josh pincus is crying

In 1939, Shirley Temple lost the part of Dorothy in MGM’s The Wizard of Oz.  Although she was the foremost child star of the day, her singing was no match for the vocal talents of Judy Garland. In an attempt at consolation, her contracted studio, Twentieth Century Fox, gave Shirley the lead in The Blue Bird,  a fantasy musical co-starring Gale Sondergaard (who had turned down the role of the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz  on objections to the hideous makeup). The film presented little Shirley in the role of a bratty child. The role didn’t sit well with the movie-going public and after six years as America’s Sweetheart, Shirley was faced with her first bonafide flop. Six months later, Fox released Young People,  another flop for the twelve-year-old movie veteran. It was her last film for Fox. Shirley announced her retirement from show business to attend the exclusive Westlake School for Girls. Her retirement was short-lived, however, as MGM coaxed her back to the screen to star in Kathleen  in 1941. It, too, flopped and Shirley severed ties with MGM after mutual consent. Shirley went on to appear in The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer  and Fort Apache,  two successful pictures among a crop of clunkers until she retired again - this time for good - in 1950.

Four-year-old Caryll Ann Ekelund appeared in a small role as an unborn child in Heaven in a sequence in The Blue Bird.  Despite her brief screen time, director Walter Lang and producer Darryl F. Zanuck felt she showed potential and promise as a young actress. On Halloween 1939, little Caryll was excitedly preparing for an evening of fun with friends in her Beverly Hills neighborhood, when her costume caught fire from a jack o’lantern that was displayed on her home’s front porch. She received severe first and second-degree burns and died in the hospital four days later.

Caryll was buried in the toga-like costume she wore in The Blue Bird  and a graveside choir sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”, her favorite song.

This week’s Illustration Friday challenge word is “grounded”.

Benjamin Franklin’s experiments with electricity were all failures until he got the kite properly grounded.

As a visitor and patient of John Harvey Kellogg’s Battle Creek Sanitarium, C.W. Post was impressed and inspired to start his own cereal company. Concerned with his own health, Post invented a cereal alternative to coffee that he dubbed “Postum”. Postum was made from wheat bran, wheat, molasses, and maltodextrin from corn. It was never presented as a coffee substitute. Instead, it was marketed as a healthful, caffeine-free alternative. The beverage was slow to catch on at first, but became increasingly popular among those worried about the negative effects of caffeine. The Mormon culture endorsed Postum due to their abstention from coffee. During World War II, Postum enjoyed a huge rise in popularity as the population sought a replacement for government-rationed coffee.

In 1897, Post introduced another of his inventions - Grape Nuts cereal. Originally marketed as “brain food”, Grape Nuts became a popular breakfast food, owning to its unique flavor and texture, although it contains no grapes and no nuts.

As Post’s business increased, he introduced more varieties of cereals, including his own corn flakes, first called “Elijah’s Manna”, then later Post Toasties. Post was one of the first companies to offer a discount coupon as enticement to try their product. Through advertisements, a “One Penny Off” certificate was made available to the public.

As his business grew, Post amassed one of the largest fortunes of the early Twentieth century. However, in late 1913, his declining health forced him to cancel public appearances. In 1914, convinced he was suffering from stomach cancer, Post committed suicide by gunshot. His only child, 27-year-old Marjorie Merriweather Post, inherited his company and his fortune. (Marjorie went on to marry financier E.F. Hutton. Their daughter is actress Dina Merrill.)

This week’s Illustration Friday challenge word is “sink”.

Born in Kingston, Jamaica, Frank Silvera immigrated to the United States with his family as a youngster. Determined to follow his dream of acting, he appeared briefly on Broadway before joining the US Naval Reserves during World War II. After the war, he returned to acting. He was featured in the Audie Murphy western The Cimarron Kid.  This was the first in his career of over seventy-five motion picture and television roles.

Frank was frequently cast in “racially indeterminate” roles. Because he was black with light skin tone, he regularly played Mexicans, Blacks, Polynesians, Indians, Asians and even the occasional white role. On Broadway, he played Ben Gazzara’s father in A Hatful of Rain.  In films, he was usually cast as criminals and other unsavory types, co-starring in Mutiny on the Bounty, Viva Zapata!  and Roger Corman’s take on The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.  Once he auditioned for a small role as an elevator operator. The producer told him “he wasn’t black enough”. Frank asked “Well, am I light enough for one of the white roles?” The amused producer gave him a part.

Frank founded The Theater of Being in Los Angeles, to help young black actors and actresses get a start in show business. He was also a vocal and active advocate for civil rights in the 1950s and 60s.

In 1970, Frank was attempting to repair a faulty garbage disposal under the kitchen sink in his home when he was accidentally electrocuted. He was 55 years old and a regular cast member on the popular TV western The High Chaparral  at the time.  His final film, Valdez is Coming,  was released after his death.

In 1973, The Frank Silvera Writers’ Workshop Foundation was co-founded by actor Morgan Freeman in Frank’s memory.

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My annual Christmas music compilation is available as a FREE DOWNLOAD for a limited time.
26 unusual songs and a custom full-color cover with track listings — all for you and for FREE!
Just CLICK HERE for “A Non-Traditional Christmas 2011.”
(You will be taken to a new window. Click the word “download” next to the title, not the big green “DOWNLOAD” button at the bottom of the page.)

Happy Holidays from your pal JPiC!
(Please contact me if you have trouble with the download.)

Barbara Nichols was definitely “in on it”. For nearly four decades, she flaunted her way across Hollywood in small (even uncredited) roles as strippers, gold-diggers, prostitutes, gun molls and other assorted floozies. She played characters with names like “Lola”, “Brandy”, “Candy” and even “Poopsie”. She played her brassy, buxom, wise-cracking dumb-blond scene-stealer to its absolute limits. And she laughed all the way to the bank.

1957 was a banner year for Barbara. That year, she appeared in three hit films, Pal Joey, The Sweet Smell of Success and The Pajama Game,  alongside Frank Sinatra, Rita Hayworth, Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis, Doris Day and other top Hollywood stars of the day. Barbara was also romantically linked to dozens of Tinseltown’s eligible (and not-so-eligible) hunks. She was funny, talented and “on-the-ball”, unlike similar one-dimensional bimbos (like Diana Dors and Barbara Payton) to whom she was often compared. Unfortunately, she made some low-budget clunkers and, as the 1960s approached, her film career was shot. The always-resilient Barbara turned to television. She appeared in many TV sitcoms and dramas in the 60s, delivering her lines and slinking around the set as she had done in so many films so many times before. Her popularity among producers and directors made her a favorite guest star on The Beverly Hillbillies, Batman, The Untouchables  and The Jack Benny Program.

Two near fatal car wrecks took a toll on Barbara’s health. Despite quick recoveries and an eagerness to return to performing, she suffered severe physical damage that was worse than she let on. She fell into a coma for several months and passed away from complications of a liver ailment in 1976. Barbara was 46.
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My annual Christmas music compilation is available as a FREE DOWNLOAD for a limited time.
26 unusual songs and a custom full-color cover with track listings — all for you and for FREE!
Just CLICK HERE for “A Non-Traditional Christmas 2011.”
(You will be taken to a new window. Click the word “download” next to the title, not the big green “DOWNLOAD” button at the bottom of the page.)

Happy Holidays from your pal JPiC!
(Please contact me if you have trouble with the download.)

In the early 1930s, Frank Churchill filled the void of house composer just after Carl Stalling left The Disney Studios to join Warner Brothers (along with Disney animator Ub Iwerks). Frank was a veritable music machine, cranking out “feel good” musical scores to accompany the cheerful antics depicted in Disney’s animated cartoons. His music and collaborative lyrics were featured in some of Disney’s most popular shorts, including The Tortoise and The Hare, The Robber Kitten,  several Mickey Mouse cartoons and, famously,  The Three Little Pigs,  which introduced the Frank Churchill-penned hit ”Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?” Based on the popularity of his catchy tunes, Walt Disney asked Frank to score his upcoming full-length animated film Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs  in 1937. Frank scored the film and wrote eight songs, including “Whistle While You Work”, “Heigh-Ho” and “Someday My Prince Will Come”. The film was an undeniable hit and the songs became instant classics.

Frank became music director at The Disney Studios and continued to compose music for Disney shorts. His next major task was scoring Disney’s 1941 animated film Dumbo,  on which he collaborated with composer Oliver Wallace (who wrote “”Der Fuehrer’s Face” recorded by Spike Jones). Frank earned an Oscar nomination for the song “Baby Mine” from Dumbo and took home one of the coveted statuettes for his score from the same film.

Soon, he began working on the music for Bambi,  Disney’s planned release for 1942. Considering the happy, cheerful tone of his compositions, Frank was a solemn, reserved, troubled, and often depressed, man. While working on the score for Bambi,  he received negative criticism from Walt Disney on the direction in which the music was headed. That, coupled with the death of two close friends and bouts of heavy drinking, proved too much for Frank. On May 14, 1942, just two months after winning the Academy Award, Frank sat down at his piano and shot himself. His score for Bambi,  which was completed by colleague Edward Plumb, received an Oscar nomination.
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My annual Christmas music compilation is available as a FREE DOWNLOAD for a limited time.
26 unusual songs and a custom full-color cover with track listings — all for you and for FREE!
Just CLICK HERE for “A Non-Traditional Christmas 2011.”
(You will be taken to a new window. Click the word “download” next to the title, not the big green “DOWNLOAD” button at the bottom of the page.)

Happy Holidays from your pal JPiC!
(Please contact me if you have trouble with the download.)

Joyce Compton had an unusual Hollywood career (unusual, at least, as compared to the multitude of tragic Hollywood careers highlighted on this blog). Joyce starred in hundreds of uncredited roles in a career that spanned five decades. She was regularly cast as the quintessential “dumb blond”, playing the part in big-budget films and B-grade productions. Her portrayals of ditsy hatcheck girls, brassy flirts and sassy prostitutes usually consisted of one or two lines delivered in scene-stealing glory. The roles were one-dimensional and formulaic, but always an audience favorite. Joyce played supporting parts in Imitation of Life, Rose of Washington Square, They Drive by Night, Christmas in Connecticut, Mildred Pierce, Sorry, Wrong Number  and many, many others. She was featured alongside such big names as Barbara Stanwyck, Cary Grant, Al Jolson, Claudette Colbert, Humphrey Bogart and her good friend Clara Bow. Although she appeared in some well-known and revered films, she also worked on pictures with budgets so low, she wore her own clothes instead of lavish, wardrobe department-supplied costumes.

Around the time Joyce turned 40, Hollywood decided she was too old the play “the dumb blond” role. Offers came less frequently and Joyce’s star began to fade. So, at 40 years-old, Joyce became a registered nurse. She got a kick out of being recognized by patients at hospitals and was always eager to relate stories of her acting days and receive praise graciously.

Joyce retired to a life of gardening, painting and occasionally watching herself in an old film on late-night television. She passed away in 1997 at the age of 90. Her death went virtually unnoticed by the press.

This week’s Illustration Friday word is “round”.

Michael Larson was flat broke, unemployed and had few possessions. He did, however, have a lot of time. And he used his time wisely. With no job, he began watching game shows to combat his boredom. One show, Press Your Luck,  piqued his interest.

Famous for its simple general knowledge questions, big money payoffs and the irrepressible Whammy character, Press Your Luck  was one of the more popular game shows. Contestants answered questions posed by host Peter Tomarken and were rewarded with spins on the “Big Board”. The “Big Board” was made up of 18 lighted squares, each briefly displaying a prize of dollar amount in five distinct flashing patterns. Interspersed among the prizes were Whammies, little cartoon devils whose job was to wipe out a player’s accumulated winnings. From the privacy of his home, Michael watched intently (and later videotaped) episodes of Press Your Luck.  He stared and focused on the patterns of flashing lights and prizes on the “Big Board”. Soon, he realized that two squares never showed a Whammy. He figured if he could memorize the patterns, he could surely gain an unbeatable edge and never hit a Whammy. Of course, he would have to be selected to appear on the show, but to Michael, that was a minor detail.

In May 1984, after weeks and weeks of intense preparation, Michael used the last of his savings to travel to Hollywood from his native Ohio for a tryout. Executive producer Bill Carruthers was happy to have Michael as a contestant despite contestant supervisor Bobby Edwards’ distrust and reservations.

In the first round of his appearance, Michael only accumulated three spins and compared to his competitor’s combined fourteen. He even hit a Whammy on one of his spins. The second round was a different story. Michael refocused, answered several questions and finished the second round with seven spins, more than he needed.

When his turn began, his demeanor from Round One changed drastically. He grew silent and stone faced. Ed Long, another contestant, called Michael’s state “trance-like”. Michael furrowed his brow and, with the precision and concentration of a surgeon, he stopped on a square illuminated with a high money amount and an award of an additional spin. He repeated this action over and over again. Over the course of a regulation game (that CBS broadcast over two days, due to the length of Michael’s turn), Michael racked up $110,237, the highest single-day win in game show history (to that date). He also passed the CBS “winnings cap” and was not permitted to return, although he was the reigning champion. CBS didn’t want to pay Michael, accusing him of cheating. The rules were scoured and a clause could not be found prohibiting memorization of the patterns of the board.

Michael divided his winnings, setting aside a portion for taxes, placing some in a bank account and investing the remainder in real estate. He later discovered that his real estate deal was an elaborate ponzi scheme and he lost his entire investment. Then, Michael heard about a contest being run by a local radio station. A random serial number from a one-dollar bill could be matched for a $30,000 payoff. Michael began withdrew the remaining funds from his bank account in one-dollar bills. He would sit and carefully check the serial numbers of each bill, intending to re-deposit the bills if a match was not found. In December 1984, Michael and his wife attended a Christmas party. While they were out, their home was broken into and $40, 000 in bagged one-dollar bills were stolen. Michael accused his wife Teresa of having been involved and their already-fragile marriage ended.

In 1994, when the film Quiz Show  was released, interest in the Press Your Luck  scandal was reignited. Michael, recently diagnosed with throat cancer, appeared on Good Morning America  to discuss his brief infamy. A short time later, Michael became involved with a nationwide lottery fraud scheme and went into hiding. He passed away in central Florida in 1999 and it was only then did his family learn of his whereabouts.

E. Mason Hopper, a prolific director of the silent film era, saw young Edwina Booth in a stage production and was taken by her performance. He offered the actress a small role in an upcoming film starring Marie Prevost. Impressed with Edwina’s ability, MGM cast her in the studio’s new big-budget jungle adventure Trader Horn.  The cast and crew were sent on location to East Africa. Trader Horn  (1931) was the first major motion picture to be shot in Africa. (Prior efforts were small travelogue films.) MGM hoped the realism of a location shoot would increase the film’s appeal and success.

The production of Trader Horn  was plagued with difficulty. The crew was poorly prepared and poorly equipped to film in Africa. MGM decided, at the last minute, to film with sound. Edwina’s role as “The White Goddess” required her to perform in a skimpy, next-to-nothing, costume. During the long working hours and extended production time, she was overcome by the jungle heat and unfamiliar insects. Edwina contracted malaria and was out of commission (and the movie business) for six years while she recovered. She sued MGM, claiming she was provided with inadequate clothing, inadequate shelter and forced to sunbathe in the nude. Her lawsuit asked for one million dollars. Fortunately for MGM, Trader Horn  was a success. Unfortunately for Edwina, she settled for a reported $35,000.

When Edwina was ready to re-enter show business, the reputation of her lawsuit preceded her and no studio wanted her services. She managed to make two very low-budget adventure serials that met with little fanfare and little success. When Trader Horn  was re-released in 1938, Edwina Booth was a forgotten name. She completely withdrew from the public eye and became very active in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, although she received fan mail for the rest of her life. After years of false rumors about her death, Edwina passed away quietly and in obscurity in 1991 at the age of 86.

This week’s Illustration Friday word is “vanity”.

You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht
Your hat strategically dipped below one eye
Your scarf it was apricot
You had one eye in the mirror as you watched yourself gavotte
— You’re So Vain by Carly Simon

Carly Simon’s 1972 hit “You’re So Vain” has been the subject of controversy for nearly forty years. The subject of the scathing ode to a self-absorbed lover has remained a mystery. In interviews, Simon has continued to be coy and vague when discussing the song. She has adamantly dismissed the speculations of numerous journalists and news commentators and other times has hinted that those same guesses could possibly be correct. Famous names from Simon’s past — session guitarist David Armstrong, singers Cat Stevens and Kris Kristofferson, even Simon’s ex-husband James Taylor — have  all been suspected as the object of Simon’s musical affront.

In 2003, Dick Ebersol, president of NBC Sports, paid $50,000 at a charity auction to have Simon whisper the name of the person in question to him and him alone. As a caveat to the privilege, he was sworn to secrecy. He has kept his word, only volunteering this insignificant clue: the man’s name has an “E” in it.

The general consensus is that the song is about a composite of three gentlemen — actor Warren Beatty (who called Simon to thank her for the song), Mick Jagger (who contributed uncredited backup vocals on the song, along with Harry Nilsson and Simon herself) and producer David Geffen (the then-head of Elektra Records, who lavished attention on Joni Mitchell, much to Simon’s disappointment) .

All obviously vain people, but Carly Simon ain’t admittin’ to nothin’.