The illustrationfriday.com challenge word this week is “poof”.
I have always loved magicians. My mom introduced me to magicians when we watched Tony Curtis’ totally inaccurate portrayal of Harry Houdini in 1953’s “Houdini”. When I was a kid, on every “Ed Sullivan Show” on Sunday night between a performance by Vikki Carr and Morty Gunty there was usually a magician. Long before David Kotkin made the Statue of Liberty disappear or Christopher Sarantakos walked across the surface of a Las Vegas swimming pool, there was Blackstone.
Harry Blackstone Jr. was a great TV magician. He was a staple on TV variety shows throughout the 1970s. Unfortunately, if you are younger that 30, you probably don’t remember him. He followed in his father’s footsteps and became a greater and more popular showman. He was a personable character with great audience rapport and a devilish sense of humor. His tricks weren’t spectacular, his act, however, was.
He was my dad’s favorite magician. One of Blackstone’s signature illusions was making a birdcage disappear while it was being held by three guys from the audience. He also selected gentlemen from the audience to assist in a trick involving a length of rope. He would always choose an elderly gentlemen and after a brief explanation, Blackstone would place his face an inch from the old man’s face and scream, “WE’RE GONNA DO A ROPE TRICK!” My dad would roar with laughter.
In 1985, on the 100th anniversary of his father’s birth, Harry Blackstone, Jr. donated to the Smithsonian Institution the original floating light bulb designed and built by Thomas Edison. This was the first ever donation accepted by the Smithsonian in the field of magic.
He infamously performed during the half-time show at the 1987 Orange Bowl, in which four of the five tricks Blackstone attempted failed miserably due to missed cues and poorly designed props.
He also created four magic kits, from beginner to advanced, which were the best sellers at their time.
Blacktone died in 1997 due to complications arising from pancreatic cancer.
My wife always says that magicians on TV are ridiculous. I certainly understand that most things on TV are bullshit. And magic is bullshit. So, the two together equals double the bullshit. But I still find magic entertaining. Sure, it’s cooler seeing magicians in person, but I’ll take it where I can get it.
Monday Artday: summer
The Monday Artday challenge word this week is “summer”.
I love summer. I was born in the summer. I wait all winter for summer to come. I dislike the snow and the cold weather. Summer has always meant warm weather and vacations.
Elsewhere on my blog, I have talked about going to pre-casino Atlantic City when I was a kid. Part of my family’s ritual of going “down the shore” (as they say in Philadelphia) was a trip to the beach. The beach in Atlantic City is one of the last free beaches at the Jersey shore. By “free”, I mean that most other beaches require bathers to purchase a beach tag for admission. Beach tags are a small pinback button-like deal and are sold at the municipality’s City Hall for full season admission or by lifeguards at the beach for a daily pass. The money collected for beach tags usually goes toward maintaining a clean and safe beach experience. The beaches within the Atlantic City limits remain free of charge and it shows. The casinos glitter and sparkle on the famed Boardwalk. Just a few feet away, you’ll find one of the dirtiest beaches you’ve even seen.
It was different in the mid-1960s. I played in the sand. I built sand castles. I threw sand at my brother. My brother threw sand at me. My mom drank her world-famous iced tea from a big orange Thermos jug. My dad went into the ocean in his usual costume of a short-sleeve, button-down shirt, sunglasses and a cigarette.
One of the high points of a ’60s beach day was waiting for the ice cream guy. As soon as the blanket was spread and the umbrella was set up, I begged my mom for some coins. Although I was playing, I kept one eye open and one ear cocked for the ice cream man’s call. Every summer, we saw the same guys Sal, Chas and Leo. They were three guys, looking back now, from which one wouldn’t dare dream of purchasing a food product. They were weathered and tanned with skin that resembled a well-worn catcher’s mitt. They dressed in sun-faded, torn and stitched ragged clothing. Some wore beat-up sandals on their filthy and calloused feet. Some just wore their filthy feet. It was 1967, so each sported long, unkempt hair – usually tied back in a ponytail – and a beard in desperate need of a trim. With the support of a duct taped nylon strap, they toted a huge, white cooler. It was covered with dents on the outside and filled with dry ice and frozen confections. You could hear them approach with their calls of “Fudgy Wudgy HEEEE-AHH!” A Fudgy Wudgy was a rocket shaped Fudgsicle with an extremely-fake, laboratory version of banana flavored stripe around the middle. There were also twin popsicles and tri-flavor dixie cups (with a little wooden paddle that served as a spoon). My mom always got a Good Humor Chocolate Eclair – vanilla ice cream on a stick coated with tiny bits of vanilla and chocolate cake crunchies. I remember loving the ice cream buying experience, but not the ice cream itself. The products were so rock-hard, frozen solid that taste was nonexistent. They melted in the hot summer sun, but the ice cream still had a flavor reminiscent of stainless steel.
I continued to go to Atlantic City as a teenager. In the late 1970s, my friends and I would descend upon Betty’s Rooming House for several beer-soaked weekends every summer. By day, when we weren’t drinking, we would head to the beach to watch girls, but usually ended up throwing sand at each other. But, still, we always bought ice cream. Still from Sal or Chas or Leo, now several years older and looking it.
My son just reminded me that my wife bought ice cream for him as a child, in the early 1990s – from Sal or Chas or Leo – on the beach in Ventnor, just south of Atlantic City.
My wife and I are going to Ventnor this weekend. I haven’t been to the beach in years, but I won’t be surprised if I see Sal or Chas or Leo shlepping their frozen wares. It wouldn’t be summer without them.
Comments
IF: canned
The challenge word this week on illustrationfriday.com is “canned”.
Arthur Godfrey ranks as one of the important on-air stars of the first decade of American television. As the new medium was invading American households, there was something about Godfrey’s wide grin, his infectious chuckle, his unruly shock of red hair and his folksy ukelele playing that made millions tune in not once, but twice a week.
His on-air delivery of sponsor Lipton Tea’s commercials had the American public rushing to their local grocers. No television viewer during the 1950s doubted that Godfrey really did love Lipton Tea and drank it every day. He delighted in tossing aside prepared scripts and telling his audience: “Aw, who wrote this stuff? Everybody knows Lipton’s is the best tea you can buy. So why get fancy about it? Getcha some Lipton’s Tea”. And, boy, did they!
However, when the cameras were off, Godfrey was a crazed, anti-Semitic, controlling megalomaniac. Godfrey ruled his cast with an iron-fist and he took no shit from them. He knew that when someone appeared on his show, their popularity was instant. So, his inflated ego felt entitled to make demands. He insisted his “Little Godfreys” (as his regulars were known) attend dance and singing classes, believing all should be versatile performers. In meetings with the cast and his staff, Godfrey was abusive and intimidating. In spite of his ability to bring in profits, CBS owner William Paley disliked Godfrey. Frank Stanton, CBS president, liked Godfrey, especially because he kept show production cost down.
In 1951, a mutual friend introduced Godfrey to a young singer named Julius LaRosa. Godfrey gave LaRosa a break and put him on his show. LaRosa proved popular and became a frequent guest performer on Godfrey’s show. Along with the rest of the cast, LaRosa was required to take dance lessons. He missed one due to a family emergency. When he arrived at the studio, he was advised via a cast bulletin board, that his services were not required for that week’s show. Soon afterwards, LaRosa had a national hit record with “Eh Cumpari”. He began to receive fan mail that topped the amount that Godfrey was receiving. LaRosa also hired his own agent, something Godfrey was adamantly against. Godfrey felt he was detecting a bit of “cockiness” in LaRosa’s attitude.
In October 1953, Godfrey consulted with CBS president Stanton. Stanton suggested Godfrey actually fire LaRosa on the air, however conflicting stories indicate that he may not have been serious. Nonetheless, after lavishing praise on LaRosa in introducing the singer’s performance, Godfrey thanked him and then announced that this was LaRosa’s “swan song” with the show. LaRosa had to be told what the phrase “swan song” meant. He was dumbfounded, since he had not been informed beforehand of his departure. LaRosa was so popular at the time, America seemed to side with him… a reaction that Godfrey never expected.
As time went on, Godfrey’s own popularity waned, eventually making him a dinosaur among the fleeting and fickle world of television.
Comments
Monday Artday: opposites
Bewitched‘s Samantha Stephens was a typical late-1960’s housewife. She was demure and straight-laced. She had a loving husband, Darrin, a hothead who was incompetent in his job. She had an adorable daughter who followed in her mom’s footsteps and an infant son. Her mother, Endora, who was estranged from her father, disliked Darrin. Oh, and Samantha was a witch.
Samantha had a cousin Serena. Except for her dark hair and heart-shaped birthmark, Serena was Samantha’s identical twin. However, they were total opposites. Serena was a wild, free-spirit hippie with an affinity for psychedelic miniskirts. She kept company with prankster Uncle Arthur and she loved rock and roll music, once teaming with 60’s singers Boyce and Hart. Oh, Serena was a witch, too.
Although popular for eight seasons, Bewitched met its demise at the hands of a more progressive show – All in The Family. Sadly, Elizabeth Montgomery, the actress who played Samantha, passed away on May 18, 1995. Pandora Spocks, the actress who played Serena, passed away at the exact same time.
Comments
DCS: judy tyler
At 17, Judy Tyler played Princess SummerFallWinterSpring on the Howdy Doody Show. She played the role for two years and moved to Broadway to star in the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, Pipe Dream. Judy appeared on the cover of Life Magazine and was nominated for a Tony award. Although she lost to Lotte Lenya’s performance in “A Three Penny Opera”, Judy headed for Hollywood. In 1957, she starred in her first film, Bop Girl Goes Calypso, with Bobby Troup, the songwriter who wrote “Route 66”. The same year, Judy began work on her second and final film – Jailhouse Rock. She played Peggy Van Alden, the young record promoter who takes Elvis’ character, Vince Everett, under her wing. She gets to deliver one of the classic lines from the film: “I like the way you swing a guitar!”
Three days after filming was completed on Jailhouse Rock, Judy and her husband, Greg, took a vacation. While driving through Rock River, Wyoming, their car swerved to avoid a truck and collided with another truck. Judy and Greg were killed instantly.
Elvis was infatuated with Judy during the filming of Jailhouse Rock. He said he could never watch the film because he was so saddened by her death.
Comments
from my sketchbook: the vomit club
The differences between genres of music has intrigued me for some time. And as different as they seem, these four performers from different eras have something in common.
Tommy Dorsey was a giant in the big band era. His orchestra included, at one time or another, trumpeters Doc Severinsen, and Charlie Shavers, drummers Buddy Rich, Louis Bellson and Gene Krupa, singers Jo Stafford, Dick Haymes and Frank Sinatra and trombonist Nelson Riddle. In 1956, Tommy Dorsey took some sleeping pills and rested after a heavy meal. While asleep, he choked to death on his own vomit.
Bon Scott was the lead singer for Austailia’s AC/DC. Originally, the band’s truck driver, Scott was recruited by Angus and Malcolm Young to replace current singer Dave Evans. Scott accepted the Young brother’s proposal and AC/DC went on to become a wildly popular heavy metal band in their native Australia and later the world. In 1980, at the age of 33, Scott went out for a night of heavy drinking with some friends. He was found dead behind the wheel of a parked car in South London. He had passed out and choked to death on his own vomit.
Jon Bonham was the drummer for Led Zeppelin. After the break-up of The Yardbirds, Jimmy Page saw Bonham drum at a performance and was convinced this was the guy he needed for his new band. Led Zeppelin’s live performances featured half hour drum solos culminating with a manic Bonham banging on his drumkit with his bare hands. Led Zeppelin gained worldwide popularity and are still revered after almost thirty years since their last studio album. In 1980, John Bonham attended a rehearsal for Zeppelin’s upcoming U.S. tour. On the way to the rehearsal, Bonham stopped for breakfast, which included sixteen shots of vodka. He continued to drink heavily after he arrived at the studio. The rehearsal ended late in the evening and the band retired to Jimmy Page’s house. After midnight, Bonham had fallen asleep and was taken to bed and placed on his side. Band manager Benji LeFevre and bassist John Paul Jones found him dead the next morning. During the night, Bonham had choked to death on his own vomit.
Jimi Hendrix was a guitarist, singer and songwriter whose guitar playing was cited as the main influence for many guitarists. Although he only produced three studio albums, his live performances were legendary. His stage act included playing his guitar behind his head, playing with his teeth and then setting the instrument on fire. One evening in September 1970, Hendrix attended a party in London. Afterwards, he was picked up by his girlfriend and driven to her room at the Samarkand Hotel. He had taken nine of her prescription sleeping pills. During the night, Hendrix had choked to death on his own vomit.
Four performers. One common bond.
Comments
IF: enough
The illustrationfriday.com word this week is “enough”.
Dayenu is a song that is part of the Jewish holiday of Passover. The word “Dayenu” means “it would have been enough for us”. This traditional Passover song is about being grateful to God for all of the gifts he gave the Jewish people, such as taking them out of slavery, giving them the Torah and Shabbat, and had God only given one of the gifts, it would have still been enough. This is to show much greater appreciation for all of them as a whole. The song appears in the haggadah after the telling of the story of the exodus and just before the explanation of Passover, matzah and the maror.
Dayenu has 15 stanzas representing the 15 gifts God bestowed. The first five involve freeing the Jews from slavery, the next describe the miracles he did for them, and the last five for the closeness to God he gave them. After each of the stanzas, participants sing the word “Dayenu” (“that would have been enough”). The 15 stanzas are:
Five Stanzas of Leaving Slavery
1. If He had brought us out of Egypt.
2. If He had executed justice upon the Egyptians.
3. If He had executed justice upon their gods.
4. If He had slain their first born.
5. If He had given to us their health and wealth
Five Stanzas of Miracles
6. If He had split the sea for us.
7. If He had led us through on dry land.
8. If He had drowned our oppressors.
9. If He had provided for our needs in the wilderness for 40 years.
10. If He had fed us manna.
Five Stanzas of Being With God
11. If He had given us Shabbat.
12. If He had led us to Mount Sinai.
13. If He had given us the Torah.
14. If He had brought us into the Land of Israel.
15. He built the Temple for us.
Jews in Afghanistan traditionally hit each other over the head with green onions during the refrain of the ninth stanza of Dayenu. This may be due to a passage in Numbers 11:5-6, where the Israelites see manna and recall Egypt. “We remember the fish that we used to eat in Egypt, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the ONIONS and the garlic.
Zebulon Simentov hasn’t had anyone to smack on the head with green onions since Passover 2004. Although Jews have a 2,500 year history in Afghanistan, Zebulon and Ishaq Levin were the only two left since late 1999. They shared living space in the synagogue for which Ishaq was the “shamash” or caretaker. Despite sharing living quarters, Zebulon and Ishaq were bitter enemies and never spoke to each other. The two men silently went through their prayer rituals and their holiday preparations. They blamed each other for their regular arrests and beatings at the hands of the Taliban. Ishaq would tell Taliban officials that Zebulon was a spy. Zebulon blamed Ishaq for the confiscation of the synagogue’s Torah. They glared at each other when they crossed paths in the synagogue’s courtyard. One morning in January 2005, Zebulon found the 70 year-old Ishaq dead in his room in the synagogue. Zebulon contacted his own family, who in turn contacted Ishaq’s family. Ishaq’s family and the Israeli government arranged for burial at The Mount of Olives.
Zebulon’s wife and daughter live in Israel, leaving Zebulon as the only Jew in Afghanistan. He has no plans to leave. He will continue to read from his tattered scriptures and, when Passover rolls around, he will smack himself with green onions.
Comments
Monday Artday: steampunk
The challenge word this week on Monday Artday is “steampunk”. This may be an unfamiliar concept to some, so I’ll do my best to explain it. According to Wikipedia, the Internet source for everything (including a little bullshit), steampunk is a genre of fiction that came into prominence in the 1980s and early 1990s. The term denotes works set in an era or world where steam power is still widely usedusually the 19th century, and often set in Victorian era Englandbut with prominent elements of either science fiction or fantasy, such as fictional technological inventions like those found in the works of H. G. Wells and Jules Verne, or real technological developments like computers occurring at an earlier date. Clear on that? I didn’t think so. Well, If you are one of the six people who saw the Will Smith-Kevin Kline movie “Wild Wild West“, you get the idea. That said, let’s get to my illustration.
In the late nineteenth century, a field game called base-ball was becoming popular throughout the countryside. With the game still in its infancy, participants sought ways and means with which to gain an edge over their adversaries. Long before the abundance of steroids infiltrated these contests, players relied on technology to enhance their performance. One such player was C. Abercrombie Wheatsworth III. “The Crom”, as he was known to be called by spectators, was the mid-short fielder for the Manhattan Island Gyroscopes of Greater New York State.
In the late summer of 1896, The Gyroscopes were embroiled in a brutal struggle with the Cleveland Steamers, their league division rivals. Tempers were high and nerves were on edge as the score stood in a dead heat at 3-3 in the crucial bottom of the ninth inning. The winning run was on third base. “The Crom” approached the lime-delineated batter’s box and keenly stared down the hurler on the mound. The Steamers’ pitcher, Dirk T. Sanchez, was a mysterious foreign import who had previously played for the Mexican League in Zihuatanejo in the western part of Guerrero.
“The Crom” motioned to the equipment boy to bring his secret weapon. The boy scampered to the dugout and returned with a gleaming length of polished brass, chrome and wood, topped with ornate and elaborate wind deflectors affixed to the massive barrel. “The Crom Pulveritizer” he called it. These were times of limited equipment stipulations and few regulated ordinances. The lanky Sanchez deftly pitched the cowhide-covered projectile at full velocity in Wheatsworth’s direction. Wheatsworth reared back and struck the orb squarely across the brown leather stitches. The sphere rocketed high and far. With his chest puffed out like a Christmas goose, “The Crom” triumphantly circled the bases and once again was the hero of Old New Amsterdam.
Comments
from my sketchbook: karl dane
Rasmus Karl Therkelsen Gottlieb was born in 1886 in central Copenhagen, Denmark. As a teenager, he apprenticed as a machinist. He married and had two children, but with the outbreak of World War I, he entered the military. In 1916, after his discharge from military service, he headed to America alone, hoping to send for his family later (he didn’t). He had $25 in his pocket and spoke no English. He found work in a foundry. By summer 1917, he worked as an auto mechanic.
In Denmark, Karl’s father worked as a curtain-puller at a theater. Hanging around the theater, Karl got the inspiration to act. In late 1917, Karl appeared in his first picture. It was the first of a series of anti-German propaganda films. Karl was paid three dollars a day. He was making three dollars a week as a mechanic. The films were very successful. Rasmus Karl Therkelsen Gottlieb changed his name to “Karl Dane” and officially became an actor.
In December 1924, Karl was cast in King Vidor‘s “The Big Parade”. The movie was a major success, becoming the second highest grossing silent film of all time, making almost $6.5 million.
Karl worked alongside Rudolph Valentino in “Son of the Sheik”. This film was also a success. Karl signed a contract with MGM in 1926. He began to appear as comic relief in several films including “The Scarlet Letter”, “La Boheme” and “Alias Jimmy Valentine”. Soon after signing his MGM contract, Karl teamed with George K. Arthur as a comedic duo. Together they were dubbed Dane & Arthur. In May 1927 the duo’s first film was an instant success, as were their subsequent films. By June 1927 MGM signed Karl to a long term contract. Dane & Arthur’s last silent short was released in 1928. Their first talkie was released a short time later. George Arthur had distinct British accent. Karl, however, had a thick guttural Danish accent which made his English hard to understand. Five films later, Karl lost his contract with MGM and suffered a nervous breakdown. After some much-needed rest, Dane & Arthur made a few shorts for Paramount and RKO and set out for a short vaudeville tour.
In November 1931, after the tour, Karl and some friends formed a mining corporation. The venture failed. Karl headed back to vaudeville with a solo comedic act. His act was panned by critics and was short lived.
By the summer of 1933, unable to get a movie contract, a desperate Karl had given up on films and turned again to mining. He spent three months driving up and down the West Coast trying to find a good mining deal and ended up losing $1,100 when various ventures never took off. Deeply depressed and broken down, Karl took on several jobs including mechanic, waiter, and carpenter. He was unable to hold any of these jobs. In late 1933, Karl purchased a hot dog stand outside MGM Studios, where just five years earlier he was a huge and productive star. The business failed, as it was shunned by his former friends. Karl tried to find work with his former studio as an extra or carpenter but was turned away. He was seeking a job that would pay $5 a day.
On April 13, 1934, Karl was pick-pocketed of all the money he had $18.
On April 14, 1934, Karl didn’t keep his movie date with a young woman named Frances Leake. A worried Frances arrived at Karl’s apartment. After receiving no response at the door, Frances got his landlady to unlock his apartment door. Inside the tiny unit they found Karl, slumped in a chair, a revolver at his feet and surrounded by his scrapbooks filled with rave reviews and studio contracts. There was also a note which read, “To Frances and all my friends goodbye.”
Karl had shot himself in the head.
Comments
IF: foggy
The illustrationfriday.com challenge word this week is “foggy”.
Let me start off by stating that although this story ultimately ends with THIS, it is not the same type of celebrity story found elsewhere on this blog.
Mel Tormé was most famous for his beautifully mellow voice, but he accomplished so much in his career.
He was an actor in radio serials.
He wrote over 250 songs.
He was an accomplished drummer, playing drums in a big band led by Chico Marx. Mel befriended drummer Buddy Rich and eventually wrote a book about him. Mel also owned a drumset that drummer Gene Krupa had used for many years and he played this drumset at the 1979 Chicago Jazz Festival with Benny Goodman on the classic “Sing, Sing, Sing”.
He helped pioneer cool jazz.
He wrote songs and musical arrangements for the The Judy Garland Show. He later had a falling out with Garland and wrote a very unflattering book about her and his experiences with her show.
He was a licensed pilot.
He appeared in nine episodes of Night Court and one episode of Seinfeld.
He disliked rock and roll music, calling it “three-chord manure”, although he recorded a guest vocal with Was (Not Was) in 1983.
And Mel hated the nickname “The Velvet Fog”.
Mel Tormé’s career spanned seven decades and there was no denying his diverse talent. However, the inspiration for this illustration was a beautiful and touching story that I came across on povonline.com, the website of Mark Evanier (a very talented guy in his own right!). Mark wrote about his “almost encounter” with Mel at the Los Angeles Farmer’s Market. I urge you to read Mark’s story HERE. It is perfect.
Mr. Evanier even gave me a mention in the “News From Me” section of his website HERE.
This drawing was created entirely onsite at the 2008 WXPN XPoNential Music Festival.