Next Tuesday, The Movie Channel — which you may or may not get on your local cable provider — is running The Night They Raided Minsky's.  This film, which I find fascinating, has never been out on Laserdisc or DVD, the VHS tape is quite hard to find, and if it's ever been on TV before, it's been quite a while.

It stars Norman Wisdom, Jason Robards, Britt Ekland, Elliott Gould, Denholm Elliott, Jack Burns  and Bert Lahr in a funny (at times), chaotic (usually) and silly (always) tale of the burlesque business and what allegedly ended it.  As a historical record of that industry, it's a trainload of cheap fiction, but there are moments when some apparently genuine Burley-Q routines and ambiance sneak in around the edges, and some of the performances are quite wonderful.  And, hey, the poster was rendered by Frank Frazetta and it has scantily-clad ladies on it, so that makes it special right there.

The film was produced by Norman Lear and Bud Yorkin, and directed by William Friedkin.  Legend has it that, shortly after filming was completed, Mr. Friedkin decided it was a stinkeroo and abandoned it…whereupon the famed film editor, Ralph Rosenblum, came in and re-cut it into quite a different film than the one Friedkin had disowned.  Or, at least, that's how Rosenblum told it in his book, When the Shooting Stops, in which he also claims to have salvaged a number of other cinematic disasters, including The Producers, A Thousand Clowns and all of Woody Allen's early directorial efforts.

Minsky's is so full of odd cutting, continuity errors and editors' tricks that one can believe Rosenblum's account.  (None of the black-and-white stock footage, for instance, was in it when Friedkin left.)  Adding to the problems was that Bert Lahr died during filming.  His role was trimmed back and a few posthumous scenes were concocted with another ex-burlesque comic, Joey Faye, playing Lahr with his back to the camera, and Will Jordan dubbing the voice.  Anyway, all of this makes the film more interesting, at least to me, and there are plenty of wonderful scenes that stand on their own.  Here are a few other sidelights to note…

• The songs are by Lee Adams and Charles Strouse, and they're pretty good.  Some of them remain in a stage version which has recently been written, though with an entirely-different plotline.  It was announced for production, but suspended due to the death of director Michael Ockrent.  His widow, Susan Stroman — who, thanks to The Producers, is the hottest director on Broadway — is said to be planning to stage the show…one of these days.
• The role of Duffy, the straight man who sings "Take Ten Terrific Girls," was played by Dexter Maitland, who was an actual Minsky's straight man.  I met him when he was in his early 90's, playing in sketches in a Minsky's revue at the Hacienda Hotel in Las Vegas.  He was a lovely man and he really made straight-manning an art.
• Another genuine burlesque veteran, Herbie Faye, plays the owner of the delicatessen.  In his burlesque days, Faye was teamed for a time with Phil Silvers.  When Silvers landed the TV show, You'll Never Get Rich (aka Sgt. Bilko), the first thing he did was find a recurring role for his old partner.
• The tall, long-limbed male dancer is the late Will B. Able, who appeared for years in TV variety shows and kids' specials.  And one of the comics is played by the wonderful Eddie Lawrence.  Eddie, with whom I had the joy of working once, is a multi-talented gent.  He has written for and starred on Broadway…he has done cartoon voices and he paints (he inherited the studio of his dear pal, Zero Mostel).  Beyond all that, he's best known for the comedy records on which he played his immortal character, The Old Philosopher.  ("Is that what's botherin' you, Bunky?")
• Here's the most obscure trivia item in the history of World Cinema.  One of the plot points revolves around a naughty pamphlet detailing the exploits of one Mademoiselle Fifi.  If you look closely in the scene where the censor-guy is holding the pamphlet up to the light, you can see that the insides are made up of a page from an issue of Mad Magazine that was on sale when they were filming the movie.  (It's an article illustrated by Bob Clarke on "Protest Buttons Through History.")

And there are some others but you get the idea.  I'm not recommending this as a wonderful film, because it isn't.  It's just a lot of fun, especially if you know some of the odd aspects of its birth.

It's comforting to know that, in the United States of America, you can't go to prison just because of what you're thinking…or can you?  In Columbus, Ohio, a man who was once convicted of pandering child pornography was recently put back behind bars on another charge of pandering obscenity.  Okay, we all agree that folks involved in making or distributing kiddy porn oughta be incarcerated — or worse.  But the new obscenity charge was not that he was dispensing his sick fantasies for the world to see.  He was merely writing something in a private journal for his own, uh, pleasure.  Can you be convicted of obscenity for writing something that no one else is supposed to see?  Apparently, now you can.  Here's a link to an AP news report on it all.

If you're interested in more info on the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon series than I have here, a fine resource is Leslie Hickman's website, The Realm.  She knows more about the show I started than I do.

Over there on Slate, Alan Dershowitz and Richard Posner are doing a week-long debate via e-mail over the Supreme Court decision on the Florida vote recount.  It's kind of interesting if you want to see two smart men both avoiding candor and spinning the statutes according to their personal politics.  I've never had much use for Posner, whose concept of law seems to be that whatever the conservatives are arguing is the only defensible position, but it's dismaying to see Dershowitz, whom I once respected, turn into the liberal equivalent.  Yeah, he's kind of a media whore who never said no to a chance to be on camera but, pre-O.J., he was out there saying some important, gutsy things about freedom of religion and the evils of intolerance.  One of the many ancillary tragedies of the whole Simpson mess is that, whenever Dershowitz appears anywhere and says those kinds of things in the future, a certain number of people are going to moan, "Oh, he was one of O.J.'s lawyers" and turn him off.

I have my fingers crossed that the accusations against Paula Poundstone (whatever they are) turn out to be unfounded and that this is determined soon, before the jokes and tabloids irreparably convict her.  I still haven't heard enough evidence against Robert Blake to warrant the jokes Mr. Leno, for one, is doing…and neither have the police who, let's not forget, have yet to even make an arrest.

Well I felt really proud that I landed house seats to The Producers…in the eighth row, no less.  Today, I got a call from Howard Morris, who has known Mel Brooks since they worked together on the old Your Show of Shows.  He is just back from New York where Mel gave him seats in the third row.  I am now properly humbled on the subject.  (Howie loved it, by the way.  He said, "It makes a thousand promises and delivers on every one."  He is right.)

You know who that man is? Probably not…not by his face, anyway.  But you might know his voice and hands.  That's the late, great Clyde Adler, a very funny gent whose main line of work at one point was chopping up old movies for TV at the ABC affiliate in Detroit.  But Clyde had another career: He was also an actor and he was the other half of the cast of the various shows that Soupy Sales did in Motown and in Los Angeles in the late fifties/early sixties.  Soupy's was (usually) the only on-camera face.  You only saw Clyde's hands and arms as he played White Fang, Black Tooth, Pookie, Hippie and all those weird people who'd come to Soupy's door and, as often as not, hit him in the face with a pie.  Clyde was the Sandy Koufax of meringue-hurling, and he was also very funny.

When Soupy relocated to New York in 1964, Clyde elected not to make the move and, instead, returned to the editing room in Detroit.  Frank Nastasi assumed the role of Soupy's off-camera confederate but when Soupy briefly resurrected his program in '80, he persuaded Clyde to recreate his old roles.  Some of this is covered in an article available on this site which can be reached via this link.

In our previous "news item," I plugged a new Soupy CD which is available from www.rhinohandmade.com and which contains the contents of his first two record albums.  I neglected to mention that Clyde was also heard on those albums, playing the perfect Abbott to Soupy's Costello.  I'm almost glad I forgot to mention him because it gives me an excuse to run this photo, which was e-mailed to me by Ed Golick.  Pictures of Clyde are extremely rare and I'm grateful to Ed for sharing.  (It's from an unsold pilot that Soupy made called Where There's Smokey, in which he played an inept fireman and Clyde played his superior.)

Carroll O'Connor will, of course, be forever etched in our memories as Archie Bunker.  When I think of him, I think of two instances, more than twenty years apart, which both showed compassion uncommon to any human being, let alone a Big Star.  The first was when I visited an All in the Family rehearsal and saw him spend what otherwise would have been his lunch break talking to a troubled staff member.  The lady in question was some sort of script typist or secretary…the kind of employee whose name some stars wouldn't even bother to learn.  But this woman had some sort of personal problem — a senile mother, I think — and O'Connor took her in the corner and sat with her for a long time offering her counsel and company and, I suspect, financial assistance.  Even some actors I know and consider good people wouldn't extend themselves to that degree.

The other incident was just a few years ago when Mr. O'Connor went to court to defend against a lawsuit brought by the man he'd accused of supplying his son with drugs.  His son, Hugh, had committed suicide and O'Connor had branded the unlicensed pharmacist as not only a pusher but a murderer, as well.  After the jury sided with Carroll, he held an impromptu press conference and made an eloquent, from-the-gut speech that I caught on CNN or CourtTV and wished I'd taped.

Later that afternoon, I happened to be talking on the phone with my friend Joe Gannon, who was very close to Carroll (and staying with him) and I said, "Tell Carroll that I thought his little speech was brilliant."  To my surprise, Joe said, "Here — you tell him," and put him on.  I stammered out a compliment and Mr. O'Connor began peppering me with sincere, concerned questions as to how it had come across, if he'd overstated his case, etc.  He was single-mindedly concerned that his experience be of value to others who might find themselves in similar circumstances, and pleased when I told him I thought it would be.  Later, on MSNBC, I heard some yahoo accuse the man of exploiting his son's death for publicity and I could only think, "My God, I am watching the stupidest person on the planet."

Carroll O'Connor was an extraordinary human being, with the emphasis on the human.  I suspect that, more than any other reason, was why he was able to give life to the most memorable TV character of an entire generation.

I never had the pleasure — and I'm sure it would have been one — of meeting Jack Lemmon but he was probably my favorite film actor.  One thing that struck me as impressive about him was not that he was in a lot of good movies — some people have managed that via luck and/or a good agent — but that so many great movies were great because of him.  Not only that but many weak movies were elevated to "watchable" status because of his presence.  If Glenn Ford had starred in How to Murder Your Wife, they'd still be fumigating the theaters but with Lemmon, it was what you call your basic "fun romp."  I had the joy of seeing him (Lemmon, not Ford) on stage in Bernard Slade's Tribute and it was a perfect example of what they mean when they say a great star "takes the stage."  He took it and never gave it back until he was done with it…and you never took your eyes off him for an instant.  They don't get any better than that.

Interesting article by Michael Kinsley about the notion of applying "original intent" to The Constitution.  Here's the link.  And if you hurry, you may still be able to read Daniel Ellsberg's recent piece for The New York Times.  I don't necessarily agree with his view, either of the Vietnam war or his role in ending it, but I think this is an important essay by a man whose actions — good, bad or indifferent — had a huge impact on the world.  Here's that link and you have about five more days before they begin charging for it.

I was negligent to not wish the great caricaturist Al Hirschfeld a happy 98th birthday last week on June 21.  A few years ago, I had the thrill of spending a day with Mr. Hirschfeld and sitting for him as he sketched me, complete with NINAs in my hair.  What a delightful, fascinating gentleman — and he probably still has more energy than I do, at half his age.

Rhino Handmade (which is reachable over at www.rhinohandmade.com) is a sub-label of Rhino Records that issues limited-edition wonderment, marketed exclusively over the Internet.  If you hurry over to their site, you will doubtlessly find several treasures you wish to order.  And if you're the kind of person who visits this website voluntarily, your shopping cart will probably include the forthcoming release of a CD with the unlikely title of Soupy Sales: Blaa-oh Blaa-oh Blaa-oh.  It's a new release that resurrects all the stuff Soupy recorded in the early sixties for Mr. Sinatra's label, Reprise Records.

Mainly, that means two albums — The Soupy Sales Show and Up In The Air, plus a few singles.  I really enjoyed this material when I was nine and darned if most of it doesn't hold up today.  This new CD set is twenty bucks plus shipping and if you're interested, don't dawdle.  They only pressed 2500 copies.

Bob Somersby is a comedian and political commentator with an uncanny gift for pointing out when reporters (a) contradict themselves or simple logic and/or (b) report as fact, things they couldn't possibly know to be so.  Back when the whole world was pillorying Al Gore for supposedly claiming he'd inspired the book, Love Story, Somersby posted a pretty airtight case on his website that Gore hadn't made such a claim and even if he had, it was basically true.  (Somersby was in a unique position to make the case, as he was Gore's roommate in college, back when the two of them were hanging out with Erich Segal, author of Love Story.)  That Somersby's rebuttal did little to dissuade Gore's opponents was not surprising but I sure lost a lot of respect for certain reporters who kept it alive after that.

I lose a little more belief in America's journalists every time I visit Somersby's terrific site, The Daily Howler, where he is currently surgically deconstructing news coverage of the Gary Condit/Chandra Levy soap opera.  I highly recommend his last half-dozen dispatches on the topic, most of which involve reporters and pundits leaping to unsubstantiated conclusions.  (One interesting thing he points out is that, though Dan Rather has been both praised and condemned for avoiding the Condit story, those who call him a "lone holdout" are wrong.  PBS's Jim Lehrer — perhaps the most widely-respected newsman currently anchoring on TV — has also steered clear of it.)

And just so we're clear: I have no idea what Congressman Condit may or may not have done wrong.  He may have chopped up Ms. Levy with one of Ron Popeil's kitchen gizmos and fed her remains to piranha for all I know.  But what is verifiable at this point does not justify the media's seeming decision that he must be guilty of something, so no aspect of his and Ms. Levy's lives, together and apart, cannot be dredged up, enhanced or even fabricated.  If you have no sympathy for Mr. Condit being in this position — and I'm not sure he, personally, is deserving of any — you might at least weep a bit at what it says about the level of journalism we have today.

The Tony for the best musical revival went to the new production of 42nd Street, now ensconced at the Ford Center for the Performing Arts located on — where else? — 42nd Street.  If it had been up to me, I'd have given the award to the new production of Follies but the winner is in no way undeserving.  It's a solid spectacle that reminds us of all that was ever glorious about the tradition of musical comedy.  Michael Cumpsty plays the director, Christine Ebersole is his pushy, semi-talented leading lady, and Kate Levering plays the performer who goes out there a chorus girl and comes back a star when the semi-talented leading lady breaks an ankle, just prior to opening.  Amidst that hoary plot which we all know too well, the cast does a lot of dancing — mostly, tap — sings a lot of well-known songs and wears a lot of elegant costumes on colorful sets.  If that sounds at all appealing to you, you'll probably have a very good time.  I know I did.

It was back in 1980 that a talented team, headed by veteran Broadway director Gower Champion, remounted the classic show biz movie musical for the stage, wisely eschewing camp for an earnest celebration of musical comedy.  Opening night became famous — or perhaps infamous — when producer David Merrick interrupted the umpteenth standing ovation at the end to announce clumsily that Champion had died that morning.  Given the show's theme and Merrick's rep for mischief, playgoers weren't entirely certain it wasn't some horrid-taste joke or stunt but 'twas true.  The publicity didn't harm the production, which went on to become — at the moment — the 7th longest-running Broadway show in history.  (It was even higher on that list before a couple of other shows came along.  A recent version of the "long run" list is reproduced below.)

Nice to have it back.  The new production seems just as good, if not better than the original, of which I have fond memories.  It's also nice to see songwriters Harry Warren and Al Dubin receiving real credit this time, Merrick having used a contractual loophole to deny them that and to promote his own name, the first time around.  (Dubin died in '45 but Warren lived until '81 — long enough to see and stew over being a forgotten man on Broadway's biggest hit.  This time around, it's the recently-deceased Merrick who is barely mentioned.)  Mark Bramble, who co-authored the book, directed this production which is based on Champion's staging.  I'd recommend it to anyone but especially to the Broadway novice.

LONGEST RUNS ON BROADWAY (Through June 17, 2001)

1. Cats – 7,485 performances
2. A Chorus Line – 6,137
3. Oh! Calcutta (revival) – 5,962
4. Les Miserables – 5,879 (still running)
5. The Phantom of the Opera – 5,590 (still running)
6. Miss Saigon – 4,095
7. 42nd Street – 3,485
8. Grease – 3,388
9. Fiddler on the Roof – 3,242
10. Life with Father – 3,224
11. Tobacco Road – 3,182
12. Beauty and the Beast – 2,911 (still running)
13. Hello, Dolly! – 2,844
14. My Fair Lady – 2,717
15. Annie – 2,377
16. Man of La Mancha – 2,329
17. Abie's Irish Rose – 2,327
18. Oklahoma! – 2,212
19. Rent – 2,145 (still running)
20. Smokey Joe's Cafe – 2,036

The Tony Awards were held on June 3.  On June 5, three of this season's Broadway entries — Bells Are Ringing, Jane Eyre and A Class Act — announced they would close the following Sunday and a day later, Follies posted a closing date of July 14.  Something of the sort happens almost every year after the Tonys and it usually has less to do with the shows not winning awards than with the broadcast not functioning as infomercial and giving a quick bump to the box office.  I have no idea how good any of the first three shows were but the numbers presented on TV were pretty unimpressive.  But then, trimmed to the bone and coming out of nowhere, most shows' best scenes would seem pretty shabby.  I did, as reported here, see Follies the other night and found it much better than the outta-context quickie on the Tonys would suggest.

The closing of Bells Are Ringing on June 10 was a special shame because I had tickets — third row, center — for June 16.  Instead, we went to see the new production of The Music Man for the second time and had another wonderful time.  I'm a sucker for this show when done well and, at the Neil Simon Theatre on West 54th, they're sure doing it well.

Since first viewing a year ago, this version seems to have grown a bit broader and funnier, and a few of the cast replacements don't seem as fabulous as their predecessors.  Rebecca Luker is still playing Marion the Librarian and is still as wonderful in the role as is humanly…perhaps super-humanly possible.  It was worth seeing the show again just to hear her sing, "Til There Was You" — a perfect match of song and singer.  The big change, of course, is that Craig Bierko — who opened this production as the eminent Professor Harold Hill — has been replaced by Eric McCormack, who is best known from his role on the TV show, Will and Grace.  McCormack is very good in the part and, if forced to compare, I'd say Bierko was the better singer and better at nailing the serious side of Hill, whereas McCormack is a better dancer and funnier.  But those are minor distinctions and I'd go see it a third time with either.  Hell, I'd go see it with Strom Thurmond in the lead if Rebecca Luker were still singing Marion.

(On the other hand, I wouldn't be optimistic about the national tour that is currently being assembled…reportedly, non-Equity, which likely means a decent star in the lead, surrounded by a lot of mediocre actors.)

While we're talking Music Man: I recently came across a great website devoted to the many incarnations of Meredith Willson's magnum opus.  It's full of treasures, including some internal studio memos and budgets about the film version.  For instance, there's a letter from director Morton DaCosta saying that they should try to sign up Robert Preston before he takes on another play, and another where DaCosta throws out casting ideas — for Marion: Shirley MacLaine, Mitzi Gaynor or Shirley Jones; for Mayor McShinn, Fred Clark; for Marcellus Washburn, Stubby Kaye.  Of those, only Ms. Jones wound up in the movie but don'tcha think Stubby Kaye would have been terrific?

Also, if some of the cultural references in the play are unknown to you — like if you don't know who The Great Creatore and Dan Patch were — here's a link to a website that decodes 'em all.

Gene Deitch, an animation director with a long and varied career, has penned an on-line autobiography which is presently posted on the Animation World Network site.  Here's a direct link to Mr. Deitch's memoirs, which are well worth the attention of any cartoon buff.

Any cartoon buff will also enjoy my pal Jerry Beck's website, Cartoon Research, from which I cribbed the above item.  In payment, I will plug an upcoming installment of Toon Heads, the Cartoon Network series that digs up rare or otherwise special films.  The episode that airs on Sunday, July 1 is subtitled "The Wartime Cartoons" and it's co-written by Jerry (with George Klein) and packed with clips and entire cartoons from that era.  That's Sunday, July 1 on the Cartoon Network.  It airs at 10:00 pm in most time zones but you'd better check, because you won't wanna miss it.

And another in my endless series of pals who write well — Andy Ihnatko — has a good article on comic collecting you can read here.  And you can access Andy's fun website at www.cwob.com.  Check out his portfolio of sketches featuring the Marvel character, Tigra.  You can reach that directly by clicking here.

As you probably know: when a movie filmed in widescreen format is shown on TV or retooled for home video, they do a process called "panning-and-scanning" to it, cropping the image for the smaller screen area.  Sometimes, we don't realize how much of the movie is missing due to this process.  If you'd like to see some examples that make this point, click here.

The DVD release of It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World is currently slated for 9/18/2001.  No word yet on when the complete 1776 will hit the same format.

The original production of Follies hit Broadway in April of 1971 and lasted a little more than a year (522 performances).  The book was by James Goldman, the songs were by Stephen Sondheim, and the whole affair was a critical but not a financial success.  Briefly, Follies is the tale of a troupe of former showgirls who once trod the runways for an impresario not unlike Flo Ziegfeld.  The theatre where they once starred as Weisman Follies girls is about to be razed to make way for a parking lot…and so they gather for one last celebration, bringing along memories and a few long-unresolved feelings.

Front and center among the dangling problems is that one of them, Sally, still has feelings for an old beau, Ben, who married her best friend, Phyllis.  They all sing about their problems, the other showgirls reprise their big numbers of yore and, at times, ghostly images of their younger selves appear to perform flashbacks or even to interact with the present-day players.  Everyone, of course, luxuriates in the Sondheim score, which contains some of his richest music and lyrics.

After any number of false alarms, Follies finally returned to Broadway last March with a new production, courtesy of the Roundabout Theatre Company, which offers the world a mix of new, experimental plays and revivals of neglected classics.  It stars Blythe Danner, Gregory Harrison, Judith Ivey, Treat Williams, Betty Garrett, Polly Bergen, Marni Nixon and any number of other fine performers.  Reviews have been mixed, the Tony awards passed them over, and the production is closing in mid-July, well before its producers hoped.  One might say that a few of the actors could have been or should have been stronger in their roles…and one would be correct.  One might also say that the sets and costumes are not as opulent as the material requires…and, again, one would be correct.  Still, this "one" had an utterly terrific time watching a show that pulls the emotions in any number of directions, often simultaneously.

My friend Carolyn made the comment that she'd loved the score for years and welcomed this chance to hear all those songs in proper dramatic context.  That was one of the joys for me, as well…as it will be for anyone who can get to the Belasco Theatre before July 14.

I'll probably do you a favor if I don't rave overlong about the new musical version of The Producers, which I saw last Wednesday evening.  Is it good?  Yes.  Is it a wonderful evening in the theatre?  Again, yes.  Is it as spectacularly earth-shattering wonderful as the reviews, buzz, Tony Awards and wait for tickets would lead you to believe?  No…but what could be?  "The new Mel Brooks musical" — as all the blurbs call it, presumably to distinguish it from all the old Mel Brooks musicals — is funny, clever and never for one moment dull, and Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick are both sensational.

I laughed a lot — more so at the new lines, than those recycled from the film, which so many of us know by heart and incorporate in our everyday speech.  A lot of the old dialogue isn't quite as wonderful in the new, faster-paced, leading-up-to-the-next song context, plus Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder are hard acts to follow.  On the other hand, I suspect at least a passing familiarity with the movie is required to fully appreciate the stage version, which hustles past some of the plot points as if you already know them.  [NOTE: If you haven't already heard about the screen-to-stage plot changes and don't want to, stop reading now.]  L.S.D., the role played by Dick Shawn in the movie, is gone.  Instead, author Franz Liebkind is cast as Hitler but, thirty minutes before curtain on opening night, he breaks a leg and the appallingly-gay director Roger DeBris goes on in his place.  If the idea is that the cast substitution is what causes Springtime for Hitler to turn into a successful comedy romp, it's a pretty illogical notion, as DeBris is perfectly cast in the campy production they've doubtlessly been prepping for weeks.  Makes you wonder what fuhrer-lover Liebkind was doing during rehearsals.

So that makes no sense and you know what?  It doesn't matter.  Because by the time we get to that scene, the audience is hopelessly in love with Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, The Producers, everything.  We forgive it and certain other leaps o' logic — or perhaps mentally transpose them from the movie — because we're having too good a time to stop and quibble.  Some of the songs are funny but quickly-forgettable, and the newly-injected romantic subplot between Leo Bloom (Broderick) and Swedish secretary Ulla (Cady Huffman) comes close to slowing up the proceedings.  But through it all, we're having way too good a time to care.

Lane is, as always, very funny.  He has that star quality of insistence.  Something about him insists you watch his every move and gesture, for all are amusing.  Broderick has the harder task and his version of Bloom starts out a bit too cartoony, squeaky voice and all, but soon wins you over.  The whole cast is pretty good but I would single out Brad Oscar, who plays the Nazi playwright, for special praise.  This is because he genuinely stops the show with one of his numbers, "Haben Sie Gehoert Das Deutsche Band?", not because he arranged for me to get house seats.  (Thank you again, Brad!)

Getting to see The Producers is, of course, the current great sign of status.  Everywhere we went in Manhattan, folks were asking us, "How'd you get tickets?" as if we'd just booked passage on the Space Shuttle.  I'm told that if one calls TeleCharge, they're talking May of 2002 as the next availability for good seats…which is amazing, if true.  Lane and Broderick have only announced their intent to stay through March, so some purchasers are gambling they'll stay longer or — less likely — be replaced by someone equally wonderful.  And of course, it's become a huge guessing game to speculate on who that might be, either on Broadway or in the countless touring companies and regional productions yet to come.  I have a feeling it'll wind up being like The Odd Couple or The Sunshine Boys which, eventually, provided work for every single actor in America who could read a funny line.  And I still think it would be terrific if Mel Brooks goes to prison because he expected the whole enterprise to fail and secretly sold 25,000% of the play to investors.  Wouldn't that be wonderful?

It's not something that will ever make my résumé but last year, I worked for two months at Stan Lee Media, the Internet company founded to promote the new creations of the exiled guru of the Marvel Universe.  My personal affection 'n' respect for Stan sucked me into an enterprise that everyone seemed to know was doomed, at least under its then-current configuration.  I am pleased to report that the affection and respect remain undiminished even though I got the hell outta there in July, six months before the operation crashed and burned.  Since then, four individuals — none of them, of course, Stan — have been indicted for some version of stock fraud and/or manipulation.  I understand very little of how it allegedly worked but this article and this article may explain it for you.

A recommendation: I have most of my video and audio equipment in Rackit™ units I purchased from Per Madsen Design in San Francisco.  They sell these wonderful, modular wooden units that are relatively easy to assemble (especially if you have a power drill, though I've done them without) and very sturdy.  You select a base, with or without wheels, and a tabletop…then, in-between them, you can stack a VCR rack, drawers for CDs, shelves for tapes, etc.  In other words, you design your own cabinet with shelves or drawers wherever you want them.  Browse their catalog or order at www.rackittm.com.

Lastly: If I owe you an e-mail, please be patient.  I'm having tech problems sending them out, and even greater problems reaching anyone at my Internet Service Provider with an I.Q. over double digits.  It should all be cleared up in a day or three.  I hope.