in B."
Robin Leach???
That was what the lady said. I walked directly into Studio B and there — standing at a microphone, wearing a shirt imprinted with images of hundred dollar bills — was Robin Leach. In person.
I explained to him what we were doing over in A, and how I'd attempted to contact him, and how I'd given up and hired an impressionist, and he couldn't have been nicer. "Well, if the offer's still open, I'd be delighted to play me," he said. About an hour later, after he finished the spots he was recording, he came over to our studio and played Robin Leach like he'd been doing it all his life.
In fact, he played himself with enormous good-humor and that same sense of show biz and self-mocking that had made his show a hit. He exaggerated the vocal quirkiness of the Leach style more than I'd probably have allowed a mimic to do.
Robin was long gone by 2:00 when Frank Welker showed up. "Well, I'm here to do that Robin Leach bit," Frank announced. "I was warming up in the car on the way over."
"Uh, Frank," I said sheepishly. "I'm sorry but there's been a change of plans. I have a different role for you to play…not Robin Leach…"
Frank was puzzled. "What happened to the Robin Leach role?"
"Well, I don't know how to tell you this but, uh, we found someone who does a better Robin Leach than you do…"
Frank is a wonderful, cooperative person but he seemed a bit affronted — like his honor had been besmirched. He looked hurt so I added, "I'm sorry…I thought this other guy was a little better, Here — you can hear for yourself." And I told Andy the Engineer to run a few seconds of the voice track we'd recorded earlier that morn.
As the mellifluous tones of R. Leach boomed through the speakers, I saw shock upon the face of the best impressionist in the business. There, framed by stark horror, was the realization that someone had bested him in the category of Robin Leach impressions.
(I finally told him the truth. I didn't have the heart…)
Several times a year, a group called the Pacific Pioneer Broadcasters pays an always-well-deserved tribute to some legend of early television and radio. On Friday, September 27, they're having a luncheon to honor the incomparable June Foray and the dais will consist of a lot of people who belong in front of microphones, plus me. I will probably have to follow folks like Stan Freberg and Gary Owens, and will feel like the guy who has to putt after Tiger Woods. Nevertheless, I'll post a full report here.
One of the best comic conventions in America is Roger Price's Mid-Ohio Con, which occurs the weekend following Thanksgiving in Columbus, Ohio. The con is big enough that there's plenty to do, plenty to see, plenty to buy; not so big that you need two rest stops and an overnight stay to make it across the exhibit hall. I will be among the guests at this year's, which takes place November 30 and December 1.
Also present will be Sergio Aragonés, Al Feldstein, Len Wein, Marv Wolfman, Jeff Smith, Tony Isabella, Bob Ingersoll, and many, many more as you'll see when you visit the con website for more info. That address is www.midohiocon.com.
Some time in the eighties, Shelley Winters became disgusted with what she called "baby casting directors." She was talking about folks who were in charge of hiring actors but were too young to know who she was.
She began carrying a large, oversized purse to auditions. One day, a youthful-looking Director of Casting welcomed her into his office, then said, "Your credits escape me at the moment. Could you tell me a little about what you've done?"
Ms. Winters reached into the bag, pulled out an Academy Award and banged it down on the desk. "This one was for The Diary of Anne Frank," she announced. Then she pulled another Oscar from the purse, slammed it down next to the first one and added, "And this one was for A Patch of Blue. I left the nominations at home."
Then she turned to the stunned casting director and said, "Now, could you tell me a little about what you've done?"
A group called America's Helping Hands came up with a novel way to raise cash for charity. They asked 134 celebrities to place their hands in some sort of clay-like mold. Then the charity fashions replicas of those hands in marble casting stone and mounts them on a decorative plaque for display. They're presently selling these sculptures on eBay and here's the link. At the moment, the three highest bids are for the mitts of (in this order:) Barry Manilow, Wayne Gretzsky and George W. Bush. Bush will probably ask the Supreme Court to declare him the winner.
You have another chance to hear a great singer if you're in the Southern California area. After a successful engagement in Great Britain, chanteuse extraordinaire Shelly Goldstein returns to the Gardenia in Hollywood for one night only. That one night is Thursday, October 17. For reservations, call (323) 467-7444. She sings well, she's funny and she writhes on the piano. What more could you want?
Posted on Saturday, September 14, 2002 at 10:59 PM
And there's nice article about the convalescence of cartoonist Bill Mauldin over at the Los Angeles Times site. (The link will expire soon. Let's hope Bill doesn't.)
Posted on Saturday, September 14, 2002 at 10:00 PM
There's a fine magazine devoted to the work of Denny O'Neil called The O'Neil Observer, run by a heckuva nice guy named Bob Brodsky. If you go to its website and post a Get Well message on its message board, it will get to Denny. The address is www.oneilobserver.com.
One of comics' best writers and editors, Dennis "Denny" O'Neil suffered a major heart attack last Tuesday. He was dining in a restaurant when it hit, and his heart and respiration actually stopped completely. Fortunately, the owner of the restaurant was a fireman and he had defibrillator paddles handy. It took three tries but he jolted Denny back to life, and now our friend is in the hospital with bypass surgery planned for next week. I don't have to tell anyone who's read DC Comics in the last 33 years that Denny is one of our most valuable creative talents.
Some of you may not however know that he's among the most decent, compassionate people in the industry, with a very long list of personal super-heroics to his credit. I hope he gets better in a hurry…and not just because we could be in for some wonderful "back from the dead" stories.
If you missed Bill Clinton's appearance with David Letterman, you can hear the audio by clicking be;ow. I don't know who put this up or how long it'll be up. So enjoy it while it lasts…
Bob Clampett was a great maker of cartoons. His daughter Ruth is a great maker of cels for collectors. She also has a terrific website. Go there. Go there now. Go there and buy a cel.
If you were about to be executed — and let's be honest, it will happen — what would you want as your last meal? Well, if you were in Texas, it would probably be fried chicken and/or a pile of cheeseburgers. Here we have a list of last meal requests from folks about to walk that last mile in the Lone Star State. It's an odd list because some asked for steaks and others for yogurt or candy bars. Some asked for wine or cigarettes and didn't get them because that's against policy. Don't these about-to-die people know what wine or cigarettes can do to your body?
