Thursday, April 29, 2021

Concrete Proof of Success - April 30, 2009

Sid Grauman was a showman. In the Golden Age of Hollywood, patrons expected that a quarter would buy them a full evening's entertainment in lavish surroundings, and that's just what Grauman provided.

Beginning in 1918, Grauman built a trio of movie palaces that put all others to shame. 

The first was the aptly-named (for the amount it cost to build it) Million Dollar Theatre in downtown Los Angeles

The second was the Egyptian Theatre, home of the first-ever "Hollywood premiere" -- Douglas Fairbanks's Robin Hood in 1922.

The crown jewel, however, was Grauman's Chinese Theatre, built at a cost of $2,000,000 (approximately $24 million in 2009), and seating 2,000 patrons (and an orchestra of 65) in comfort and style.

The most notable part of the Chinese Theatre (other than its Asian-inspired
design) is its forecourt, paved with the footprints and autographs of more than 200 of Hollywood's greatest stars. 

The tradition allegedly began when either Grauman himself or actress Natalie Talmadge stepped into a block of wet cement during the theatre's construction in mid-April, 1927. 

Regardless, when the theatre officially opened, Fairbanks and his wife, Mary Pickford -- who were possibly the biggest stars the movies have ever known -- were the first to immortalize their feet in Grauman's concrete.

In the 80 years since, millions of
tourists have come from around the world to compare their shoe sizes with those of Cary Grant, Clark Gable, Marilyn Monroe -- or others whose stars didn't burn quite as brightly.

If you go, though, don't expect to see Charlie Chaplin's prints; there's a rumor they were
removed in the 1950s when Chaplin was accused of being a Communist. (If you must see them, though, they're about a half a mile away at his old studio on La Brea,)

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I Opened Up the Window and In Flew Enza - April 29, 2009

"I had a little bird,

Its name was Enza.

I opened up the window,

And in flew Enza."

No one really knows where it came from, but before it was done, it had taken the lives of up to 100 million people. We're speaking not of some movie monster, but of the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918.

Ninety-one years ago, a soldier at
Fort Riley, Kansas, complained of flu symptoms. Within hours, 100 more soldiers were ill. By the end of the week, the number had jumped to 500. Thanks to new means of easy travel in the early 20th century, the virus spread quickly to Europe. Wartime censorship kept the worst news of the disease from the public until it hit Spain -- but when it did, the gusher of news burst, giving the flu its misleading name.

The 1918 flu was unlike any other, in that it
spread directly from birds to humans, and struck hardest in the population that would seem to have had the greatest immunity: young, healthy adults. At its peak, the virus killed hundreds a day. Physicians were helpless to stop it: antiviral drugs were decades away, and the only real "cure" was to quarantine the victims -- not an easy task when 500 million people worldwide were infected -- and hope for the best.

Could it
happen again? No one knows. Recent outbreaks of bird and swine flu have raised fears that another pandemic could be just around the corner, but so far, the world has escaped a return engagement. But just in case you felt safe, scientists have been able to recreate the flu virus -- and it's as potent as ever. If you feel a little achy tonight, it's probably nothing -- but you never know....

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"Citizen" Hearst - April 29, 2010

They were born 52 years and one week apart. The difference between their beginnings and achievements couldn't have been greater, and even though they (probably) never met, they've gone down in history inextricably linked. Today we note the birthdays of William Randolph Hearst and Orson Welles.

Hearst was born on April 29, 1863, into a
wealthy family and a world of privilege, attending New England prep schools and Harvard. Following graduation, he took control of the San Francisco Examiner, and parlayed that into ownership of the New York Journal, which became one of the highest-circulating papers in the U.S. (thanks to a little invention known as "yellow journalism"). He was soon the head of an empire that included newspapers, magazines, radio, and movies.

Welles (born May 6, 1915) didn't have it quite so easy. His parents were fairly well-off, but they separated when Orson was four. His mother died when he was nine, and his father passed when he was 15. As a teen, he was enrolled at the
Todd School for Boys near Chicago, where he was exposed to the arts.

Both men did their utmost to influence people. Hearst's media holdings were so vast that he was able to spread his ideas at will. In 1897, he sent illustrator
Frederic Remington and reporter Richard Harding Davis to investigate Cuba's role in the Spanish American War. Remington cabled Hearst, "Everything is quiet. There is no trouble. There will be no war." The publisher replied, "You furnish the pictures and I'll furnish the war." 

Welles, on the other hand, worked with more subtlety: he was always a showman (he had a lifelong love of magic), and charmed and conned his way into positions. As a teenager, he traveled to Dublin and demanded an audition at the prestigious Gate Theatre, claiming to be a Broadway star. He got both the audition and the job. He returned to New York in 1933 and ended up playing opposite top star Katharine Cornell in three plays -- all before the age of 20.

Welles was blessed with a
resonant and expressive voice, and got frequent radio work, which supplemented his directing at the government-supported Federal Theatre Project. There he presented an all-black cast in the famous "Voodoo" Macbeth, the controversial The Cradle Will Rock, and a Julius Caesar set in fascist Italy.

Welles's success (most notably with his 1938 radio broadcast of
War of the Worlds) soon had Hollywood calling, and RKO Pictures offered the 24-year-old Welles an unprecedented contract which gave him final approval of every aspect of the film, from casting to final cut. After two false starts, the studio gave approval to his film, Citizen Kane, a biography of a fictional media mogul whose life closely (but not exclusively) resembled that of Hearst.

When word got out about the picture, Hearst became furious, doing all he could to
suppress it. He threatened to expose all the secrets and scandals that had been quashed by the media and the studios; he offered to buy the negative and all prints from RKO; he banned advertising for any of the studio's movies in his papers; and he had his Hollywood gossip columnist Louella Parsons smear both Welles and the film. But Welles’s contract was too iron-clad and word-of-mouth on the quality of the movie was too strong, and on May 1, 1941, it opened in New York to rave reviews.

Hearst got his revenge. As much as critics loved Kane, general audiences hated its groundbreaking cinematic techniques, and it was soon shelved. Welles
lost control of his second film, and for the next 45 years struggled to get financing for the films he wanted to direct, though he never stopped working as an actor.

Welles had his own revenge. Hearst's influence waned after World War II, and by his
death in 1951, it was all but gone, while Kane is still considered one of the greatest movies ever made.

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Tuesday, April 27, 2021

The Case of the Creative Syndicate - April 27, 2009

In 1939, 24-year-old comics artist Bob Kane was not having a lot of success. One day, though, he got a phone call from DC Comics, who were trying to come up with a costumed superhero to capitalize on their success with Superman and wondered if Kane had any ideas. 

Looking for inspiration, Kane thought of the swashbuckling movies of Douglas Fairbanks, a flying apparatus designed by Leonardo da Vinci, and a movie thriller called The Bat Whispers, and came up with a character called "The Bat-Man."

Unfortunately, that "Bat-Man" wore
red tights and a domino mask and looked about as threatening as Little Orphan Annie. Seeking help, Kane turned to writer Bill Finger, who junked most of Kane's ideas and implemented his own. He put the character in grey and black, added a scalloped cape, purple gloves, and a cowl with bat ears. Finger's final touch was the name "Bruce Wayne." With that, the Batman we more or less know today was created.

Today, we note the 70th anniversary of the publication of
Detective Comics #27, which featured the first appearance of Batman, supposedly created solely by artist Bob Kane. But despite the credit line that still appears on every Batman comic, cartoon, and movie, Kane was probably the least involved of the team members that created the Caped Crusader. Kane was a poor artist and "swiped" many of the images in those early stories. 

Where Kane excelled was in his business sense and marketing ability, so he signed a contract with DC that gave them exclusive rights to Batman in exchange for sole credit going to Kane for "creating" the Dark Knight.

Kane soon farmed out the actual work of drawing Batman to such artists as
Sheldon Moldoff, George Roussos, Ray Burnley, Charles Paris, Lew Sayre Schwartz, and, most notably, Jerry Robinson and Dick Sprang. Robinson was responsible for refining the look of Batman and creating the Joker, Alfred Pennyworth, and Dick Grayson, AKA Robin. Well, actually, Robinson only named Robin. The Boy Wonder was one of Bill Finger’s many creations, along with The Penguin, Catwoman, Two-Face, The Riddler, Commissioner Jim Gordon, the Batmobile, the Bat Cave, the name "Gotham City," and dozens of other characters and concepts.

While Robinson moved on to other things (including becoming an award-winning editorial cartoonist, teaching at the
School of Visual Arts, The New School, and the Parsons School of Design, and writing the first history of the comic art form) Finger continued working more or less anonymously for DC, co-creating the Green Lantern (this time for credit), and turning out classic Superman and Batman stories in the '40s, '50s, and '60s.

Bob Kane
died in 1998, never fully acknowledging the contributions of his collaborators. Robinson, however, now 87, has worked tirelessly to ensure creators' rights (including shaming DC Comics into giving a pension to Superman creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster). Robinson was also greatly responsible for founding the Bill Finger Award, given annually at San Diego's Comic-Con International to writers who were not sufficiently honored in their own lifetimes.

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Sunday, April 25, 2021

TV Free Week - April 25, 2006

It's TV Turnoff Week, the annual campaign to encourage everyone to get away from the boob tube. 

We heartily endorse that sentiment, but what else is there to do? 

Well, we could read a book -- though there's always the risk of eyestrain or a paper cut, and that rerun of Laguna Beach looks awfully tempting. 

No, we can't give in. Let's head to the kitchen and cook a healthy meal. But maybe that's not so smart; if we get tears in our eyes from chopping onions, we could get a nasty knife gash. Oh, boy! Gastineau Girls is on tonight! 

We'd better get out of the house altogether and dig into the garden. But what about all those mosquitoes? And we sunburn awfully easily... And isn't Dog the Bounty Hunter on in a little while? 

Maybe being a couch potato is the only safe course of action, after all -- or maybe not.

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Friday, April 23, 2021

Little Miss Octogenarian - April 23, 2008

 

Shirley Temple wasn't the first child star. (That honor goes to Master Betty, who played major Shakespearean roles in early 19th century London.) 

Nor was she the first child to achieve popularity in the movies. Jackie Coogan, Baby Peggy, and the Our Gang kids were hits on the silver screen before Shirley was even born -- eighty years ago today, on April 23, 1928. 

But there was something about the red-haired moppet who tap-danced like an old pro that caught the public's imagination in a way that no actor had achieved before -- or since. Her infectious optimism made her the number one box-office attraction from 1935-38.

Like many other child stars, Temple's film career faded as she hit her teens. Despite fine performances in Since You Went Away and The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer, her acting career was basically over at 21.

Her real life was just beginning, though. She became active in Republican politics, serving as U.S. Ambassador to both Ghana and Czechoslovakia, and serving on boards for major corporations and international organizations.

Perhaps her most important contribution, though, was being the first celebrity to
reveal she had breast cancer -- a condition that, unsurprisingly, she conquered with the same energy and enthusiasm that made her a one-girl cure for the Great Depression.

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