tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28946532465251112882024-03-12T21:39:05.734-07:00Stalling TacticsHenry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-52506614822524429332020-04-18T15:19:00.000-07:002020-04-18T15:19:43.962-07:00BURLESK AT THE CAPITOL<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(Liz Renay)</div>
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Back in 1973, there was a burlesque house, the Capitol Theatre in
Passaic, New Jersey. Once when my mother and sister were off in Boston visiting
my mother's family, I talked my dad into taking me to the Capitol, to see the
show. The theatre, which had big rock concerts sometimes, and showed porn
movies during the day, was a legit burlesque theatre at night and weekends,
with a small orchestra, a choreographer, five or six female dancers, four or
five comics, and three strippers, who stripped down to a g-string and pasties,
except for the headliner, who had the privilege of not wearing pasties. The headliner was a woman
named Liz Renay, who was most famous for going to prison rather than testify
against gangster Mickey Cohen. He, and later his people, made sure she could
always find employment, which is why she would turn up in John Waters films,
and the like. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I'd been fascinated by burlesque ever since I fell in love
with the comedy of Abbott and Costello, and found out that's what they did.
After I'd seen the show, back at NYU, I got credentials to write for Cold Duck
Magazine, the NYU literary magazine, and made arrangements to interview folks in the show, and write an
article about it. The article ran in the October 15, 1973 issue, Volume 9, Number 2. I've scanned the article, which is below, but knowing how hard it is to read text in this form, I'm retyped it below each page. All of the photography is by Celia Cockburn. Enjoy!<o:p></o:p></div>
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(Jill Harris)</div>
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There is no Burlesk (or Burlesque, if you prefer) in New York. I am not saying there is very little Burlesk here, or that it is not very good, but that it simply does not exist in our city, and I feel I can say this with a bit of authority, having visited every major so-called Burlesk theatre in the city, with the exception of the gay one. I cannot say whether they started out as actual Burlesk, and deteriorated, or whether they were raunchy at the outset, but at the moment, in either case, the shows are simply obscene, and, more important, tedious. The shows have eliminated all but the strippers, and promise total nudity, that is, removal of the G-string. Since the truly interesting thing about a strip is the "tease," in other words, the question of how much she is going to take off, and how long she will take to do it, advertising total nudity ends the suspense, and thus the entertainment.</div>
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The Capitol Theatre in Passaic, New Jersey, famous for rock concerts, is now presenting honest-to-God Burlesk. As Frank Silvano, one of the show's very funny comics put it, "What people in Passaic think we have here is a New York City Burlesk show. But we don't. We have old-fashioned Burlesk." Old-fashioned Burlesk in this sense does not mean that the material is dated, but that the basic original format of a Burlesk show is used.</div>
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The production, which changes every two weeks, consists of half-a-dozen comedy scenes, four exotic numbers (stripteases), and six or seven musical numbers, giving the audience a fast-moving two and a half hours of entertainment. It is a glossy, well-produced show, and yet, as veteran comedian Charles Naples points out, "...people are still mistaking Burlesk for pornography." </div>
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However, things are improving, as people learn to think for themselves. The size of the audience has been growing steadily from performance to performance. According to singer-dancer-choreographer Tony Pischado, many of the people in the audience arrive with a condescending attitude, "but they leave completely entertained. Everyone thought that Burlesk was strictly strippers. Now they're beginning to realize that Burlesk is an entire show...with strippers."</div>
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For scene comedy, as opposed to monologue, the stage is obviously preferable to television, with its stringent controls on content, running time, and its lack of spontaneity. Yet every comic in the show has left night club work, which would seem to have the closest performer-audience communication, and returned to Burlesk. Comic Sammy Petrillo explains it bluntly: "Who wants to play for a bunch of drunks?" From the performer's point of view, Burlesk is preferable because the audience is in the theatre to see a show, not to drink or play games.</div>
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It's better for the audience also. There is a minimal investment: $4.00 a head, $3.00 with a school ID, as opposed to a $10 cover charge. You get a full-size show, instead of one or two acts. And best of all, you won't be served a meal which is cooked to be eaten in the dark by someone who's had their four drink minimum and is watching someone taking their clothes off.</div>
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In most forms of comedy there is a constant search for new material, but this is not true of Burlesk. Burlesk comics tend to refine and perfect their material, until it becomes so perfect that it is hilarious no matter how often you hear it, and, in fact, tends to improve with age. A prime example is Abbott & Costello's "Who's on first?" which works no matter how frequently it's heard. Similarly, comedian Charlie Naples, with his partner, straightwoman Lucille Vance, does a Charlie Chaplin routine which has for a few decades been considered a Burlesk classic, and is in fact a good deal funnier than most of what Chaplin has done.</div>
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There are numerous standard scenes in Burlesk. Every comic in the business (literally) knows "court-room scene," "crazy-house," "Floogle Steet (the Susquehanna Hat Company)," "Niagara Falls," and so on, but star straightman (continued) </div>
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(The Capitol Cuties. Far right is Ann Middleton)</div>
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Eddie Black points out that no two comics do the same version of the same scene. They take advantage of the audience's familiarity with the material, "and refine and stylize the material to make themselves look best."</div>
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The comics of the show have very varied show business backgrounds. Charlie Naples was in Vaudeville from 1917, and went into Burlesk in 1930, when Vaudeville died. He worked in Burlesk until 1940, when he left for night clubs, with their shorter hours and better pay. Now that the night clubs are dying, he's back in Burlesk. His partner, Lucille Vance, was a singer until he taught her to be a straightwoman. They've been working together for twelve years now. Eddie Black has been in Burlesk for thirty of the fifty-five years that he has been in show business. He gave up being a jockey to join "Hunt's Great American Circus," when he had to leave town suddenly, and went on to medicine shows, tent shows, minstrel shows, vaudeville, and finally Burlesk. He even played the legendary Astor and Palace theatres with "The Honeyboy Minstrels."</div>
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Contrasting with seasoned old-times like Naples and Black are Sammy Petrillo and Frank Silvano, both in their mid-thirties, the two youngest Burlesk comedians in the business. Sammy was a stand-up night club comic for close to twenty years before he went into Burlesk. He currently produces three radio programs for WBHI, one of which he stars in, and he has just produced two feature films. Frank first worked in a Burlesk show starring Christine Jorgenson. Beginning as a singer (he does sing in the show), he then became a straightman, working with the biggest names in Burlesk, and now is one of the field's stars. He recently did a stint at Radio City Music Hall, and stars with his partner, the beautiful Jill Harris, in the film ANGES, which is due in New York very soon.</div>
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Contrasting with Frank Silvano's career is Tony Pichardo of "Mr. Tony Pichardo and his Capitol Cuties." Tony went from being a straightman for Pinkie Lee to being a singer-dancer. He worked on Broadway, then left to do his own act for seven years, and then began organizing revues. After playing his revues in clubs, he came to the Capitol. Among Tony's "Cuties" is Ann Middleton, formerly of Australia. She began studying ballet on scholarship at the age of four and continued for twelve years. When she got tired of chorus lines she toured Vietnam for seven months as her first singing job, and then joined Tony's act. "They said, 'working with strippers,' and I didn't exactly fancy that. But it's a lot more wholesome than I expected."</div>
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The exotic dancers are varied in their acts. Recently on the bill was Nina Rosee, who, in her enactment of the four seasons, threw plastic snowballs, beach balls, and suntan oil at members of the audience. Another dancer could shake rattles without using her hands, and a third ate fire. The headline exotics are the biggest names in the business, including Liz Renay, author of the best-selling <i>My Face For The World to See</i>, who recently had to cancel playdates in Washington, D.C., so that she could make a film. The current star is Diane Lewis, who is Minsky's favorite dancer.</div>
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By far the most talented exotic in the show is Jill Harris, who, working with her partner, Frank Silvano, is also an extremely funny comedienne and straighwoman. Other than being one of the most attractive women in Burlesk, she has such charm and grace that if you decided to see only one exotic dancer in your life, Miss Harris would be your best choice.</div>
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There is no such thing as a twenty-year-old Burlesk comic. Unlike other fields of comedy, Burlesk requires years of background and work in the field.</div>
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"You can't learn it from a book," claims Frank Silvano, "you can't see it on TV or learn it from a film." A Burlesk comic, by the time he rises from minor straightman status, is not only an artist, but a craftsman who uses new material and builds on the work of others. And these days he has to be a polished performer, because the less sure ones won't last.</div>
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You can count the number of Burlesk companies in the country on your fingers: Ann Corio's Show, Hope Diamond's Show, one theatre in St. Louis, two theatres in Las Vegas, maybe two others, and The Capitol. (Continued) </div>
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(top photo, l to r, Frank Silvano, Charlie Naples,</div>
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Eddie Black, Sammy Petrillo)</div>
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(Frank Silvano, plunger, Jill Harris)</div>
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(Singer/dancer Dana - can't remember her last name)</div>
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(Liz Renay)</div>
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The fact that there aren't many places for the performers to work guarantees that the audience will see the best in the business. But according to Sammy Petrillo, incidentally probably the only Burlesk performer with a Masters in Psychology, "There's no real competition. It's just like any other business: there's always room for someone with talent."</div>
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Will Burlesk last? That's hard to say. Sammy fears that it may be, "a ship passing in the night." According to Frank Silvano, the most important thing to watch is the number of women in the audience. "You can ask any Burlesk comic...when you get women in the audience, Burlesk is coming back." At present, the audiences average about 40% women, which is the same size it was in Burlesk's heyday.</div>
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The Capitol Burlesk Show in Passaic is probably your best entertainment buy in the New York area. The fare from the Port Authority Bus Terminal to Passaic is $1.10 each way. Buses run every ten minutes or so, and it's about a half-hour ride. The admission is $4.00, $3.00 with a school ID, and the show is about 2 1/2 hours, all of it entertaining -- and I should know, having been there five times in two weeks. There are performances Thursday through Sunday at 7:15 p.m., and Saturday there is also a 2:15 p.m. matinee and a midnight show. The Thursday and Friday shows and the Saturday matinee are the least crowded, if you want to make sure you have a seat by the runway (and what Burlesk-goer doesn't?). Just think, for $10.20, (or $5.10 a piece), you and a friend can visit Passaic, see a Burlesk Show that has all the polish of a lot of Broadway shows, have a good time, and be home in time to see the last half-hour of Dick Cavett. As Frank Silvano put it, it's a great "almost family show," clean enough to take your folks to, and, if he's not 18, you still have an excuse to leave your brother home. Please go see it; it's a terrific show.</div>
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Finally, there are two great myths about what Burlesk people are like: one says they're wackos, and the other says they're just plain folks. They are neither. All of them are perfectly sane and moral, but they are a great deal nicer than just plain folks. They are some of the nicest people that I have ever gotten to know. Hope I'll see you at the Capitol.</div>
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Henry Parke</div>
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<br />Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-17840706807496140422013-10-27T15:56:00.001-07:002013-10-27T15:56:22.475-07:00COSTUME DRAMA TRAUMA
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">By
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">September 3<sup>rd</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
love being on movie sets, especially Western movie sets, where the boardwalks
and wooden store-fronts, horses, costumed actors, and guns make you feel like
you’re time-traveling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last time I
had the privilege, writing for the Round-up, the wardrobe mistress said, “Next
time, I’ll dress you, and you can be an extra.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It sounded like fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d been an
extra here and there in friends’ movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was one, or actually did a small ‘bit’, in a picture I co-wrote the
original story for, SPEEDTRAP (1977).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
detective Joe Don Baker is dodging gangster Timothy Carey in the sleazy block
of Phoenix (which we had to manufacture), he zips by me and a hooker, and if
you strain your ears, you can hear me say, “Gee, a hundred dollars is a lot of
money,” and her responding, “Well I’m a lot of woman.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
got a call from my wardrobe lady friend that she was dressing a Western at
Paramount Ranch, and I was invited!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was all psyched at my return to the screen, so you can imagine my
disappointment when I got a call back that they couldn’t use me: only S.A.G.
extras.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Then
I recalled that I actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>played
a small, costumed role in a period picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was back when I attended NYU Film School in the 1970s, and in addition
to making your own films, you were crew, and sometimes cast, in other people’s
films.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A friend was directing a comedy,
a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">faux</i> documentary about a fake
poverty row movie studio of Hollywood’s golden age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He needed clips from nonexistent films, and I
acted in a few.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One was a World War II ‘Battle
of the Bulge’ epic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gag was that,
being a poverty row studio making a war movie during the war, all the big
studios had rented the proper uniforms for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">their</i>
war movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we had to make do: the
Nazis dressed in Confederate uniforms, and the U.S. Army in Salvation Army
uniforms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
was delighted to find myself, at dawn, in Morningside Park, dressed in a
well-tailored Confederate Captain’s uniform, complete with hat and sword.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were going to start with a big battle
scene, involving both armies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But just
as the camera was about to roll, it couldn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The director of photography had forgotten to charge the power-pack that
ran the camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hurried off to plug
it in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would have at least a two-hour
delay before we could begin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As this
shoot was destined to run late, and I had made plans for the afternoon, I
needed to find a payphone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
awfully early, but if I didn’t call then, I might not have a chance for hours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There
were no payphones in the park, so I walked out of the park, onto the
streets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I mention that Morningside
Park is in the middle of Harlem?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Harlem,
the home of the Apollo Theatre, the Black Panthers, and in those days, zero
white people?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I started walking along
the streets of Harlem, at dawn, wearing a Confederate Captain’s uniform, complete
with hat and sword.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There
was not a soul on the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first
phone booth I came to had a phone, but no receiver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The second had no phone at all, and the booth
had been converted into a make-shift urinal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The third one had a complete phone, and I made my call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I talked, I noticed an older sedan parked
across the street from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were about a dozen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Miller High Life </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bottles
lined up on the sidewalk beside it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The engine
was off, but the headlights were on, dim, like they’d been on all night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few figures lounged around inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
finished my call, and left the booth, starting my long walk back to the
park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sword slapped against my left
leg with each step.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>From
behind me, from the direction of the lone car, I heard a voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I kept walking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey you!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept walking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey you!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Soldier boy!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Come ‘ere!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The voice was accompanied by laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah!”
another voice joined in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Johnny
Reb!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We want to talk to you!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
heard the engine cough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought maybe the
headlights had drained the battery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
hoped so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I heard the engine start
up strong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reached a corner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A right turn would bring me closer to the
park, but a left would be the wrong way on a one-way street for the car I could
hear gaining on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
turned left anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought it was
time to start running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Try running while
wearing a sword – no wonder the officers rode horses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
heard a shattering smash as a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Miller</i>
bottle hit the sidewalk a distance behind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The next one was closer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
changed direction at every corner, but of course I didn’t lose them, not in
their car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard a lot of laughter and
hooting and hostile comments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even as I
was ducking bottles, I couldn’t help admiring the ‘Johnny Reb’ reference – I
don’t think I could have come up with anything that good that quickly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next catcall truly amazed me – someone in
the sedan was calling him and his friends Buffalo Soldiers!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Finally
I reached the street with the entrance to Morningside Park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I bolted for the winding downward path, I
saw three iron posts jutting up from the ground, across the entrance, perhaps
to prevent carloads of Buffalo Soldiers from driving down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As
the car screeched to a halt across the street, and young men began to pile out,
I faced them, drew my sword, and shouted, “F#ck you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> Abe Lincoln!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I
turned and ran like Hell down into the park.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
ran into camp, screaming for help, and as the Buffalo Soldiers appeared at the
bottom of the path, they faced twenty armed, uniformed Confederate soldiers,
and a cannon was being swung into position.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t know what they thought, but was grateful that they ran back up
and drove away, perhaps never to drink <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Miller
High Life</i> again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Copyright October 27, 2013 by Henry C. Parke -- All Rights Reserved<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
</div>
Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-37902549560282512602013-08-27T19:10:00.000-07:002013-08-27T19:10:24.793-07:00BERK’S – A 7TH AVENUE STORY<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">By
Henry C. Parke<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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BERK'S is now PARK SLOPE NEWS STAND</div>
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(Pearle Vision used to be Unisex Haircutters)</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">August 14<sup>th</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “BERK’S”
was a candy store and newsstand on 7<sup>th</sup> Avenue, one store from the
corner of Union Street. It was a place
to pick up sodas and candy bars, comics, big pieces of sidewalk chalk, and the
pink rubber balls we used for all of the stoop games. They were Spaldings, but for some reason we
called them Spal<i>deens</i>. By the phone booth in back there was a big <i>Mission Soda</i> cooler, and you’d reach
into the cold water up to your elbow and pull out a Coke or 7-Up if you were
flush, or an actual Mission Soda if you wanted to save a few pennies. There were small yellow boxes of salt-coated
pumpkin seeds and sun-flower seeds to chew and spit. If you were an adult you could buy <i>The New York Times, The Herald Tribune, The
Mirror, The Telegram, The Journal American, The Amsterdam News</i>, and in the
afternoon, <i>The New York Post</i>. If you were a horse-player you could buy <i>The Daily Telegraph</i>. If you were a smoker, there were cigarettes,
open boxes of cigars behind the counter, and Tiparillos and White Owl Demi-Tips
in packs of five.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Mr.
and Mrs. Berk were a cheerful couple, patient with indecisive kids and adults
alike. I guess they were in their 60s,
but they could have been in their 70s or 50s – when you’re ten or eleven, it’s
all the same. They were both a bit
chubby, she a little taller, with red hair and glasses with, I think, blue
frames. I don’t remember her first name
because, as a polite kid of that era, I called her Mrs. Berk. Mr. Berk, whose name was Harry – it was also
my father’s name, so I wasn’t likely to forget that – had black hair, and
usually wore a small black hat of the type we now call a Sinatra hat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> I
know they had a son, maybe more than one, whom they had sent to college, and he
had done very well. There was probably a
wife and kids, but I don’t recall – what kid cares about someone else’s
grandkids?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Harry
was crazy about his wife, maybe all the more because he had to put up a stiff
fight to win her. It was the 1920s, and
the future Mrs. Berk was dating one on the top singers and vaudeville stars of
the era, Arthur Tracy, known as ‘The Street Singer.’ He’d come out onstage with his accordion,
singing ‘Marta, Rambling Rose of the Wildwood,’ and the ladies would swoon. He was playing ‘The Palace,’ the pinnacle of
vaudeville in the United States. I never
heard the details of how Harry defeated Arthur – these things are usually a
matter of one personality or heart winning out over another. Arthur Tracy must have recovered from his
loss, because he lived to be 98, and was performing almost to the very end, in
1997.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> But
back in the 1920s, Harry Berk had a different business, which I think was also
called ‘Berk’s’, and was located in Times Square. This ‘Berk’s’ was an elegant men’s
haberdashery. “A lot of stars came
there, especially dancers. I had dance
shoes made of calf-skin. They shined
like patent leather, but they were much lighter, and dancers loved them. Fred and Adele Astaire were regular
customers.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> One
day Harry heard shouting coming from the shoe department. He hurried in to find a regular customer screaming
at a salesman, and slapping him around.
“I said, ‘You stop that!’ He
said, ‘Do you know who I am?’ I said,
‘Yes, I know you’re a good customer, Mr. Flegenheimer, but I won’t have you
abusing my employees: get out of my store and don’t come back!’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “So,
he’s mad, but he leaves. My salesman
says, ‘We’re good as dead now. He’s
gonna kill us.’ I say, ‘Don’t talk
nonsense! He knows he was wrong. Who is he to kill us?’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “‘He’s
Dutch Schultz.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “‘What? He’s Mr. Flegenheimer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “‘Arthur
Flegenheimer is Dutch Schultz, the bootlegger.
He’s going to kill us.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Harry
stopped to get himself a Mission Soda, grape, I think. He
told me he started to wait for a bullet.
When he was in his store, and he passed by the plate-glass window, he
waited for a bullet. When he walked
along Broadway, and a car slowed down beside him, he waited for a bullet. When he missed his subway, and was suddenly
alone on the platform, waiting for Times Square to Grand Central Shuttle, he
waited for a bullet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> After
a couple of weeks, he started to wonder if maybe the bullet wasn’t going to
come. It never came. He never heard from Dutch Schultz, who died
in 1935, killed by the Syndicate to prevent him from murdering New York D.A.
Thomas Dewey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “But
I’ve got one thing to remember Mr. Flegenheimer by.” He took off his hat, and tilted the top of
his head to me. His hair was jet black,
except at the roots, where it was white.
“That first morning, I looked in the mirror to shave. And I saw my hair was white at the roots. It grew in all white. I’ve been dying it ever since.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbF8t8cHKqAY1hXT8TXMc7SZngrY-qw2onHiPYVB-W1t_nvsNStOwWdHBIEy0hWw-jNns9lL-SJFupZKN6gXQUXapkN6XVaCZhhLDfJqMuWyKDCULKqhiNY8VyHpsW6ciJ6Loo71RRot6/s1600/dutch+schultz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbF8t8cHKqAY1hXT8TXMc7SZngrY-qw2onHiPYVB-W1t_nvsNStOwWdHBIEy0hWw-jNns9lL-SJFupZKN6gXQUXapkN6XVaCZhhLDfJqMuWyKDCULKqhiNY8VyHpsW6ciJ6Loo71RRot6/s320/dutch+schultz.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Arthur Flegenheimer in a contemplative mood.</div>
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To hear and see Arthur Tracy sing 'Marta' and 'Trees', click the link below.</div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Odxtomd_PlQ">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Odxtomd_PlQ</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Story 'BERK'S - A 7TH AVENUE STORY' is copyright August 27th, 2013 by Henry C. Parke -- All Rights Reserved</span></div>
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Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-75421466288851260242013-08-27T18:22:00.000-07:002013-08-27T18:22:13.849-07:007TH AVENUE STORIES <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">By
Henry C. Parke<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Pictures
of Things That Aren’t There - An Introduction<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">August 13, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> I
was born in 1954, in a hospital in Brooklyn Heights, on Henry Street, and for
years my parents had me convinced that the street had been named after me. After living briefly in an apartment in Bay
Ridge, we moved to a beautiful house in beautiful Bellmore, Long Island. Although Bellmore would later be best-known
as the home of Amy Fisher and Joey Buttafuoco, my strongest memory is of the
brook that ran through our back yard, and the wild ducks that swam through it
and nested along it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> My
Dad worked in Brooklyn, and after a few years, the commute to and from
Bellmore, whether by train or car, became unbearably long, and we moved back to
Brooklyn. We arrived just in time for me to start
kindergarten, and I spent the balance of the first twenty-five years of my life
in the Park Slope section of Brooklyn.
It’s very <i>chic</i> now. It was always nice, always elegant, but it
wasn’t chic when I was a kid. The chic
place in Brooklyn back then was Brooklyn Heights, but the Heights priced itself
out of the running, and Park Slope became ‘it’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> That’s
not the sort of thing that matters to a kid, of course. One of my many memories of growing up there
centered not on local concerns, but rather with world events. On November 22<sup>nd</sup>, 1963, I was
nine, my sister was twelve. Our parents
were on a trip, and we were being ‘sat’ by our favorite relatives, great aunt
Sadie and great uncle Abe. My sister and
I were upstairs, watching TV, when news broke in to say that President Kennedy
had just been shot in Dallas. When we
ran downstairs to tell Sadie and Abe, they were cross. “That’s not funny! Don’t make jokes like that!” That it was the truth was inconceivable to
them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> I
cut the portrait of JFK off the cover of <i>The
Saturday Evening Post</i>, and taped it to my bedroom wall, along with tiny
crossed flags and tiny plastic roses. On
the day of his funeral, I went to the shopping area of Park Slope, 7<sup>th</sup>
Avenue. The store windows were filled
with pictures of the late president and Jackie. And in a vain attempt to record what was
already irretrievably gone, I brought my <i>Brownie
Starmite</i> box camera, and took pictures of the pictures in the windows. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Today,
maybe fifty years later, I was back on 7<sup>th</sup> Avenue, taking pictures
of things irretrievably lost. I told my
sister where I’d been. “I’ll bet you saw
nothing you remember, and no one you knew.”
She was right. But at least I
remember what used to be there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright August 27, 2013 by Henry C. Parke - All Rights Reserved</span></div>
Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-69791364377618563652013-03-31T23:48:00.000-07:002013-03-31T23:48:44.722-07:00TEMPEST AND PETE AT THE STAR AND GARTER<br />
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I’m sad to say I haven’t seen or spoken to her in decades, but
when I was in college, that titanic redhead, that Eiffel eye-full, Tempest
Storm, was a friend of mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those
not familiar with that hour-glass beauty, this story will illustrate how
attractive she was: Frank Sinatra insisted she be cast as one of the showgirls
in his movie PAL JOEY, and top-billed Rita Hayworth had her fired, because they
looked too much alike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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I went to NYU film school in the mid 1970s, and while
writing for their literary magazine, COLD DUCK, I managed to interview Tempest
at Times Square’s SHOW WORLD CENTER, a porno emporium with the atmosphere of a
Howard Johnson’s, where she was then performing her famous striptease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d turned on my tape-recorder, and said,
“It’s a long way from Annie Banks of Eastman, Georgia to Tempest Storm – ”</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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And she stopped me, saying with astonishment, “Oh my
goodness, you’ve actually done research!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She was a charming and funny Southern belle, and it was a great
interview.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pulled out some pressbooks
and lobby cards from burlesque films she’d been in, and she told me that her
scrapbooks had been stolen from her dressing room not long ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave her my Tempest Storm files, and that
sealed the friendship. </div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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It became a habit after then that, whenever she was
performing in New York City, I’d drop by the theatre with her favorite drink, a
glass of carrot and celery juice, and take her to lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was headlining at <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Star and Garter,</i> which was on the corner of Broadway and I
think 46<sup>th</sup> Street, up on the second floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave my name to the lady in the booth, she
checked her list, and she let me through the turnstile without taking my ten
dollars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went backstage to Tempest’s
dressing room which, while not luxurious, was much bigger than the two
shoebox-sized rooms the other six girls on the bill had to share.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I brought Tempest her carrot and celery
juice, and after chatting a few minutes, she had to change into her ‘taking
off’ clothes, so I went into the theatre auditorium to watch the rest of the
show, waiting until Tempest had done her set so we could go out to lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Today, striptease has gained, if not respectability, an aura
of cool edginess, but in the 1970s that was not the case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burlesque, the musical comedy entertainment
that spawned Abbott & Costello, Ed Wynn, Phil Silvers and so many other
stars, is remembered mostly for striptease, ironic considering that striptease
is what actually killed the form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
comic Rags Ragland replied, when asked why he left burlesque: “How do you
follow an act where a woman takes off all her clothes?”</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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The showroom had a small stage, with a runway that jutted
past the first three or four rows of seats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It could seat about a hundred, but these early shows were never very
full.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I’d gone in to see Tempest,
I’d heard an amplified man’s voice announce, “And now, the management of the
Star and Garter is proud to present the lovely and sensual Desiree!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Desiree was still on when I found a
seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’d gone on, dressed in her show-girl
clothes, then teased and peeled, and danced her set, working to records.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pay was not great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
headliner, if she was a name, like Tempest, or Blaze Starr, made a thousand
dollars a seven-day week, four or more shows a day, and the non-stars made far
less.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most made more money from tips,
and in these pre-lap-dance days a stripper would often work the length of the
runway, bald head by bald head, showing special attention, and letting the men
slip the money under the elastic of her g-string.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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Desiree had been working the tiny crowd so long that her
music had ended, and they’d had to start it again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few voices called out, “Tempest!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We want Tempest!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girl in the black garters clung
tenaciously to the curtain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Listen,”
she told the audience through her teeth, “I’m not leaving the stage until I get
fifteen more dollars!” A collection was taken up among the front-row denizens,
and Desiree was bought off the stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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With the stage empty, I glanced around at the audience: that
afternoon the clientele was all male, subdivided by servicemen with nowhere to
go, groups of guys going as a goof, and the usual collection of chronic
masturbators.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Overall, that was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always</i> the audience, which is why I did
a double-take to see a genuine movie star, Peter Boyle, sitting in the back
row.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Younger folks probably only know the late Peter Boyle as Ray
Romano’s father on EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND, but he was a major star in the
1970s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d done films as dark as TAXI
DRIVER and JOE, and as light and funny as YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN, where he played
the monster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And hip?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hung out with Jane Fonda and Donald
Sutherland, and when he got married later on, John Lennon was his best man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which is a long way of saying I would have
been less surprised to see a zebra in the next row than I was to see Peter
Boyle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<o:p> </o:p><br />
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Next the management of the Star & Garter was proud to
introduce the lovely and sensuous Roberta Redford (she was a peach, and would
never go out with me), and finally it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">showtime</i>!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
curtains parted slightly, revealing a set of drums.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of the dancers performed to records or
tapes, but Tempest was a headliner in a field where you could count all the headliners
on the fingers of one hand, so she got one live musician, a drummer, to do the
rim-shots for the bumps and drum-rolls for the grinds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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“The management of the Star & Garter is proud to
introduce the star of our show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s
performed all over the world!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Queen
of burlesque!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Miss Tempest Storm!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Tempest had the sort of truly hour-glass figure that you
will rarely see in a lifetime, and she knew how to slowly reveal it in a manner
that was breathtaking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Literally, it
seemed like no one in the audience was breathing for some time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Tempest had taken her bows, following a
standing ovation, she slipped backstage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I slipped into the lobby to wait for her.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p><br />
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Tempest came into the lobby ten minutes later, wearing a
stylish pin-stripe suit, and said, “Okay Henry, let’s get lunch.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as we were crossing the lobby, a man
stepped out of the showroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
Peter Boyle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hi,” he said.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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“Hi,” she said in return, and kept walking.</div>
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He moved to catch up with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed
your show.”</div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
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“Thanks,” she said as we kept walking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being a tall, beautiful woman who makes her
living by taking her clothes off to music in front of strange men, Tempest has
perfect tunnel-vision – you cannot make eye contact with her if she doesn’t
want to.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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“My name’s Pete.”</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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“Nice to meet you, Pete,” she said without slowing.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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“I’m Peter Boyle,” he clarified.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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“Oh.”</div>
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By now we were through the lobby and passing the ticket
booth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m an actor,” he told the back
of her head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I starred in JOE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m in STEELYARD BLUES…”</div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
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I understood exactly what was going on in Peter Boyle’s
head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a big star; he had dropped
into a dive, a strip show, and was going to give the star the thrill of her
life when he told her he enjoyed her performance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only it wasn’t working out like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
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Tempest and I were hurrying down the stairs to the street
while Peter Boyle stayed on the top step, shouting his credits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m in THE CANDIDATE!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m in TAIL-GUNNER JOE!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m in DIARY OF A MAD HOUSEWIFE!”</div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
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And Tempest turned back and called, loudly enough that he
couldn’t miss it, “Henry, get me away from this nut!”</div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
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I yelled, “Taxi!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
as the cab raced us away to a deli, Peter Boyle was left on the curb, shouting,
“MEDIUM COOL!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>T.R. BASKIN!”</div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
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Tempest turned to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“What is wrong with that man?”</div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
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“Tempest, that really is Peter Boyle, and he really is a big
star.”</div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
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“Seriously?”</div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
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“Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He starred in
JOE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He starred in CRAZY JOE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He starred in TAIL-GUNNER JOE…”</div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
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She looked at me quizzically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He only does movies with ‘Joe’ in the
title?”</div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
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I only saw Peter Boyle in person one more time, when I was
at JFK Airport maybe ten years later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our eyes met – I don’t have tunnel-vision like Tempest – and we sort of
acknowledged each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I didn’t
remind him of the afternoon we spent together at the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Star & Garter.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I might
want to give him a script one day, and I figured it was better if he didn’t
know we had a history.</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/EroeHk9kJ7k" width="420"></iframe><br />Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-80620594770108708032012-09-09T17:59:00.001-07:002012-09-09T18:00:39.998-07:00SUPERMAN, ONE PIMP, TWO HOOKERS AND ME AT THE CINERAMA DOME<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wbjj7FT2WQz7Pt0BDug3eLgPRTkLDs21plfxoAO_PXdDvkUhJTu0rl4BFcPfHrRHuBOXkGqmFPl67QtmagJdbZkxAIxLkLf3NwIB8FRy3oSwyFw9LDKtKxviWEzNzExunn0CF3HVPEji/s1600/cinerama+dome+night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wbjj7FT2WQz7Pt0BDug3eLgPRTkLDs21plfxoAO_PXdDvkUhJTu0rl4BFcPfHrRHuBOXkGqmFPl67QtmagJdbZkxAIxLkLf3NwIB8FRy3oSwyFw9LDKtKxviWEzNzExunn0CF3HVPEji/s1600/cinerama+dome+night.jpg" /></a></div>
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On Saturday night my wife and I attended a wonderful concert
at the Hollywood Bowl, given by the great film score composer John Williams and
the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Highlights included music from many Steven Speilberg collaborations,
including SCHINDLER’S LIST, AMISTAD, RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, and they even ran
the final reel of E.T. with the orchestra playing the score live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In acknowledgment of other great film composers,
they played David Raksin’s theme from LAURA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The highpoint for true believers was the music from the various STAR
WARS movies, which brought forth a sea of light sabers to pierce the
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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One of my favorite themes that evening was from SUPERMAN,
the movie that made the late Christopher Reeve a star for his portrayal of the
man of steel (although to me there will only be one true Superman: George
Reeves in the TV series’ first season).</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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I well remember seeing the Christopher Reeve version on the
immense curved screen of the Hollywood Cinerama Dome, now the Arclight
Hollywood, back in early 1979.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
sold a script my last year in college, which had become SPEEDTRAP, and my
producer and co-story writer Fred Mintz had brought me out from Brooklyn to Los
Angeles to write a disco-roller skating version of Guy De Maupassant’s BEL
AMI.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was while I was writing this never-to-be-filmed
epic, and living at the Sunset Tower West in <st1:place w:st="on">West
Hollywood</st1:place>, that I got to know a fellow New Yorker who lived in the
building, whom I shall call Eddie, since that was his name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had the name ‘Erwin’ tattooed on his arm,
which I never understood, but I was too polite to ask about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will not mention his last name because,
even though it has been decades, the last I heard, he had three outstanding
arrest warrants in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Los Angeles</st1:place></st1:city>.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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Eddie was a security guard for the building, and a terrible
one considering that he was also a pimp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At least he considered himself a pimp, but I like to think he actually
aspired to pimpdom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What he did was rent
the unrented apartments to the Sunset Boulevard hookers for five bucks a
pop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he had rented five rooms – or
the same room five times – and saved up $25, which was then the going rate, he
would pay it all to one of the women, and be back where he started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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One night Eddie told me that he was taking a pair of hookers
to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Hollywood</st1:place></st1:city> to
see SUPERMAN, and wanted to know if I would like to join them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And drive them, as I was the only one with
wheels, being the proud owner of a 1972 Pinto.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Needless to say, I jumped at the opportunity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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If you’ve seen any LifeTime movies, or other gaudy fictional
stories involving prostitutes, the descriptive term generally used is either
‘high class call-girl’ or ‘high-priced call-girl.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t mean to be indelicate, but these were
not them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were nice young girls, I
wince to think <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">how</i> young, but they
were street-walkers and not at all glamorous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But they were pleasant company, and pleased to be on a date where
nothing but their company was expected of them.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
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If you haven’t seen the movie lately, it’s quite a
charmer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved the early scenes with
Brando on Krypton. and with Glenn Ford as Pa Kent in Smallville, and got a huge
kick out of seeing young Superman racing a train carrying Kirk Allyn and Noel
Neill, the screen’s first Superman and Lois Lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The low point of the evening came when
Eddie-the-wanna-be-pimp lit a cigarette in the auditorium, and threatened to
knife a patron who quite rightly objected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I got him to put out the cigarette by threatening to ditch him and the
girls at the theatre, leaving them to walk home.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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The <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">high point</st1:place></st1:city>
for me came in the famous balcony scene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Superman has saved Lois – I think he caught her when she was falling
from a building – and he agrees to give her an interview.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He flies up to her penthouse (since when do
reporters in Metropolis make that kind of money?), she takes out her little
notebook (the paper kind), and they do a Q & A.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She quizzes him about his powers, and when he
mentions X-ray vision, she says, “If you have X-ray vision, what color panties
am I wearing?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He glances at her, and tells her, “Pink.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this point, one of my dates leapt from her
seat, furious, and shouted at the screen, “What?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did she say?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Lois
Lane</st1:address></st1:street> would NEVER ask Superman about her
panties!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not in a million years!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re makin’ a tramp out of <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Lois Lane</st1:address></st1:street>!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With that she stormed out of the auditorium,
into the lobby, and it took a great deal of coaxing to get her back inside to
see the rest of the movie.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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I was fascinated, because I realized, though we may
compromise our own standards and morals, we never want our heroes to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a moment I recall every time I’m asked
to ‘modernize’ a character or a story in a way that cheapens them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-17847467231637303232012-08-12T21:13:00.000-07:002012-08-12T21:26:02.541-07:00WEIRDEST PITCH MEETING OF MY CAREER<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7aGjFPjM6knLCbTP04N4DFpNENJ17gdrUyDWdeKYTVTWVVZ1rE4cyvCMu0tgHupeMg0PMs7JPcQtVnUmBsKmtL4C7HADTY7tV5IHn8T6t_FVH0yLYnbFBg5GLcwEAQR-OOETXpYlG9JI-/s1600/weirdest+pitch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7aGjFPjM6knLCbTP04N4DFpNENJ17gdrUyDWdeKYTVTWVVZ1rE4cyvCMu0tgHupeMg0PMs7JPcQtVnUmBsKmtL4C7HADTY7tV5IHn8T6t_FVH0yLYnbFBg5GLcwEAQR-OOETXpYlG9JI-/s320/weirdest+pitch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I was recently wasting time on Facebook instead of doing my
work, when I came upon a page called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vintage
Sleaze</i>, which in turn led me to a page called DAD MADE DIRTY MOVIES.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a page to promote a documentary film of
the same title, made by Jordan Torodov, about a filmmaker named Stephen
Apostolof, a Bulgarian refugee who made a slew of films with Ed Wood Jr., and a
bunch of ‘nude-cuties’ besides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn’t
thought of Stephen Apostolof in decades, but my memories of our meeting came
flooding back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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When I commented on the page that I had the weirdest
pitch-meeting of my career with Stephen Apostolof, <st1:country -region="-region" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jordan</st1:place></st1:country> e-mailed me to ask about
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here is the story.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back in the early 1980s, I was a struggling screenwriter
with one credit, SPEEDTRAP (1977), and I was working as a security guard at the
<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Beverly Hills</st1:place></st1:city>
headquarters of Litton Industries, in what was originally the headquarters of
the MCA Talent Agency, which later owned Universal Studios.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d gotten the job through the recommendation
of LeOnce Litel Sampson, a recently retired career Marine, who managed my
apartment building, and was a security sergeant at Litton.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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LeOnce was a great friend, the personification in look and
voice and personality of Robert Duvall’s LONESOME DOVE character, Gus
McCrea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d worked on several movies as
a Marine Corps technical advisor, among them THE SUICIDE’S WIFE with Angie
Dickenson, and THE LATE SHOW, with Art Carney and Lily Tomlin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to put together movies, and had
several scripts he was taking around, one being a horror movie of mine called
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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One afternoon I got a call from LeOnce that I had a
pitch-meeting the next day, with a producer named Stephen Apostolof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The way it came about was classic
LeOnce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d been going into Schwaab’s
on Sunset Boulevard for breakfast, when he saw a man in the parking lot having
trouble getting into his car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man
was Stephan Apostolof, and he’d accidentally locked his keys in his
Cadillac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LeOnce went back to his own
car, came back with a wire coast-hangar, bent it and opened the Caddy in about
a minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stephen was very grateful,
and took LeOnce to lunch at the Brown Derby on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Vine Street</st1:address></st1:street> that afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LeOnce told Stephen a little about THE
GINGERBREAD HOUSE, and LeOnce made an appointment for me to pitch it to him at
his office the next day.</div>
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Well, I hadn’t heard of Stephen Apostolof before, but LeOnce
assured me he’d produced lots of movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But LeOnce was not a detail guy, and didn’t remember any of the titles
on the posters in Stephen’s office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
he assured me that the man had his posters all over the walls, and diplomas,
and framed letters from The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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I spent the night polishing my pitch, then drove the next
day to Stephen’s downtown address.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His
office was above The Mayan Theatre, one of the most beautiful theatres in the
world, though it was then used as a porno theatre (it’s now a night club).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember him having a pretty large,
impressive suite, and his receptionist was a pleasant woman who told me Mr.
Apostolof would be with me in a few minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m standing in the waiting room, and I started checking out the framed
lobby cards on the walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember one
was for ‘Goldilocks and the Three Bares,’ and the still showed a man and two
women on horseback, naked except for sunglasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked at several others, and they were all
from nudie movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were, as LeOnce
had told me, several framed letters from the Academy, the Oscar prominent on
the stationery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I read one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Dear Mr. Apostolof, if you wish to submit
your motion picture, LADY GODIVA RIDES, for Oscar consideration, please
complete the enclosed forms, and return no later than…’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were all form letters!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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There was a one-sheet poster on the wall from a Republic
movie, but it was one I’d never heard of, and it didn’t look quite real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got closer I realized that it was not
a poster but a painting of one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(In
retrospect I realize that Republic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i>
make a movie about his escape from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country -region="-region" w:st="on">Bulgaria</st1:country></st1:place>, and this may well have
been the original design for the poster.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am then ushered in to meet with Mr. Apostolof, who is very charming,
and we talk about my friend LeOnce and how they met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a diploma on the wall, and I see
that it is from ‘<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">State</st1:placetype>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype></st1:place>’ and it is for
the study of ‘Sexology.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While Mr.
Apostolof is a very nice guy, it is clear to me that he is in the sex-film
business, not a maker of horror films, and probably would have no interest in
my movie anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d just recently had
to track down an older actor who swiped one of my scripts from an agent’s
office, then played producer, getting free meals by telling a bunch of young
actor/waiters that they were going to have a part in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was wary about where I left my
scripts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
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So I started ‘un-pitching’ my script.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s like everything you’ve already seen
before, but I guess I can tell you about it if you like.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It turned out to be unnecessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got the feeling, though he was very polite
about it, that he wasn’t really interested in it, and was meeting with me out
of respect for LeOnce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I managed to
leave the meeting <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">without</i> leaving the
script.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, if I had it to do
over again, knowing that he did make some non-nudie movies around this time, I
would have tried hard to get him interested.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe I would have gotten to meet Ed Wood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve still not gotten GINGERBREAD HOUSE made,
even though LeOnce once had Amicus horror-director Gordon Hessler attached to
the project, and Gordon had gotten a commitment from Trevor Howard (yes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>Trevor Howard) to play the crazy
old man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’re interested, I’ve got
the pitch worked out pretty well now.</div>
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If you’d like to learn more about MY DAD MADE DIRTY MOVIES,
the link to the Facebook page is <a href="https://www.facebook.com/dadmadedirtymovies">HERE</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-62763832082825233552010-01-11T12:50:00.000-08:002010-01-12T15:26:16.815-08:00MY BOSS, SAMMY PETRILLO<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTjQLW5p07U7XydJfD3lMzypRzNLVLf6Z6PP12_B1X9EPWNHco3FBXxzIt3iLUlK_k4_gCdLx_ge3cCxmET5G2gBmAiGnkpL3NC5D6Y_oVH1TLhfKXUQtqrrRpZuNqwdTzSzkSgK0-zs9m/s1600-h/brooklyn+gorilla4.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 125px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTjQLW5p07U7XydJfD3lMzypRzNLVLf6Z6PP12_B1X9EPWNHco3FBXxzIt3iLUlK_k4_gCdLx_ge3cCxmET5G2gBmAiGnkpL3NC5D6Y_oVH1TLhfKXUQtqrrRpZuNqwdTzSzkSgK0-zs9m/s320/brooklyn+gorilla4.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425625636092266386" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaerBeFhDw9Qav3LBbKKGl37pO55-trrsS_jVbeI3penxANtz4X77tbaeLMtIOVsI5xq_xGFVfSxnEisGbWzIPIsS_xxtvbT__RD5BAZlRCZf75debl8vWkeTNf9W6tyMr-IbxPEmAhvop/s1600-h/brooklyn+gorilla1.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 92px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaerBeFhDw9Qav3LBbKKGl37pO55-trrsS_jVbeI3penxANtz4X77tbaeLMtIOVsI5xq_xGFVfSxnEisGbWzIPIsS_xxtvbT__RD5BAZlRCZf75debl8vWkeTNf9W6tyMr-IbxPEmAhvop/s320/brooklyn+gorilla1.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425625634421625650" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbz9sqApSKhtge-L3UfKXVPUE16HUg5RKqPuGgMeHesHqyAnNnW7wlS7lHzgOTRHetU7Im__mIQe5jPXCZwjetjTLRFRbAi7uFfGkRh5WaJYE3glgZX9AwHa__a8yM-nNP8JhAQ7LeL7qA/s1600-h/sammy2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbz9sqApSKhtge-L3UfKXVPUE16HUg5RKqPuGgMeHesHqyAnNnW7wlS7lHzgOTRHetU7Im__mIQe5jPXCZwjetjTLRFRbAi7uFfGkRh5WaJYE3glgZX9AwHa__a8yM-nNP8JhAQ7LeL7qA/s320/sammy2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425592528843261714" /></a><br />Once you've been in 'the industry' long enough, when you watch the Oscars, you pay particular attention to the 'in memoriam' section, to make sure that no one who you liked, who died, was slighted. Well, I don't expect that Sammy Petrillo will be featured, and considering how brief his film career was, I can't really complain. I think Sammy would have been astonished to see the huge obit in the <a href="http://nytimes.com/2009/08/24/arts/television/24petrillo.html"><em>New York Times</em>. </a><br />Sammy made his one truly memorable movie when he was a teenager, costarring with his straight-man partner Duke Mitchell in 1952's <a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=OrRtIp3jylk"><em>Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla</em></a>, a pretend Martin and Lewis comedy, and Sammy didn't merely imitate Jerry Lewis, he channeled him.<br /><br />I met Sammy in the mid 1970s, when I was a film major at NYU, writing for <em>Cold Duck</em>, an NYU literary magazine. I was interviewing the cast of the Capital Burlesque Theatre in Passaic, New Jersey -- and irony of ironies, a night club in Passaic was the fictional locale where Duke and Sammy worked in <em>Brooklyn Gorilla</em>. This was a real throw-back burlesque show, with a full orchestra, dancing chorus, several comics, straight-men, and three strippers who never peeled past a g-string and pasties. Sammy still looked a lot like Jerry, although he looked much more like the Jerry of the Martin and Lewis days than the more mature version. Sammy and I hit it off, and I was surprised and delighted when he called me a few days later, and offered me a job as a general assistant on the four radio shows he was producing on WBHI, a station so high up on the FM dial that only dogs could hear it.<br /><br />My main duty, he told me, would be apologizing for him. "Henry, I noticed when you were doing your interviews, you got along with everyone. I don't. I rub people the wrong way, I insult them without meaning to or knowing I've done it. I need someone who can call people up and say, 'Sammy's a nice guy, and he didn't mean that the way it sounded.'" Needless to say, I jumped at the opportunity to smooth ruffled feathers for $75 a week. <br /><br />The more I got to know Sammy, the more I liked him, and the more I found it strange that he needed me to apologize to people -- I found him tactful and thoughtful. We worked out of the theatre, and I remember one time, backstage, I'd gone out and gotten a cup of tea for one of the elderly comics in the show who had a sore throat, and we almost came to blows over him wanting me to keep the change. Sammy stepped in. "Keep the twenty cents, Eddie! Henry got you the tea because he's your friend. If he keeps the twenty cents he's not your friend -- he's a kid running an errand." I don't think either Eddie or I had any idea what we were fighting about until Sammy explained it. <br /><br />This was very small-time radio, and Sammy would buy time from the station, then sell it to other people to do their shows. So one of my other duties would be to stand in the doorway with my hand out, moments before show time, and say, "Your check bounced. I need $125 in cash, or they broadcast dead air for the next hour." One of the strangest shows Sammy produced was the <em>Jerome Mackey - Protect Yourself Program</em>, the first and possibly the only time anyone tried to teach martial arts on radio. The host of the show was a charming black belt from the deep south, who towered over me. He'd grin, and drawl, "Oh pu-lease, Henry, don't y'all beat me up! I'll git yo're money somehow!" I was very lucky that he had a sense of humor. Sammy and his girlfriend hosted one of the radio shows, called <em>Out To Lunch</em>, and I would occasionally be interviewed on the show myself -- and if guests didn't show up on time, I'd be interviewed impersonating whoever was supposed to be there.<br /><br />Sammy was a wonderful story-teller, and loved to talk about making the movie, and working with Bela Lugosi. "Every day I'd come to the set, and Bela would say, 'Good morning Jerry.' It was our little joke. But after a while I started to realize that he wasn't kidding, that he thought I really was Jerry Lewis, and he was in a Martin and Lewis movie. He never learned to understand English well enough, and people took advantage of him."<br />"You notice Duke doesn't have a lot of close-ups in the film. He tried to play the big star in front of the crew, and they weren't impressed -- they'd worked on big movies. So they shot his close-ups just a little out of focus, so they couldn't use 'em." <br />Sammy had me tracking down 16mm prints of <em>Brooklyn Gorilla</em> and other Lugosi films, with the idea of doing a college tour talking about Bela. I never thought there was enough of an audience to warrant it.<br /><br />Eventually the burlesque show closed, Sammy left town, and my job was over. Around 1979 or 1980,I'd had a movie made, and moved to Los Angeles. I was reading <em>Variety</em>, and spotted Sammy's name in an article about his management of a film distribution company. When I called him and identified myself, his first words were, "How much money do I owe you?"<br />"Not a dime."<br />"You're kidding! I'll buy you lunch!" We went to the Farmer's Market, where we had a nice Italian meal served to us by Dean Martin's aunt! While Jerry Lewis, who'd hired the very young Sammy to play his son on a TV sketch, felt threatened, and made life difficult for Duke and Sammy, Dean Martin had been a pal, and quietly got their act several bookings.<br />The film distribution company went under a little while later, and I never saw Sammy again. A few years passed, then I got an urgent call from my friend Karl Tiedemann, a writer on the <em>David Letterman Show</em>, who was desperate to get in touch with Sammy. That morning, Jerry Lewis had been on the <em>Today Show</em>, plugging something, and the lead-in was a series of clips from the black & white days, including a walk-on on the old <em>Jack Benny Show</em>. When they started the interview, Jerry was a mass of twitches. "That last clip was not me. That was a comedian named Sammy Petrillo, who I eventually had to sue to keep from imitating me." Jerry was going to be guesting on <em>Letterman</em> that very night, and they wanted to have Sammy Petrillo do a surprise walk-on in the middle of the interview. I tracked Sammy down to The Nut House in Pittsburgh, a comedy club he managed and often performed at. It was a great idea, but they couldn't talk Sammy into it: he was too bitter about Jerry to ever want to be on-stage with him again. I couldn't blame him, but I was disappointed. It would have been the biggest break Sammy'd had in forty years.Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-11246431585474226302010-01-09T11:56:00.000-08:002010-01-09T12:37:19.950-08:00James Cameron and Me<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLpQOr7H5uaM3o9mkp5akA6iKMEZkdcN3QQRBJAnkQVDvV3W5yXYEENO4haIKuDYrs3oXm1NBKdQEeENMFp_GfqtXOwXdcK1zI7CVmlm9r-md1xxzPpIjk3f1YoMbAfhfYK5cim3DFBIG/s1600-h/piranha+part+two1.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 112px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424837659527036194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLpQOr7H5uaM3o9mkp5akA6iKMEZkdcN3QQRBJAnkQVDvV3W5yXYEENO4haIKuDYrs3oXm1NBKdQEeENMFp_GfqtXOwXdcK1zI7CVmlm9r-md1xxzPpIjk3f1YoMbAfhfYK5cim3DFBIG/s320/piranha+part+two1.bmp" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4O7lw0mkRd7IeMAqTwtrQEJF-T6cXq-T89GtYx4Fawgm9qTH8Y5GjbHkOh7gITBumYS7ULUQjT9YAzZwcLWEst8FdMR1kSaZtxYXYe5tdBUZoazog3psAjxbai7HF5eQW0zhIBFh0jeyS/s1600-h/piranha+part+two3.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 222px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424834679709169202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4O7lw0mkRd7IeMAqTwtrQEJF-T6cXq-T89GtYx4Fawgm9qTH8Y5GjbHkOh7gITBumYS7ULUQjT9YAzZwcLWEst8FdMR1kSaZtxYXYe5tdBUZoazog3psAjxbai7HF5eQW0zhIBFh0jeyS/s320/piranha+part+two3.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>As I have often noted, it is frequently my lot to work with the right people on the wrong projects. Case in point: James Cameron. I just saw <em>Avatar </em>yesterday, in 3D, at the Hollywood Bowl, and it was an absolute knockout. If you want to know what it looks like to have $500,000,000 on the screeen, see it. I've worked with Jim, but not on <em>Avatar</em>. No, not on <em>Titanic</em> either. Or <em>The Abyss</em> or any of the <em>Terminator</em> movies for that matter. I worked on <em>Piranha Part Two: The Spawning</em>. I don't remember how many sound effects editors there were on that picture, but I was the last one. </div><br /><br /><div>Whatever I was getting paid -- if I was paid -- wasn't enough for me to quit my daytime security-guard job, so I'd come in at about three in the afternoon every day, by which time everyone was horribly behind in their work, so I was treated as a hero for bringing in another pair of hands.</div><br /><br /><div>I was in charge of laying in screams and chewing sounds, of which there were plenty. Jim was a perfectionist even then, and not satisfied with the quality of recorded chewing noises, we made our own. We filled a big tub of mushy oatmeal, and slapped a wooden spoon in it. We took pinking shears -- those fabric scissors with lots of criss-cross teeth -- and cut through sheets of cardboard as quickly as we could. When we matched up the sloshing oatmeal and the chomping cardboard, the effect was sickeningly convincing.</div><br /><br /><div>Of course, the movie itself wasn't all that convincing. The premise was that somehow piranhas had been crossed with flying fish and grunions, so you now had piranhas that could fly, and spawn on land. Sure, see it. But see <em>Avatar</em> first.</div></div></div>Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-28313565955510453972010-01-07T12:39:00.000-08:002010-01-07T13:14:25.087-08:00I Get That Not<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXz1ZL_oDyBttHp05DuUCjxUAP1m98F2Ny9sQMquR9sZ3c8HT6FDNIMRFIv6sYzDmlKQgCcUUMXblZLwAYAIVn8ia0pyhRAIY-0PsPuoQNgAVF0_GoUIxQdc_jPgc1w9Erj0FN5iqFMCs3/s1600-h/addams1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXz1ZL_oDyBttHp05DuUCjxUAP1m98F2Ny9sQMquR9sZ3c8HT6FDNIMRFIv6sYzDmlKQgCcUUMXblZLwAYAIVn8ia0pyhRAIY-0PsPuoQNgAVF0_GoUIxQdc_jPgc1w9Erj0FN5iqFMCs3/s320/addams1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424101034083304002" /></a><br />Happy Birthday to Paramount Pictures architect Adolph Zukor, 13th President Millard Fillmore, Nicholas Cage, and cartoonist Charles Addams!<br />Now, I promise that Stalling Tactics in not going to become a list of complaints about modern entertainment. But remember the old <em>Candid Camera </em>show? In every half-hour episode there would be three clever segments -- okay, two clever segements, and one with Allen Funt talking to little kids. Ashton Kutcher, who despite his carefully cultivated image as a moron is a very bright guy, 'borrowed' the idea with <em>Punk'd</em>, where his overly-elaborate practical jokes on celebs were often clever and funny. Now we get <em>I Get That A Lot</em>, where they take ONE gag -- having famous people do normal jobs and pretend that they are not who they are -- and play that one not-so-clever gag FOR AN ENTIRE SEASON! Does anyone seriously find this funny more than once?Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-55218373699224704362010-01-06T14:13:00.000-08:002010-01-06T14:27:12.142-08:00Other BirthdaysIt just struck me that I began my first post with congratulations to folks who can no longer read blogs! So let me say happy birthday to comedian Rowan Atkinson -- of <em>Bean </em>and <em>Blackadder </em>fame, and to a pair of music greats: Malcolm Young of AC/DC is 57, and Earl Scruggs is 86. I just saw Scruggs a few weeks ago on <em>The Marty Stuart Show</em> on RFD-TV, and he played <em>Foggy Mountain Breakdown</em> as beautifully as he and Lester Flatt played it forty years earlier, as the chase music <em>in Bonnie and Clyde. </em>Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894653246525111288.post-83279634427231555172010-01-06T12:05:00.000-08:002010-01-06T22:55:24.152-08:00New Year, New Blog<div>Happy 251st wedding anniversary to George and Martha Washington! And happy birthday to Tom Mix, Carl Sandburg and George Reeves! When I was a kid growing up in Brooklyn, a staple of New Years Eve viewing was Jack Benny in <em>The Horn Blows At Midnight</em>, but I don't know if anyone shows it anymore on New Years Eve. Thanks to TCM I've got it on tape. AMC announced that they'd be running digitally remastered Three Stooges shorts on New Years Eve, so I DVR'd the last few and just watched 'em. The copies are wonderfully crisp, but they ran each of them in a half-hour time slot with <em>two</em> commercial breaks! <em> Come on</em>, these shorts only run 16 or 17 minutes! That's almost 50% commercials!</div><br /><div>Worse, among other commercials were ads for penis-enlargement products! Aside from the World Series and Superbowl, are there any programs more sure to be watched by parents and kids together? </div><br /><div> </div>Henry C. Parkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02619991499711943991noreply@blogger.com0