FIFTY YEARS AGO TODAY

    Fifty Years Ago Today was Saturday, May 26, 1973 … Argentina's new president Hector Campora announced the pardon for all political prisoners, including members of the Montoneros terrorist group. At the Villa Devoto jail, guards fired on a crowd demanding the prisoners’ liberation and killed two protesters…. A U.S. Secret Service agent was killed, and nine other persons on board a presidential helicopter were injured, when the U.S. Army Sikorsky VH-3A crashed into the Atlantic Ocean while patrolling the waters around President Nixon's vacation home at Grand Cay Island in the Bahamas. ….Top of the record charts this week was, believe it or not, FRANKENSTEIN by the Edgar Winter Group…

Myself…still nothin’ nothin’.  Still between shows, still working for my dad, still married (or so reports say. I remember none of it.)

But there was this…I had totally forgotten about this show till I stumbled over the ad in the newspaper archives. The musical was co-written by a good friend of mine and, since he was a friend and since it was being performed at a theater at which we'd both often worked well...I was required to attend. And…yeah…not good. Now, what to say to the guy after the show.? It was an all-too-familiar problem. The trick was to be noncommittal and as near honest as possible. Classics of the art are such as..”Well, you did it again!” or “What can I say? What can I possibly say?” or, maybe the worst, “you’ve never been better.”  I call it post-performance perjury.

Happening upon the ad, it all came flooding back. I don’t remember anything about the show except that it really wasn’t good. But I do remember now that it … happened.

This night, on Channel 41's Fright Night, we got HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN and 12 TO THE MOON. I'd already seen both of them, so I probably didn't tune in.

As for today’s movie…

My memory of viewing this one is a little odd. I remember seeing it in a theater--I can even remember sitting in the damn theater seat and staring at the movie on the screen. It’s a clear memory except I can’t remember what theater I saw it in.  Usually I have a clear recollection of the theater in which I saw a particular movie and its location. Maybe not the exact theater but at least that it was in a mall, or it was one of the theaters on 4th Street, or it was some theater in downtown Cincinnati or Denver or wherever.  This time, I remember sitting there watching it, but I have no feeling for where the theater was. Odd.

And what was the movie I saw? Why it was…

BARON BLOOD

Aaaand the old Show Clock up on the wall tells us that the movie was being screened at Grant Plaza. This was the closest movie theater to where I lived at the time. I could drive there in two minutes or less. And it was maybe the most impersonal theater I ever attended. Simply a concrete block rectangle with some seats bolted in. No wonder I couldn't remember the place. It was faceless.

Directed by the great Mario Bava, released by good ol’ AIP, this had to be special, right? Might even be an instant classic, wouldn’t surprise me.

But it wasn’t. It was just another horror movie. Better than many, lesser than others. Just another brick in the wall. So, yeah, it was a disappointment. Not that it was bad, just that I expected and hoped--with good reason I think--for better.

I have seen this a couple more times in the intervening years and my opinion hasn’t changed a mite. Maybe this time.

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The dubbing of this thing could be from any or every European horror film of the ‘60s--70s. It has that generic sound and feel…

Ah, good old Luciano Pigozzi. “The Italian Peter Lorre”...

Luciano was not an attractive man, but he usually looked a little better than this.

The final shot of the iron maiden scene might as well be from the oeuvre of Lucio Fulci…

Once again a European horror benefits from European antiquity. Another great and real castle…

Elke Sommer is not a great actress. She may even fall short of adequate. But she’s not here--or in any of her movies--for her emotive skills. She’s here for her phenomenally high Babe Factor…

I do love it when Elke and the two guys jump into the car to go protect the little girl, and it’s Elke doing the driving. Woman Power, Babe!  Babe Power, Women!...

Whenever I see Joseph Cotten here, or even more so in LADY FRANKENSTEIN, it pains me. How the mighty have fallen. He came to Hollywood tied to Orson Welles and had CITIZEN KANE and THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS under his belt before you could say ‘Everett Sloane’. Now he’s overacting in budget horror movies…

Also, Cotten is a fine actor, but not a particularly intimidating villain…

All in all, BARON BLOOD is a very standard horror film. Almost a genuine monster movie. Typical, unsurprising stuff. It’s slightly embellished by some nice camera work, both visuals and movement, but still awfully standard. And definitely unworthy of Maestro Bava…

Yeah, very pretty, Maestro. But pretty ain't enough unless your name is Elke.

And Baron Blood hisownself wishes you pleasant dreams.

MY OWN LITTLE PIECE OF INSIDE BASEBALL

I spent a bit of the endless off-season reading Jim Bouton’s BALL FOUR for the first time. Don’t know why I’d never gotten to it before.

Bouton’s book was infamous in its day, and the author, still a major league pitcher at the time, found himself almost universally despised by other players, managers, owners, even a lot of fans. His crime was honesty. 

Whereas all previous baseball writing had stayed on the green and sunny side of the fence, Bouton dared to tell us that ballplayers were human. That they got drunk, that they were prejudiced, that they played ugly pranks, even that they competed at being peeping toms. Nowadays, while we like to think the best of our heroes, most of us understand that they’re only people. People blessed with superhuman physical talents, underdeveloped mental processes, and bloated bank accounts….hey, we still love you guys! Have a great season!!!     

        Anyway, this reading has reminded me of the one piece of behind-the-scenes baseballknowledge which I picked up my own-damn-self. And in honor of Jim Bouton, here it is.

This could have been 1980, 1981, or 1982. I was working at the Cincinnati Playhouse in…uhh…Cincinnati.  One day at the theater, I was in the office area for some reason, possibly negotiating for more green M&Ms in my dressing room. I was with someone, can’t remember if it was a fellow actor or someone on the staff, when we noticed a female staffer at her desk. We both saw that she looked different from her usual. Normally she was a modestly attractive--well, truthfully kind of mousey--young lady. She always dressed neatly but demurely and always seemed put together but sort of plain. Hair, makeup, clothing…just sort of beige. 

This day, though, she was done up fine. I don’t remember just what her ensemble was but it was clearly more colorful, more stylish, and much tighter than anything I’d ever seen on her. Her hair was sort of “blown-out”, leaving her looking like a brunette puffball. And she was heavily made-up. Major eyeshadow, bright red lips. She looked sort of attractive, sort of trampy. 

My companion whispered, “the Houston Astros are in town today.” I didn’t get it…

He explained that the young lady was the girlfriend of an Astros player, a guy who was a good player, maybe an occasional All-Star. He’d never get a sniff of the Hall of Fame, but he was a near-top-flight-ish player of his day. 

Oh, wait, I left something out. My friend didn’t say that our lady was “the girlfriend”, he said she was “the Cincinnati girlfriend” of the player. A player who, by the by, had a wife back in Houston.

This, of course, was a bit of a shock and started me thinking. If she was the “Cincinnati girlfriend”, did that mean that our sometime All-Star also had an “Atlanta girlfriend” and a “Pittsburgh girlfriend”? Did he have a “girlfriend” in every NL city which wasn’t Houston? That would be 11 girlfriends. Or maybe he limited himself to the NL West, which would mean only 5 girlfriends. Either way, a lot of ladies to keep track of. Did he keep a Rolodex which he studied on the plane to each city? I mean, you wouldn’t want to rendezvous with Esther and call her Phyllis, ‘cause that would be bad. Am I right, guys? Gimme five up top.

On the plus side, a national supply of girlfriends would have cut down on the time and effort of picking up a fresh barfly in every town. On the other hand, I wondered about wifey back in Houston. Did she know? Did she care? And was this standard behavior for all Major League players, or just the random well-organized philanderer?

That was the end of my view into regional Major League girlfriendancy. So I am happy to report that I never saw a day when our office ladies, the whole mob, were all gussied up at the same time and giggling “Hey, the Dodgers are in town!”.

FIFTY YEARS AGO TODAY

Fifty Years Ago Today was Saturday, May 12, 1973 …Two American mountaineers, John Roskelley and Louis Reichardt, made the highest ascent of a mountain without using supplemental oxygen, climbing the seventh-highest peak in the world, reaching the summit at 26,795 feet (8,167 m) without oxygen tanks….veteran race car driver Art Pollard was killed in a crash at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, hitting a wall during a practice round. I was going to include a photo of Pollard's crash, but the image is horrifying and I decided to skip it. Now to try and forget it…the big news of the day was actually a day old. On Friday the 11th, a federal judge had thrown out the government case against Daniel Ellsberg, the man who released “The Pentagon Papers.” The judge ruled that the government’s case was riddled with mistakes, infractions, and was an utter, unacceptable mess…

Same old, same old in my life. Between shows, still somehow married, working a lot for my dad. Nothing to report.

Here's what was playing in the area on that date.

Tonight’s Fright Night double feature was DRACULA’S DAUGHTER and HOUSE OF HORRORS. I probably watched them, or at least the first one, but I’d seen them both before, so it wasn’t a necessity to tune in.

I do think I watched NBC’s Saturday Night at the Movies that night. The movie was ELMER GANTRY and I did see that, at some point or another, on Saturday Night at the Movies, so probably tonight.

My movie of the day came on Channel 32’s late movie. This was one I don’t think I’d heard of and that automatically made it more interesting in advance. Having no idea what I was about to see was a bright bauble hanging in front of me. That night I saw…

THE BLOOD ROSE

When one saw a movie a half century back and hasn’t seen it again, it’s understandable that one wouldn’t remember much. That’s the general case with these things, but this is one of those fairly rare cases in which I remember not a single thing. Not a scene, not an actor, not a setting, not a feeling…nada. I remember that it was going to be on TV and that I tuned in to watch it. I remember writing the title onto my list of ‘seen horror films.’ But of the film itself, not the faintest recollection.

So this should play like a brand new movie to me and I will hope for the best.

So press “Play” awready!

For this re-viewing, I had to purchase a DVD-R boot. It wasn’t that cheap except compared to other available discs from other sources. I wasn’t about to pay $154 or even $83. I felt comfortable enough though with $18.

And that’s about what it was worth. This seems to have been copied from a VHS source which was probably not that great to begin with. Certainly watchable, but fuzzy at times, pixelated at others. Okay, but just…

It is well-dubbed, however…

Early on we are treated to a couple of fully-naked ladies who are both gorgeous and also way too accomplished at juuuuuust hiding the naughty bits…

 Anny Duperey beautifully offering everything and nothing.

As is often the case with these European horrors from the ‘60s and ‘70s, good use is made of those old, crumbly castles which dot the countryside…

This is another in the distinguished (??) line of Euro horrors which deal with the need for a new face for a formerly beautiful/currently ugg lady. But somehow, just tripping and falling into a fire is less dramatic than a car crash or an explosion or a splash of acid in the face…

"Okay, lemme see...is this face gonna fit?"

I’m not an artist, so I’ll ask: why would a painter place his easel and canvas so low that he’d have to bend or squat to reach it?…

Later in the movie three or four slightly lesser beauties prove much less shy about lettin’ it all hang out…

One of our ladies doing a pretty good Barbara Steele impersonation. Is that you, Babs?

Let’s run down the Euro-horror checklist, shall we?  (1) Disfigured wife? Check. (2) Creepy castle?  Check.  (3) Poisonous plant? Check.  (4) Pair of mute dwarves clad in animal skins? Check and check. (5) Mad doctor?  Check.  (6) Howard Vernon hanging around? Check…

Hi, guys.

Hey, Howard! How's it hangin'?

One passage of music starts with three or four notes which ring exactly like the start of the Star Trek theme, not just the notes but the “sound”. The one good thing about that—hearing it made me actually pay attention to the music for about 30 seconds…

Unlike most in this sub-genre, we never get the face transplant, successful or otherwise. After some action (dwarf wrestling with semi-topless beauty), the thing just sort of … ends. As if the filmmakers had someplace else to be…

Roll, roll, roll in da hay.

Final judgment…not good, no. Not to be mentioned in the same conversation as EYES WITHOUT A FACE, and really not even quite up to THE AWFUL DR. ORLOFF, and that’s Jess Franco, fer cryin’ out loud…

THE NEHRU JACKET

Fashion. You know how that works. It changes constantly. As Oscar Wilde said, “Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.” Sometimes fashion brings lovely things like, oh, miniskirts. Sometimes it brings sack dresses. It’s fashion. Whattya gonna do?

I have never been much interested in fashion and I’ve consciously tried to not follow

the trends. But I have lapsed a time or two. 

In my late teens, back before the Flood, one trend which did appeal to me was the

Nehru jacket, sometimes called the Mao jacket. It was intended for casual dress wear, tended

to fit snugly, and buttoned all the way up to the chin, to a little notch, much like a priest’s

collar. 

Everybody seemed to be wearing them. Why, there was Sammy Davis Jr. in a Nehru

jacket! Even the Beatles, fer cryin’ out loud! And I wanted one. Oh, how I wanted one. 

                                                              Sammy in a Nehru jacket.

                                                 The lads from Liverpool in Nehru jackets.

                                                                   Nehru in a Me jacket.

But…money, you know. That which acquiring the jacket required and that which

I had not. For a long while, I had not. Then, I got a bit ahead in the dollar department (I

assume theft was involved) and decided to fulfill this wish. So I made my way to

Louisville’s Fourth Street where the treasures of fashion were caged and nurtured. 

The store I chose had some Nehru jackets on the rack and I found one which fit

beautifully. It was black and had a raised pattern, a 3D feel to it. To me, it was gorgeous. “Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh.” My memory, that lying biyatch,

thinks it cost $30, a fortune for me at the time, but I did have the money, just, and I did want

the jacket so the transaction was made.  By the way, $30 in 1967 equals a little over $250 in

2023. In other words, it was a fortune.

I took my purchase home, tried it on, showed my mom who thought it looked

‘nice’. And I figured I’d soon find an occasion for actually wearing it. 

Here comes the punchline, the gods getting their big laugh.

That night, that very night as I recall-- I was watching Johnny Carson on

The Tonight Show. One of his guests was Tony Randall, who always had interesting and

funny things to say. That night they started talking about fads and trends, and Tony

Randall said, “Take the Nehru jacket for instance. Last month everybody was wearing

them. Now nobody would be caught dead in one.”

Okay…so…picture a teenager who’d just spent way too much for something,

being almost instantly informed that he was a fool who had just thrown his money

away. I remember sitting there, thinking, over and over…”what?…what?…what?…”

Once recovered from the shock, I decided that, fashionable or not, I would get at

least one good wearing out of my millionaire’s wardrobe. And I did.

A bunch of us in Student Theater were going to see a show at some other high

school in the area. In those days, even kids got dressed up to go to the theater. Even

high school theater. All the girls were in nice dresses, nearly all the boys in suit and tie.

And one large, nervous nerd showed up in a Nehru jacket.

Not just a Nehru jacket, but a Nehru jacket over a bright white turtleneck, with a

huge golden medallion on a chain around his neck. If I’d had matching bellbottoms,

they would have been there too. Oh, I was quite the sight, I’m sure, quite the ‘60s

stereotype. Still didn’t have a date, but I can’t blame the jacket, that was pretty much

the casewhatever I was wearing.

     I got some compliments and also some mild ribbing. Truth be told, I genuinely

liked the look, but whatever my feelings on ‘fashion’, I felt too embarrassed to ever

wear it again. It hung in the closet for a while then it … didn’t.

I can honestly say that, as far as I can remember, I never again bowed to the

pressure of ‘fashion’. 

That was, at least in part, because I so rarely had $30. In any year’s money.