Looking forward to watching the Mayweather-Pacquiao fight this weekend? I'm not. Of course, I'm never interested in those contests. Two men hitting each other does not excite me. No one hitting anyone excites me. I suppose there's no victim when it's two men who are being paid millions to do it but what if one of them is an alleged "human being" who assaults others, including those who are weaker and unable to defend themselves? Take seven minutes and watch as Keith Olbermann lays out the moral case for us…
Next Monday in the United Kingdom, some TV channel (I don't know which one) is airing a special four-part episode of The Garfield Show called "Rodent Rebellion." This was a special we did after the completion of our fourth season. Stan Freberg had a couple of small roles in it and I believe it represents his final performance as a cartoon voice actor. I'm told it will run in the U.S. later this year.
Stan's extraordinary career began doing voice tracks for Warner Brothers cartoons which were recorded in 1945 and released in 1946. We recorded "Rodent Rebellion" on June 24, 2014 and I think this will be its first telecast in English. So I figure the math as 69 years, though I suppose someone could argue for 70. Either way, it's a career track record that I do not think will ever be beaten. And it's just a small accomplishment among the many in the life and times of that amazing, talented man.
By the way: After we recorded that episode, the entire cast and as much of the crew as was present adjourned to a restaurant to celebrate…most appropriately, an Italian restaurant where many ordered lasagna. Stan and his wonderful wife Hunter joined us and at one point, one of the actors came up to me and said, "I've done quite a few of these when you've had him in the session and I still have trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that I'm working with the guy who created all those wonderful records and commercials." I feel the same way.
I sometimes let aspiring voice actors sit in on our recording sessions. Back in 2010, a talented lady named Cia Court, who is now working a lot I hear, visited a session when Stan was present. This is what she blogged at the time.
Dick Cavett's Vietnam, a brief history of that fiasco traced through clips from The Dick Cavett Show, debuts tonight on PBS and reruns a lot throughout the week, at least on my PBS station. I haven't seen it but I recall Mr. Cavett's show hosting a lot of folks who criticized the handling of that war, followed by a lot of rebuttals from spokespersons who basically argued that to criticize the handling of that war was to hate America and our brave fighting men. During that military action, I started out on one side of the debate and slowly (perhaps too slowly) moved to the other side. On both sides, I saw a lot of folks who were incapable of making such a move in either direction, regardless of the facts. It was when I coined a phrase that has since popped up many times in things I've written about a wide range of topics…a reference to someone "who thinks never admitting you're wrong is the same thing as always being right."
I've set my TiVo for the Cavett show and for two companion telecasts where the same phrase may also be applicable. One, which precedes the Cavett program in my area, is called The Draft. I remember that horrible, impractical and cruel institution. I avoided (quite legally, via a high draft number) that horrible, impractical and cruel institution. And I recall people who supported it hysterically. If you'd gone up to one of them and said, "Here's how our military should get its soldiers" and you described the way it's worked for decades now with no one proposing we change it, they would have screamed at you, told you there was no chance in hell that would ever work and that it would unquestionably destroy the United States of America. In fact, some of those who said it would doom America to eliminate the draft were in the Nixon Administration which, before it ended, eliminated the draft. I'll be interested to see if this program notes that amazing (to me) reversal.
There's also a show called The Day the 60's Died which covers the Kent State Massacre — a tragedy which, I think, did a lot to turn swing voters against The War. Even a lot of people who supported the U.S. actions in Vietnam felt they were on the wrong side after that happened. Again, my TiVo is set. You might want to have yours be the same way.
As the debate over Gay Marriage hits the Supreme Court, we're about to hear a lot more about it. Personally, I think it'll be great when we reach that inevitable day when it's no longer a debate; when two people of the same sex can just wed and no one cares about it. Oddly enough, when I discuss this issue with my more Conservative friends, none of them thinks that day is not coming…and coming soon. They just think that the battle and trying to delay it has ancillary benefits for their achievable goals, most of which are to protect and promote their religion's influence over other public policies.
They all seem to agree with me that the opponents of Gay Marriage have done a pretty lame job of fighting it in the courts, typified by a lead attorney in the defense of California's Proposition 8. As noted in the piece I'm about to link to, he was asked how same-sex wedlock harmed man-woman wedlock and he answered, "Your Honor, my answer is: I don't know." You do something like that in the boxing ring and they accuse you of throwing the fight.
Facing what may be their last chance to stop what they seek to stop, opponents of Gay Marriage are bringing their "A" game to the Supreme Court donnybrook and that means having answers to that question. Pema Levy reports on what some of those answers are.
I have no idea how the highest court in the land will rule and I'm not sure anyone in the media does. Those who follow the Supreme Court closely and predict how its decisions will go have not had a very good track record lately with their forecasts. They often haven't even been right as to which justice represented the deciding vote…so it may not be, as they all seem to be saying, Anthony Kennedy. It wouldn't even surprise me if Scalia and Thomas not only voted for it but seized on that occasion to announce their engagement. (Well, yeah, I guess we can rule that out…)
Jonathan Chait on what the upcoming presidential election will actually be about. Either side may find points on which they can slam the other as unfit to lead or morally corrupt or not in touch with the American people…but really, it's about whether the country should be run to benefit the wealthy or those who are not.
The actors on Volume Two of Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America were recorded at the Wilder Brothers Recording Studio in West Los Angeles. As recording studios went, it was ideal. It was even a block from one of my favorite pizzerias and in yet another of my invaluable contributions to the new album, I arranged for pizza to be brought in.
Still, as fine as the Wilder Brothers' facility was, Stan paused several times to say, "Gee, it feels odd to be doing this here instead of over in the Capitol Records building." That was where he had done almost all of his previous albums but, alas, the studio there was in no shape to handle this one. (A few years later though, when I helped him edit a compilation CD set called Tip of the Freberg, he did the editing at Capitol and was very happy to be back there.)
I was present for some of the recording at Wilder Brothers but not all. One of the days, I was too busy to go. On another, everyone else was too busy to call and let me know about it until it was half over. But the main day I was there, vocal tracks (talking and singing) were done for about half the album, the orchestra having already been recorded.
I keep wanting to emphasize again here how little I contributed. This is not modesty nor was it any kind of failing on my part. This is just me reporting how Stan worked. He was God Almighty when it came to creative decisions and his wife Donna was in total charge of producing-type decisions. When I arrived, she took me aside and said, "I need your help to stop him from doing dozens of takes when three or four will do. At Capitol, Stan had an almost unlimited budget. He could have done fifty takes if he wanted and sometimes, he just about did. We don't have that luxury here. If you think a take is fine, please tell him. Help me convince him not to do twenty more." I said I would.
The session started that day by recording a song and sketch called "Madison, Jefferson, Franklin, & Osbourne," in which a four-man advertising agency plotted the marketing of America. Lorenzo Music played Madison, David Ogden Stiers played Jefferson, Stan played Ben Franklin and Peter Leeds played Osbourne. Also in that sketch — though in some cases, recorded later that day — were Stan's son Donavan, his daughter Donna (not to be confused with his wife, Donna) and another longtime Freberg player, Naomi Lewis. The cast and a few of us "helpers" sat around a table and read it a few times. Stan adjusted a couple of lines and gave relatively minor direction to the other actors.
He invited everyone in the place to make suggestions and comments. I was too intimidated to have any. Lorenzo had a few and Stan took some (not all) of Lorenzo's notes. Then the four men took their places at four microphones and in a non-excessive number of tries, recorded the speaking portion of the sketch. Before long, Stan was sure he had what he wanted.
In the engineer's booth, I turned to Donna Sr. and said, "That wasn't too many takes." She replied, "Wait. We haven't gotten to the singing yet."
Peter Leeds
As she said that, a rather small argument broke out between Stan and Peter Leeds. Peter had been a vital member of the Freberg Stock Company for years. On Stan's classic parody of Harry Belafonte's "Banana Boat," Peter played a beatnik drummer who kept interrupting Stan in the Belafonte role. He'd been on other Freberg records including Volume One of The United States of America and on Stan's 1957-1958 radio show. As Stan prepared to record the singing, it suddenly dawned on him that in all those great, highly-musical records and shows he'd done with Peter, Peter had never sung.
"You don't sing," Stan said to Peter.
"Of course, I sing," Peter said to Stan.
"When did you ever sing on any of my records?" Stan asked Peter.
"I sang on some of them. I sang on the radio show," Peter told Stan.
"When did you sing on the radio show?" Stan asked Peter.
"I sang, I sang. I don't remember what but I sang," Peter assured Stan.
Stan came over to me and asked me in my capacity as the Resident Freberg Expert, "When did Peter sing on the radio show?" I said I didn't recall that but there were plenty of group numbers he could have been in. Later on, I asked other Freberg authorities. Peter had done dozens of radio shows, records and commercials with Stan but none of us could come up with a moment on any one of them when he sang. Well, he sang a little on Volume Two of The United States of America.
Less than a year later, Peter passed away and I drove Stan to the funeral where he spoke eloquently of his friend and colleague, as did many others. On the drive home, Stan recalled the little argument with Peter about his singing and he asked me, "Did you ever figure out where Peter sang before on one of my projects?"
I said, "No. I think he was confused. I don't think he sang on anything he did for you."
"Well," Stan said wistfully. "I'm glad Peter finally got to sing on something I did." Then he added, "You know, he was pretty good. I should have had him sing on Volume One."
The other songs and sketches that day in the studio went well but when we got to a tune where David Ogden Stiers sang as Ulysses Grant, what Donna had predicted came to pass. Stan kept calling for take after take after take. I thought several of them were fine but Stan, like some sort of insatiable perfectionist, kept saying, "Let's try one more." And then after they'd tried one more, he said, "Let's try one more."
On a break, David came to me and making sure Stan couldn't hear said, "Mark, I beg of you to do me this favor. If I start and the take isn't good, stop it. My voice is beginning to go and I can't sing the entire song and then find out that Stan didn't like the first four bars." David was a consummate professional and his respect for Stan was total. He was less concerned with harming his throat than he was with being unable to perform for Stan.
So I did what he asked. I didn't stop the recording — that wasn't my job — but on the next few takes when I could see Stan wasn't 100% pleased with what he was hearing, I got him to stop right away.
In his youth, Stan had one of the most versatile and indestructible voices in the recording business. Singing or speaking, he could do a hundred takes and sound letter-perfect on every one and so could the actors of approximately the same age that he'd employed — Daws Butler, June Foray and others, including Peter Leeds. It had just not occurred to him that once performers get older, their voices often have limits.
Mr. Stiers was a fascinating, wonderful performer. I had heard but not fully appreciated that acting was his second love, his first being his work as a conductor of symphony orchestras around the country. He was neglecting work with one in his home town in Oregon that day to record for Stan because, as he put it, "When Freberg calls, you do not say no." We talked a little of his role on the TV series M*A*S*H but mostly about his work in music. I noted aloud that he had been taking direction unquestioningly from Stan about the singing and not interjecting his own opinions. He replied — and this is an approximate quote — "In a symphony, all must bow to the guidance of the conductor."
All day, people were dropping by the recording studio — friends of Stan's, associates, etc. They all loved the first album and wanted to be able to say that they were present at the historic event of its sequel. I knew how they felt.
John Crean stopped in. Mr. Crean was a man of great philanthropy and greater wealth. He'd founded Fleetwood Enterprises, at one time the world's largest manufacturer of mobile homes and trailers. You can imagine the kind of money he had and, as a good friend of Stan's, he'd invested a tiny portion of it to help make Volume Two happen. (Years later when Stan married his second wife, the ceremony took place at the Crean estate, which was about the size of a Congressional District.) Stan let his friend and benefactor not only watch some of the recording but he's on there, playing a small part.
Buddy Ebsen stopped in. The great actor, best known for The Beverly Hillbillies and Barnaby Jones, was family. Stan's daughter Donna was married to Mr. Ebsen's son, Dustin.
At heart, Buddy Ebsen was a hoofer so Stan thought to ask him about a problem that had yet to be solved for the album. For Volume One, he'd recorded the sounds of an expert dancer named Maurice Kelly tap-dancing. For Volume Two, he needed someone else in that capacity. He asked Buddy if he knew any great tap-dancers.
Mr. Ebsen said, "Well, how about me?" and he launched into a few steps. Everyone laughed and Stan said he'd find someone else. But based on that little sample, I'd say that even at age 87, Buddy could have pulled it off. Later, Stan did find someone else — the legendary Fayard Nicholas of the Nicholas Brothers. Fayard was, of course, a much younger man. He was 81.
Donna, mindful of the costs and not wanting to have to book another day in the studio for this material, kept the intrusions to a minimum. The problem came when Ray Bradbury — the great, wonderful Ray Bradbury — walked in.
In later years, Stan and Ray. • Photo by Leonard Maltin
Ray and Stan were tremendous friends — in the past, as close as two straight men could be. The friendship had been occasionally strained in recent years over politics. Stan remained a staunch Liberal Democrat. Ray, in a turn that surprised many around him, had gone rabidly right-wing on a few but not all issues. (Not long after when Ray asked me to become his annual interviewer at Comic-Con in San Diego, I of course agreed. One of his daughters implored me, "Please don't let him talk about politics." Ray, of course, talked about whatever he wanted to talk about, occasionally even answering my questions.)
Mr. Bradbury, as we all know, did not drive. Someone had dropped him off at the recording and that someone was coming back to pick him up in two hours…so we were stuck with him for that time. After greeting Stan warmly and telling him what an honor it was to be present for this historic recording, he began lecturing Stan that the record — to folks of Stan's and Ray's age, it was a "record," not a "CD" — absolutely had to include some slams on Bill and Hillary Clinton. This was late '96. William Jefferson Clinton held a commanding lead over Bob Dole and was soon to win a second term as president. "The only hope this country has," Bradbury insisted, "is to get someone in there who's smart enough to eliminate the Capital Gains tax."
Because of his love for Ray, Stan was terribly uncomfortable and unwilling to raise his voice much. There was zero chance he was going to do what his friend wanted. Even if he'd agreed with him politically — and he did not — it was way too late to make that kind of change. He'd already recorded 75% of the singing and talking, and 100% of the music. In fact, the recording was supposed to be completed in about four hours.
"But you have to," Ray implored. "This record is about the United States of America. There won't be a United States of America by 2000 if the Clintons aren't stopped!"
Stan awkwardly excused himself to go direct and/or perform in the next segment. Ray retired to the engineer's booth to listen…but every time there was a pause between takes, he tried to talk to Stan about the dire need for anti-Clinton material on Volume Two. Donna gave me a look: Can't you do something?
I did something. When Ray went to the men's room, I "happened to" run into him on his way back, engaged him in conversation and steered him into a little lunch room nearby. We sat there and talked for around 90 minutes, which was no grand hardship for me. When you kept him off certain political "hot button" topics, Ray Bradbury was still one of the most brilliant and fascinating storytellers and pontificators in the world. In fact, when I later interviewed him at Comic-Con, a lot of what I did was to prompt him for anecdotes that he'd told me that day in the Wilder Brothers break room.
So that was my major contribution to Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America, Volume Two. I kept Ray Bradbury out of the room for an hour and a half, almost until his ride came for him. I also contributed a few lines and jokes to the album but those bits of input were minor compared to keeping Ray occupied.
Just before he departed, an odd thing happened…one of those moments that has stayed with me until this day.
We had just wandered back into the recording studio where Stan had finished a number with Donavan. Donavan was quite experienced at performing under his father's direction and his recording did not require as many takes as others that day. Suddenly, an employee of Wilder Brothers came into the room and said, "I don't mean to interrupt but all of you…you just have to come outside and see something." Curiosity and a need for fresh air caused all of us, Stan and Ray included, to venture outside…
…and there, filling the sky to the west of us, way out over the Pacific Ocean was the most beautiful sunset that any of us had ever seen.
It was jaw-droppingly amazing…every possible color highlighting and backlighting wispy clouds. You could spend a month with Adobe Photoshop and not create anything quite that awesome. We all just stood there, mouths open, staring at it and I stole a joke from the Ziggy comic strip. I applauded and called out, "Author, author!"
There was still work to be done inside but none of us could tear ourselves from that vision; not until a few minutes later when it began to darken and lose its lustre. We felt transformed and claustrophobic as we trooped back in to the windowless studio. The recording was completed, sans Bradbury diversions, in another half-hour. In the following weeks, Stan edited it and mastered it, deciding how loud this or that should be and adding sound effects. I sat in on the last day of editing and made another of my great contributions by saying, "It's great, Stan. Stop fiddling with it!" He fiddled for another hour or so, then with a deep sigh declared it completed.
I remember that day in the recording studio with the kind of clarity your mind demands on an important day in your life. I remember Stan being fully in command of what would go on the "record" and Donna being fully committed to him getting it on there the way he wanted. I remember the other performers, all of them clearly feeling privileged to be a part of it and eager to give Stan what he wanted. I remember the visitors, Bradbury especially, and the general excitement that Stan was finally, at long last, getting Volume Two done.
And I especially remember that sunset…a magical interlude that was somehow altogether appropriate on that very magical day.
You probably have the same problem I had: Dozens of deserving charities hitting you up for donations all the time. Should you give to feed starving children in this country or try to wipe out a certain disease in that country? Most seem worthy and you can only spare so much. How do you decide where it goes?
A few decades ago, I read in Dan Rather's autobiography how he'd solved that dilemma. He decided the Salvation Army did enormously good work without a lot of the money going into executive pockets and he decided to make that charity the recipient of all that he could afford to donate. I have a feeling he could and did donate a lot more than I ever could but I liked the principle.
I looked around, read some reports and decided on Operation USA, which then had a different name. That I happened to know some of the folks involved in its top-level management and knew them to be good, sincere people was a deciding factor but by no means the only one. The surveys that monitor such things told me that I wouldn't get any more "bang" for my buck anywhere else. They spent very little on themselves and as much as possible on helping those in need of help.
Obviously, I am mentioning this here today because of the great tragedy and devastation in Nepal. If you feel like you'd like to do something to help, a donation to Operation USA will do a whole lot o' good. For the people in need over there and for your spirit over here.
Some scientists calculated that to print out everything on the Internet would take 136 billion sheets of paper which would require 16 million trees. I pray that they abandon this mad, pointless plan.
Once upon a time, there were over a thousand Howard Johnson's restaurants in this country. A few weeks ago, we were down to three. Now, there are two — one in Bangor, Maine and one in Lake George, N.Y. The hotel chain that spun off from them remains but the restaurants are teetering on extinction.
In the early seventies when I worked for Jack Kirby, there was one in Thousand Oaks, not far from the Kirby home. Jack and his wife Roz liked it because it reminded them of the ones they'd frequented back in New York. Often at the end of a workday out there, my partner Steve Sherman and I would join whatever portion of the Kirby family was around in a visit to their local HoJo's. I always had a hot turkey sandwich and for dessert, a scoop of their orange sherbet which came with a cookie stuck in it.
Jack rarely said much over dinner. His mind was always deep into the next story he would write and draw. He let Roz order for him and ate whatever she selected.
I have a very vivid memory of one dinner at that Howard Johnson's. Jack had been asked to come up with a new book for DC — something in a monster/horror vein. He came up with a name to play with — The Demon — and then didn't have much time to think about it until that dinner. Either Roz ordered his meal or he ordered what she told him to order…and then he went silent. Conversations swirled around him but he was quiet. He was writing.
Maybe fifteen minutes later, our server delivered the entrees and as we dug in, Jack said, "I've got it." He then proceeded to tell us all the entire plot of what would be Demon #1. He'd figured out who his demon was, where he came from, how he functioned, the supporting characters around him, what would transpire in his debut appearance, what everyone would look like…everything. I feel quite certain Jack worked all that out in his head while they were making my hot turkey sandwich.
He didn't exactly rush us to eat quickly. He was too considerate for that. But we could all sense Jack was eager to get home and begin committing his idea to paper so we dined at a brisk clip and I took bigger bites of my sherbet than usual. The entire comic was created at that Howard Johnson's.
It's long gone and sadly, so is Jack, though his work and influence endure. I'm sure many people my age or older have great memories of one Howard Johnson's restaurant or other. That's the only one I have but I think it's a good one. Here's an article about the next to the next to the last one closing. Soon, no one at all will get the reference in Blazing Saddles.
Here's a replay from December 14 of 2001. Not much to add to it today except to say that I wish some cable channel would find a place for Ed Sullivan reruns. A pretty large number of the old shows still exist and I think they hold up fairly well. The show was so fast-paced that it's tough to get bored with even the lamest of acts. They'd be gone in about the time it would take you to find your remote control and locate the Fast Forward button. I imagine there might be clearance issues here and there but I do think there'd be an audience for it. If nothing else, it might reach the older audience as well as any of those channels filled with commercials for Rascal scooters and staircase lifts…
Click above to see this a bit larger.
I'm on a deadline and I didn't have anything in particular I wanted to post here, so I thought I'd throw together a quick update. The photo above was selected just because I thought it was kinda neat, and because I somehow neglected to say anything here upon the passing of George Harrison.
I wasn't the only one who took scant notice. Had the events of 9/11 not already plunged a lot of folks into a state of ongoing mourning — and made us thoroughly conscious of our own, meager mortalities — the death of another fourth of The Beatles would have been a major kick in the karma.
As I look at the above photo, I can't help but think what Ed Sullivan must have been thinking as it was taken…something along the lines of, "The people I have to put up with to keep my show high in the ratings." From all reports, America's Master Showman — at least on Sunday nights on CBS — had no special affection for any of the zillions of singers and comedians and jugglers and performing anthropoids who traipsed across the stage where Mr. Letterman now works. Ed just loved the success and the money and especially the fame. When in one famous network match-up, Steve Allen went head-to-head against him on NBC, a lot of TV reporters wagered heavily on Steverino. After all, it was Steve, the man who could do anything — sing, do jokes, play piano, write songs, etc. — against Ed, the man who couldn't even introduce Jack Carter without it coming out "Jack Carson." (My fave of all the reported Sullivan gaffes was the time he described an actress as "currently starving on Broadway.")
Sullivan was an appallingly amateurish host, but that was an indicator of his greatest skill: He was a survivor. When he first started hosting The Toast of the Town — later redubbed The Ed Sullivan Show — just about everyone on TV was appallingly amateurish. Ed just had the tenacity and drive that allowed him to stick around, long after the professionals had encamped. It was almost charming that he never got any better.
But he hung in there. He beat The Steve Allen Show because, I suspect, he had the greater need to succeed. After all, Allen knew that if his show got cancelled, there'd be another Steve Allen Show along, sooner or later — and there was. (There were several, in fact.) Sullivan, it is said, lived with the belief that his show was his one shot at being a famous, well-paid TV star. He believed — probably accurately — that once it went off, he'd be back to being just another sports/Broadway columnist in the increasingly less-lucrative newspaper industry. So he fought like mad, trampling over competitors to book the biggest stars, the hottest acts…which led to the night The Beatles graced his stage.
In the Billy Crystal movie, Mr. Saturday Night, the comedian character he played had the misfortune to be booked that night to precede John, Paul, Ringo and George. This meant facing an audience of hysterical teen-age girls who resented every second anyone not from Liverpool was on stage. Well, that happened…to my friends, Charlie Brill and Mitzi McCall, who were the luckless comedy team on that evening's show. Charlie can still wake up in a cold sweat, recalling the worst challenge any comic has ever faced.
But it made them a part of history…for something changed in America that night. When Elvis graced the Sullivan line-up — from the waist up — the change commenced, and when The Fab Four sang "She Loves You" or "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" or whatever they performed that night, the transformation was complete. The youth of the day had won, and the world would be all about them from that moment on…with the music of The Beatles often playing in the background.
I have no idea how much George Harrison had to do with this revolution, though I doubt he was carrying pictures of Chairman Mao. Perhaps he was just one of those historical figures who was fortunate enough to be near the epicenter when the Earth moved. Everyone seems to feel that John and Paul were the heart and brains of the band, not necessarily in that order.
Perhaps Mr. Harrison was just a good musician. His solo albums — which I seem to have liked more than a lot of rabid Beatles fans did — would bear that out. But, hey, he financed a couple of the better Monty Python projects and even put in a cameo in The Rutles…and I don't recall anyone ever saying anything bad about him. For that alone, we should weep for the man…that is, when we're not weeping for the sad fact that The Beatles, and therefore a lot of us, are now old men. Physically, at least.
Would that I could forsake all I have to do today and just blog for you but I can't so up goes the soup can. Sorry but here are a few odds 'n' ends before I leave you until tomorrow or the next obit, whichever occurs first…
My buddy Jeff Abraham says that the Friars Roast — the one I posted the photo from — aired on 1/21/70. He oughta know.
I said something here the other day about Time-Warner owning Time-Warner Cable and many of you wrote to tell me no, Comcast now owns Time-Warner Cable. Well, you were all right then but the deal's been scuttled so I'm right now. I think we should all pool our money and buy Time-Warner Cable ourselves. Given their level of service, it can't cost more than a few grand.
Matt Taibbi thinks the Republican party has a real problem: Younger Republicans aren't rallied and are maybe even alienated by cries to stop Gay Marriage. Older Republicans still are. So how do you take a stand and hold onto both?
I seem to not be speaking at any memorial services for departed friends this weekend. Looks like it'll be a good weekend.
I may post a video and a rerun article later but barring any obits, I'm outta here 'til tomorrow. Bye!
This is a history of the various lions and logos that have appearing at the opening of MGM movies. My friend Paul Harris had this video on his fine blog and he remarked…
Watching this reminded me of the story of the MGM Grand Casino/Hotel in Las Vegas, which once used a giant lion's mouth as its entrance. Unfortunately, the company didn't understand that superstitious Asian gamblers — who made up a large portion of its player base — considered walking into the cat's mouth to be very bad luck, so they stayed away in droves. It cost MGM millions before it realized its mistake, and millions more to rebuild the doorway so that customers entered near the lion, not through its mouth.
What Paul reports is true but I have my own, other Leo/Las Vegas memory. I'll tell you about in a moment. First, here's the video…
The hotel that is now Bally's used to the the MGM Grand. This was before they sold it and built the new MGM Grand. Back then, it featured a lavish production show called "Hallelujah Hollywood," which later morphed into "Jubilee!" At one point near the opening of the first show — and I think this carried over for a time into the second — they tried to replicate live this famous movie opening.
They had an actual, live lion and they had a big image of the rest of the screen and there was a hole in it for the lion's head to appear. I have no idea how they managed to get him to roar on cue but I have a feeling the Humane Association would not have or did not approve.
The lion was on some sort of platform with the rest of the image in front of him. At the precise moment, the spotlight hit it and while the lion did roar at the right moment, he managed to get turned around so you were staring at his rear end and tail. You also didn't hear the roar well since he was not facing the microphone. I saw the show two times about a year apart and this happened both times.
Later on, I met a dancer in the show and mentioned it to her. She said, "Yeah, Leo shows his ass in that show even more than I do."
Chris Hayes had Judith Miller on his MSNBC show the other day. Miller is, of course, the New York Times reporter who authored story after story about how we had to go to war in Iraq because Saddam definitely had those weapons of mass destruction. She's now on a press tour, trying to rehabilitate her image as a lackey of the Bush Administration who helped the U.S. make a big, big mistake. She's pushing the idea that she honestly reported what good sources said and she's pushing a book that makes that case.
Hayes, unlike others who've had her on, did a fairly good job of cross-examination. She admitted the war was a terrible mistake. She admitted her sources were wrong. Then Hayes said, "Go ask the editor at Rolling Stone about what happens when your source is wrong." You can view the video or read a transcript of it here.
Jaime Weinman writes about David Letterman, specifically about how viewers who only know him from the last decade or so may wonder how this cranky guy stayed on so long and why he is so revered. Whenever friends of mine discuss great moments with Dave, it's always something from his NBC show or the early days of his tenure on CBS.
It's never anything from this century…or when it is, it's because fate, not Dave's wish to do something different, forced a memorable moment on him. His post 9/11 speech was memorable. His shows when he returned from major medical problems were memorable. His speech about being blackmailed was memorable. It was rarely anything that occurred on a "normal" episode. On those, he seemed to be striving for uniformity, even to the extent of repeating monologue jokes from the night before.
CBS, by the way, is airing a prime-time special about Dave's career with them on May 4, hosted by Ray Romano. It will include a lot of those memorable moments. Dave's last show is May 20.
After he departs, we're probably going to hear a lot more from folks who worked inside his operation. I'll own up to a certain curiosity as to Wha' Happened? It just seemed over the years that he got more and more uninterested in prepared comedy bits, in doing remotes, in doing much more than entertaining the studio audience. Almost every episode I've watched the last few years included some joke that was incomprehensible to home viewers since it was a reference to something someone in the audience had said during the non-televised warm-up.
My pal Paul Harris wrote in a not-dissimilar essay…
While his legend will always include dozens of memorable moments and wacky bits he created (or borrowed from Steve Allen) and his paradigm-shifting attitude towards late-night television, which spawned the current generation of competitors, the fact is that it's been a long time since Dave said or did anything original.
Paul and I have talked a lot about Letterman, a guy we both admired tremendously. We agreed that at some point, Dave became utterly uninterested in his own show and especially anything that required work or prep. He couldn't even feign interest in about two-thirds of his guests, which is the main thing that drove me away. When I did watch the last few years, it was because I saw he had on some guest — like a Steve Martin or a Tom Hanks — who might make Dave care and rise to the occasion. When he was good, he was very good. He almost reminded you of the guy who followed Carson all those years on NBC.
I can name some factors other than Letterman himself that harmed the show — factors that have hurt all the late night shows. One is that viewing audiences have shown a marked disinterest in reruns that feel like reruns. Carson used to select shows to be repeated from a year or so back on the theory that viewers would have largely forgotten what happened on them and would be ready to see them again. Rating patterns the last few years have yielded a new working premise: Old shows feel like old shows.
Today, all the late night talkers select reruns from just a few weeks back because (a) they now assume that even those who like the program aren't, even in the age of TiVo, watching every night…and (b) current references will make it feel more like a new show. Mr. Carson did his shows with the idea that he was building a library; that highlights from any show could be rerun forever. He even pushed for things like Carson's Comedy Classics, a series which reused old segments.
No one has so much as suggested that what Dave, Jay, the Jimmies, et al, have been doing the last ten years has any reuse value anywhere. The shows aren't even being rerun weeks later on the networks' late night schedule or their cable channels, as was done a lot a decade ago. The stars and their staffs are all aware they're probably doing disposable shows, many of which will never be seen again, a few of which will be seen one more time, then will disappear.
Also, audience patterns have shown that the best way to get tune-in is to book the hot star or the hot new movie or the hot new series. This has presented problems for a guy like Dave who probably hasn't watched the hot new movie or series and doesn't have much interest in its hot new star. But more than that, to book the hot new star, you now have to contend with the hot new property's publicist who frets that one awkward, unplanned moment will harm the hot new marketing campaign. They want to know the questions in advance. They want to veto certain questions. They don't want the hot new star getting stuck in a situation where he or she would have to ad-lib.
Leno, in his exit interviews, has spoken a lot about the frustration of dealing with these publicists and handlers. I'll betcha Dave has even more frustration…and a strong sense that this just ain't his game anymore. That was one of Carson's main problems in his last few years. He just plain didn't know (or care to know) a lot of celebs he had in his guest chair (or should have had in his guest chair)…and those folks did not come on for unscripted conversation. They came on to stay "on-message" about the movie they had opening next Friday.
I'm not sure that what has ruined late night TV for me is wholly the fault of the guys behind the desks these days. I think it has a lot to do with what they have to do to stay viable, ratings-wise. At some point, someone at CBS must have talked to Dave about creating "viral videos" and I'll bet his eyes glazed over and he thought, "I've been doing this too long to learn a whole new set of rules."
The main thing that interests me about Letterman these days is to wonder what he's going to do with the rest of his life, entertainment-wise. Leno couldn't beat Dave when it came to witty ad-libbing and revolutionizing the late night form but he's blitzed him in career management. Jay has something to do now and Dave doesn't. Jay is very happy (and well-compensated) doing stand-up and a little cable show that, wisely, in no way resembles The Tonight Show. Dave was never happy doing stand-up and for him, a little cable show would be such a comedown, especially if it was a low-rent version of what he's done in television the last several decades.
I hope he comes up with something. When he's on his game, he's a very clever man and one of the most important talents in television history. I wish there was a cable channel reairing his old NBC shows so that new generations might know that…and why some of us care about that unhappy old guy who's stepping down next month.
