DCS: agnes moorehead

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The worst person I know/She worries me so/If she leaves us alone/We could have a happy home
In 1941, Agnes Moorehead made her impressive debut as a member of Orson Welles‘ Mercury Players in the masterpiece Citizen Kane. She began a thirty-plus year career than gained her admiration and critical acclaim, as well as four Academy Award nominations.

Agnes appeared in 58 films before she signed on for the role as Samantha Stephens’ mother Endora on the classic TV sitcom Bewitched. She never thought the show would be successful, so she had her contract written with the stipulation that she would appear in only eight out of every twelve episodes. She felt the writing was not up to the quality of movie scripts and she wished the freedom to pursue film projects. For her role of Endora, Agnes was recognized with six Emmy nominations, but curiously she won her only Emmy for a dramatic guest role on The Wild Wild West.

In 1956, Agnes appeared in the Howard Hughes-produced film The Conquerer,  a poorly received story of Genghis Khan starring a horribly miscast John Wayne in the title role. The Conquerer  was shot on location in St. George, Utah, 137 miles downwind of the Nevada test site for Operation Upshot-Knothole, where extensive above-ground nuclear weapons testing occurred. During the grueling shoot, the cast endured 120 degree heat, flash floods and even a panther attack. However, they were unaware of the dangerous clouds of nuclear fallout and radioactive dust that funneled into their location. For thirteen weeks, the actors and crew were exposed to the deadly contaminants, no doubt inhaling a fair amount of it in the process. After production closed, Hughes had sixty tons of contaminated dirt from the area shipped back to Hollywood for re-shoots.

Five years after production, the film’s director Dick Powell died of cancer. Agnes Moorehead, along with stars John Wayne and Susan Hayward, died of cancer in the mid-1970s. Co-star John Hoyt died of lung cancer in 1991. Supporting actor Pedro Armendáriz was diagnosed with kidney cancer in 1960 and committed suicide after he learned it was terminal. In all, 90 of the 220 members of the cast and crew contracted cancer, as well as half of the residents of the town of St. George.

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IF: rescue

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The weekly challenge word on the Illustration Friday website is “rescue”.
Jim Dandy wanted to go to Maine/Got a ticket on a DC plane/Jim Dandy didn't need no suit/He was hip and ready to boot
In February 1953, 1st Lieutenant Charles Spath was forced to abandon his jet over North Korea. Using his survival radio, Spath reported to a flight mate that he had broken his leg. A nearby ground squadron followed his radio frequency and they were able to reach Spath before enemy soldiers. They moved him to a secure location. The squadron leader contacted intelligence personnel and a rescue mission was planned.

Captain Gail Poulton, an H-19 pilot was offered the mission, a particularly hazardous one. Spath’s location was determined to be within some mountainous terrain that was not easily accessable. After several weeks of planning, the mission was given the go-ahead. Still in radio contact, Poulton was puzzled by some of the information he was receiving from Spath. Poulton asked Spath how many people were at the landing site. Spath’s reply of “I don’t know” seemed odd. Afraid that the mission had been compromised, Poulton asked more questions. Spath replied with vague and ambiguous answers. Finally, Poulton announced “We are here to pick you up. Is everything down there okay?” Spath’s whispered voice replied through the radio speaker, “This is Peter Willie 4. You can chalk me off for saying this, but get the hell out of here. It’s a trap.” Poulton and his team aborted the rescue, avoiding an ambush, capture and possibly, death — thanks to Lieutenant Spath’s courageous and unselfish action.

Charles Spath died as a POW in North Korea.

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from my sketchbook: an extra piece for Sam

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And the world is busting at its seams. And you're just a prisoner of your dreams
It was 1978. I sat behind the wheel of my mom’s ’69 Ford Galaxie trying out my newly acquired driver’s license. Sam sat on the passenger side of the huge vinyl bench seat. We talked as I maneuvered the Galaxie down Bustleton Avenue in northeast Philadelphia, when suddenly Sam screamed “What the fuck are you doing?” Panicked, I checked my speedometer, my gas gauge, my rear and side-view mirrors. “What am I doing? I’m driving! What?,” I answered. Sam shot me a look of disbelief and frantically pointed out the window, gesturing at a location somewhere behind us. “We could have gotten sex!, ” he said. “What? Where?,” I countered as I looked around. “Back there! Didn’t you see those two girls?,” Sam explained earnestly. While trying to pay attention to traffic signals, other cars and pedestrians, I vaguely remembered just passing two girls around our own age standing at a bus stop. I asked Sam if that was what he was referring to. He nodded “yes” and stuck his head out the window looking back at them. “One for me and one for you.”, he said. And he believed it. He believed all we needed to do was stop, introduce ourselves and these two young ladies would be having sex with us in a matter of seconds. That  was Sam.

My best friend, Alan, introduced me to Sam in high school. They had been friends since elementary school. The three of us were constant companions in our pursuit of American teenage goals. We hung out, listened to music and drove around – mostly for Sam to look for girls. Sam, Alan and I were at Oxford Valley Mall one afternoon, and soon, we went to Choo-Choo to get something to eat. We ordered a whole pizza to split for three of us. Unfortunately, an eight-slice pizza doesn’t divide evenly among three people. To avoid any complaining, we needed to purchase an extra piece for Sam.

Later in high school, we were all passing our driving tests and being awarded driver’s licenses. At the time, the legal drinking age in Pennsylvania was 21, but in neighboring New Jersey alcohol was readily available for those starting at age 18. And we took full advantage. Back in the days before the evils of driving while intoxicated were rammed repeatedly down everyone’s throat, Sam and I happily traveled the twenty-five minute trek to Kaminski’s Ale House in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. On a typical weekend evening, Sam and I (and other friends) would drink cheap beer by the pitcher until we were — I believe the proper term is “shit-faced”. Then, we would stagger to the car, crawl behind the wheel and navigate our way home as though it was the most natural thing to do. One night, after dropping Sam off at his house and watching him trip across his driveway, I drove the five minutes to my house. I dozed while I drove and woke up to find myself on the on-coming traffic-side of the yellow line. I merely corrected my steering and continued on my way.

When I was in grade school, I was paired with a girl named Harriet. It was as innocent as could be between ten-year olds and amounted to nothing. After high school, I finally asked Harriet out on our first real date. I picked her up at her house, which was just down the block from Sam’s house. Through the course of the evening, I discovered that Harriet and I had very little in common and I leaned towards bringing this date to a hasty end. I drove Harriet home and gallantly walked her to her door. She went inside as I headed back to my car. I slid behind the steering wheel and turned the key in the ignition. It wouldn’t start. I tried several times with the same disappointing result. I got out and saw Harriet had turned out the lights in her house. I looked up the street and saw the lights in Sam’s house were out, too. I walked several blocks to my friend Scott’s house, where luckily, he was home. After a brief explanation, Scott was able to drive me home. At 9 AM the next morning, my phone rang. It was Sam. “Jesus Christ!”, his voice blared out of my phone, “Did you spend the night at Harriet’s house?” Sam was leaving for school and passed my broken-down car. “No”, I reassured him. I also told him that my car would probably be there when he got home, since I was still arranging for a tow truck.

In 1980, Sam and I slept all night on the floor of his mother’s optician shop waiting for the ticket agent next door to open. We purchased tickets to see Bruce Springsteen’s Philadelphia stop on his promotional tour for his album “The River”.  Our fifteen-hour wait yielded shitty seats on the second level of the Philadelphia Spectrum. The night of the show, a patron behind us announced to our seating section that he intended to record the show on his hand-held tape recorder. He expressed his desire to have everyone remain silent during the concert. Sam rolled his eyes, turned around and emitted a piercing, siren-like whistle into the recorder’s microphone. Then, Sam leaned back and smiled. After the show, Sam and I hopped into my car, popped in a Springsteen 8-track tape and cranked up the volume. We were unaware that all news sources were reporting that John Lennon had been fatally shot earlier in the evening.

After college, Sam moved to California. He called me after he settled to give me his contact information. I asked him if he met anyone famous. He said, “Yeah. Jack Nicholson, Anjelica Huston, Michael J. Fox.” “Where did you meet them?,” I inquired. Sam emotionlessly replied, “I was in movies with them. I’m an actor now,” Of course he was, I thought. He had those teen idol-movie star looks. His film career was brief and fleeting and Sam moved to Phoenix and began a software company. Sam quietly developed the technology that became the AOL instant messenger “Buddy List.”

Over the years, Sam was hard to pin down. Several phone numbers had been disconnected and addresses changed. But Sam always found me and when we spoke it was as though no time had passed. Sam called me on my birthday in August 2009. He was living in Florida. Coincidentally, my family and I were headed for Florida the next day. We made sketchy plans but, sadly, no meeting took place. I heard from Sam next in February. My son and I were shoveling out of twenty inches of snow. I took a picture of the huge snow drifts and sent it by cellphone to Sam with the message “Look what you are missing.” He immediately replied “I guess it’s time for you to move to Florida.” That was the last contact I had with Sam.

Sam passed away on March 13.

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Monday Artday: monkey

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The current illustration challenge on the Monday Artday website is “monkey”.
Come on is such a joy. Come on is such a joy. Come on take it easy. Come on take it easy. Take it easy take it easy.
The early morning campfire gathering that is the current  “Today” show came from very humble beginnings.

“Today”, the brainchild of then NBC vice-president Pat Weaver (actress Sigourney‘s father), made its debut on January 14, 1952. Weaver hand-picked Dave Garroway, a television journalist who hosted a show in Chicago that NBC sporadically carried, to serve as host of his new endeavour. Since “Today” was the first attempt at this type of broadcast, Weaver had free reign as far as format. As a novelty, Weaver chose one J. Fred Muggs as Garroway’s co-host. Muggs was born in French Cameroon and came to New York at an early age. He was a lively and somewhat mischievous performer and his antics delighted viewers of the new show. Muggs was also a monkey.

Garroway and J. Fred Muggs were important contributors to the early success of the “Today” show. Viewers loved the pair’s interaction with guests, especially when J. Fred would whip Garroway’s glasses off of his face during interviews. An often-denied rumor related a time that J. Fred bit the elbow of comedienne Martha Raye. J. Fred was featured in children’s books and games. At the height of his popularity,  J. Fred’s likeness was reproduced as puppets and plush toys.

Garroway always displayed a smile and a relaxed manner on the air. His signature sign-off was a warm smile and saying “Peace” as he raised his open palm to the camera and the home viewers. Despite gossip, he got along well with J. Fred. It was NBC management he had difficulty with. Garroway suffered from chronic depression. To ease his pain, he self-medicated with a daily mixture of vitamin B-12 and the stimulant Dexidrine. He would sometimes disappear during live broadcasts, leaving announcer Jack Lescoulie to quickly cover. In 1961, a delusional Garroway, greatly affected by the recent suicide of his wife, lay down on the studio floor, refusing to leave until his contract demands were met. NBC fired him.

Future NBC News anchor John Chancellor replaced Garroway as the host of “Today”. NBC felt that J. Fred Muggs didn’t fit in with the new format. J. Fred Muggs briefly starred in a local kids’ show in Newark, New Jersey and then, for five years, performed at Busch Gardens in Tampa, Florida. He retired to Citrus Park, Florida under the care of his original trainer’s son. Dave Garroway, however, was found dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound in 1982.

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Monday Artday: castaway

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The current challenge on the Monday Artday illustration website is “castaway”.
oh ain't you glad that you live on a island
Earlier this week, Corey Haim, another former child actor with a hard-luck story, passed away at a young age. Corey was just another in a long line of former child actors following an unfortunate path — Dana Plato at 35, Brad Renfro at 25, Brittany Murphy at 32, River Phoenix at 23. But there is one former child star that this ultimate fate consistently eludes — Dante Daniel Bonaduce. And it certainly is not for lack or trying, because Danny Bonaduce has tried his darnedest.

For four seasons, Danny Bonaduce was on a television sitcom called The Partridge Family.The show told the far-fetched story of a typical Southern California family that also happened to be a rock group. Danny played second banana — no, make that third banana —to the series stars Oscar winner Shirley Jones and heartthrob David Cassidy. Danny played obnoxious little brother/bass player Danny. As it turns out, Danny was acting when he played bass, but wasn’t acting when he played obnoxious. When the series ended, Danny attempted to continue his acting career, but one thing stood in his way, he didn’t have and ounce of talent. Nope, not a drop. He made a handful of low-budget movie and TV appearances, mostly playing himself with some Partridge Family  reference as the punchline to a joke. Yep, Danny managed to milk his (almost) four year stint on a novelty TV show that aired forty years ago into a career.

So, when a story pops up in the news about a tragedy involving a former child star, Danny is front and center, spewing stories of his own troubled youth. I have heard Danny’s nicotine-ravaged voice relating these anecdotes so many times, on so many news and entertainment outlets, I could tell them as my own. In every analytic discussion of the actors named earlier and others, Danny always manages to push his way into the spotlight. A proud accomplishment for an inarticulate, hot-headed, violent, former drug addict with no talent, who has served time in jail. He was one of three “experts” interviewed on NBC’s Today Show  the morning after Corey Haim’s death. I said to my wife, “How long until he says the words ‘Partridge Family’ ?” She answered, “Only if it preceded by ‘When I was on the’“.

Danny’s latest gig is morning drive-time DJ on Philadelphia radio station WYSP. I live in Philadelphia, and while I don’t listen to him or his station, Danny has traveled to Philadelphia Phillies spring training camp in Clearwater, Florida on behalf of WYSP. Because I follow the Phillies, I have seen Danny during several reports on preseason baseball activity, to my dismay.

I hate Danny Bonaduce. I’m sick of seeing his craggy features splashed across my television. I am sick of hearing his raspy croak telling the same story for the past forty years. I would like Danny to become stranded on a uncharted island, free from TV cameras, radio microphones and all forms of media exposure.

I really hate Danny Bonaduce and I long for the day I never see him again.

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from my sketchbook: patty donahue

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you mean you forgot cranberries too!?!?
In 1980, a little band from Akron, Ohio called The Waitresses released the catchy novelty song “I Know What Boys Like” to relatively no recognition. The song was re-released in 1982 as the first single from the Waitresses’ debut Wasn’t Tomorrow Wonderful. This time, the song reached number 62 on Billboard Magazine’s Top 100.

In 1982, a new sitcom called Square Pegs took over the time slot once occupied by perennial TV favorite M*A*S*H. The show focused on two friends and their awkward adventures in 80s high school. (One of the friends was played by a young Sarah Jessica Parker.) The show had a new wave vibe to it and The Waitresses were recruited to perform the theme song. They even appeared in the premiere episode. The song “Square Pegs” appeared on The Waitresses’ EP I Could Rule the World If I Could only Get the Parts and was a minor hit. But it was the holiday song “Christmas Wrappings” that earned The Waitresses a place in new wave and holiday history. The yuletide pseudo-rap epic, clocking in at a little over five minutes and anchored by Patty Donahue’s deadpan vocals, has appeared on numerous Christmas compilations and has become a year-end radio staple.

During the recording of The Waitresses’ second full album, Patty Donahue left the band and was briefly replaced by Holly Beth Vincent, former leader of new wave contemporaries Holly and The Italians. Patty eventually returned to the band, but they broke up for good upon the departure of two other members. Post-breakup, Patty laid low. She made a small contribution to Alice Cooper’s Zipper Catches Skin album. She ultimately landed a job in the Artists and Repertoire division of MCA Records, focusing her attention on artist development and scouting talent.

A heavy smoker, Patty died of lung cancer in 1996 at the age of 40.

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Monday Artday: circus

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The current challenge on the Monday Artday illustration website is “circus”.
How long do you think this can go on before something happens?
The 1953 Best Picture Oscar went to Cecil B. DeMille’s The Greatest Show on Earth, an overblown, long-winded, documentary-style film depicting the many aspects and personal stories surrounding a travelling circus. The thin main plot involves a love triangle between Holly (as played by Betty Hutton at her overacting best), the vivacious golden girl trapeze artist, her rival The Great Sebastian (an over confident Cornell Wilde) and circus boss Brad Braden, who, as Holly points out, loves only the circus because he has sawdust in his veins. Brad is played by Charlton Heston in hammy serious mode. This film made Heston a star, making way for career-defining roles in Ben-Hur and The Ten Commandments.

In order to fill its bloated 152 minute run time, the film included a typically sassy Gloria Grahame performing an elephant act, 50s Hollywood staple Dorothy Lamour as a showgirl, a spectacular train wreck, long and lovingly-shot crowd scenes, real footage of clowns and acrobats and Hollywood cameos (like Bob Hope and Bing Crosby).

One of the more memorable subplots featured James Stewart in one of the most unusual roles of his illustrious career. Stewart played Buttons the Clown. Buttons never appeared without his familiar makeup. When not performing, Buttons would wear his white face and red lips and nose while dressed in a flannel shirt and fedora. As the story progresses, we find out that Buttons is actually a doctor who helped end the life of his terminally ill wife. Wanted for murder, Buttons joined the circus to hide behind the clown façade. While helping Brad in the aftermath of the train wreck, Buttons reveals his secret in the presence of a police detective. As he is led away in handcuffs in full view of his circus family, Holly the aerialist sadly laments, “He killed the thing he loved most.”

If you can last the entire two and a half hours, you’ll see the great Stewart without his clown makeup. Or you can watch Vertigo if you don’t have that much time.

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