Land of the Giants (3/26/10)

Crystal City's statue of Popeye: It doesn't really look like him,
but it's the thought that counts

In looking for today's Spark topic, we were interested to see that on March 26, 1937, Crystal City, Texas erected a statue in honor of Popeye the Sailor. This struck us as odd, seeing as how we had visited Chester, Illinois last year, specifically to see their statues of Popeye and J. Wellington Wimpy. "Surely," we thought, "there couldn't be two. Popeye's well-known, but he's not that popular, is he?"
 
Imagine our surprise to find that there are not just two statues of the cycloptic sailor, but four, with Alma, Arkansas and Springdale, Arkansas joining the fun (though, personally, we think the Alma statue looks more like Mr. Clean than Popeye). The whole thing got us to wondering what other wonders we'd been missing in this great land of ours.
 
We knew about - and have even visited - the giant statue of Superman in Metropolis, Illinois, but we didn't realize that Metropolis (a community of only 6,500) also boasts a giant statue of a grocery bagger as well as the grave of Robert Stroud, the "Birdman of Alcatraz." 

We'd also visited Collinsville, Illinois to see the world's largest bottle of ketchup (though we were mighty disappointed to find there was no gift shop. What’s up with that, Collinsville?). What we didn't realize was that Illinois must be suffering from some sort of inferiority complex, as it's also home to the world's largest statue of local-boy-made-good Abraham Lincoln, a giant generic guy in a bathing suit, and "the tallest totem pole east of the Rockies."
 
Of course, the Land of Lincoln isn't the only home of "what the hell is that?" attractions. There are the dinosaurs in Cabazon, California (made famous in "Pee-wee’s Big Adventure"); the Mother Goose House in Hazard, Kentucky; the five-story-tall muskie that houses the Freshwater Fishing Hall of Fame and Museum in Hayward, Wisconsin; the Big Duck of Flanders, New York; and Lucy the Elephant in Margate, New Jersey - a monument that used to be a hotel. (And need we mention the late, lamented Bull Dog Café in Los Angeles?)
 
Not all the monuments are animals, though. There's the aforementioned ketchup bottle, but there's also the "Shoe House" in Hellam, Pennsylvania (and, yes, an old woman did live there); the Castroville, California artichoke; a giant baked potato in Blackfoot, Idaho; an office chair in Anniston, Alabama; a chest of drawers in High Point, North Carolina; a milk bottle in New Bedford, Connecticut, and a paper airplane in Mukilteo, Washington. There's also a penny in Woodruff, Wisconsin that claims to be the world's biggest, but Batman might disagree.
 
Some folks plan their vacations around seeing such sights (not us, of course ... ), but it's just as delightful (if not terrifying) to stumble across Mickey Rooney's giant head unexpectedly. We don’t know what it is in the American character that makes us want to eat in a giant hat or go gawk at a giant orange, but it's a treat to find a town or a company that commemorates something in that way. Dr. Freud might have something to say about this quest for size, but sometimes a giant ear of corn is just a giant ear of corn.
 
Suggested Sites...

• Roadside America - the most attractive attractions in America.
• A Program about Unusual Buildings and Other Roadside Stuff - Pittsburgh documentarian Rick Sebak did a whole program on them.
• Popeye Picnic - Chester, Illinois's annual tribute to their favorite son's most famous creation.
• Metropolis Chamber of Commerce - information about the annual Superman Celebration.
• World's Largest Catsup Bottle - everything you could possibly want to know about it.

There Was a Hot Time in Tunguska That Night (7/1/08)

More than a hundred years later, no one is sure exactly what happened. Eyewitnesses described a column of blue light as bright as the sun that tore the sky in two and set it on fire, followed by an explosion the likes of which humans had never seen or heard.

It all happened in Tunguska, Russia, on July 1, 1908, when something came from the sky and devastated more than 800 square miles, flattening an estimated 80 million trees. The explosion was estimated at 1000 times the power of the atomic bomb that destroyed Hiroshima. It was seen from 100 miles away, and the shock wave broke windows 250 miles from the point of impact. An Englishman reported that the sky on the north coast of Britain that night was so bright that he "could read a book by it."

Trees blown over by the Tunguska impact

The most surprising thing about the event was that virtually no lives were lost. Thanks to the remoteness of the impact site (the center of Siberia), the only casualty was a reindeer herder who was thrown into the air and against a tree - twenty miles from ground zero. Astonishingly, for all the commotion, there was no immediate investigation. The first exploration party didn't even arrive until 1927, and no one thought to take aerial photographs until 1938. Numerous theories of what the event was have been floated: asteroids, comets, black holes, antimatter, UFOs - even Nikola Tesla testing a "death ray." But no one theory provides all the answers.

If it was an asteroid, we can be thankful that it struck where it did. Astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson has warned that if an asteroid hit in the right part of the Pacific Ocean, it would wipe out most of the Pacific Rim. Sounds like Russia got off cheap.

Suggested Sites...

• Tunguska Comet Impact - 1908 - a Russian examination of the Event.
• Wikipedia: Tunguska Event - good overview of the impact, research, and theories.
• Tunguska Event - a more scientific exploration, with period and current photos.
• Tunguska - just what the heck did happen?
• Ground Zero - Siberia - so, was it a UFO?

“I fell in love with James Tyrone and was so happy for a time.”

In which the author bids his constant readers farewell.

(I need to preface this for my "Hearty Handclasp" readers. For quite some time now, I've been posting over at the San Francisco Theatre Pub blog and repurposing those posts here. I'm giving up that work, though I will continue to blog at this space, so any farewells here are - hopefully - premature ...)

Let’s cut to the chase. I’m outta here. This is my last blog post around these parts for the foreseeable future. While I’m neither retiring from blogging nor the theatre (nor anything else, really), I am taking a break. Whether it’s a long one or a short one, I have no idea.

First of all, my thanks to the proprietor. Without his encouragement and support – and deadlines – I wouldn’t have resumed my long-form online writing. Everyone here at the Pub is wonderful and offers unique perspectives on what’s happening in the theatre in San Francisco – and beyond – and deserves your continued custom and patronage.

But now, moving on. Even though we’ve passed the traditional navel-gazing that accompanies the end of a year, it’s close enough that I feel like I can indulge myself.

There have been any number of topics I’d have liked to talk about over the past couple of weeks and years, but have restrained myself both for propriety’s sake – and out of common sense. I’ve talked (at length) about how there are certain things I just can’t/am not allowed to say.

It’s like how, on Facebook, there are a number of people I keep in my news feed for the sole purpose of having them annoy me. “This again?” I mutter as I hit the “Hide” button or roll my eyes at their obtuseness or forced witticisms. (And please be sure; I am under no illusions that there aren’t simply legions of my erstwhile friends who have hidden me or have a similar reaction when they see I’ve posted – or blogged – or done anything – yet again.)

(Ironically, I started writing something on this topic and found myself starting to say something I wanted to, but couldn’t, due to the possibility of being misinterpreted, in spite of it ultimately being self-deprecating.)

Regardless, this break couldn’t come at a better time. I suddenly find myself chockablock with theatre projects that will be eating up my life for the next few weeks. I’m about to go into rehearsal for Sam and Dede (or, My Dinner with Andre the Giant) at Custom Made Theatre Company (tickets here). It’s the story of the unlikely (and true!) friendship between Samuel Beckett (whom I play, despite my lack of cheekbones and general lack of grizzled aspect) and Andre the Giant.

Sam ...

... and Dede

 

It’s a great script, but it’s a monster; about 140 pages of (basically) two- or three-word exchanges (which should take only about 90 minutes, but still … ). Because we have a limited rehearsal period, I’ve been working on my lines for a good three months now, and actually know many of them, Fortunately, Robert Shepard, who plays Andre, and I have been meeting to run lines and get a head start. Once we start rehearsing, it’ll be down and dirty and having to get a lot accomplished in a very short period of time. Once the show opens though, I think it’ll be a fun and interesting and entertaining evening.

I find myself of two minds about it, though. Brian Katz, Custom Made’s Artistic Director, was doing radio interviews last week and was plugging Sam and Dede (along with the rest of the season), and as he described the show, I suddenly realized that, other than Robert and I, no one knows what we’re doing with a very good script. While I’m more than anxious to share it with an audience (I think – knock wood – it’s going to go over very well), at the same time I like the idea that it belongs to Robert and me and no one else, though. It’s not dissimilar to the feelings I’ve had at final dresses of shows I’ve directed; that feeling that it no longer belongs to me.

Rehearsals will be so involved, though, that I’ll have to miss a good many (if not all) of the rehearsals for the production of my translation of Uncle Vanya at the Pear Avenue Theatre way down in Mountain View (tickets here). One of my goals with this production is that I want to tailor the language to the cast (which is a very good one), but I’ll be so involved with Sam and Dede that my contributions and consultations will mostly be limited to email.

"Bozhe moi. Sikula's translating my plays?"

 

Somewhere in there, as well, I have to cobble together an audition for the TBA Generals.

So, all in all, I have a very jam-packed rest-of-winter, but, after that? Zilch. Nada. Nix. Zero Nothing. Hopefully, that will change, but right now? Nothin’. On the bright side, that means I’ll have plenty of time to work on my latest Chekhov translation (The Cherry Orchard, available – along with my translations of the other major plays – to producers who are interested) and another project (potentially a cash cow) that I’ve had in mind for a while.  Not to mention a couple of other projects I’ve been wanting to pursue. (With lots of roles for actresses; be warned.) Unfortunately, that means I’ll have no excuse to not work on any or all of them.

So that’s it. I gotta run lines and tidy the place up for my replacement. I encourage you all to see Sam and Dede (it’s a really good script, even with me in it) and Uncle Vanya. All that’s left is for me to leave you with words to live by, my favorite curtain line; words that I’ve found are suitable to any occasion:

  “Son of a bitch stole my watch.”

I’m outta here, ya low-ridin’ punks!