This Date in History - October 24

I'm not a fan of Kevin Kline, but he's the most interesting birthday I can find for this date.

69:  THE SECOND BATTLE OF BEDRIACUM AS THE FORCES OF ANTONIUS PRIMUS DEFEAT THE FORCES OF EMPEROR VITELLIUS.

I feel so deprived since I know nothing about the first battle of Bedriacum.

1147:  AFTER A SIEGE OF FOUR MONTHS, CRUSADER KNIGHTS LED BY AFONSO HENRIQUES RECONQUERED LISBON.

Crusader Knights, I don't know.  Crusader Rabbit, I do know.

1260:  SAIF AD-DIN QUTUZ, MAMLUK SULTAN OF EGYPT, IS ASSASSINATED BY BAIBARS, WHO SEIZES POWER FOR ITSELF.

Doesn't this happen weekly in Egypt?

1590:  JOHN WHITE, THE GOVERNOR OF THE SECOND ROANOKE COLONY, RETURNS TO ENGLAND AFTER AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH FOR THE LOST COLONISTS.

I feel so deprived since I know nothing about the first Roanoke colony.

1851:  WILLIAM LASSELL DISCOVERS THE MOONS UMBRIEL AND ARIEL ORBITING URANUS.

Oh, pay attention to your own anus.

1852:  POLITICIAN DANIEL WEBSTER DIES.

The Devil, you say.

1861:  THE FIRST TRANSCONTINENTAL TELEGRAPH LINE ACROSS THE UNITED STATES IS COMPLETED, SPELLING THE END FOR THE 18-MONTH-OLD PONY EXPRESS.

So there was no Pony Local?

1901:  ANNIE EDISON TAYLOR BECOMES THE FIRST PERSON TO GO OVER NIAGARA FALLS IN A BARREL.

Yeah, but did she live?

1904:  PLAYWRIGHT MOSS HART IS BORN.

Later on, he was married to Kitty Carlisle.  Which means he never saw his wife without long gloves.

1911:  ORVILLE WRIGHT REMAINS IN THE AIR 9 MINUTES AND 45 SECONDS IN A WRIGHT GLIDER.

Those of you with 8 minutes and 25 minutes in the office pool, well, sorry.

1915:  CARTOONIST BOB KANE IS BORN.

Batman!

1922:  CANDY MANUFACTURER GEORGE CADBURY DIES.

Melts, actually.

1926:  HARRY HOUDINI'S LAST PERFORMANCE IN DETROIT, MICHIGAN.

Not the first person to go to Detroit and disappear forever.

1926:  FOOTBALL STAR Y.A. TITTLE IS BORN.

And why not a Tittle?

1929:  "BLACK THURSDAY" STOCK MARKET CRASH ON WALL STREET.

Gentlemen, please use the windows on the left.

1931:  THE GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE OPENS TO PUBLIC TRAFFIC.

And it will be full of that traffic for the next 80 or so years.

1934:  SINGER GLEN GLENN IS BORN.

A singer?  I thought he was the guy with all the sound on those Desilu shows.

1935:  GANGSTER DUTCH SCHULTZ DIES.

Bang, bang, you're dead.

1936:  ACTOR DAVID NELSON IS BORN.

The one Nelson with absolutely no musical talent.

1945:  FOUNDING OF THE UNITED NATIONS.

Created primarily because every fourth-grade class in the NY area needed someplace to go on a field trip.

1946:  ACTOR KEVIN KLINE IS BORN.

Sorry, still don't like him.

1947:  WALT DISNEY TESTIFIES BEFORE THE HOUSE UN-AMERICAN ACTIVITIES COMMITTEE, NAMING DISNEY EMPLOYEES HE BELIEVES TO BE COMMUNISTS.

I always had my suspicions about Geppetto.

1954:  PRESIDENT EISENHOWER PLEDGES UNITED STATES SUPPORT TO SOUTH VIET NAM.

You'll be sorry.

1972:  BASEBALL STAR JACKIE ROBINSON DIES.

Go, Jackie, go.  Oh, wait, you just went.

1973:  YOM KIPPUR WAR ENDS.

Why fight?  It's a public school day off.

1977:  VETERANS DAY IS OBSERVED ON THE FOURTH MONDAY IN OCTOBER FOR THE SEVENTH AND LAST TIME.  THE HOLIDAY GOES BACK TO NOVEMBER 11 THE NEXT YEAR.

Meanwhile, this is no longer a day off.  Boo hiss.

1991:  PRODUCER GENE RODDENBERRY DIES.

Going where millions of other men have gone before.

2002:  POLICE ARREST SPREE KILLERS JOHN ALLEN MUHAMMAD AND LEE BOYD MALVO, ENDING THE BELTWAY SNIPER ATTACKS IN WASHINGTON, DC.

The way our politicians in DC are these days, I'm all for letting these two guys out again.

2003:  CONCORDE MAKES ITS LAST COMMERCIAL FLIGHT.

Can you blame them?  I mean, what with the crashes and everything.

2005:  ROSA PARKS DIES.

Frankly, lady, I don't care where you sit.

2008:  "BLOODY FRIDAY" SAW MANY OF THE WORLD'S STOCK EXCHANGES EXPERIENCE THE WORST DECLINES IN HISTORY.

And this means October 24 is never the right day to look at your stock portfolio.

2015:  ACTRESS MAUREEN O'HARA DIES.

Now the Quiet Woman.

2017:  MUSICIAN FATS DOMINO DIES.

Also made lousy pizza.

2017:  ACTOR ROBERT GUILLAUME DIES.

Now you have to answer the door yourself.

Dinner last night:  Leftover barbecued chicken.

Once In A Lifetime...Two Years in a Row

Some people never get to do this.  I mean, there were Chicago Cub fans who were born and died without ever getting to go to a World Series game.

Me?   I get to do it two years in a row.  And, as I look at this logo history above, I realize that I've been blessed.   I remember going to Yankee Stadium in 1976 and seeing the Reds sweep the Bronx Bombers.  I was a kid.  My team wasn't in the hunt.  I didn't care.

I remember going back to Yankee Stadium in 1977 and 1978 when the Dodgers played and lost to the Yankees.   I sort of rooted for the LA team just to be obnoxious.  Little did I know at the time.   I know I saw Reggie Jackson hit three homers in one game.   Ugh.

Of course, my nirvana was in 1986 when my beloved Mets beat the Red Sox of Boston...hmm, how does that happen again?   I was there for five of the seven games and that includes traveling up to Fenway Dump for one night.   Yes, I was there for Mookie and Buckner and yes, I was there for Ray Knight's homer in the seventh inning of Game 7.   One of the most euphoric feelings in my life ever.

Years later, this adult is now on the West Coast and a Dodger season ticket holder.  Last year, there was a World Series visitation and an ignoble Game 7 which was one of the most non-euphoric feelings in my life.

It is hard to repeat back-to-back years in the World Series, but thanks to the Dodgers I now have some place to go next Friday through Sunday.   Oddly enough, after all that energy draining, I literally have to fly to New York on Monday morning.   I might be going in a body bag.

These are the moments you cherish and crave, no matter how euphoric or non-euphoric they are.

I am going to the World Series again!

Dinner last night:  Grilled bratwurst.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - October 22, 2018

It's World Series time and I can never resist my favorite clip of Mr. Ed hitting a ball off Sandy Koufax.

Dinner last night:  Barbecue chicken.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - The Next Dentist In My Life

Screw you, Lord of the Rings.  Here's a real trilogy of life.  The third installment of my dental saga begins. 

As we left off last Sunday, my braces were off and my mouth was a shambles.  Food and plaque had dug down deep into my enamel.  I had gone through elementary and junior high school cavity-free.  That would not be the case with high school.  Open wide!  Here comes the novacaine.  In goes the drill.

My esteemed orthodontist, Dr. Arthur Ash Not The Tennis Player, conveniently had ties to a dentist down the hall at 10 Fiske Place in Mount Vernon.  I am guessing this was a lucrative trade-off whenever the renowned architect of bite retainers was done with his patients.  Let Dr. Paul Cipes deal with all the holes caused by the inability of kids to brush their teeth while impersonating a Buick LeSabre.  This might have been the kind of business deal hatched by the two devious doctors while sipping high balls at the Lake Isle Country Club.

My braceless mouth now had six cavities that needed immediate attention.  As I got off the elevator and headed down the hall to Dr. Cipes' office, the whirring of a drill was unmistakable.  I envisioned a big grin on his face and a set of new golf clubs in his car trunk. 

Dr. Cipes was a nice man.  He probably was younger than he looked, but nevertheless he was always dressed for his next golf match.  I got the impression that he was simply dealing with my teeth to kill time before his next foursome.  There were golf photos and paintings adorning all his walls.  Was he going to use a regular drill in my mouth?  Or would he be repairing my teeth with a couple of swings from his nine iron?

To this day, the nerves in my mouth take a lot of medication to get numb.  If I'm having work done, I need to get there at least an hour early to make sure all the knock-out juice is working.  So, back then, Dr. Cipes would inject me with novocaine and then leave me with a seven-month-old Golf Digest to read for the next hour.  In between other patients/victims, he'd periodically stick his head in my room.

"Are you numb yet?"

No.

"Okay, I'll be back.  Great article about Jack Nicklaus on page 35,"

Eventually, Dr. Cipes would get his turn on me and it always sounded more dreadful than it really was.  I was completely spooked by the sound of the drill.  Once Dr. Cipes realized that, he had a 75 watt light bulb of an idea.

He got a pair of headphones and let me listen to the music.

Sweet.  Except it wasn't exactly the Doobie Brothers.

It was WQXR, the classical station in New York.  Hardly calming for me, especially if it was the Overture to the War of 1812.

It took about six months of visits for Dr. Cipes to pour more cement into my mouth than was used to bury Jimmy Hoffa.  I got a free ride for a while.  Now that I could brush and floss to my heart's content, my trips to Dr. Cipes at the 10 Fiske Place Golf Course were relegated to two check-ups a year.    He'd be done in ten minutes.  Hardly even long enough to get a good conversation going about the Masters.

But, a year after college, I was jolted back into reality.  Well, actually, it was more like a sharp pain in one of my two front teeth.  And when it didn't go away for a couple of days, it was time to go back into the world of Sam Snead and dental probes.

"Did you bang this tooth?"

Er, no, but it's been sensitive to cold liquid for a while.

"You ever get hit in the mouth?"

Do you think I work for a union down at the docks?

The tooth was dying and Dr. Cipes wanted to know why.

"Ever fall and hit it on the floor?"

Come on, Dr. Cipes....no, wait....

You've read the story here before several times.  The time I fainted in Sunday School, fell forward, and they had to retrieve my bite plate from behind the altar.

Bingo!  We had a diagnosis.  And apparently a dead tooth that required a root canal.  I had no clue what that was.

"Well, I drill a hole, let some pressure and bacteria out of the tooth, and then I pull out the nerve."

He lost me at "well."

Headed to 10 Fiske Place on the fateful day, John Dillinger had more hope coming out of the Biograph Theater in Chicago.  There would be drilling and pulling and maybe some more drilling and a lot more pulling.  None of it sounded like the soft caress of a down pillow.  I should have called ahead and had Dr. Cipes order extra novacaine.  He couldn't possibly keep that much in his supply cabinet.

Root canals have become much easier for dentists do now.  I've had two on the West Coast and they barely raised an eyebrow for me.  But, back then, it was a big deal.  Except for the pesky and painful tooth, a plastic covering is overlayed unto some metal contraption which, in turn, was then placed around my head.  Did I have a bad tooth or was I suffering from whiplash?  I looked like the earliest incarnation of Hannibal Lechter.

"You want the headphones?"

I couldn't answer him.  A plastic wrapped cage around your skull will do that to you.  I grunted.  Amazingly, he took that as a yes.

Back then, dentists would use a tiny but red hot poker to clean out the tooth canal of any infection.  So, on the tray in front of my chest (it's not like I could see it) was a bunsen burner that allowed Dr. Cipes to heat up the little rods.  He also might have been using it for his lunch fondue.  Anyway, a strange aroma started to seep through the plastics and into my nasal passages.

I somehow garbled the question.

I smell smoke.

Dr. Cipes lifted up my headphones.

"What?"

I formed some non-words again.

I smell smoke.

Dr. Cipes lifted up my headphones again.

"What?"

How long does this Abbott and Costello routine need to go on?  More non-words.

I SMELL SMOKE!!!

"Oh."

I felt some commotion in front of me.  Heavy patting of my chest.  An air hose blowing across the front of my body.

What happened, Doctor?

"Your bib caught on fire."

Sure enough, it did.  I left that day with one nerveless tooth and a five inch wide burn mark on my polo shirt.

My subsequent visits to Dr. Cipes were less incendiary.  Pretty much, two check-ups a year for the next decade never found a thing wrong.  Ultimately, he chose to retire and my dental records were transferred to a new and younger dentist up the road. 

My first trip to Dr. Frank Leone would be a breeze.  Until he looked in my mouth...

"When was the last time you saw Dr. Cipes?"

It had been six months ago.

"Your mouth is full of cavities and broken fillings.  Didn't he see any of this?"

Probably not.  That's why you retire.  But I can be sure he didn't miss the eighteen holes out at Lake Isle Country Club.

Oddly, I happened to be in New York about ten years ago when I was reading the Westchester newspaper and saw the obituary for Dr. Cipes.  He had made it to the age of 90.

Or, as he might like to say, three under par.

Dinner last night:  Pulled pork sandwich at Holy Cow.

Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - October 2018

Continuing on with the baseball theme this month, here's how TV viewers would be greeted by Mets Baseball on WOR-TV Channel 9 in New York thirty years ago.

Dinner last night:  Grilled bratwurst.

I Love The Night Life

Like the poster above says..."nothing this fabulous could last forever."  Indeed, in the case of the famed NY disco "Studio 54," it only lasted 33 months.

This is one of the amazing facts you find out in the fascinating new documentary aptly called "Studio 54" by film maker Matt Tyrnauer.  It's a compelling look at the rise and fall of this NYC icon through the story of its owners Steve Rubell and Ian Schrager, who both saw some jail time as a result of income tax evasion and drug possession.   Rubell, of course, died of AIDS in the late 80s.   Ironically, Schrager has continued to thrive as a hotel tycoon.  

Tyrnauer takes a very smart approach to telling this story.  He easily could have sought out some of the club's famous celebrity patrons and got their take on those memorable nights.   But, why seek out fuzzy memories from the likes of Liza Minnelli and Bianca Jagger when you have Ian Schrager ready, willing, and able to tell his tale?   Schrager's insights are the focal point of this piece and the documentary is better for it.

Of course, Studio 54 was born originally out of the gay community's affection for disco music.   As a matter of fact, Tyrnauer tells us over 50% of the staff at the club didn't make into the 90s thanks to the HIV virus.  But, then again, Studio 54 barely made it into the 80s thanks to FBI raids of all their receipts.  It turns out the owners were regularly skimming millions of dollars off the nightly take at the disco.

Rubell was the front guy.   The one at the door who decided which celebrities got to come in.  Schrager was the guy behind the scenes.  Regardless, they both sank as quickly as they rose.  Brash, arrogant, and then fatally stupid.   I mean, Roy Cohn was their lawyer.   What do you expect?

Tyrnauer's work here is terrific.  There are many shots of the action inside the club and that's interesting given that cameras were not allowed into the place.  That footage, combined with a lot of news clips, covers the story completely. And, as you learn from one of those epilogue slide cards, you learn that Ian Schrager was ultimately granted a pardon from his crimes by one President Obama.  Hmmm.   I wonder just how much money Schrager donated to the Obama coffers.   It just goes to prove that the shenanigans never really end, do they?

Years after Studio 54 closed, I actually went to a play there.  It has been converted into a legitimate Broadway theater.   I remember looking around the balcony and wondering what I would hear if those walls could talk.   Thanks to Matt Tyrnauer's fine documentary, I can hear those walls now loud and clear.

LEN'S RATING:  Three-and-a-half stars.

Dinner last night:  Lasagna.

This Date in History - October 17

Happy birthday, Lenny.  Or should I say "Mr. Kosnowski?"

539 BC:  CYRUS THE GREAT MARCHES INTO THE CITY OF BABYLON, RELEASING THE JEWS FROM ALMOST 70 YEARS OF EXILE.

Babylon?  I thought all the Jews on Long Island were in Massapequa.

456:  THE BATTLE OF PLACENTIA BEGINS.

Hmmm, birth joke, birth joke.  Oh.  Plancentia.  Never mind.

1091:  A TORNADO THOUGHT TO BE OF STRENGTH T8/F4 STRIKES THE HEART OF LONDON.

Can't blame Nazi planes on this one.

1346:  KING DAVID II OF SCOTLAND IS CAPTURED BY EDWARD III OF ENGLAND AND IMPRISONED IN THE TOWER OF LONDON FOR ELEVEN YEARS.

That's an awful lot of bread and water.

1456:  THE UNIVERSITY OF GREIFSWALD IS ESTABLISHED, MAKING IT THE SECOND OLDEST UNIVERSITY IN NORTHERN EUROPE.

That would be one very hard to pronounce school cheer.

1604:  GERMAN ASTRONOMER JOHANNES KEPLER OBSERVES A SUPERNOVA IN THE CONSTELLATION OPHIUCHUS.

Good thing there's no University of Ophiuchus.

1662:  CHARLES II OF ENGLAND SELLS DUNKIRK TO FRANCE FOR 40,000 POUNDS.

40,000 pounds.  Or one Roseanne Barr.

1771:  PREMIERE IN MILAN OF THE OPERA "ASCANIO IN ALBA," COMPOSED BY A 15-YEAR-OLD WOLFGANG MOZART.

15?  He had nothing else to do in school.  Doesn't say much about the girls in his class.

1814:  THE LONDON BEER FLOOD OCCURS IN LONDON, KILLING NINE.

And creating thousands of drunks.

1886:  ACTRESS SPRING BYINGTON IS BORN.

December Bride is an October Baby.

1888:  THOMAS EDISON FILES A PATENT FOR THE OPTICAL PHONOGRAPH (THE FIRST MOVIE).

Without a single shot of CGI.

1900:  ACTRESS JEAN ARTHUR IS BORN.

One of the first comedic actresses to come out of Hollywood.

1902:  ACTRESS IRENE RYAN IS BORN.

Jed!

1912:  POPE JOHN PAUL I IS BORN.

He wasn't a Pope.  He was a mini-series.

1918:  ACTRESS RITA HAYWORTH IS BORN.

Va-va-va-voom.

1920:  ACTOR MONTGOMERY CLIFT IS BORN.

Whatever you do, don't take Coldwater Canyon.

1921:  ACTOR TOM POSTON IS BORN.

He was married to Suzanne Pleshette at the end, so a cap tip to Mr. Poston.

1926:  ACTRESS BEVERLY GARLAND IS BORN.

She had hundreds of acting roles but she is best remembered for owning a legendary "no tell" motel in Hollywood.

1931:  AL CAPONE CONVICTED OF INCOME TAX EVASION.

Which qualifies him to having a major role in any Presidential cabinet.

1933:  ALBERT EINSTEIN FLEES NAZI GERMANY AND MOVES TO THE UNITED STATES.

Smart move.  But, then again, he is Albert Einstein.

1941:  FOR THE FIRST TIME IN WWII, A GERMAN SUBMARINE ATTACKS AN AMERICAN SHIP.

Das boot?  No, das ist a shoe.

1941:  GERMAN TROOPS EXECUTE THE MALE POPULATION OF A VILLAGE IN GREECE.

That would be the only way I could get a date in college.

1947:  ACTOR MICHAEL MCKEAN IS BORN.

Hello there, Laverne and Shirley.

1956:  THE FIRST COMMERCIAL NUCLEAR POWER STATION IS OFFICIALLY OPENED BY QUEEN ELIZABETH II IN ENGLAND.

Cutting the ribbon with one hand and holding her pocketbook with the other.

1965:  THE 1964-65 NEW YORK WORLD'S FAIR CLOSES AFTER A TWO YEAR RUN. 

And some of the exhibits are still rusting over there in Flushing Meadow Park.

1966:  A FIRE AT A NEW YORK BUILDING KILLS 12 FIREFIGHTERS, THE NY FIRE DEPARTMENT'S DEADLIEST DAY.

Until September 11, 2001.

1979:  MOTHER TERESA AWARDED THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE.

And, in the same year, she made Mr. Blackwell's worst dressed list.

1989:  THE SAN FRANCISCO BAY AREA SUFFERS A 7.1 EARTHQUAKE AT THE START OF WORLD SERIES GAME 3.

Tim McCarver probably never wore that underwear again.

1991:  TENNESSEE ERNIE FORD DIES.

I never got this guy's act.

2007:  COMEDIAN JOEY BISHOP DIES.

Son of a gun.

2007:  SINGER TERESA BREWER DIES.

She ran out of nickels for that nickelodeon.

2008:  SINGER LEVI STUBBS DIES.

Now it's the Three Tops.

2009:  COMPOSER VIC MIZZY DIES.

Now he'll see those Green Acres from the bottom up.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.