Hey, You!

Saturday Night Live
Season 3: Episode 7
December 20, 1977

"Hey, You!"

Woman.....Gilda Radner

[ open on woman sitting alone at a bar ]

Announcer: Not all women are looking for Mr. Right. Sometimes they might just want a little company for the evening. That's why Olfalo created Hey, You!

[ Woman holds up perfume and sprays it on herself ]

Announcer: Just one whiff does the trick, for those occasions when you can't afford to be subtle.

[ men begin to flock all around the Woman ]

Announcer: Hey, You! The scent you can't ignore.

[ the woman spots a single man sitting alone at the other end of the bar ]

Woman: [ whispering seductively ] Hey... You!

[ the man approaches the woman, who gets up and leaves with him ]

[ once outside, they enter a taxi and take off into the night ]

Announcer: Hey, You! for that special someone you never expect to see again.

[ cut to the next day, as the woman hobbles out of a hotel and tries to catch a taxi home ]

Announcer: Hey, You! The Perfume for One-Night Stands.

[ dissolve to product shot ]

Announcer: From Olfalo.

[ fade ]

My world-view as a nine year-old was that New York City was a gritty, dangerous swinger’s bar and that when I grew up my life would be much like Gilda’s in this fake advertisement -- desperate for love and attention, going home after dark with strangers for risky sex before catching a cab the next morning, half-dressed, with a cigarette clamped between my lips.


I think the fact that she stumbles into the ugly, urban dawn, shrugging on bits of her clothes from the night before didn’t just communicate to my pre-adolescent brain the “Walk of Shame” but that she had, in fact, been raped. I think I read a little too much into this gag.

Source:
SNL Transcripts

Firesign Theatre

I do not hate Monty Python. I hate people who love Monty Python. And by that I mean, I hate people who love Monty Python but don't get Monty Python. There is a generation of twits who believe Monty Python is hilarious because it is absurd. "The Ministry of Funny Walks" is indeed hilarious. But not because it is the Ministry of Funny Walks.

It's the Ministry of Funny Walks. Do you see?

Whatever, what do you know from funny.

So, while Monty Python was skewering British society, The Firesign Theatre was smoking a lot of pot. Oh, and skewering American society.

Formed in the late 1960s, the Firesign Theatre (Phil Austin, Peter Bergman, David Ossman and Philip Proctor) created surrealist tableaux of funny, often taking both sides of one LP to tell an extended, dream-like story. When I was a kid, I did not know the extent of their narratives, because the only album we had in the house was a compilation record, Forward Into The Past (released in 1976) which included selections from their previous nine albums, plus difficult to locate comedy singles.

In 1972 they released Dear Friends, a collection of their live radio broadcasts on KPFK in San Francisco. Whereas their produced work is tightly scripted, this program allowed for a certain amount of spontaneity, which on two occasions, got them fired.

Perusing the TV Guide:
BERGMAN: I like to watch that program with my girl.
PROCTOR: You have a girl?
BERGMAN: We'll go into that later.
(nervous laughter)
PROCTOR: You'll go into her later.
(big nervous laughter)

Just in time for the holidays:
"Toad Away"
Recorded December 9, 1970 on KPFK
Fan video by me.
Twenty years ago today, on Wednesday, November 27, 1991 WCPN 90.3 FM presented Calling All Ears, an evening of Live Radio Theater directed by Firesign Theatre alum David Ossman. The event was recorded at the Cuyahoga County College Main Stage Theater on the Metro Campus, and featured original works by Mr. Ossman as well as local playwrights William Borden and Aubrey Wertheim.

David Ossman and ... what the hell am I wearing?
Participating in this program was thrilling; Ossman cast me to play Fergus the bartender against his Maxwell Morgan, Crime Cabby. Unfortunately, it is a little embarrassing to listen to now, as I am trying too hard to match him, tough guy to tough guy, when my job was to be the squirrely sounding-board character. I mean, I was the bartender.

It's like Tom Hanks told me, you don't want to meet your heroes.


Before broadcast, Ossman warms-up the audience with the Firesign classic, "Bozo's Big Bang."
Having graduated from college that spring, this was my first big professional-grade theatrical project in Cleveland. The best thing to come out of Calling All Ears, however, were all the great connections I made with fellow travelers like David Caban, Brian Pedaci, Peggy Sullivan, David Thonnings, and Lee T. Wilson.

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (book)

Completed The Murder of Roger Ackroyd this morning, about which the less said the better. Asked my brother in England about the book last week, he says he's never bothered to read it because of my father's unfortunate reveal. It is his opinion that Christie isn't really for re-reading, though I have found numerous others on the Internet who think otherwise. In any event I can say this, knowing the ending from the beginning saves me the time it would have taken impulsively reading the entire thing over again from the beginning right away.

Last night we watched the BBC movie Agatha Christie: A Life In Pictures (2004). Queer little film, detailing the true story of when Christie suffered amnesia (or did she ..?) and went missing for almost two weeks in 1926. Though it features a fine performance by Olivia Williams, and the appearance of Mark Gatiss always makes me happy, it is an interesting piece if bio-fiction that is marred by too much sinister cleverness on the part of the director. Most of the text is narration, taken from first-person accounts that are dramatized by the actors, punctuated by odd film stock (see: Mark Romanek) and the more-cheesy-than-disturbing appearances by the Gunman, an image from Christie's childhood nightmares.

This film also includes several spoilers, including the conclusion of Roger Ackroyd. So there you go, I inadvertently gave away the ending to my wife. Read it now while you still have the chance.

Ralph J. Perk

In 1976 the mayor of Cleveland was Ralph Joseph Perk (January 19, 1914 – April 21, 1999) who once famously set his own hair on fire.

Mayor Perk banned Playboy magazine from Cleveland Hopkins International Airport. He also banished chewing gum from the facility. He spearheaded a major expansion of the airport, and the creation of the Regional Transit Authority (RTA.)

The Mayor's wife, Lucille Perk, turned down a dinner invitation from First Lady Pat Nixon because it was her bowling night.

Ralph J. Perk won the Republican nomination for Mayor in 1971 against George Voinovich, and upon his election became the first Republican mayor of Cleveland in 30 years. Perk served three two-year terms before losing to Kucinich in 1977.

Perk ran for Senate in 1974 but lost to John Glenn, who then held the seat for a quarter century.

He declared May 6, 1974 as Jesse Owens Day.

He presided over the dedication of Aviation High School on Sept. 1, 1974.

Ralph J. Perk was against women's reproductive freedom, handgun restrictions, and draft amnesty. Perk was also for Nixon before he was against him.

Amusingly, for his 62nd birthday political fundraiser party on January 17, 1976 the theme is the musical Hair. (Get it?)

Perk also appointed Richard Eberling to chair a committee to redecorate City Hall. Eberling was soon convicted of petty thievery, and later of murder. Eberling is also the prime suspect, according to the son of Sam Sheppard, as the true murderer Marilyn Sheppard.


Have you seen the video?
Perk Plaza, named for the mayor, sits at the corner of East 12th and Chester, across the street from the always exciting Reserve Square apartments. It's plain, concrete-slab walls, hiding large parts of the part from street view, are a typical example of late 70s design and short-sightedness and after a fatal shooting in early 2009, plans were quickly made to finally give the place a renovation.


Perk Plaza at Chester Commons was officially reopened at a ribbon-ccuting ceremony on November 21, 2011.

Sources:
Wikipedia
Cleveland Memory Project

Nine of Clubs

I wasn’t part of that crowd. I did not know the DJs by name. I never saw Trent. I was never a very attractive Goth, I couldn’t thrift to save my life, there was nothing to be done about my hair, when I dressed dark I looked clownish. But I went to The Nine.

Oh baby, look at you. Don't you look like Siouxsie Sioux.

Before it was became an adult video and novelty store in the 1990s, 1273 West 9th Street was home to the legendary Nine of Clubs nightclub, one of the very few public locations for listening and dancing to “Progressive” dance music. Most of the music I remember and love from my college years I first heard there, and sometimes nowhere else since.

Once during Spring Break in 1988 I was sitting at a table with my sketchbook, getting examples of hair and make-up. I was trying to drink and mind my business but I kept getting hit on by middle aged dudes.

Hogadiddle and the Art Fag.

On December 25, 1987 we had gathered to celebrate Hog’s 20th birthday. Checking out after hours a small group of us, boys and girls, were head to the parking lot across West Ninth (there are condos there now) when this dude in a trenchcoat who had walked out at the same time as we had started messing with the birthday boy. Hog was hammered and he thought the guy was being friendly. The stranger said he had been in the Marines and my friend said he had a cousin in the Air Force, you know, to go along, but that really pissed the guy off. He pulled up his shirt to show off a scar in his abdomen he claimed to have gotten in Beirut.

That was when he pulled out the gun.

Hog freaked out and started whimpering while we tried to talk the guy down. But the guy started laughing, put the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger “click” and then walked away. Before we got home, somebody (I won’t say who) vomited in the car.


There's a big Nine of Clubs Reunion going on tomorrow night on 78th Street Studios, a benefit for Be The Match Foundation but it's sold out already. (Now mope.)

I came here to drink, not to get laid.

UPDATE: Listen to Erie Effusion, Sunday nights from 6 - 8 PM on WRUW 91.1 FM.

Job Opening at the Plain Dealer

Posted August 23, 2011:

Seeking a full-time theater critic for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland, Ohio’s largest newspaper and a Top 20 metro daily. Northeast Ohio is rich in theater offerings, from PlayhouseSquare in downtown Cleveland - the second-largest performing-arts complex in the United States - to cutting-edge professional companies and a robust community-theater scene.

The ideal candidate will have 8-10 years of daily newspaper experience, including writing about theater, both as a critic and a reporter. Hard-news background is a plus, as this beat generates a lot of news, much as theater generates millions in economic activity for the region. Enthusiasm for online journalism, from blogging to social media, is essential.

The Plain Dealer has a full staff of arts and entertainment critics, and our features sections have won national recognition. Please send resume and 5-10 clips showing your range to Debbie Van Tassel, AME/Features, The Plain Dealer, 1801 Superior Ave., Cleveland, OH 44114; email dvantassel@plaind.com.

In the past three months, the theater beat has been covered by staff reporters Joanna Connors, Don Rosenberg, Andrea Simakis, and fee-lance critic Christine Howey, but no full-time theater critic has been named.

See also: Tony Brown

Othello (1952)

Orson Welles began to create a film-adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Othello in 1949. At that point in history, it was still common-place for white actors to “black up” (as they say) to play characters of African origin. Even Anthony Hopkins played the role in blackface for a BBC adaptation as late as 1981. By the late 1940s Welles was already in financial straits, the sheen of his 1941 Citizen Kane glory having been dulled by poor business decisions, unappreciated directorial efforts, and a sizeable amount of bad luck.

For three years, on and off, i.e. when he had cash saved up from acting in other people’s films, Welles would schlep his cast and crew to exotic locations like Morocco, Venice or Rome to pick up a few more shots. It has been speculated that, as he pieced together the film, in textual order, from the late 40s through the early 50s, race-sensitivity must have influenced him as through the film to Moor of Venice’s his complexion goes from shiny chocolate to dusky cocoa.

The film was released in 1952 and received the highest award at the Cannes Film Festival, the Grand Prix du Festival International du Film (now called the Palme d’Or.) In America, however, it did not impress. It wasn’t even release in the US until 1955, at which time the New York Times opined, "There are flashes of brilliant suggestion in this tumbled, slurred and helter-skelter film. But they add up to nothing substantial; just a little Shakespeare and a lot of Welles."

When the old Heights Porn Art Theatre at Coventry and Euclid Heights Blvd. re-opened to much-fanfare as the Centrum in 1993, the single-screen theater had been divided into three, and each screen was given a name; the Columbi and the Roxanne (after local radio pioneer Chris Columbi and Plain Dealer film critic Roxanne T. Mueller) and the smallest screen, the Kane (yes, after Citizen Kane) which they said at the time was featured a screen that was best for black-and-white films. It was in this house that I saw the 1992 re-release of Welles’ Othello.

Though traveling to these locations was expensive, crumbling ruins of castles and ramparts made for cheap, exciting locations, and a great deal of it uses natural light (the sun is free.) The murder of Roderigo was improvised to take place in a "Turkish bath" because the costumes had been lost. They all wore towels. Orson Welles was a GENIUS.

Sources:
Wikipedia
The New York Times