This Date in History - August 19

 

Happy birthday to Jill St. John and why the hell not?

295 BC:  THE FIRST TEMPLE TO VENUS IS DEDICATED BY QUINTUS FABIUS MAXIMUS GURGES.

His son was Quintus Fabius Maximus Gurges Junior.

43 BC:  GAIUS JULIUS CAESAR OCTAVIANUS COMPELS THE ROMAN SENATE TO ELECT CONSUL.

No wonder the Roman Empire fell.  Who can remember all the names?

561:  MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, WHO WAS 18, RETURNS TO SCOTLAND AFTER SPENDING 13 YEARS IN FRANCE.

What was that?  An extended sleepaway camp?

1692:  IN SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS, FIVE PEOPLE ARE EXECUTED AFTER BEING CONVICTED OF WITCHCRAFT.

They think that's a crime.  Wait till everybody meets the new Darren.

1759:  BATTLE OF LAGOS DURING THE SEVEN YEARS' WAR BETWEEN GREAT BRITAIN AND FRANCE.  

Oh, Lagos.  There goes my snap together toy joke.

1812:  WAR OF 1812 - AMERICAN FRIGATE USS CONSTITUTION DEFEATS BRITISH FRIGATE GUERRIERE OFF THE COAST OF CANADA EARNING THE NICKNAME "OLD IRONSIDES."

Oh, frigate.

1839:  THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT ANNOUNCES THAT LOUIS DAGUERRE'S PHOTOGRAPHIC PROCESS IS A GIFT FREE TO THE WORLD.

Yeah, that eventually led to movies and they are definitely not free.

1848:  THE NEW YORK HERALD BREAKS THE NEWS OF THE GOLD RUSH IN CALIFORNIA.

I got here almost 150 years later.  Too late.

1854:  THE FIRST SIOUX WAR BEGINS WHEN US SOLDIERS KILL LAKOTA CHIEF CONQUERING BEAR AND IN RETURN ARE MASSACRED.

Where's Randolph Scott when you need him?

1871:  INVENTOR ORVILLE WRIGHT IS BORN.

Fun fact for Wednesday:  Wilbur was four years older.

1883:  DESIGNER COCO CHANEL IS BORN.

Inventor of the last minute Christmas present.

1909:  THE FIRST AUTOMOBILE RACE AT THE INDIANAPOLIS SPEEDWAY.

Varoom.

1921:  PRODUCER GENE RODDENBERRY IS BORN.

Going where no one named Gene Roddenberry has gone before.

1931:  JOCKEY WILLIE SHOEMAKER IS BORN.

And he's off.

1934:  THE FIRST ALL-AMERICAN SOAP BOX DERBY IS HELD IN DAYTON, OHIO.

Varoom.  Well, sort of.

1934:  THE CREATOR OF THE POSITION FUHRER IS APPROVED BY THE GERMAN ELECTORATE WITH 89.9% OF THE POPULAR VOTE.

You vill be sorry.

1940:  ACTRESS JILL ST. JOHN IS BORN.

So do you think hubby Robert Wagner has told her what happened that night on Catalina?

1944:  DURING WORLD WAR II, PARIS, FRANCE RISES AGAINST GERMAN OCCUPATION WITH THE HELP OF ALLIED TROOPS.

As if you thought they could do it by themselves.

1945:  VIET MINH LED BY HO CHI MINH TAKES POWER IN HANOI, VIETNAM.

Already it starts.

1946:  PRESIDENT BILL CLINTON IS BORN.

The man Hillary slept with once.

1948:  TIPPER GORE IS BORN.

The ex-wife of the man who was the vice president to the man that Hillary slept with once.

1953;  POLITICAL CONSULTANT MARY MATALIN IS BORN.

Her marriage to James Carville is a microcosm of the political situation in this nation.

1955:  IN THE NORTHEAST US, SEVERE FLOODING IS CAUSED BY HURRICANE DIANE, CLAIMING 200 LIVES.

Flooding will do that to a person.

1960:  IN MOSCOW, RUSSIA, DOWNED AMERICAN U-2 PILOT FRANCIS GARY POWERS IS SENTENCED TO TEN YEARS IMPRISONMENT BY THE SOVIET UNION FOR ESPIONAGE.

Comrade, da plane, da plane.

1960:  BASEBALL STAR AND BROADCASTER RON DARLING IS BORN.

Now that Tim McCarver has retired, he is the best color announcer working today.

1969:  ACTOR MATTHEW PERRY IS BORN.

The weakest Friend...acting-wise.

1977:  COMIC GROUCHO MARX DIES.

Tough week for legends.  Elvis died three days before.

1989:  RADIO CAROLINE, THE OFFSHORE PIRATE STATION IN THE NORTH SEA, IS RAIDED BY BRITISH AND DUTCH GOVERNMENTS.

So we'll just track this Allman Brothers album for now.

1989:  SEVERAL HUNDRED EAST GERMANS CROSS THE FRONTIER BETWEEN HUNGARY AND AUSTRIA, PART OF THE EVENTS THAT BEGAN THE PROCESS OF THE FALL OF THE BERLIN WALL.

Mr. Gorbachev...tear down...yeah, yeah, I know.

1991:  SOVIET PRESIDENT MIKHAIL GORBACHEV IS PLACED UNDER HOUSE ARREST WHILE ON HOLIDAY IN THE UKRAINE.

You should never have torn down...yeah, yeah, I know.

1991:  BLACK GROUPS TARGET HASIDIC JEWS ON THE STREETS OF CROWN HEIGHTS IN NY FOR THREE DAYS AFTER TWO BLACK KIDS WERE HIT BY A CAR DRIVEN BY A HASIDIC MAN.

It could have been worse.  He could have been a Hasidic cop.

2009:  TV NEWS PRODUCER DON HEWITT DIES.

Hey, my watch has stopped.

2010:  OPERATION IRAQI FREEDOM ENDS, WITH THE LAST OF THE US COMBAT TEAMS CROSSING THE BORDER TO KUWAIT.

Well, gee, I'm glad that's over.  Oh, wait...

2016:  ACTOR JACK RILEY DIES.

Mr Carlin from the Bob Newhart Show.

Dinner last night:   Hamburger.

No Tomatoes Please

 

...except.   Well, yes, there is a story.  

So, the title of today's piece is also the official name of the production company my writing partner and I started over three decades okay.   It stemmed from the many NY-based lunches we had at the time when we were trying to star a writing career.   When we were ordering, both of us had a stipulation for the waiter.  If we were getting a salad, there would be a single exception.

No tomatoes please.  

The phrase stuck.  And still adheres to this day.   Just check us on Imdb.

Now, here's the goofy stuff.   I will eat tomato sauce and any cooked tomatoes.  I will drink tomato juice.  I will eat salsa or bruschetta.   My favorite sandwich is bacon, lettuce, and...yes...tomato.   I just won't eat a tomato cut into slices or a wedge.

Does this make sense?   Of course not.  But it is me.

But, every August going back to my days in NY and up to my current days in LA, I make an exception to the rule.   I will venture out to a Farmer's market and over-indulge myself in tomatoes of all kinds and shapes.  Nothing makes me happier than a bowl of cut up tomatoes with nothing but some salt, a little EVO, and some balsamic vinegar.

It is currently August.   Look at the load of tomatoes I have for this week.

So much for production company names.

Dinner last night:  Leftover ribeye in a salad.  With tomatoes.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - August 17, 2026

It's the month of the Brothers Marx.   Remember the "Sanity Clause" from "A Night at the Opera?"

Dinner last night:  Ribeye steak with cherry tomato compote.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Summer Photos by Dad

I can hear his voice now.

"You're going to put my pictures where?!"

On a blog.  For everybody to see, Dad.

As regular readers here will know, there was a period of time, from about when I was age four to seven, that I was literally a photo opportunity for my father.  During those years, he had gotten an Argus Technicolor camera and he became very interested in photography.  Every family event was captured on film and then transferred to slides, which were then run and rerun at all the subsequent family events.  Of course, my mother and I were usually the ones photographed for posterity.  But, sometimes, he just took pictures of scenery.  Or ducks.

When I found the actual slides and the projector about twenty years ago, I had them all loaded onto a VHS tape.  Yes, VHS tapes.  Then, about ten years ago, the slides made their way onto a DVD.

As I look at them periodically, I see an ideal candidate for one of those Turner Classic Movies' restorations.  In many cases, the Technicolor has faded badly.  There's fuzziness.  Oh, and clearly, my dad had some challenges with light exposure.

Nevertheless, while the actual photographs are hazy, the memories still come through as clearly as if they happened yesterday.  Naturally, summertime was an ideal reason for my father to take pictures.  And it all comes back to me now.

Of course, no summer season could go by without my dad taking a photograph of Grandma's rose garden.  That's our back door and the "stoop" in our backyard.  My friends and I spent many a warm and humid night sitting there and talking about the world.  I can also tell you that I also fell down said steps on numerous occasions.

Our summer vacations had to be destinations that we could drive to.  A frequent place to go was the Jersey shore near Atlantic City.  We'd never stay at a hotel.  Instead, we would opt for these small cabins, which, in retrospect, reminded me of the Marines barracks on "Gomer Pyle USMC."

Apparently, this time around in Atlantic City, we had taken my older cousin along for the week.  Either that or Olympic swimmer Gertrude Ederle and gone off-course in her attempt to swim the English Channel.

Here my mom joins me and my cousin in water which looks kind of marsh-like to me.

 My mother has obviously gone to shore.  And, too, has my cousin's torso.

The entire wading incident has totally tired out my mother.  It's hard to see but please note the cigarette burning in her right hand.

Another place to vacation within driving distance was the Catskill Mountains.  Back then, it was a hot spot for a couple of theme parks called "Storyland" and "North Pole USA."  Animals and petting zoos were central attractions in both places.  Here, in one of those parks, a reindeer licks some lint out of my navel.

"Storyland" had a lot of depictions of famous fairy tales and nursery rhymes.  Here I watch as "hickory, dickory, dock, the mouse is running up the clock."   I was easily amused at the age of five.

Here I am with Little Jack Horner.   Or maybe it's not.  Photo tagging was not an option back then.

Noah's Ark.  Years later, my commutes to and from Manhattan on Metro North would have very similar travel conditions.

Little Miss Muffet.  Or maybe that's Minnie Pearl.  Whoever it is, I'm clearly bored out of my mind.

As a latter day Marlin Perkins, my father loved to take photos of me with animals.  Forgetting that while he's snapping this picture, a duck is sticking his beak in my crotch.

This is just one of many snapshots in my dad's collection where he managed to capture the ass of an animal.

Robin Hood was not buried here.  As a matter of fact, he was trolling the streets of "Storyland" that very day.

And apparently on his way to the Gay Pride Parade in West Hollywood.

"North Pole USA" was a completely different theme park.  It gave kids like me a chance to see what was happening with the whole Santa Claus scenario all year round.  At the time, I was probably still buying into the myth.  I doubt I was after this summer sojourn.  Especially after I saw their version of Santa Claus.

The earliest rendition of a child predator.  

This blurry photo is of the North Pole's Post Office.  You could put in your letter to Santa there early.  Ideal for those parents too cheap to spring for a stamp.

It was a little odd to hear Christmas carols sung during the last week of July.  Especially when the sounds were coming from these plastic choir dummies.

If Jesus, Mary, and Joseph have to stay in these positions all year round, they will definitely require the services of Bethlehem's very best chiropractor.

I have absolutely no recollection of this.  But I'm in the back of a tractor with a bunch of kids I don't know.  Perhaps headed to an internment camp for Protestants.

Sometimes, summertime simply meant gatherings and barbecues in our own backyard.  Here's my grandfather and the bald guy is one of Dad's work buddies.  His daughter is in the background with me and my mother.  More thoroughly inappropriate photos to follow.  Because, you know, we had one of those kiddie pools.

Kill me now.  Actually, I would have killed myself then.

This might be the very first screen adaptation of "The Blue Lagoon."  Meanwhile, if I remember correctly, my little friend here eventually became a local TV news anchorwoman in Florida.

Another summer pool party and I'm with two kids I really hated.  Children of my parents' friends.  A rare photo where they weren't holding my head underwater.  And telling me that I was going to Hell because I wasn't Catholic.

It's memories like this why I have not been seen shirtless in public since I was 21.  And why I'm still working on my body years later with a personal trainer.

And, whenever we had a backyard party during the summer, you could always count on my grandmother putting on her coat when the sun went down.  The temperature would be hovering around 85 with 100 percent New York humidity, but Grandma would still feel that chill.

It's always interesting to go through these snapshots.  Good memories.  Bizarre ones.  But images that shaped a child and an adult.  I see myself with lots of kids I barely knew.  Thrown together haphazardly just because our parents were friends.  I did have friends, both in school and the neighborhood.  Yet, I don't see them in any of the summer photos.  Where are my elementary school pals?  Russell, Cheryl, Diane and the like?  Where's my best friend "up the block" Leo?

Great summers captured here on film by my father, indeed.  But, I also remember so much more.  With images that I can only visualize in my mind.

Nevertheless, thanks, Dad, for bringing SOME of it back to me decades later.  Maybe I should put them through one of those AI photo restoration sites.

Dinner last night:  Bacon and roast tomatoes.

Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - August 2026

 What a lush theme song.   But what would you expect from Henry Mancini?

Dinner last night:  BBQ chicken wings at the Dodger game.

Before They Go Back to School...

 

Multi-tasking your way through constipation.

"Look, Mommy, I got afterbirth on my hands."

A newborn has arrived and they're ready to make another one.

Look over here.  No, I mean over here. 

These are some mean kids and that's no bull.

What's worse, the clothing or the wallpaper?

Is there such a thing as "Rogaine for Children?"

There's always a family of super heroes in every neighborhood.

Supercuts obviously hires the blind.

There's at least one backstabber in every family.

Dinner last night:   Sandwich.

Len's Recipe of the Month - August 2026

 

Ever since I was a kid, my favorite sandwich is a BLT.   If it is the summer and prime tomato time, I've even more of a fan.

Of late, I have been frequenting a farmer's market and the tomatoes right now are superb.  I had the urge for a BLT, but I didn't want the bread.   So, here's the sandwich in a bowl, instead of nestled between two pieces of rye.

First off, I put several thick cut slabs of bacon into the air fryer.   12 minutes at 350 degrees.   Let them drain on a paper towel.

I had some great romaine lettuce which I tore into pieces.  Then I sliced up two tomatoes.   All of the above went into a bowl.

And what's a BLT without mayo?   Try maxing 3/4 cup of the white stuff with 1/4 cup of milk.   Whisk in together with a half teaspoon of garlic powder.

Trust me.  You won't miss the bread.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.