The Sunday Memory Drawer - My First Flight to LA

Okay, my first trip to SoCal didn't result in a picture like this. But, it came pretty damn close.
It started so simply. Just out of college and looking to be a star in Hollywood, even though I still barely could get out of Mount Vernon. Looking longingly at the West Coast, palm trees, and live studio audience tapings, I wanted to visit badly. But, given my recent graduate status, money was a premium. Actually, it was virtually non-existent.
But, from Heaven above, an opportunity landed from the clouds. Well, really, on the telephone. My college roommate and best friend had miraculously been the one to actually land a job in the profession he was pursuing. As a junior reporter, his assignment was to travel with an all-girls softball team to a tournament in Huntington Beach. He was getting there on cross country bus, but, once in SoCal, there was a hotel room that was easily shared. How fast could I get there?
Hmmm, let me see. An all-girls softball team (this is prior to the days where I would automatically assume that they were all lesbians). A free hotel room. A place near Los Angeles (this is prior to the days where I would learn that Huntington Beach is an hour away from anything worthwhile in Hollywood). And the word "beach" was in the city's name. How fast can I get there?
Is tomorrow too soon?
I quickly made plans to get a flight within the week. The logistics were met with my father's usual rousing support.
"What the hell do you wanna go there for?"
Thanks, Dad. One more time. Nevertheless, I forged ahead with what little scratch I had. In those days, you could get cheap flights if you flew on the red eye. In what would be the very first of many subsequent flights on American Airlines (I am a member of the Million Mile Club, thank you very much), I scheduled a Sunday night 9PM flight from JFK. And, begrudgingly, my father even offered to drive me to the airport.
Everything went like clockwork. Timex, not Rado, but clockwork nonetheless. Because I booked late, I did not have a wide choice of seating on the plane. In the center section. Right in front of the movie screen. In the middle seat. Next to an old and blind Spanish lady. Okay, I was looking for a trip to Los Angeles, not an on-board tryst in the restroom. Even if she was blind.
Take-off was smooth and, after settling into my cramped seat, I pulled out some of my spec scripts to read. Heck, one of the reasons why I was going was to be discovered as the next Larry Gelbart. And, I'd be curious to watch folks around me, watching me read scripts. "Hmm, who is that? Maybe the next Larry Gelbart?" Of course, I knew I'd get no reaction from the senora on my left.
The beverage cart came by and I got my Diet Coke. Well, back then, it was probably a Tab. They hadn't rolled it much further up the aisle when, suddenly, the flight attendants quickly pulled the carts back. Then, we hear glasses, etc. getting shoved back into the cabinets.
Hmmmm.
A few minutes later, the captain gets on the sound system.
"Sorry, folks, we're going back to Kennedy."
Groans all around. But, no reason why. Equipment issue? Weather? The co-pilot forgot his wallet?
We hadn't been up in the air for more than 45 minutes so the return trip to JFK couldn't be long. Apparently, we were somewhere over Pennsylania. Then, a little news from the flight attendant.
"We will be evacuating via the rear doors."
Evacuating? What happened to a leisurely exit? This clearly was evolving into something more than a busted food conveyor belt.
"Okay, folks, we will be evacuating via the slides."
As in slides that can be used as rubber rafts if you're in the water. For a moment, I looked for my rosary beads. Then, I remembered I wasn't Catholic.
"Passengers, please remove your shoes."
Gulp.
"Please assume crash landing position. Put your head in your lap."
And kiss your ass goodbye? I looked over at the old Spanish fossil next to me. Shoes on, blindly and literally looking off into space. I wasn't going to do anything about taking her Buster Browns off, but I certainly could help with the crash position.
I slammed her head into her lap.
We touched down at 9:58PM. I could see the time because my eye was right on top of my wristwatch. And then, as soon as we came to a stop, one word rang out through the cabin. Over and over and over.
"Go! Go! Go! Go!"
The doors were open. The slides were ready. In one fluid movement, you jumped into a sitting position and then slid. Down and down and down. Onto a tarmac at JFK that was literally fifty feet from the water. I managed the manuever easily. Others came flying off the slide in different directions. Some landing on the concrete on their ass. Others face down on the gravel. But, there was no time to linger.
"Run! Run! Run! Run!"
Outside. On the ground. With no shoes.
When we were all a safe distance from the aircraft, I looked at the scene unfolding before me. Fire engines, ambulances, and police cars speeding to the plane. It reminded me of the last scene from "Dog Day Afternoon." Where was John Cazale with the bullethole in the middle of his forehead?
Later on, we heard the details. A bomb scare had come in for our flight. It was allegedly to go off at 10PM. They had gotten us back with very little margin for error.
The eternal evening continued. Eventually, after walking around a terminal for two hours, we were allowed back on the plane (after the requisite dog sniffing for explosives) to get our stuff. Sometime around 2AM, they boarded us on another flight. Which had only enough fuel to get us to Cleveland. We refueled there on the runaway. After the plane switch, I had scored a window seat. I looked out at the Ohio blackness. This would be the only time I ever saw Cleveland. At 330AM.
What I didn't realize, in these pre-cell phone days, was what was happening in Los Angeles. As my friend waited endlessly for me to arrive, all the folks there saw on the arrival board were the usual words that signify a disaster.
"SEE AGENT."
He did and still learned nothing except that the flight had been delayed and was now due about 7AM. He, too, got to wander around an airport terminal as well. Except, he still had shoes on.
So, my first view of Southern California was seen through a pair of droopy eyes in his rental car. We got to Huntington Beach and both of us crashed on our beds. And did not move for the next 12 hours. By the time we woke up, the all girls softball team had already left. And, because I had used some of my spending money at the JFK Terminal, we later in our trip wound up trying to tour Disneyland on just ten bucks in our pockets. I even had to wire home for some dough so I could get back to the East Coast. My father still had unwavering support.
"What the hell did you want to go there for?"
Yes, Dad, I am safe now. Thanks.
Dinner last night: Sausage pizza at CPK.

Classic TV Theme of the Month - June 2009

I want to know where that puppet is. And I do want to get my hands on it.

Dinner last night: Sausage and peppers sandwich at Maria's Italian Kitchen.

Your Weekend Movie Guide for June 2009

This is the Nuart Theater in Los Angeles, circa 1959. The theater remains to this day a single screen venue specializing in art films and classic revivals. And, even though they have renovated, it looks amazingly like this photo from 50 years ago. I just saw "Easy Rider" there for the first time (and hated it). But, ithe Nuart is dependable for being different. When "The Manchurian Candidate" (not the Denzel Washington junky remake) played there, I talked to Janet Leigh in the lobby as she sipped a Diet Coke.

Amazing cinematic adventures await us all this weekend as Hollywood's summer season gets underway. There might even be a good movie or two on the list below. I cull the offerings from the LA Times and give you my knee-jerk reaction on what to expect.

Up: I hear nothing but great word-of-mouth on Pixar's latest, which fellow blogger Ken Levine has described as "Gran Torino" with balloons. The opening ten minute montage is supposed to be one of the most beautiful moments ever captured on film. All this hype may just serve to set me up for a major disappointment. Hopefully not.

Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian: Saw it and liked it, although it is not as clever as the original. Hank Azaria steals the movie in every scene he is in as he channels the spirit of Boris Karloff perfectly. But, overall, just know that two monkeys are not always funnier than just one.

Terminator Salvation: I'm not saving it for any reason whatsoever.

Away We Go: Jackie Gleason courting the June Taylor Dancers? Er, no. Some romantic comedy with some guy from the Office and Maya Rudolph who used to not make us laugh on SNL. Well reviewed, but it looks the same as about five dozen other movies that have come out in the last two years.

Moon: An astronaut meets his younger, almost identical replacement when his health starts to deteriorate. "Apollo 13" meets "The Parent Trip."

The Art of Being Straight: Well, we know it's not about Idol finalist Adam Lambert.

The Hangover: The ads tell me this is from the producers of "Old School" and that's enough to scare me away. The reviews were terrific for this, but the trailer looks absolutely dumb. I now realize that I can no longer trust today's film critics to determine what is a good screen comedy. And what the hell is so funny about a couple of blackout drunks anyway?? Although I bet Billy Wilder could find the humor...

Tetro: Francis Ford Coppola returns and there's no other director who can be so bi-polar with his films. Some are the greatest of all time, while others are the worst of all time. This is about some family in Buenos Aires, another international armpit of a city where the flies around your dinner plate are bigger than the steak on it.

The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3: One of the best action films from the 70s now ruined as a remake from Denzel Washington and John Travolta. About as needless as a manufacturer bottling Legionnaires Disease for sale in your local supermarket. Neither of those two knuckleheads will come remotely close to the performances of Walter Matthau and Robert Shaw in the original. But, I'm sure it will grab some dollars over the weekend, especially from moviegoers who happen to be Black racist Scientologists.

The Brothers Bloom: Not in my garden.

Land of the Lost: Will Ferrell stars and let's all root for the dinosaurs with the sharpest teeth. In a Hollywood full of mystery talents, Ferrell's success is the biggest puzzler of them all. A one note actor and an asshole to boot.

Imagine That: Somebody is still sending Eddie Murphy scripts. Imagine that.

My Life in Ruins: Nia Vardalos forces you on a travelogue through her mother country. She always looks like an aardvark in heat.

Angels and Demons: Lingering around like the swine flu. Opie Vs. the Pope. I heard it is absolutely dreadful.

Drag Me to Hell: Many think you already did. On January 20 of this year.

Star Trek: It came out last month. And the sequel's not out yet? They usually pound out editions of this series like babies spit up drool.

Food, Inc.: A documentary about, what else, the food industry. Question: if food processes are so bad, why is the country so fat? Think about that as you reach for your second morning donut.

Departures: Saw it and previously discussed here. Walter B. Cooke Goes Asian. Well done and deserving of this year's Best Foreign Film Oscar.

The Proposal: More absolute crap from Sandra Bullock. It's in previews this weekend, so you can start avoiding it ahead of the rest of the public.

Summer Hours: French bullshit with Juliette Binoche. And she's always great with strawberry jam.

Oh, well. I guess there's always Turner Classic Movies.

Dinner last night: Dried cappacollo on sourdough roll.

A Little Baseball History....Mine

Game Played on Saturday, April 20, 1968 (D) at Shea StadiumLA N 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 - 2 9 0
NY N 0 0 0 0 0 3 0 0 x - 3 2 0
BATTINGLos Angeles Dodgers AB R H RBI BB SO PO A
Parker 1b 3 0 1 0 1 0 6 0
Versalles ss 4 0 1 2 0 2 0 0
Davis cf 4 0 1 0 0 1 1 0
Fairly rf 4 0 1 0 0 1 2 0
Lefebvre 2b 4 0 1 0 0 0 1 2
Haller c 4 0 1 0 0 1 13 0
James pr 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Colavito lf 4 1 2 0 0 1 1 0
Alcaraz 3b 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 1
Gabrielson ph 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Popovich 3b 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Singer p 2 0 0 0 0 2 0 2
Fairey ph 1 1 1 0 0 0 0 0
Regan p 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Totals 34 2 9 2 1 8 24 5
BATTING -
2B: Lefebvre (3,off Seaver); Fairey (1,off Seaver); Colavito (1,off Seaver).
Team LOB: 6.
BASERUNNING -
CS: Davis (1,2nd base by Seaver/Grote).
New York Mets AB R H RBI BB SO PO A
Harrelson ss 4 1 1 0 0 1 3 1
Weis 2b 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 2
Jones lf 4 0 0 0 0 3 2 0
Shamsky 1b 1 1 0 0 2 0 6 1
Swoboda rf 2 1 1 3 1 0 4 1
Agee cf 3 0 0 0 0 3 2 0
Charles 3b 3 0 0 0 0 1 0 2
Grote c 2 0 0 0 1 1 9 1
Seaver p 3 0 0 0 0 3 1 0
Frisella p 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Totals 25 3 2 3 4 12 27 8
BATTING -
HR: Swoboda (3,6th inning off Singer 2 on 2 out).
SH: Weis (1,off Singer).
IBB: Grote (3,by Singer).
Team LOB: 3.
PITCHINGLos Angeles Dodgers IP H R ER BB SO HR BFP
Singer L(1-2) 7 2 3 3 4 12 1 27
Regan 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 3
Totals 8 2 3 3 4 12 1 30
IBB: Singer (3,Grote).
New York Mets IP H R ER BB SO HR BFP
Seaver W(1-0) 8.2 9 2 2 1 8 0 34
Frisella SV(2) 0.1 0 0 0 0 0 0 1
Totals 9 9 2 2 1 8 0 35
Umpires: HP - Ed Sudol, 1B - Lee Weyer, 2B - Bill Williams, 3B - Tom Gorman
Time of Game: 2:22 Attendance: 19938

So, what's all this nonsense shown above? Lots of names and numbers that appear to resemble a baseball box score that really doesn't format well on this blog. Sorry for the disarray, but there is a method to this messiness. And a little meandering is also required.

The box score shown above is noteworthy in my life history as it was the very first Met game I attended on the Saturday plan tickets that I had in Shea Stadium until its closing last season. Ironically, it was a New York Met win over the....ta da....Los Angeles Dodgers and don't think that symmetry has not escaped yours truly. It was a crisp contest, played in less than two and a half hours with barely 20,000 fans in the seats. I've written ad nauseum here and in other published forums of my Saturday plan. But, there is another historic benchmark coming your way.

Saturday, May 30, 2009. The Mets are playing a home afternoon game at Shitty Field vs. the Florida Marlins. Because of the convoluted way that the Mets now construct partial plans, I don't have tickets for this game.

This would be the very first Saturday Met home game that I didn't have tickets to since 1967.

Another tree falls in the Len forest.

Ending of traditions, however symbolic, got me thinking to how some started. My mind first wanders back to the box score puzzle shown above. My companion for that very first Saturday Met game was my very best friend growing up. Leo who "lived up the block." Ironically, it was not the first time we had ever gone to a baseball game together. That would have been the previous season. A Saturday, July 1 Met 6-4 win over the St. Louis Cardinals. The very first time I went to a baseball game without my father. What two kids our age were doing taking a 90 minute subway ride from Mount Vernon to Flushing is still beyond my level of education. But, there we were---straphanging like pros. Hal Reniff was the winning pitcher in relief and we sat next to some Puerto Rican drunk in the mezzanine. He kept yelling at Lou Brock. Fun times.

Since Leo was a Yankee fan, I was more magnanimous in those days. We did our own personal home-and-home series. Later that month, I went with him to Yankee Stadium. Saturday, July 29. Yankees vs....gasp, the Kansas City Athletics. A 6-2 loss for the Pinstripes. Fritz Peterson was the starting pitcher for the Yankees and he'd go home to a wife who he ultimately traded to another Yankee pitcher several years later. Leo and I sat in the first row of the field level behind first base. A great view, but we eventually found us covered with a swarm of gnats. More fun times.

There would be more games over the years. And last Friday night, 3000 miles away from where we grew up, there was one more.

After an odd day of rain in Los Angeles, the clouds around Chavez Ravine virtually kissed the hills surrounding the stadium. A truly beautiful sight. And a good time was had by all, as it's always phun to phuck the Phillies. A two out rally in the bottom of the ninth upended the World Champions and their now-beleaguered closer Brad Lidge.

Dodgers Win! Randy Newman's anthem is played anew. Fireworks light the sky. And it is baseball as it ought to be. Two friends enjoying it the way they used to be.

Except now there are two welcome additions to the group. Leo's sons, Joseph and Vincent, here adorned with spanking new Dodger caps purchased with a discount from my Dodger Season Ticket membership card. Earlier in the evening, I had jokingly called them "Ricky and Fred." They had no idea who I was talking about. Time really doesn't stand still.

And life itself doesn't stand still either. When Leo asked me during the game who I rooted for when the Mets were recently in town to play the Dodgers, I didn't flinch with an answer.

"The Dodgers."

Games and team allegiences can come and go. Good friends stick around for life.

Dinner last night: Super Dodger Dog and onion rings at the game.

Last Wednesday for Your TV Antenna

You don't need any hi-tech equipment to read this blog. Just an open...and twisted mind.

---Finally! TV goes digital this weekend and we can finally stop getting these reminders.

---Of course, by Monday, there will be a host of senior citizens across the country who will be wondering where Matlock went.

---If my grandmother was still alive, her TV would not be working on June 13. She never even made the jump to color television.

---She came from the day when it wasn't even called a TV antenna. It was an "aerial."

---Of course, I'm also waiting for the inevitable cries that digital TV discriminates.

---"Shit...what happened to my Good Times reruns?!!!"

---If you're not over 75 and you don't have TV next week, it might be because you're incredibly stupid.

---Speaking of Hi-Def TV, the worst thing to watch on these sets is the NBA Playoffs. Because you are forced to look close-up at all those ugly tattoos those jerks have.

---I love the fact that these tatts all have elaborate messages. Kind of funny when you realize most of the players can barely read.

---If you're having trouble sleeping, may I suggest the Stanley Cup Finals?

---That's hockey. Surely, you've heard of the sport.

---Hockey. H-O-C-K-E-Y.

---Right, the game on the ice.

---The sport that has about 75 fans in this country.

---Forget about it.

---Adam Lambert has revealed that he is gay.

---And, in another surprise announcement, scientists have determined that water is wet.

---New ratings have come out and Katie Couric's Evening News has dropped to the lowest audience levels ever.

---It's a matter of time before there are more people reading this blog than listening to her.

---And we have even discussed colonoscopies here. Take that, Katie!

---And my target audience here is a better mix of demographics. Unlike the Evening News, where most of the ads are for leaky bladders and spastic colons.

---When a person has part of their colon removed, is it then called a semi-colon? Just a thought.

---In my church's coffee hour, the discussion went to the POTUS and FLOTUS' big Saturday night date in NY. There was only one person in the room who had no problem with the tax dollars spend for that evening.

---Yep, the person was Black.

---Yeah, there is no reverse bias in America.

---I'm going to conduct a meeting in my office of all those Blacks who did not vote for Urkel.

---I only have four chairs and that should be more than enough.

---There's a new helicopter traffic pilot on Channel 2 in LA. Amelia Earhart.

---Okay, like I'm supposed to believe that is her real name.

---Like the weather guy on Channel 7. Dallas Raines.

---Maybe I change the name of this blog.

---Dickens Speaks.

---Supreme Court Justice nominee Sotomayor tripped at LaGuardia and fractured her ankle.

---Just so she knows, that's probably happened to some white men as well.

---And just when you think you've heard them all, somebody sends me some new Helen Keller jokes. But I'll adapt them so we can skewer that numbskull Governor of New York, David Paterson.

---Why were Governor Paterson's socks yellow?

---His dog was blind, too.

---What did Governor Paterson do when he fell in the well?

---He screamed his fingers off.

---Why was Governor Paterson such a bad driver?

---She was a woman. Okay, not all of them are adaptable. But, you SEE the point.

LOOK for me tomorrow.

Dinner last night: Penne with sausage and Kalamata olives.

And The Tony Goes To...

When it comes to giving out awards and filling three hours of prime time, Broadway always gets it right. Each June, the Tony Awards are doled out at Radio City Music Hall and the show is always entertaining. Lots of great production numbers from current and revived shows. Plus the human drama provided by lots of bloated egos---some winners and lots of losers, all of whom having written potential acceptance speeches dedicated to their "life partner."

The sad thing is that the nationwide audience is probably no more than 250 people. And it's a lot less if there happens to be a power outage in West Hollywood. But, nevertheless, you can always count me in. I'm a New Yorker at heart and I can remember what a wonderful experience a good Broadway show can be. Of course, that was eons ago. My last few excursions on the Great White Way have offered up a lot of mediocrity. And, I always seem to wind up next to some tourist from Bumfuk, Iowa, with his hand deep down in a bag of Cheetos. Theater in New York has become nothing more than an extension of crazy Uncle Lou singing "Memories" down at the local VFW hall. It only promises to get worse. I learn during the Tony broadcast that the upcoming revival of "Bye Bye Birdie" will feature John Stamos in the Albert Peterson role originally created by Dick Van Dyke. Are we that far away from Julia-Louis Dreyfuss starring in "The Little Foxes?" Probably not and we move even closer to the creative apocalypse. But, I digress...

Since I had gone to the Sunday night Dodger game telecast on ESPN, I had to tape the Tony Awards. The show started at 8PM, but I began watching on TiVO around 9:25PM. How far behind was I? Not very, once you zap through all the commercials for bladder control and anti-depressants. I realize that the Tonys' target audience must be in the dining hall at some Bronx nursing home. And I was able to fast forward through stuff that is, well, fast forwardable. I watched production numbers from shows I was interested in, such as "Billy Elliot" (which I have seen) and "West Side Story." I zipped through scenes from shows I wouldn't be caught dead at, such as "Hair" and "Next to Normal." So, as a result, the actual telecast and the Len telecast ended at pretty much the same time. When my finger wasn't on the speed button, I managed to make these knee-jerk observations:

---Neil Patrick Harris should be made the lifetime host of the Tonys. He had the absolute perfect tone of reverence and humor. Plus he can sing, has been on Broadway, and is gay. There's probably a church named after him down on Christopher Street.

---Carrie Fisher was a presenter and talked about the toll it takes on a family when the mother is mentally ill. It took me two minutes to figure out she was really referring to the plot of a nominated drama.

---I know it's probably what the original show creators had in mind, but why does West Side Story's Maria always have to look so virginal and Anita always has to look like a whore at the Port Authority Bus Terminal?

---When I saw that Angela Lansbury was nominated, I knew she would win. Broadway doesn't miss opportunities to award longevity. Plus there's always a chance she can fall down on the stage, which I saw her do at the Hollywood Bowl a few years back. But, she is pure class and I have first hand knowledge because I once sat behind her on a cross-country flight and she didn't yell at the flight attendant when they ran out of Balsamic salad dressing.

---Liza Minnelli was up against Will Ferrell for Special Broadway Performance and that is the one time in my life I actually rooted for her. She won, too, despite the fact that her singing now sounds like she has a pretzel stuck in her bridgework.

---The three kids who alternate in the role of Billy Elliot won and it marked the first time more than one person has shared a single acting award. That's because Shirley McLaine has never been nominated for a Tony.

---The number they showed from the winning "Billy Elliot" is the one that I found most uncomfortable. The kid gyrates wildly across the stage and utters piercing cries of pain. It's as if he's being pistol whipped by Phil Spector.

---There's always one asshole who equates the winning of a Tony Award to a cry for world peace. This year, that moron was some chick named Alice Ripley who won an acting honor for some musical about a family with some bi-polarity. "I feel pretty. Oh, no, I don't!!" Anyway, Alice thought her Tony gave her license to scream out some quote from John F. Kennedy. She was so loud and shrill he probably heard it. You won an award. You didn't cure cancer. But, you might have made several people deaf.

---Constantine Maroulis, the most annoying American Idol finalist ever, was up for a Tony??? Read about what I said about the apocalypse and move one inch closer, please.

---The revival of "Hair" looks as dreadful as it did in its original incarnation. The way you cover up a lousy show is by making the actors remove their clothes.

---At one point, Liza was standing next to Shrek and I could see a resemblance.

---Bebe Neuwirth got to do the "In Memorium" bit, which was appropriate since she looked like death warmed over. Only Broadway would have the nerve to honor some talent agents who passed away in the past year. If they tried that during the Oscars, the dead agents would get the biggest hands. And it would not be applause of gratitude. "Woo hoo. Morris L. Scumbag died. It's about time."

---Since I was coming off a weekend of baseball watching, I could swear that one of those Tony factoids said "Jane Fonda is hitting .275 when the count is 0-2."

---How much of it is acting? James Gandolfini still looks like he wants to beat the shit out of somebody.

As they always say at the end of the Tonys, treat yourself. Go see a show. And, if you really want a challenge, try to go see a good one.

Dinner last night: Pork chop with chutney and wild rice at JiRaffe.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - June 8, 2009

Emmy ballots are out and voters need to remember "The Big Bang Theory" and the wonderful Jim Parsons for Lead Actor. Sheer brilliance.

Dinner last night: Louisiana hot sausage at the Dodger game.