The Jack Paar Open

I realize this isn’t a big problem and I’m just being an old crank, but this sticks in my craw. (Actually, this may be a very tiny problem, but my craw gets irritated easily.) There’s a podcast, which I really like, called The Greatest Generation. No, it’s not about the World War II generation. It’s about Star Trek. It’s a humorous look at each episode of the legendary sci-fi institution starting with Star Trek: The Next Generation. TNG is their favorite of the many Star Trek television series, which is why they started there. The podcast, hosted by Benjamin Harrison and Adam Pranica, had wrapped up the TNG series a while back and are now reviewing each episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. If you are a fan of Star Trek, you should check it out.

The Greatest Generation has developed a whole slew of inside jokes and terms over the years, so if you are new to the podcast it would be a good idea to check out this site to get caught up on everything. Or you could start listening from the beginning. They just started season five of DS9, so you’ll have plenty of listening enjoyment ahead.

Oh, yeah. This craw thing. Ben and Adam frequently use the phrase the Maron Open. The phrase refers to the opening segment of their show in which they talk about or do some activity that is otherwise not very related to the main topic of that particular episode. This is something comedian/podcaster Marc Maron does on his very popular podcast WTF. Hence the phrase Maron Open. And it’s not just The Greatest Gen using the phrase! I’ve heard it on other podcasts.

I, being an old crank, became indignant. “Why these darn kids and their thinking they just invented the wheel! Don’t they know the ‘Maron Open’ is almost as old as the talk show format itself?”

For shame!

Look I haven’t been around forever (and I didn’t write the very first song – 10 points if you get the reference), so I don’t know who started that little talk at the start of a show before getting to the guest or the main topic. But I do know that The Tonight Show’s second host, taking over for original host Steve Allen, Jack Paar was well known for it. I kid you not.

He may not have been the first to do it, but he really did set the template that most late night television talk shows follow to this day. Steve Allen’s Tonight Show was more of a variety show with singers, comedians, and sketches. There may have been some interviews, but that wasn’t the focus of the program as it was with Jack Paar.

Paar was an innovator and pioneer in talk shows. He brought a level of sophistication with intelligent conversation, but still added plenty of laughs to the proceedings. He loved to bring on great storytellers such as the actor Peter Ustinov and Paar was quite the raconteur himself, as in when he would tell an amusing anecdote to open the show. Sound familiar?

He was an emotional, temperamental man who could be unpredictable. That helped make for great ratings, but it also led to him abruptly quitting the show. Not ten minutes into the February 11, 1960 broadcast, Paar announced he was upset with NBC and walked off the set, leaving cohost Hugh Downs to finish the program. (Paar had warned Downs beforehand that he was going to quit.) The indignant host was, however, convinced to come back a month later. His first words upon his return to the show were, “As I was saying before I was interrupted…”

Why did he quit?

“There must be a better way of making a living than this.”

It was over what would be considered today to be the mildest of mild jokes. The joke contained the initials WC which Paar made certain the audience understood meant “water closet”, a euphemism for bathroom. He told the joke to the live audience, but, when the show went on the air later that night, the network had cut it and replaced it with a short news item. NBC thought the joke was in bad taste. Paar was not informed the joke had been cut and became angry when he saw it had been removed. He walked off the show the next day.

What was the joke?

“An English lady is visiting Switzerland. She asks [a Swiss resort manager] about the location of the ‘W.C.’ The [manager], thinking she is referring to the ‘Wayside Chapel’ [as in a church], leaves her a note that read ‘the W.C. is situated nine miles from the room that you will occupy… It is capable of holding about 229 people and it is only open on Sunday and Thursday… It may interest you to know that my daughter was married in the W.C. and it was there that she met her husband… I shall be delighted to reserve the best seat for you, if you wish, where you will be seen by everyone.'” (Source Wikipedia)

Pretty tame, eh?

Well, then, what of the Maron Open? As I said, Marc Maron didn’t invent it. Jack Paar might not have either, but it would make more sense to call it the Paar Open or the Jack Paar Open. (I bet you thought the headline meant this blog was going to be about golf, didn’t you?) As I also said, I have heard other podcasters refer to it as the Maron Open. Or I thought I had.

In preparing this blog, I Googled “Maron Open”. I expected to find a Wikipedia page or an entry in the Urban Dictionary providing the definition I gave above. A definition stating it is a phrase popular among podcasters. But, I didn’t. The only reference was to The Greatest Generation podcast as one of their many inside jokes. It is something exclusive to them. And that’s different than a whole bunch of young podcasters thinking they just invented the wheel. My craw is unclogged.

Though, I swear I thought I heard it on other podcasts. I’ll keep my ear peeled.

Packing Peanuts!

Feel free to comment and share.

Images used under Fair Use.

Warehouse Find is the official blog of NostalgiaZone.com, where you can find books, games, toys, cards, and a huge selection of Golden, Silver, Bronze, and Modern Age comic books. Jim also has a podcast called Dimland Radio. He’d love it if you checked it out. It’s available on iTunes.

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We Live In Better Times

I was accused on social media the other day of being a millennial or at least of having the millennial mentality. Putting aside the fact that I am 54 years old, far from being in that generation, that attitude is broad brush painting people born after the previous millennium ended at the close of the year 2000. (The years 1999 and 2000 were so annoying to this pedant as people kept getting the beginning of the new century/millennium wrong. They started January 1, 2001. Get it straight!) It’s a cultural constant, I think, that each generation believes the following generations just don’t get it. When talking about those younger folks, the diatribes are often prefaced by “In my day…” or “My generation…” Just ask my son. Hey, I didn’t say I was immune.

Case in point…

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Yeah, well…

I watched that show when it first aired and… We needed CGI back then, too.

I responded in that way on Facebook and then came the accusation. They accused me of needing high tech to be edgy and cool. They were probably thinking that I lacked the imagination to fill in the gaps that the limited technology left in the old days.

Actually, the show itself attempted to make up for the lack of technology by making the Hulk mute, less intelligent, and much, much, much, much weaker.

The show I’m talking about, of course, is The Incredible Hulk (1978-1982). It starred Bill Bixby who played Dr. David Bruce Banner, a physician and scientist who was searching for a way to enhance human abilities. He had been unable to save his wife after a car accident due to his lack of physical strength, so he obsessed with enhancing his own abilities. So much so, he used himself as a test subject. Boy, didn’t Jekyll and Hyde teach us anything?

Well, the experiment did give him super strength, but it also inflicted a werewolf-like condition on him. Whenever Banner was subjected to extreme stress or anger he would become a large, green monster with super strength and a bad attitude. The creature was dubbed the Hulk. Banner, believed to have been killed by the monster, then drifted across the country meeting people whom he would help out of tough situations. And there was a dogged reporter on the trail of the Hulk to add to his troubles.

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“…You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. Say, you wouldn’t have a spare belt, would you?”

Right off the bat the superhero show alienated me, a young Marvel Comics fan and budding pedant, by getting the name of the lead character wrong. In the comic books, since 1962, the scientist’s name is Robert Bruce Banner. There was never any David in there. And he was called Bruce by his friends.

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Wrong! His first name isn’t David!

I put a great big black mark against the show the moment someone called him David and not Bruce. How could they get something so basic wrong? There are explanations, but I won’t get into them here. It was just the wrong name and I was not happy about it. The show started off in the hole as far as I was concerned.

In the comics, Bruce was bombarded by gamma rays when he was exposed to a nuclear test blast. A dumbass kid wandered too close to the test area and Bruce dashed out of the bunker to get the trespasser to safety. In the process, being unable to get into the ditch in time, Dr. Banner was bathed in deadly gamma radiation.

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Dr. Banner is probably thinking, “In my day, kids didn’t go hanging out in nuclear test ranges!”

He survived, but was now forever cursed to hulk out whenever under stress.

The TV show changed how David (argh) was exposed. It wasn’t accidental. It was from a machine bombarding him with gamma rays in his experiment to enhance human abilities. I’m guessing it was one of those technical limitations, due to not having CGI, that necessitated the change.

The comic book Hulk could talk. He could think. Sure, he wasn’t brilliant and he wasn’t much of a orator, but being able to do more than just roar, growl, smash through drywall, and knock over empty barrels made for a more interesting character. It opened up the possibilities for more compelling storylines than a drifting doctor who seems to always find people who need his help. And eventually the helpful hand from a growling, roaring, marginally super-strong, green brute to put the beat down on some bad guys.

“Thanks, Hulk! We were thinking of enlarging that doorway anyway.”

And now a short break from the blog for a brief aside:

By the way, the basic plot of The Incredible Hulk is essentially the same as TV’s The Fugitive (1963-1967) and Kung Fu (1972-1975). Both series’ lead characters were also drifters encountering people who needed their help. In The Fugitive, Dr. Kimble would break out his doctoring skills. In Kung Fu, Caine would bust out his martial arts moves. And each of the three lead characters in these shows was searching for something while they drifted from town to town. Kimble was looking for the one-armed man, Caine was searching for his family, and David (gahhh) was trying to find a cure for his hulking out.

Brief aside over, now back to the blog.

The show used all the techniques used extensively in The Six Million Dollar Man (1974-1978). There was the use of slow motion to make the action appear more impressive. Real speed might look silly. There were the foam rubber rocks that were easy to lift and throw, but were a little too bouncy. There would also be shots of the Hulk throwing bad guys 20 yards through the air. And there was the filming of a stunt person jumping backwards off a building and then running the film in reverse to make it appear the monster was jumping onto the building.

These were ways of dealing with the limited technology. And some of the techniques were admittedly pretty clever, but this just wasn’t the Hulk in my eyes. I mean no disrespect to Lou Ferrigno. He was certainly an impressive physical specimen. And he did the best he could with what he was asked to do. It’s just that his Hulk wasn’t nearly strong enough. In the comic books, the Hulk could travel miles through the air in a single leap. He could topple entire buildings. And the madder he got, the stronger he got. But, the TV Hulk, although able to throw a grown man great distances, seemed to struggle lifting a woman who was hanging from a cliff to safety.

Weeeelllll, they’re close, but these costumes just don’t work.

There were other attempts in the 1970s to bring live action super-heroes to television: The very short-lived The Amazing Spider-Man (1977-1979), a made-for-TV movie featuring Captain America (1979), and DC Comic’s Wonder Woman (1975-1979). Spider-Man’s and Captain America’s costumes were fairly accurate to the comics, but looked silly on TV. Wonder Woman’s costume worked much better, but that was probably due to Lynda Carter being in it.

Um. Yeah, that works.

Compare those shows with the super-hero movies we’ve been getting since the advent of CGI. Sure, they aren’t all perfect. Some of the DC Comics movies have been down right lousy. But Marvel Comics movies, for the most part, have been thrilling to this old comic book fan. Visually stunning with the characters being true to their comic book versions. The Marvel Universe films may not be exactly what I had in mind as a kid wishing for an Avengers movie, but they are virtually spot on when compared to those 70s shows.

Maybe that is the millennial mentality, but I don’t think so. Those shows were way too limited. Limited by technology. Limited creatively. Let’s face it, despite their best efforts,  the shows were lame. How many times can we see David (ugh) drift along helping strangers and hulking out? And that wig was horrible! Surely, they could have done better even with 1970s wig technology.

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Hey! That’s Jeremy Brett, my favorite Sherlock Holmes actor, in the background!

No, my generation didn’t have CGI, but it would have been awesome if it did.

Packing Peanuts!

Feel free to comment and share.

Images used under Fair Use.

Warehouse Find is the official blog of NostalgiaZone.com, where you can find books, games, toys, cards, and a huge selection of Golden, Silver, Bronze, and Modern Age comic books. Jim also has a podcast called Dimland Radio. He’d love it if you checked it out. It’s available on iTunes.

An Age-Old Obsession

Guest blogger Michael Noble returns. This time with a tribute to model kits, and a familiar to many of us tale of when Moms just want things to be clean. No matter what the cost. And the joy of discovering that at least part of our childhoods can be relived.

When I was a kid, I spent many weekends and vacations in the San Bernardino Mountains of California with my good friend Doug Anderson. His folks had a cabin at Green Valley Lake, just a few miles as the crow flies from Big Bear Lake if you’re at all familiar with the area. The summers harbor especially fond memories because we used to build plastic model kits to pass the time, mostly battleships and aircraft carriers and old planes, lovingly painted in all shades of gunmetal grey, painstakingly adorned with colorful decals and meticulously glued with Testors plastic cement.

Little did I know this little hobby would ingrain itself into my being, later to well up in spades as the years progressed.

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The military craft gave way to my discovery of funky vehicles like Monogram’s Red Baron with its sheeny, chrome metal rooftop. And Tom Daniels’ Pie Wagon, that “cherry pie-haulin’ rod show stopper” as well as his tricked out Beer Wagon with kegs of brew in tow. Then I got into Star Trek models – The iconic starship Enterprise, Klingon warships, more. And that transitioned to other science fiction fare.

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Somewhere along the way I discovered Aurora Monster model kits: Godzilla, Frankenstein, The Creature From The Black Lagoon, along with all the others. Needless to say, as a home grown monster loving kid, I was in heaven. And they had glow in the dark versions, too!?! How cool was that?

All through these years my building and painting skills improved and, for a kid, I got pretty good. I proudly displayed my efforts on shelves in my bedroom, beaming with pride and pointing out the finer details of my efforts to anyone interested.

And then? The hobby died inside me. More exactingly, it died because of my mother.

She’d been in my room one day while I was at school and decided to clean all my models. Apparently, they had gathered dust beyond her approval. You can only imagine the end result: Wheels lay by the sides of cars, snagged off by dust rags catching some intricate detail. Impulse engines slumped half-cocked off their supports on my spaceships. The skeletal arm of The Forgotten Prisoner beside him on the ground. Those chrome shift levers on car dashboards were broken in two, three, four pieces, beyond reconstruction. Up and down Godzilla’s dorsal fin, chunks were missing. Parts of models were strewn everywhere. But … they were carefully placed beside each respective model so I could repair them. (How thoughtful of her.)

But it didn’t matter. The damage had been done. I was crushed. Devastated. I’m pretty certain I shed a tear.

I tried to fix them. But when a kit has been broken where it’s not meant to be, it’s almost impossible to make it anew once more. (Yes, I had skills… but they weren’t that advanced.)

And then I made a decision. I didn’t want to look up at those shelves any longer and gaze at the woeful shape my models were in. I chucked them all, each and every one of them, directly into the trash. My modeling days were over. (I kept the cool glow in the dark pieces of the monster kits though as reminders.) And that was the end of it.

I was angry with my mother for a month at least thereafter.

Fast forward to about 25 years ago …

I was at a KB Toy Store (which no longer exists) and I stumbled on AMT’s “Gigantics” kits, glorious dioramas of radiation-washed creatures wrecking havoc on towns and their townsfolk. Something inside me stirred. I noted a monstrous scorpion in front of a building, people fleeing in horror. Wow! A deadly tarantula crushing cars as if they were toys. Spiffy! A menacing mantis atop train tracks, waiting for the inevitable. Neat-O! A horrifying wasp descending on a carnival. Nifty! My imaginative kid sense of adventure kicked into gear as if it had never abandoned me, never realized the pain and torment of my ruined kits all those many years ago. Best of all, I was a free man, I no longer lived beneath my mother’s roof. If I wanted, I could build models, encase them in dust-free enclosures and display them safely without fear of Pledge or Swiffer! Zounds!

I scooped up two of each kit, because they were massively discounted and because I could. I was giddy and euphoric in my discovery.

And it didn’t stop there …

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At a garage sale one Saturday afternoon, I hit upon a Testors Weird-Ohs Hodad, a goofy-looking beach bum model reminiscent of my “Odd Rods” collector cards. It was complete, came in its original box and it called to me. A minute later – with a mere couple dollars exchanging hands with its seller – it was mine.

More models came gushing forth. The Incredible Hulk. Superman. Captain America. A few old antique cars. I stored them all lovingly to be put together at some later date.

Last year I joined a Facebook group of Aurora model enthusiasts who built and posted their wares for all to gander at. It was in this group I was reacquainted with the Aurora monster vehicles, goofy imaginings of mostly Universal monster modes of transport, kits I’d long forgotten. As a kid those kits were the epitome of modeling to me. And now, here in the group, there were collectors who owned and built them and displayed them in all their cheesy glory! I needed them! I wanted them!

That’s when my longings of old turned into realisms, courtesy of a couple “enablers” I acquainted myself with in the groups. They initiated (and continue to be) contributors to my collecting obsession, “plastic model kit acquisition mania.”

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One gentleman just happened to be selling a particular monster vehicle, The Mummy’s Chariot. I reached out to him and asked if he could acquire others. “I just might be able to do that,” he mentioned. Long story short, he provided me not only The Mummy’s Chariot but ALL the monster vehicles I once longed for: Dracula’s Dragster, Frankenstein’s Flivver, Wolf Man’s Wagon, Godzilla’s Go Cart and, finally, King Kong’s Thronester. Score!

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The other gentlemen got me going on the Aurora monster models, most of which I had as a kid but destroyed by dear old mom. Some were the original Aurora kits, some Polar Lights kits. One of the first I remember getting from him was The Bride Of Frankenstein, long sought after but, until recently, never possessed. Now? It’s mine … along with many others.

Present Day Confession: I have yet to build any of these kits. I am currently hording them until such time I can give them the love and attention they deserve. And that day will come.

But at the procurement rate with which these kits seem to be making their way into my hands (and with relative ease), I find myself suddenly overwhelmed with a small horde of models waiting in the wings. (And I haven’t even begun to mention the many resin kits I’ve acquired: Too Much Coffee Man, a Creature From The Black Lagoon tribute kit, Frankenstein And The Monster From Hell, ad nauseum.) Overwhelmed because, you know… “Life” and all its needful necessities and responsibilities get in the way of doing what we really want to do.

But one day, soon… I’ll sit down and carefully trim plastic parts from their trees, whittle away the flash, test place each part where it needs to go, sand and score and paint where necessary and marvel at the final finished product, over and over again. All with the fondness of the kid mind inside me, satisfied I’ve finally realized a few dreams come true, once and again.

And in the event I don’t have the time? They’ll certainly be handed down to my progeny. Who will no doubt think me insane for collecting such rubbish. And who just may toss them in with other items at criminally discounted price points at some estate sale of all my wares and collections and obsessions and oddities.

Wherein I will haunt them relentlessly to the end of their days for having done so…

Thanks, Michael! You can read more by Michael Noble at Hotchka.com.

You know what’s a really good movie about cops and corruption set in 1950s Los Angeles?

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“I know Titanic will probably win, but this really is the best movie of the year.”

Those words were said by me to my parents right after we watched the modern classic cop drama L.A. Confidential soon after it hit theaters in 1997. Based on the novel by James Ellroy, L.A. Confidential was directed by Curtis Hanson, who was also co-producer and co-wrote the screenplay. This movie has a stellar ensemble cast: Kevin Spacey (more on him in an upcoming aside), Kim Basinger, Danny DeVito, James Cromwell, Russell Crowe, Guy Pearce, and David Strathairn.

Those last three actors were completely new to me. I was quite surprised to learn Crowe and Pearce weren’t Americans. The latter is an Australian born in England, while the former was born in New Zealand and lives in Australia. In the film, there isn’t a hint of an accent other than American in their performances.

Throughout the movie, everyone is in fine form. The acting is so good and the characters are so well realized, even the secondary characters are spot on.

And as the characters go, no one is pure in this story.

L.A. CONFIDENTIAL, front, from left: James Cromwell, Guy Pearce, Kevin Spacey; back: Russell Crowe,

Cromwell is terrific as the corrupt Capt. Dudley Smith, but just how far will his corruption go? DeVito nails his role as the sleazy celebrity gossip peddler Sid Hudgens, who bribes Spacey’s character (Det. Sgt. Jack Vincennes) to arrange celebrity busts for the headlines and increasing sales of Hush Hush magazine. Vincennes also gained fame through those arranged busts and that helped him land the role of technical advisor, a role he relishes, on a very Dragnet-like TV cop show.

Crowe as Officer Bud White is a cop who provides muscle in helping Capt. Smith rid Los Angeles of organized criminals, but not organized crime. You see, Dudley wants to replace the former crime boss who had been busted on a tax evasion rap. That way he can be the fine upstanding Captain of the world’s finest police force, while secretly controlling and profiting from the organized crime he’s supposed to oppose.

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Basinger won the Best Supporting Actress award for her role as Lynn Bracken, a high priced sex worker made to look like movie star Veronica Lake. She’s part of an expensive stable of call girls made to look like Hollywood stars run by local millionaire Pierce Patchett (Strathairn). He is said to treat his “employees” well as he caters to a more exclusive clientele. His slogan is “Whatever You Desire.”

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And then there’s Sgt. Edmund Exley, son of a legendary cop who was killed on duty. That murder was never solved. Exley, a highly intelligent, scheming, and ambitious, if naive, cop, is determined to live up to and perhaps surpass his father’s legacy.

On Christmas Eve, chaos erupts in the jail cell area of police headquarters. Earlier in the evening, two cops got in a minor skirmish with a group of Hispanic men, who had initially gotten away. But they’re caught and brought in and the over-served police officers celebrating the holiday mete out some payback punishment of their own.

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The press was there and caught the violence on camera and it was big news the next day. Embarrassing news for the LAPD and they needed to save face. That’s when Exley’s smarts and ambition took him from a Sergeant to a Detective Lieutenant. It also made him an enemy of every other cop in the precinct, including Officer White.

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Then came the Nite Owl.

But, first, a short aside.

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Kevin Spacey is in this movie and he’s not very highly thought of at the moment. He’s been accused of sexual misconduct with one case involving a minor. He’s also on trial for sexually assaulting an 18 year-old man.

Our legal system has the presumption of innocence as it’s baseline, but these accusations can’t help but taint the work Spacey has done over his career, much of it outstanding performances, such as his role as Jack Vincennes.

In most cases involving entertainers being flawed human beings or maybe having social and political views I don’t agree with, I try to consider the art and not the artist. It’s not always easy. It’s easy for me to not watch the Spacey movies that I thought were crap (Hurlyburly? Have you seen it? It’s horrible!), but Se7en? The Ref? The Usual Suspects? Baby Driver? Should I give up watching those?

Your answer might be yes. And that’s fair. You might think less of me for it, but I’m going to keep watching the art, while grimacing at the artist when it comes to Kevin Spacey. What you do is your decision.

Aside over, now back to the blog.

Right. Then came the Nite Owl.

The Nite Owl was an all night diner at which the customers and staff were murdered one night during a robbery. Exley was the first detective on the scene, but Capt. Smith took over the case the moment he arrived. It was soon discovered one of the victims was a former cop. He was Bud White’s partner before he was drummed out of the force for taking part in the Christmas Eve brawl.

That’s where I’m going to leave it. To go into any more details of the plot would risk spoiling a story that twists and turns its way through the seedy side of sunny California in the 1950s. There are betrayals, team-ups, double-crosses, some romance, terrific action, and one excellent out-of-nowhere gasp moment! I mean my mother, when she saw that moment, literally gasped.

The production, including using popular music of the time, is spotless as it captures the look and feel of what many think was a simpler time, a more innocent time, a greater time in American history. Except there never was a time of innocence. There was always a dark side to society. And there were always men and women willing to take advantage of it.

It’s brilliant!

If you haven’t seen it. Watch it! If you have, watch it again!

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Packing Peanuts!

Correction 2/1/19: I had the name of that crappy Kevin Spacey movie wrong. I said it was Hodge Podge, but the name is Hurlyburly. I made the correction.

Feel free to comment and share.

Images used under Fair Use.

Warehouse Find is the official blog of NostalgiaZone.com, where you can find books, games, toys, cards, and a huge selection of Golden, Silver, Bronze, and Modern Age comic books. Jim also has a podcast called Dimland Radio. He’d love it if you checked it out. It’s available on iTunes.

TV Guide: Some Bought It For The Pictures

My hiatus continues as guest contributor Michael Noble returns with a tribute to TV Guide and how it had more than one use.

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Why?! Why won’t I see those documentaries?

When I was a kid, one of my favorite things to do was head to the grocery store with my mother, especially in the middle of the week. Wednesdays and Thursdays were prime days for those treks. Because that was the time of the week the new TV Guide hit the newsstands.

You see … I collected them. With one in my anxious little hands, I scoured from cover to cover for pictures and listings of upcoming horror, monster, and science fiction programs. And, if I was lucky, those listings would be accompanied by a picture or photo of the upcoming program.

The most prized were those of the giant monsters (known as “kaiju”): Godzilla, Rodan, Gamera, King Ghidorah and the like. The thrill of finding new images was electric and it didn’t happen very often. But when it did, I used to carefully cut out the pictures and laminate them and take them to school to share with friends.

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This little exercise was huge among the lot of us. You see, not only did I provide a service to some of the kids who didn’t get TV Guide – those few whose parents didn’t believe in purchasing a program listing just to have it tossed out with the following week’s trash, poor souls – but we used to gawk and swoon and comment over the latest, glorious black and white quarter-page shot of Godzilla looming over a soon-to-be-destroyed Tokyo.

And let me tell you, it was a massive competition among us acquiring those pictures and showing them off. Week in and week out, the first kid to display his TV Guide treasures was pretty much the cock of the walk at school going into the weekend. You jutted out your chest and strutted the playground with an exaggerated confidence on a Friday knowing you were the only one with a Baragon or Ebirah tucked away in your pocket.

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The masked Mr. Sardonicus.

Of course, the Universal monsters and other horror nightmares were prized acquisitions as well. In fact I think TV Guide was the first place I saw an image of the hideous Mr. Sardonicus and his ghoulish mask offering that bedtime’s nightmares. (Note: My first glimpse of Mr. Sardonicus sans mask was in Famous Monsters Of Filmland years later. And I could see why that particular image wasn’t showcased in the Guide. Middle of the night horror visions, indeed!)

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Yikes!

You can well imagine as the years went by the group of us collected fine examples of creatures and horrors galore, each one carefully guarded and displayed during recess and weekend sleep overs. I still have my assortment safe in a box somewhere with my glow in the dark Aurora model parts, Odd Rod bubble gum cards and other treasures.

The 1970s were good times with some pretty fond memories …

Thanks, Michael! You can read more by Michael Noble at Hotchka.com.

Feel free to comment and share.

Images used under Fair Use.

Great Album Retro Review: The Partridge Family Album By The Partridge Family (And A Few Other Musicians)

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Yes, I know what you’re probably thinking. You’re thinking I’ve lost my mind, right? How could I possibly think the ’70s sit-com musical family’s first album is great?

Well, it’s not great the way the previous great albums (The Who’s Quadrophenia, Genesis’ Abacab, Suzanne Vega’s self-titled debut, and Simon & Garfunkel’s Bridge Over Troubled Water) that I’ve reviewed were great. But, as an example of pure, pleasurable, playful ’70s pop it’s hard to deny this album’s appeal.

I suppose there’s a good deal of nostalgia for my youthful innocence of that time period, from which this album and sit-com arose, that influences my opinion, but when you compare this first album, The Partridge Family Album, to later releases, there’s just something special about it. The Partridge Family, or rather members of the group of studio musicians collectively known as The Wrecking Crew and the pop vocal group The Love Connection, were firing on all cylinders on this album.

It was discovered that David Cassidy, who played the oldest Partridge son, could sing, so he provides lead vocals for most of the songs. And Shirley Jones, who played the mother of the talented brood, was also a fine singer and she provides some backing vocals. The rest of the cast were required to lip-sync… for the show, not the album.

I think the album is great. The sit-com? Well… No.

The Tracks:

Brand New Me – The lush, string-filled opening song starts off with a nice warm guitar riff. There are horns and soaring backing vocals and Cassidy demonstrates he has quite the range to his voice.

Point Me In The Direction Of Albuquerque – The lushness of their sound continues as Cassidy sings of a young, female hitchhiker trying get home. The song builds and descends again and again in its just under four minutes. Nice piano throughout and the “cha! cha! cha!” vocal bursts at the end are a nice touch.

Bandela – Cow bell! Lots and lots of cow bell! The Wrecking Crew cook on this one, my favorite track.

I Really Want To Know You – This one is a bit sappy, but the vocals are very sweet and sincere and completely David Cassidy-less. It’s kinda fun trying to determine which of the male voices is supposed to belong to Danny Partridge.

Only A Moment Ago – Where did all the happy people go? Did the Partridges just become the Omega Family? Or is David lamenting a lost love and how the world changed after losing her. I prefer to think it’s a post apocalyptic tale. But then I’m a bit fatalistic.

I Can Hear Your Heartbeat – Time for a rocker! A song of new found love and heartbeats and being a man of your word. Nice guitar riffs and excellent building to a quick cut to end the song.

I’m On The Road – Another song without David’s vocals. (Again which one is Danny?) It’s a fun travel the countryside song. They needed a travel song. The family got around in an old school bus, after all.

To Be Lovers – Mostly without David’s vocals, he does sing a little lead in the middle bit, this song is a little creepy. Creepy if you consider the story on the TV show had this song being co-written by Danny, who was – what? – ten at the time. A song about lovers who aren’t in love? Jeez! The kid’s been around.

Someone Wants To Love You – Well, it was the 1970s and the hippies’ message of love and peace had been co-opted by TV executives, so, of course, there had to be a song hinting at free love, right?

I Think I Love You – This was their big hit. It reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. It’s a pretty rockin’ tune about a fellow who woke up from a good dream realizing he might just be in love.

Singing My Song – Another song touching on Hollywood’s notion of hippie culture and their love of singing. It’s a nice quick rollicking singalong end to a good collection of ’70s pop. The “bah-dah-dee-dum” chorus is irresistible.

Packing Peanuts!

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Warehouse Find is the official blog of NostalgiaZone.com, where you can find books, games, toys, cards, and a huge selection of Golden, Silver, Bronze, and Modern Age comic books.

Horror Incorporated Didn’t Need A Host

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“Lurking among the corpses are the body-snatchers, plotting their next venture into the graveyard…”

Those were the first words that welcomed Twin Cities viewers to the weekly night of terror offered by the local TV station KSTP, back when I was a kid in the 1970s. The show was called Horror Incorporated.

There were many such creature feature offerings on local television stations all over America in those days. Our horror movie showcase was a little different than most. Ours had no host.

No Vampira. No Ghoulardi. No Mister Lobo. No Sir Graves Ghastly. No Doctor Creep. No Sharon Needles. No Grimsley.

No host.

But my research does show that Horror Incorporated did indeed, however briefly, have a couple of hosts. First was Dr. Paul Bearer (get it?) in the early 1970s. There also appears to have been a second host in the mid-70s, who went by the name Graves. Neither host lasted very long. For the majority of its run from the fall of 1969 until sometime in the later 1970s (I’m not certain when it ended) there was no host.

And having no host was good, because…

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Not a great Dracula.

In the 2000s, the show was revived with hosts. There were two attempts at a revival, in fact. I don’t know which came first, but one was hosted by Count Dracula, who stood in front of a green screen and did a not so great Bela Lugosi impression. He would make puns and tell a few facts related to the featured horror movie. He would then tell viewers to “OBEY!” and come back next week. Lame, but the actor did his best with what he had to work with.

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Not the Addams Family.

The other attempt had a small cast of young actors doing sort of a take off on the Addams Family. In fact, the main character, Uncle Ghoulie (center in above photo. No, not the wolf!), was a cross between Gomez Addams (as played by the great John Astin on the ’60s TV show) and Svengoolie, a current and longtime horror show host. They did skits and tried their best to insert humor into the proceedings. They had varying degrees of success.

Neither incarnation lasted long.

I might have a bit of nostalgic bias here, but I prefer no host. That’s the way I saw the Friday night creature feature when I was a kid. There was no silliness, except what might have been in the movie. The way that version was presented was to absolutely creep you out. You were supposed to be scared. It set the tone for a scary movie. And if they had a good one to show, one with Lugosi or Karloff, perhaps, the viewer would be in the proper mood for a scare and not a giggle.

The show featured a simple open and close which often times were far more frightening than the featured film. They consisted of a sparse set: Black with only a coffin in a spotlight. And, of course, there was fog. The lighting would change from harsh white to yellow, blue, purple, green, red. There were sounds of creaking doors, shrieks, groans, and cries of anguish. And then the lid of the coffin would begin to open and two pale, claw-like, almost skeletal, hands would come into sight. The occupant was rising from his coffin to head into the night in search of blood… I’m guessing.

And there was the voice-over provided by Jim Wise, who was also working for KSTP radio. He sounded excellent as he welcomed viewers to that week’s “excursion through Horror Incorporated…” Chills! Good old-fashioned, blood-curdling chills, folks!

When the feature was complete, the scene returned to the coffin. This time its occupant was returning from a night of terrorizing innocents. And the voice-over told us…

“Next week, I will be back again with another venture into the chamber of horror. Come along for another experience through the unknown, into Horror Incorporated.”

Now just try to get some sleep, kids!

You can watch the opening and closing at this link. See if you don’t agree that it is very effective. Also, visit The Horror Incorporated Project. It’s a fun site that really helped me in my research.

Packing Peanuts!

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Images used under Fair Use.

Warehouse Find is the official blog of NostalgiaZone.com, where you can find books, games, toys, cards, and a huge selection of Golden, Silver, Bronze, and Modern Age comic books.