Monthly Archives: December 2016

The guest today on Stu Shostak's 'net radio show is Animation Expert Jerry Beck. He and Stu will be talking about new animated films like Moana, forthcoming video releases and TV specials…all sorts of cartoony topics. Jerry's visits always make for a delightful program and this one should be no exception.

Stu's Show can be heard live (almost) every Wednesday at the Stu's Show website and you can listen for free there and then. Webcasts start at 4 PM Pacific Time, 7 PM Eastern and other times in other climes. They run a minimum of two hours and sometimes go to three or beyond. Then shortly after a show concludes, it's available for downloading from the Archives on that site. Downloads are a paltry 99 cents each and you can get four for the price of three. You might want to leave a few out for Santa along with his milk and cookies.

Skooby's was a small hot dog stand located under a movie theater marquee on Hollywood Boulevard, directly across from Musso-Frank's Grill, a restaurant that will never go outta businees — I hope. Skooby's served great dogs with a great snap and was kind of a godsend to those of us who like neither the chow nor the lines at Pink's. Skooby's was what Pink's should have been, given its reputation.

The hot dogs were great, especially if you left off enough toppings to be able to taste the meat…though asked once if I preferred Skooby's over my other fave (Carney's, still open), I answered that I preferred the dogs at Carney's and the french fries and lemonade at Skooby's. I also liked the parking better at either Carney's, which may have been the reason Skooby's is no more. I rarely go to anything in that area that doesn't have a parking lot, even for one of the best hot dogs in town.

This is a short Christmas medley that Neil Diamond sang last week on The Late Late Show with James Corden. Why am I featuring this today? Two reasons, one being that I've always kinda liked Neil Diamond. He's a good, solid entertainer and you never hear anything bad about him. He just wanders around the world selling out stadiums, making people happy.

The other reason is that in this video, you actually see my friend Tom Hensley. He's the guy with the cap and the beard playing piano and he's been doing it for Neil Diamond for a long, long time. I saw him the day before they did Mr. Corden's show and I said, "I'll watch for you" and Tom said, "Oh, I never get on camera." He wasn't bothered by it but I just thought it was great that he did, even just a little. Tom reads this blog so: HEY, TOM! YOU GOT ON CAMERA! YOU GOT ON CAMERA! A LITTLE!

You know…every few months, Jerry Lewis seems to give some sort of interview or statement that seems rude and nasty and often unconnected with reality. And every time, a lot of people rush to defend him…

He's Jerry Lewis. He made a lot of great movies. He raised a ton of money to fight Muscular Dystrophy. He's always been like this. Comedic geniuses have a right to be cranky. The interviewer was at fault. Jerry's a living legend.

I've done some of this defending and it's getting harder and harder, especially the part about "He made a lot of great movies." Usually, the folks who say that can name The Nutty Professor and nothing else. That's like one out of fifty-three movies, not counting cameos.

And I don't even think The Nutty Professor is that good a movie. It's almost like you got the idea he's a great comedian in spite of his actual body of work and then you were challenged to name his best film and you picked that one because a lot of people said it was.

(I think Jerry's best movie was something with Dean in it. It's hard to pick one because they're all about the same. If I had to pick the best solo Jerry film, it would probably be The Bellboy. There are others I like from a nostalgia viewpoint. They amused me when I saw them not because they were good but because I was ten.)

Look, I'll give him the "raised a ton of money" thing. The telethons were a Guilty Pleasure for so many of us. Other televised fund-raisers attract donations by offering genuine entertainment amidst the appeals for dough. Jerry offered ego excesses, self-pity, tirades against his critics, excessive praise of his friends — no wonder this guy loves Trump — and his oft-voiced worldview that people in Show Business are just plain better human beings than people who aren't in Show Business. Still, he did raise a lot of cash from those lesser human beings who aren't in Show Business and it did a lot of good.

But the other stuff….I'm sorry. "Oh, that's just Jerry being Jerry" doesn't work for me on any level. If Harry next door beats his wife and kicks his dog, you don't just say "Oh, that's just Harry being Harry." Jerry, like Trump, is proof that if you get famous enough, some people will let you get away with anything.

I always wanted to like Jerry Lewis but he's made it too difficult. Too difficult. I'm going to stop trying to convince myself or anyone that he was a great comedian and that his tirades are anything other than the ramblings of a bitter, angry man. If you want to continue to see him as someone to be admired, don't let me stop you…because he needs all the love he can get.

But you know what? No matter how much there has been — and he's been loved more than most people on this planet get to be loved — it has never been enough.

William Saletan on the way Trump and his minions are denying every single aspect of the charge that Russia in any way aided them in the election.

You get the feeling we're facing four years where the response to every single criticism of the Trump presidency will be that it's a lie, the evidence is phony and even it were true, we don't care what anyone says? Newt Gingrich is basically out there saying that Trump and his people should just break any laws they want to break because Trump can just pardon them. Donald probably could just go out on the street and start shooting people and he'd get away with it.

This is the most popular thing I've ever posted on this weblog. In fact, it's so popular that proprietors of other sites have thought nothing of just copying the whole thing and posting it on their pages, often with no mention of me and with the implication that they are the "I" in this tale. Please don't do that — to me or anyone. By all means, post a link to it but don't just appropriate it and especially don't let people think it's your work. This is the season for giving, not taking.

Yes, it's true…and I was very happy to learn from two of Mel Tormé's kids that their father had happily told them of the incident. Hearing that was my present…

I want to tell you a story…

The scene is Farmers Market — the famed tourist mecca of Los Angeles. It's located but yards from the facility they call, "CBS Television City in Hollywood"…which, of course, is not in Hollywood but at least is very close.

Farmers Market is a quaint collection of bungalow stores, produce stalls and little stands where one can buy darn near anything edible one wishes to devour. You buy your pizza slice or sandwich or Chinese food or whatever at one of umpteen counters, then carry it on a tray to an open-air table for consumption.

During the Summer or on weekends, the place is full of families and tourists and Japanese tour groups. But this was a winter weekday, not long before Christmas, and the crowd was mostly older folks, dawdling over coffee and danish. For most of them, it's a good place to get a donut or a taco, to sit and read the paper.

For me, it's a good place to get out of the house and grab something to eat. I arrived, headed for my favorite barbecue stand and, en route, noticed that Mel Tormé was seated at one of the tables.

Mel Tormé. My favorite singer. Just sitting there, sipping a cup of coffee, munching on an English Muffin, reading The New York Times. Mel Tormé.

I had never met Mel Tormé. Alas, I still haven't and now I never will. He looked like he was engrossed in the paper that day so I didn't stop and say, "Excuse me, I just wanted to tell you how much I've enjoyed all your records." I wish I had.

Instead, I continued over to the BBQ place, got myself a chicken sandwich and settled down at a table to consume it. I was about halfway through when four Christmas carolers strolled by, singing "Let It Snow," a cappella.

They were young adults with strong, fine voices and they were all clad in splendid Victorian garb. The Market had hired them (I assume) to stroll about and sing for the diners — a little touch of the holidays.

"Let It Snow" concluded not far from me to polite applause from all within earshot. I waved the leader of the chorale over and directed his attention to Mr. Tormé, seated about twenty yards from me.

"That's Mel Tormé down there. Do you know who he is?"

The singer was about 25 so it didn't horrify me that he said, "No."

I asked, "Do you know 'The Christmas Song?'"

Again, a "No."

I said, "That's the one that starts, 'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…'"

"Oh, yes," the caroler chirped. "Is that what it's called? 'The Christmas Song?'"

"That's the name," I explained. "And that man wrote it." The singer thanked me, returned to his group for a brief huddle…and then they strolled down towards Mel Tormé. I ditched the rest of my sandwich and followed, a few steps behind. As they reached their quarry, they began singing, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…" directly to him.

A big smile formed on Mel Tormé's face — and it wasn't the only one around. Most of those sitting at nearby tables knew who he was and many seemed aware of the significance of singing that song to him. For those who didn't, there was a sudden flurry of whispers: "That's Mel Tormé…he wrote that…"

As the choir reached the last chorus or two of the song, Mel got to his feet and made a little gesture that meant, "Let me sing one chorus solo." The carolers — all still apparently unaware they were in the presence of one of the world's great singers — looked a bit uncomfortable. I'd bet at least a couple were thinking, "Oh, no…the little fat guy wants to sing."

But they stopped and the little fat guy started to sing…and, of course, out came this beautiful, melodic, perfectly-on-pitch voice. The look on the face of the singer I'd briefed was amazed at first…then properly impressed.

On Mr. Tormé's signal, they all joined in on the final lines: "Although it's been said, many times, many ways…Merry Christmas to you…" Big smiles all around.

And not just from them. I looked and at all the tables surrounding the impromptu performance, I saw huge grins of delight…which segued, as the song ended, into a huge burst of applause. The whole tune only lasted about two minutes but I doubt anyone who was there will ever forget it.

I have witnessed a number of thrilling "show business" moments — those incidents, far and few between, where all the little hairs on your epidermis snap to attention and tingle with joy. Usually, these occur on a screen or stage. I hadn't expected to experience one next to a falafel stand — but I did.

Tormé thanked the harmonizers for the serenade and one of the women said, "You really wrote that?"

He nodded. "A wonderful songwriter named Bob Wells and I wrote that…and, get this — we did it on the hottest day of the year in July. It was a way to cool down."

Then the gent I'd briefed said, "You know, you're not a bad singer." He actually said that to Mel Tormé.

Mel chuckled. He realized that these four young folks hadn't the velvet-foggiest notion who he was, above and beyond the fact that he'd worked on that classic carol. "Well," he said. "I've actually made a few records in my day…"

"Really?" the other man asked. "How many?"

Tormé smiled and said, "Ninety."

I probably own about half of them on vinyl and/or CD. For some reason, they sound better on vinyl. (My favorite was the album he made with Buddy Rich. Go ahead. Find me a better parlay of singer and drummer. I'll wait.)

Today, as I'm reading obits, I'm reminded of that moment. And I'm impressed to remember that Mel Tormé was also an accomplished author and actor. Mostly though, I'm recalling that pre-Christmas afternoon.

I love people who do something so well that you can't conceive of it being done better. Doesn't even have to be something important: Singing, dancing, plate-spinning, mooning your neighbor's cat, whatever. There is a certain beauty to doing almost anything to perfection.

No recording exists of that chorus that Mel Tormé sang for the other diners at Farmers Market but if you never believe another word I write, trust me on this. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Every actor, producer or writer who ever knew or worked with Gordon Hunt is tonight mourning the loss of a very good and gifted man. Gordon did many things but he was, first and foremost, a director. He directed hundreds of plays, mostly in and around Los Angeles, and for a long time was the Voice Director at Hanna-Barbera.

Before they hired Gordon, they'd had several Voice Directors who hadn't worked out and when there was no one in that job, the producers of the various shows would direct…with mixed results. Among other problems with the latter situation was that no one was in charge of scouting or auditioning new talent for the studio. When Gordon was brought in, he instantly brought order to chaos and new actors into Hanna-Barbera. He tapped into the local pool from improv groups and theatrical productions and now there's a long, long list of voice actors who owe Gordon for "discovering" them.

I remember him as a very patient man who understood performers, how to talk to them and what it takes to get the best from them. When I got my chance to voice direct, I drew on two sources to guide me in how it should be done. I had been in recording sessions with directors other than Gordon. I did nothing that they did. I had also been in recording sessions with Gordon. I did everything that he did..or at least, I tried to. I am not, I swear to you, exaggerating.

I watched him direct old pros like Mel Blanc and Daws Butler and strike just the perfect note of correcting them without disrespecting them. I watched him direct children and coax them into fine performances without scolding or making them feel bad when it took five takes to get a line right. (One of many things I learned from him: Once an actor is uncomfortable or feeling like they're screwing up, you're going to be there all night doing it over and over. So better to never make them feel that way.)

I watched him once directing an actor who was belligerent and hostile. It was not because of anything Gordon had done but the actor, who was upset about the "deal" for his services, kept snapping at Gordon, who'd had nothing to do with the negotiations. Gordon kept his cool and, when the angry actor began turning on other performers in the session, drew his fire and kept things as comfortable as they could be. The session finished on-time and the work was fine. What Gordon had done was to remain a Grown-Up at all times.

As I said, he directed a lot of local plays. I went to a lot of them and every one I saw was first rate. He was rightly proud of all of his work but he was proudest of his daughter, the popular actress Helen Hunt. And vice-versa. I said this a few paragraphs ago but it bears repeating: He was a very good and gifted man.

Today's Hollywood Reporter has an essay on folks in show business who remain active even after attaining the age of 90.  There's a big essay on ten of them — Don Rickles, Dick Van Dyke, Carl Reiner, Norman Lloyd, Cloris Leachman, Marcia Nasitir, Stan Lee, Norman Lear, Betty White and Jerry Lewis.  The list would make you suspect that one of the secrets to longevity is working on a series with Mary Tyler Moore.

There are also spotlights on each one of them and video interviews.  The video interview with Mr. Lewis is going viral today and Hollywood Reporter itself headlines it, "Watch the Most Painfully Awkward Interview of 2016: 7 Minutes With Jerry Lewis." Lewis is cranky, non-responsive and generally hostile in that way that those of us who follow his career have often seen. In fact, I've seen it so much — sometimes in person — that I've stopped finding it funny or interesting or "the flip side of a great clown," which is how one person once described it.

From all reports, Lewis has always been a volatile personality who is capable of great rudeness. He is also sometimes very charming and funny, and those who know him best from those glimpses defend the abrasive Jerry as an understandable aberration. And to be fair to Jerry, he may have had some reason to be pissed for this particular interview. The guy asking the questions wrote…

Throughout the photo shoot, Lewis complained about the amount of equipment in the house, the number of assistants and how the shots were set up. By the time we sat down for the interview about an hour later, Lewis had worked up a full of head of steam, and it seemed like he was punishing THR by doing the interview but being as uncooperative as possible. As awkward and funny — and it's pretty funny — as the interview is, it weirdly proves the point of the entire package: 90-year-old Jerry Lewis is vital and completely engaged. He's just engaged — almost happy — in being difficult.

And you can add to those factors that the off-camera interviewer seems unprepared to deal with Jerry's confrontational responses and is unable to do much to diffuse the anger or move things to a topic that pleases the interviewee. In any case, I didn't find it funny…but then, I haven't thought anything Jerry has done was funny since about halfway through The Disorderly Orderly. I think what's happened since Jerry hit about age 80 is that the angry, pouty interviews and scolding lectures have lost the occasional twinkle. They never looked good on him but they look worse on a man his age.

So you may not want to watch this. But then again, you might so here it is…

This is a series of articles I've written about writing, specifically about the problems faced by (a) the new writer who isn't selling enough work yet to make a living or (b) the older writer who isn't selling as much as they used to. To read other installments, click here.

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Years ago, I knew a TV writer I'll call Ziggy…and to understand the story I'm about to tell you, you need to understand this: I have no idea how good a writer Ziggy was. I never read a script he wrote. I never saw a show he wrote. I have no opinion whatsoever as to the quality of his work.

Ziggy was, I think, the angriest person I ever met.

We were not good buddies. I couldn't imagine myself deliberately hanging around someone like that. But we kept being involved in projects and committees at the Writers Guild so for a few years there, I kept finding myself unpleasantly within griping range of Ziggy.

He griped. Constantly. I don't think I ever heard a sentence out of his mouth that was not in some way either about one particular topic or leading up to that particular topic.

That topic? I think he summed it up best when he said, as he often did in some form, "Why is there so much unmitigated shit on TV and no one's hiring me?

To him, that was the injustice of all time. The Spanish Inquisition, the Holocaust, the 9/11 attacks…mere misdemeanors compared to the fact that Ziggy wasn't working. A friend of mine told me — and I have no idea how he knew this — that Ziggy spent his evenings watching TV and screaming that this show was shit and that show was crap and those shows were both shit and crap…oh, and that TV Movie that was on last night? Why, that was shit, crap and an abomination.

Given the way he acted around me, I absolutely believe that. And let me remind you that I do not know for sure that he couldn't write better scripts than most of what was on television. I have a big hunch but I don't know for sure.

But on and on, he would carry about how almost everyone else's work stunk. Sometimes, there'd be a deep dive into conspiracy theories. Writer A couldn't possibly be getting hired so much on the merits of his work because there clearly were none. Ziggy had heard somewhere that Writer A was the drug supplier for some coked-up moron at the network so that's why they bought his shitty scripts.

Writer B got his shitty scripts bought because he had some sort of blackmail evidence on certain people in high places. Writer C was supplying hookers to certain producers. Several working writers — male and female — were only selling their crappy writing because they were sleeping with certain producers — male and female.

One time, he told me why he wasn't selling anything to CBS. He had a pitch meeting there once. The "executive" — Ziggy uttered the noun with the sarcastic quotes clearly audible — had not liked his idea. Ziggy immediately told the guy, "You're an idiot," which is always a wise thing to do. (Beginners: Make sure you promptly and loudly unleash your anger and insult anyone who's in a position to hire you.) The "exec" subsequently had Ziggy banned for life from ever working at CBS.

I asked him, "How do you know you were banned?" and he replied, as if it were self-evident, that no one at CBS would hire him or even return his calls. "What other reason could there be?"

Ziggy was on a number of Writers Guild committees and it seemed to me like he'd volunteered for two reasons. One was to meet more writers. That's simple networking. Some of those writers are or soon will be in positions to hire or recommend or tip you off to opportunities for work or maybe to a good agent. Ziggy did not have a good agent — all part of the conspiracy — and the ones he did have, he didn't have for very long.

Networking is not the stupidest thing in the world. It does work occasionally but I'll tell you in a moment why it probably didn't help Ziggy.

His second interest was in working to change some of the WGA working rules to make them more favorable to those who don't have access to those who hire. As long as I've been in the Guild — I joined on April Fool's Day of 1976 — I have seen members suggest and lobby for rules like "Any time a TV show gets an order for five or more episodes, they must let every writer in the Guild submit samples and give 50% of the script assignments to writers they've never hired before."

That was an actual proposal once, not from Ziggy but from another writer who was bitter about not being able to get on the other side of the line that divides working writers from the non-working. Those proposals almost never pass or come close to passing. A general bit of advice to writers who are frustrated by The System: It's a whole lot easier to sell something under The System than it is to change The System. And by "a whole lot," I mean like a million times easier.

So Ziggy got nowhere with his writing career and Ziggy got madder and madder…

…and every time I encountered him, I thought: I don't want to be in the same room with this guy — and neither would any sane producer. I mean, he was just so hostile and super-paranoid. One time in a committee meeting, he proposed something innocent and simple. I honestly don't remember what it was but it was as non-controversial as, "Hey, at the next committee meeting, why don't we have some bowls of potato chips?" Let's say it was that.

There was general unenthusiastic agreement — no one really cared that much about it — and then someone else said, "What about pretzels?"

Instantly, a look of unchecked rage came over Ziggy's face and he screamed, "WHAT WAS SO GODDAMNED WRONG WITH MY POTATO CHIP IDEA?"

Well, nothing. But you just know that when someone gets that emotional about potato chips versus pretzels, there's something else going on there. Imagine being in a creative meeting with that person and trying to discuss plot points or whether a line is funny or if a scene is working. If you were running a series, would you want to spend a lot of time around that guy?

In creative meetings, everyone has to feel free to throw out any idea, however stupid it might be. My rotten idea might trigger a good one in your mind. Sometimes, the way you find the right answer to a problem is that one or more people throw out dozens of ideas, many of which are rotten…and someone says, "Hey, wait a minute. That last one…that's not bad!" and then you all try to polish it to perfection. Collaboration involves being willing to let others modify your idea or to come up with a better one.

Even when you're not in a committee situation — if you write at home by yourself — there comes a time when your writing is going to be critiqued or edited or discussed by the producers or the network or the actors or someone. You need to know when to defend your work and that "when" isn't any time someone wants or suggests a change.

You furthermore need to make sure you're defending it because you honestly think you're in the right and not because your ego feels threatened or you have a latent anger at the person who just said, "This speech on page 9…I think there's a clearer, shorter way to say that." If you want to work with others, you have to make sure they want to work with you.

And if you're "networking," as Ziggy was often trying to do in WGA committees, you have to make sure that you don't broadcast the image of a screaming maniac filled with bile. Ziggy's basic problem was that he'd gotten himself trapped in a vicious circle…

• The longer he went without work, the madder he got.
• The madder he got, the less anyone wanted to give him work.

When you're stuck on one of those mobius strips, only you can break it. No one else is going to. You're the only one who can alter that pattern and if you don't do it, it's only going to get worse. Until then, you're like a guy who drinks heavily because he's depressed about his drinking problem.

I stopped working on Writers Guild committees after a while. One reason was that they were sucking up way too much of my time. Another was that I felt I'd put in more than enough hours and I had other responsibilities — to myself, to my work and to others close to me. And while those two reasons were and are sufficient on their own, there was a third: I was sick of being around people like Ziggy, who were unhappy about their careers and were using the Guild as a forum to vent and bitch about it.

That's just about all I have to say about Ziggy and I hope the lessons to be learned are obvious. When I started writing this piece, I realized I hadn't heard his name for a long time and I wondered if he was still alive and if so, if he ever got that chance to work more steadily and to show the world that he could outwrite anyone else working on TV.

IMDB seems to think he's still around but the most recent credit they have for him is for the screenplay of a movie I never heard of, and I can find no other information about it on IMDB or anywhere on the Internet. It may not have actually been made or it may be more like a student film…or something. The date on it is 2006. Ten years ago.

The last credit they list for him on something I've heard of and which apparently was produced is a shared credit on an episode of a short-lived TV crime series from the early-nineties. That's a long time to be screaming at your TV set.

I kinda started blogging by accident. I didn't even have actual blogging software. I just did it by hand and rigged up a primitive macro to archive the old posts when they were displaced by new ones.

At the time, I didn't think I'd do a thousand posts, let alone the 24,000 that are currently on this site. Yeah, there are 125 "encore" posts here but along the way, I've probably lost about that many posts so it probably balances out. I also didn't imagine I would make so many friends or get in contact with old ones.

I believe this blog has a pretty smart readership. When I ask a question, I usually get an answer and it's usually the right one…although one time, I asked a question about a very famous comedian and he wrote me himself with what I later found out was the wrong answer.

I want to thank all the folks who've sent in links, suggestions, questions or who've caught typos or dumb mistakes. I also want to thank about 95% of those who've sent replies to opinion pieces. The ones I'm thanking are the ones who've been thoughtful, non-hysterical and sometimes informative. Thanks too to those of you who've donated cash and/or ordered items from Amazon via the links that give us a tiny commission on your purchases. In case you're interested, since I upgraded to a top-grade server — notice how this board is so rarely down? — I only lose about $500 a month on this blog. It would be double that without your support.

I try to thank you back by posting a couple of items every day. Once in a while, I don't make it but I sure try. I have turned down all offers of paid advertising or of putting this blog under the umbrella of a larger website and I will continue to do turn them down. It's nice to write something that's completely mine and completely independent. Those of you who write for a living or want to write (for a living or otherwise) might consider it.

By the way: The anniversary was actually yesterday but something got in the way of posting this then. One of these days, I'll tell you what it was and you'll understand.

Trump is reportedly considering Larry Kudlow to run his Council of Economic Advisers. Kudlow would be perfect except for two things: He's not an economist and he's always wrong. "Trickle-Down Economics" never works. It just kinds of pisses on your shoes.

Jonathan Chait has a brief history of Kudlow's unrelenting advocacy of a policy that fails every time it's tried. But, hey, it's an excuse to cut the taxes of rich people. So what if it tanks the economy again? And again and again…

This might interest you if you've ever been a fan of Deal or No Deal, as I was for about nine minutes when it first went on American TV.  It's about the original British version of the show.

You may recall that on the U.S. TV game show Press Your Luck, a gent named Michael Larson won a crate full of cash because, after studying the show intensely, he discovered that the game board, which was supposed to have random patterns, actually had at least one predictable one.  He got on the show and exploited his find to win more than $110,000. (If you wanna know more about this, click this link.)

Well, on Deal or No Deal, the assignment of the various prize amounts to the various boxes is supposed to be completely random but for a brief time on the British version, it wasn't. In this case, many of the show's fans figured out the patterns but none of them got on the show to use that information…

Here's someone's list of The 100 L.A. Things Every Angeleno Should Do at Least Once. I have lived in Los Angeles for every one of my 64.8 years and I have done very few of these. Some of that is because I don't drink alcohol and never have. Most of them I haven't done because they don't interest me in the slightest.

• I've been to Venice Beach (#1) and didn't think it was worth the hassle it was to park there.
• I've been to Disneyland (#2) an average of once every 16.25 years. I'd go more often if the drive wasn't so exhausting that you're pooped before you make it as far as Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln.
• I've gone window shopping — and even real shopping — on Rodeo Drive (#9), though really only once because I promised a lady friend a pair of fancy shoes.
• I've seen a Broadway show at the Pantages (#11). Actually, a few dozen Broadway shows at the Pantages. It's a great place if you can score good seats, an awful place if you can't.
• I've eaten at Philippe's (#12) many times. Best sandwiches in town. Also, when propertly dunked, the wettest.
• I've been to the Rose Bowl Swap Meet (#14) because my friend Marv Wolfman wanted to go there and buy one thing and I kept asking, "We drove all the way here, parked two miles away and walked six more so you could buy that?"
• I've spent many, many evenings at the Magic Castle (#19). Been a member since 1980 when I went to see my then-current lady friend get sawed in half and, as the joke goes, got the half that eats.
• I've driven on the 710 (#21), which is about as thrilling as driving any freeway. I have no idea where it goes, either. No one does.
• I've avoided James Woods (#41) and all his movies, as well. Except the one about the family unjustly accused of child abuse. That was good.
• I've seen an obscure movie at the Cinefamily (#49). Several of them, in fact. But I was there more often when it was the Silent Movie Theater.
• I've sat in the bleachers at Dodger Stadium (#55), most recently when Sandy Koufax was pitching. I'll return next time he's on the mound but not before that.
• I've sat in box seats at the Hollywood Bowl (#56), the first time being when Monty Python was performing there. John Cleese in drag tried to sell me a dead albatross.
• I've spotted Angelyne in her pink car (#66). She's the woman who is famous for pioneering being famous for being famous.
• I've been to the La Brea Tar Pits (#76) and it reminded me of visiting the Friars Club, which is not on this list.
• I've ridden the elevator in the Westin Bonaventure downtown (#78) and, yeah, it's fun if you have a good reason to go to the Westin Bonaventure, which has happened once to me since they built the place.
• I've been to a gigantic movie premiere (#91) and marveled at how little the whole thing had to do with seeing a movie. Lotsa people walked the red carpet, got their photos taken and then split before the film started.

And that's it.  I've lived in this town all my life and I've done 16 out of 100 and come close on a few others.  (Dined at Musso and Frank's, for instance, but didn't have a martini.) I don't think I've lived a sheltered existence. I think the list is full of a lot of things I don't want to do and can't imagine why anyone would…except eating a French Dip at Philipe's and avoiding James Woods. Those are very good life choices.

During the election, Donald Trump couldn't say enough bad things about the investment bank Goldman Sachs. Now, he can't put enough of its people in powerful positions in his administration. It must be tough to have believed this guy was going to take on Big Business and to now see how well he plans to serve it. Matt Taibbi has more.

In 1970, I had…well, not a hand but about half a knuckle in the launching of the Mister Miracle comic book by Jack Kirby. Some time ago, a reader of this site named Joe Wainright wrote to ask me about the coloring of that hero's costume and lately, I've seen a couple of different websites where folks discuss it or misunderstand what happened. So here's the story but first, here's Joe's e-mail to me…

I don't understand why Mister Miracle's costume was one color on the cover of Mister Miracle #1 and a different color inside and from then on, but then he was totally uncolored on the cover of #3. Later, I saw Kirby's original design of the character and the coloring of that was completely different. Didn't Kirby himself do that coloring? Why was it changed? I also read that you designed the final coloring. Can you clear this up?

I'll try. First, we start with the yellow costume above. In either late 1968 or early 1969, Jack was becoming increasingly unhappy with the way he was being treated at Marvel, specifically that he was receiving no financial compensation or credit for his serious contributions to the stories and to the creation of ongoing characters. To try and address this problem, he took some time and created a whole bunch of new characters. A lot of his presentation pieces for them are around. Jack drew them, inked some of them himself and engaged his friend and fellow Marvel artist Don Heck to ink some of them. Jack colored them all.

At the time, Jack was receiving quiet inquiries from other publishers — not all of them then in the comic book business — about maybe creating a new line of comics for them. So Jack did these drawings as part of a two-part plan. Part One was that he'd show them to the folks at Marvel and say something like, "Hey, look! I've got a bunch of ideas or new characters and I'll be glad to sell them to you but I have to have a much different working arrangement with you than I've had in the past!"

Part Two was that if he didn't get that better deal from them, he might use the drawings to make that better deal with another publisher.

Well, Part One didn't work. The people then in charge at Marvel would not discuss any changes in "the deal." They wanted the new ideas but they wanted them on the old terms so that never happened. Part Two did not succeed with the new publishers who'd courted Jack. They either didn't have the necessary funds and infrastructure to get into comics or only wanted to get into comics if they could buy material on the same terms as Marvel.

But the drawings were a key factor in DC hiring Jack away from Marvel in early 1969 and most of the characters from the presentations would wind up in the books he initially did for DC. It's important to understand that Jack did not consider either the designs or his plans for the characters firm. They were concepts he would rearrange and reconfigure into what he did for DC. For example, he had the idea for this epic continuity that he initially called "The New Gods" but he wasn't set on which of the characters he'd created and which additional ones he would create would figure into "The New Gods" and which of the characters he'd concocted would appear in standalone series that were unconnected to "The New Gods."

Mister Miracle and The Black Racer were at one point unconnected to the epic in Jack's mind but he later decided to fold Mister Miracle into "The New Gods" and the guy in charge at DC who hired Jack, Carmine Infantino, urged him to put The Black Racer into that world. Eventually too, "The New Gods" went from being the umbrella title of all the books in that epic continuity to being the title of one of those comics and — seemingly from out of nowhere — "The Fourth World" became the umbrella title.

When Jack did the drawing of the guy in the yellow suit, that may have been the visual for Mister Miracle or — and I think this is more likely — that may have been the visual for some other idea he had and he later decided to use it, sans gun, for his idea for Mister Miracle, the Super Escape Artist. Jack was always rearranging ideas in his mind and marrying this one to that one. Mister Miracle did not arrive at his final form until Jack finally wrote and drew the first issue of this comics…and even then, the hero continued to evolve.

Kirby finished that first issue and sent it back to the DC offices in New York. He did not send them the drawing with the yellow outfit to use as a guide because that wasn't the finished version of the character he now had in his mind. He planned to later work out color schemes for Mister Miracle and all the other characters in the new books he was creating for DC but the folks at the firm said something like, "Oh, don't bother. We'll handle those here."

DC had a Production Department and they were very proud of it. A man named Sol Harrison headed it up and the coloring was supervised by a man named Jack Adler. Both had been in their jobs a long time. Both were considered to be very good at those jobs. Both of them felt (as did others in the office) that the coloring done at DC was the best in the business and that the coloring over at Marvel was really lousy. Neither one was a particular fan of anything at Marvel, including Jack's artwork and the way other artists incorporated elements of his style.

Infantino, who was running DC then, kept asking Jack for suggestions on how to improve the DC line. When Jack suggested that they look at Marvel books to see how comics should be colored, he made instant enemies of the Production Department. Jack just plain thought that Marvel coloring — especially as done by Marie Severin and Stan Goldberg — was superior, at least for the kind of thing he did. Around the DC offices, that was heresy.

It would not be inaccurate to say that for the length of Jack's stay at DC, he never liked the way his work was colored and the persons doing or overseeing that coloring weren't too fond of the Kirby work they were coloring. This was probably not unrelated to the many changes they found it necessary to do to Jack's work there.

Anyway, Jack didn't fight them on most of what they did but when they sent him an example of how they were coloring Mister Miracle's costume, that he felt had to be changed. That was the purple design you see at the top of this post in the right-hand image. I was working for Jack then, teamed with a fine fellow named Steve Sherman. Jack asked us to come up with a new color scheme for the hero and he did a quickie drawing of him. We Xeroxed it about a dozen times and Steve colored half of them different ways and I colored the other half with different ideas.

Neither of us recalls which of us came up with the one Jack selected but he picked one and shipped it back to New York, just days before Mister Miracle #1 was ready to go to press. He probably picked the one he thought was acceptable and the least different from what New York had done. It wasn't that much of a change but Jack felt it was necessary.

The issue had already been colored and color-separated and they'd probably made the printing plates by then…but Infantino agreed to go with what Jack wanted and they spent whatever it cost to change the color scheme on the cover. They said it was too late to replace the purple costume on the inside but I suspect they just didn't want to spend the money.

As of the second issue, the red costume was used and nowadays when they reprint #1, they adjust the colors on it as they did in the image you see at left in the second pair of images, a few paragraphs above this one.

As for why Mister Miracle was completely colorless on the cover of #3…I have no idea. At the time, Jack asked and he got all sorts of double talk that he took to mean no one there knew why, either. He told us, "It looks like their infallible Production Department screwed up."