#fan recollections: 1960s

[harrisonarchive]

George Harrison backstage in East Ham, November 9, 1963; photo by Jane Bown.

A few days prior, in Ireland:

“Another relative promised a fan that she would ask George for his autograph at the get-together [between George, his mother Louise, and her Irish relatives] in Drumcondra. She was as good as her word. [The fan, Sandra Grant - then 16 - recalled] ‘[A woman] happened to say that her nephew was on the show. I said, 'Who would that be?’ She said, 'George Harrison.’ I said, 'George Harrison! He’s my favourite.’ He always seemed to me to be the underdog of the group. He was the quiet, gentle one. I always had a sneaking sympathy for him. He was overwhelmed by the notoriety of John and Paul for their songwriting ability and Ringo for his personality and looks. She actually took out of her bag a Polaroid photograph of George doing the washing-up in the council house in Liverpool. She took out another photograph of him in the back garden with his parents. They were little, coloured Polaroid photos, like you got in those days. I begged her if possible would she get an autograph for me. She couldn’t understand how anybody could be looking for an autograph of somebody. But she said the family were meeting up later and that if she got an opportunity she would. 'She told me she worked at the hat counter in a shop on George’s Street. The next morning, instead of going to work I went straight to the ship to see if she had the autograph. I whizzed off on the bus into town and ran all the way from Eden Quay up to George’s Street. I was there at nine o'clock on the dot. I went in and recognised her immediately. I asked her if she had got the autograph. She said she had. There were counters there with very deep drawers where the hats would have been stored. She opened the drawer and took out the autograph. She gave it to me. I practically kissed her with gratitude and thanked her so very much for remembering me. That’s how I got George Harrison’s autograph.’” - The Beatles Irish Concerts (x)

#George Harrison #The Beatles #Beatlemania #quote #quotes about George #fan recollections #fan recollections: 1960s #fits queue like a glove

[thislovintime]

(Photos 1, 2 & 4 are screenshots from The Monkees and Head; photo 3 by Henry Diltz.)

Q: “Do chicks dig [your hair]?” Peter Tork: “They love it. (chuckles) Love to run their fingers through my soft, silky hair.” Q: “Do you dig that?” PT: “Pardon?” Q: “I say, do you dig that?” PT: “Which?” Q: “Running their fingers through your soft, silky hair.” PT: “I prefer the girls.” - screen test, 1965

“[Monkees fan Loreen Mahoney said that Peter] ‘looked absolutely gorgeous, his hair was so shiny.’ […] Of the whole performance [in Seattle] she says she remembers most of all, Peter’s opening words of: ‘Let you in on a secret, we love you all.’” - The Calgary Albertan, September 2, 1967

Times: “More important, your hair. It was like the precursor to the popular Dorothy Hammill cut in the 1970s. Did you influence her? You had such pretty hair for a boy.” Peter Tork: “I know. Hair is interesting. The Monkees were on the road in the 1960s and we met this guy whose hair was just sort of awkward and he said to me, ‘How do you do it? You have the best hair.’ I talked to him for a long time and told him (adopts philosophical tone). ‘I don't have the best hair because I decide this is what my hair should look like and make it fall into place like that. This is the way my hair is. And if you really want the good hair, you have to check with your own hair....’ And I got back into the car and the other guys gave me so much s--. But the guy and I were talking very existentially. The others just didn't get it.” - St. Petersburg Times, June 23, 2000

#Peter Tork #:) #Tork quotes #60s Tork #1960s #The Monkees #Monkees #screenshots #<3 #and #more for the solid Tork advice files #sort of anyway! #long read #Monkees fans #Tork fan recollections #1965 #1966 #1967 #1968 #2000 #Tork reviews #The Calgary Albertan #can you queue it

[hooked-on-elvis]

"Really, believe me, I'm Elvis Presley"

Can you imagine a time when Elvis was not famous just yet and people kinda ignored him?

Of course we know he wasn't famous his whole life but it's so impressive knowing about a time when people saw him face to face and couldn't care less. I invite you on reading about a few of these moments. There's my personal written in here and also - properly credited - info and text from the website Elvis Australia and Mr. Alfred Wertheimer's accounts on moments shared side by side to Elvis in 1956. Here we go!

"Those are words the King probably never had to use again. But on this train ride to Memphis from New York, the two young woman didn't believe who he was. So Elvis pointed to Alfred Wertheimer, and asked the girls why he'd have a photographer taking his picture on a train if he wasn't Elvis Presley. Good point! The girls then seemed to believe him, but still turned down an invitation to his concert at Memphis' Russwood Station July 4th 1956. This photo is either july 3 or July 4, 1956."

Text from: https://www.elvispresleymusic.com.au/pictures/1956-july-3.html | Recollections by photographer Alfred Wertheimer.

July 4th, 1956 - Elvis during a stop at Sheffield Alabama. Elvis ordered chicken and snack cakes - Photo by Alfred Wertheimer.

What a shot! Elvis is looking at the camera, everyone else is looking at the food. No one is paying any attention to Elvis! Guess the folks didn't know they were buying chicken a la king. Text from: https://www.elvispresleymusic.com.au/pictures/1956-july-3.html

July 4, 1956 - Elvis at Chattanooga train station. This is (most certainly) the moment we talk about below.

Another example Mr. Wertheimer mentioned on being around Elvis and how he was still not quite famous yet by mid 1956, which may bothered him someway - or at least kept him anxious, hopeful and working hard to achieve his goals, is this:

Q: What was your relationship with Elvis like? Alfred: I used him and he used me in a symbiotic way. You see, he was almost at the point where he was being recognized as a national star, but not quite. I'll give you an example. Once, in a railroad station in Chattanooga, Tennessee, we were waiting to change trains. Elvis went over to a magazine rack and picked up a movie magazine. He found a photo of himself inside and says to me 'Al, can I have a pen?' I gave him one and he scribbled his name inside the magazine. Then he goes over to the two girls working at the magazine rack. He had the spread open to his picture, showing it to them. He's also looking back at me with a huge Cheshire Cat grin. Their reaction was 'That'll be 35 cents sir'. (laughing) Elvis said to them 'No, this is for you. I'm Elvis Presley'. Finally the girls agree that it is. In the meantime, I'm capturing pictures of all of this, which is really what Elvis wanted. He knew one day that he would be very famous, and he wanted to capture on film these kinds of moments.

Source: https://www.elvis.com.au/presley/interview-with-photographer-alfred-wertheimer.shtml | Published: August 12, 2023 | Alfred Wertheimer's accounts on Elvis. Note: I recommend you read the full interview.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anyway… That was only normal, given the circumstances but still impressive! Soon, not long after that, Elvis Aaron Presley, the Tupelo country boy, the former truck driver, was "ELVIS PRESLEY, the King of Rock and Roll", and he had all the attention he always hoped for. And it never ceased. Not even death could do anything to stop him from being adored. If he only knew... ♥

1. April 19, 1960 - Elvis greets fans from train door at T&P station in Fort Worth on layover en route to film 'GI Blues' in Hollywood. 2. Backstage in Toronto, ON on April 2, 1957 - Elvis canadian fans

1972.

1956.

#elvis presley #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis fandom #50s elvis #elvis #elvis history #elvis and alfred wertheimer #1956 #alfred wertheimer #elvis photos

[emeraldstorms]

Hi! I'm pretty new to the DD fandom. I saw your post about Matt making up Mike. But people talk about him like he is real? Is this fanon? Is Mike made up or not? I feel kind of stupid to ask because everyone else seems to know what's going on lmao

Please, don’t feel stupid for not knowing 6 decades of comic books by heart.

I’ll try my best to summarize the “Tale of Mike Murdock” as far as my recollection of things allows. I’m sorry I can’t keep it super short because sometimes I need to point out how silly Matt is. Like, I love him, but what a dumbass. 

(DD fans feel free to correct me if I misremember something).

Okay, here it comes(dialogue paraphrased lol)

Not to sound like J. Jonah Jameson, but… this is all Spiderman’s fault. 

In the beginning, Spidey and DD had a rivalry going on. While both acknowledged that they were on the same side, they weren’t exactly fans of one another.

Spidey finds out Matt is DD. Of course, he isn’t gonna out him, but he also apparently can’t just do nothing, but has to let Matt know he knows. So he writes Matt a letter, basically saying “I know you’re DD, but your secret is safe with me” and sends said letter not to Matt’s house or something. No, he mails it to the law firm “Nelson and Murdock”.

In a not so surprising turn of events, Karen Page opens the letter. You know, managing her bosses’ mail as secretaries do. She reads it and tells Foggy about it. Foggy and Karen confront Matt.

Matt is then like “haha, stupid Spiderman! Confused me with my… um… twin brother Mike!”. He says this not only to Karen. No, he also says it to Foggy, who is his best friend since law school, has been to Matt’s childhood home and to his Dad's funeral without seeing hide or hair of a twin brother. 

So Foggy says, “You don’t have a twin brother.” 

Matt says, “Do too! He’s just a loner and also Daredevil.”

Karen and Foggy remain skeptical. But Matt has the advantage that his friends don’t know about his super senses yet. So when a man, looking like Matt but interacting with the world like a sighted person, appears, they do buy it. (It’s a 1960s comic book after all).

For a while Matt juggles his three identities, but at one point it becomes too much (especially the Matt-Karen-Mike triangle getting out of hand). So he fakes DD’s and thus Mike’s death. Then he’s like “Very sad. But my brother trained a successor to be DD in case of his death.” So he can go on being Daredevil, but no longer having to play Mike as well. And that was that for a while.

Anyway, since Matt is not only a dumbass but also a dork, he had a dossier about Mike. For reasons, the dossier got in the hands of Reader, a blind inhuman who has an ability called “Literary Manifestation” aka what he reads (in braille) becomes real. This works three times between two resting phases (with kind regards to DnD xD). So he reads the dossier about Mike and Mike manifests. For emergency cases, Reader has a braille note on his belt, spelling “erase”, but Mike senses the danger and flees before Reader can use the note.

Mike then kidnaps Foggy to get Matt to meet and talk to him. Afterwards, Matt feels it would be wrong to “kill” Mike and lets him go. 

Mike becomes a criminal - I’m not sure if because Matt created him as a “roguelike character” or because he has no other choice with not having any papers. So he joins a group of burglars at one point whose leader has a Norn stone. The burglars use it to open doors, make walls disappear etc, but Mike steals it and uses it to change reality.

So far he is real only for himself, but he changes the world so people remember him, his mother, his brother, childhood friends etc.

TLDR: Mike was just a fake identity of Matt, but now he is real because of inhuman power and a norn stone 

I hope this helps and you’re a bit less confused. <3

#ask #anon ask #daredevil #mike murdock #matt murdock #foggy nelson #karen page

[ausetkmt]

‘We carried pistols to defend ourselves’: the Four Tops and the Temptations on six decades of soul | Soul | The Guardian

Duke Fakir, the last surviving founding member of the Four Tops, is reminiscing on the halcyon days of Detroit’s seminal soul music label as it made its mark on the 1960s. “Motown really did feel like a big family back then,” he says. “We all hung out, partied, played golf, held BBQs, appeared on one another’s records. Those were amazing times.”

The Temptations’ Otis Williams agrees: “Motown was no happenstance. God brought that up to start. Detroit, Michigan, was known for the big three – General Motors, Ford and Chrysler. Nowthe city’s going to be known as the Big Four because Motown has made a similar impact to those automobile manufacturers.”

Fakir and Williams speak on separate Zoom calls from their respective homes in Detroit and Los Angeles before they set off. Their recollections of the original Motown period speak to their personalities: Fakir possesses a mellifluous voice and often speaks in endearing platitudes; Williams enunciates his philosophical musings in the deepest, gruffest tones imaginable. “We have such loyal fans here – they really know our songs and give us so much love,” says Williams, clearly still excited about the prospect of crossing the pond even after so many trips. Fakir concurs: “Sometimes I think Motown is more popular and appreciated in Britain than in the US.”

Fakir describes that night as “one of the most memorable and magical of my life. … I got chatting to Paul McCartney and he was asking me how we did certain vocal harmonies,” he says. “There were lots of musicians there – members of the Stones and Small Faces and other bands too. Everyone was smoking hash and having a high old time!”

Motown’s legacy in the UK is undeniable to this day, as evidenced by Diana Ross’s triumphant Glastonbury legends performance this year. Both men agree that Ross, like them, can still turn it on. “Berry Gordy’s vision with Motown – the songs, the producers, the artists, the training we all received in how to present ourselves – he was thinking long term,” says Williams. “That’s why Diana and Stevie and the Tops and Temptations are still out here.”

There’s no doubting Gordy’s genius and the durability of Motown’s finest songs. But Williams and Fakir deserve credit for ensuring their groups remain top level draws – especially given that neither were originally the lead vocalists in their respective groups. “I had a long apprenticeship,” says Fakir. “The Tops formed in 1953 and we didn’t score our first hit until 1964 but, during those years, we were busy working clubs across America and, with that, came an understanding of how to make sure things ran smoothly.”

“I learnt how to take care of business because no one else would,” Williams says circumspectly.

But over the years, the internal relationships of the two groups would come to stand in dramatic contrast: the Tops were a band of brothers, the Temptations extraordinarily dysfunctional. “We were friends who worked things out democratically,” says Fakir. It was only cancer – which claimed Lawrence Payton in 1997, Obie Benson in 2005 and the quartet’s mighty lead vocalist Levi Stubbs in 2008 – that diminished a band that formed as teenagers in 1953. “Each of us had his role in the group and we all worked together. We’re only human, so we did have disagreements – but we were a loving unit.”

Love is not a word Williams uses to describe the Temptations: the acrimonious departures of lead vocalists David Ruffin and Eddie Kendricks, followed by Paul Williams’ death in 1973, spelt the end of the classic lineup. Other members were fired, or quit following altercations. After Melvin Franklin died of a brain seizure in 1995, it left Otis Williams as the only original member. By then Ruffin, Kendricks and Paul Williams had all died – from an overdose, lung cancer and gunshot, respectively. As we speak, both men regularly thank God for their good health and lengthy careers.

For a hugely successful outfit who created such uplifting music, the Temptations’ story is a tragic one. “Success can test an individual so as to reveal their true self,” Williams says, when asked about why the Temptations were so conflicted, “I hate that there was not enough solidarity for us to hang on in there. I hate that I lost my guys, because we made such an impact on the world. But the one thing that’s constant in life is change. It’s not the guys that go ahead and take the money out and think it’s all about them who always survive. I went through a lot but God in his infinite wisdom left me here to carry on in their spirit.”

Despite the adversity they’ve faced, and the members they’ve lost, both groups are, perhaps improbably, still going strong. Earlier this year, the Temptations released a new album, Temptations 60, marking 60 years since their debut, while Fakir has recently published an autobiography, I’ll Be There: My Life With The Four Tops. Still, both Williams and Fakir seem aware that their days of touring can’t last forever. Williams is 80 while Fakir is 86; the former says he’s in “good shape, so long as God allows”, but the latter is ready to call it a day. “This tour will be my last of the UK,” says Fakir. “I’m planning on retiring in the next year.”

Will the Tops continue without him?

“The Tops will go on forever, just like Motown,” he replies. “This is forever music.”

#Motown #Detroit #The Four Tops #Temptations #‘We carried pistols to defend ourselves’: the Four Tops and the Temptations on six decades of soul #civil rights in america

[grassangel]

It's easy to get caught up in the Cold War era trappings and the compelling violence inherent to the film's Mafia storyline but I adore the theme of time in Goncharov.

From the metronomic tick-tock that winds its way through the soundtrack and hidden sometimes in the foley with Andrey's footsteps and punctuated by the clicks of gun slides and safeties, to the clock tower scene and that shot of the bird on Katya's jewellery box winding down to deathly stillness. Time, and death, permeate the film and I'm always slightly disappointed that the original posters, and re-released DVD art, play up the schlocky Mafia angle.

However, I learnt that in 1979, SPTV (a rebrand/precursor to TVNZ/channel 2) aired a version of Goncharov cut into two 45 minute chunks as a drama rather than a movie. This had something to do with licensing and NZ's censorship policy. The above image is the title card done for this mini-series cut.

As a result of the censorship needed to air the movie on TV, a lot of the more graphic violence was cut. Instead of the climatic gunfight between Goncharov and Andrey being shown, the audio is played over a slow pan down the steps of the clock tower until it cuts to the dramatic reveal of the bloody results of their fight. Same goes for Katya's betrayal; it's edited to hold on the shot of her hand holding the wine glass for a couple of seconds more rather than actually show her betrayal.

Some people would say this editing & censorship ruins the film, but I think it's nothing short of brilliant that this edit, due to the constrictions placed upon it, strengthens the themes of time & inevitable death. I'm also very fond of the fact it resulted in this amazing title card that properly emphasizes those themes in the movie.

Sadly, the edited mini-series version of Goncharov was aired maybe two times before the tapes were destroyed. They're likely rotting in the former Porirua dump, but some amazing (and dedicated) NZ fans who remember watching the edit on TV have posted their recollected versions of the mini-series cut on daily motion here. I absolutely recommend giving their versions a watch, especially if you prefer to analyse the film from an artistic perspective.

Sources linked below

Naples photo from https://www.flickr.com/photos/15216811@N06/24721107800

Goncharov font is https://www.dafont.com/abandon2.font?psize=l

Hourglass graphic is from an Australian Broadcasting Company title card for Doctor Who found here: https://www.tumblr.com/fictionparadox/170719395324/1960s-australian-broadcasting-corporation-title

A bunch of back story gently repurposed from the history of Doctor Who in New Zealand (mostly the bits about the censors getting at bits and tapes rotting in a dump, and SPTV really did exist in 1979)

#goncharov #unreality

[thenonconformistcurmudgeon]

Epilogue

“When it comes to the past, we all write fiction.” Stephen King.

A life is made up of a compendium of stories. What is real and what is fantasy can be hard to distinguish and does it really matter?  John became unsure of what was actually true or not. So many stories seemed so distant in the past that it was hard for John to believe he actually lived them.    Most of the sting of past difficulties had been extinguished so he could treat them as if someone else lived them. He was able to tell the stories with poignant depth but he experienced a degree of emotional distance from them, as they were seemingly so long ago. I suppose it is called healing.

Amusing events actually get better with time and likely exaggerated. Memories become warped by the hourglass and we reinterpret and attach emotions to the reminiscence from the person who we have become and less so from who we were when events took place. Rememberances are not photographic.  Recollections and the self are malleable. John loved telling a funny tale, knew the exact spots to emphasize, and enjoyed nothing more than tickling a funny bone.  

John always had an active fantasy life. Fantasy was a diversion from reality, his own life or the sad state of the modern but still primitive human culture. Thousands of years ago, barbaric humans needed some basic rules. Thus, the ten commandments. Don’t kill, steal, lie, covet.  There are also the 7 deadly sins. Lust, greed, gluttony, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. John didn’t feel humanity had come too far in the passing of mellinneums as basic rules of civility are routinely ignored.

What was real or not in John’s life? Growing up with a mentally ill parent, having an addiction to extra gluten, his attachment to the bongos, pitching a no hitter in little league, slipping without falling, game show producer, time travelling with Pythagoras and Vasco Da Gama, being unable to do a wink and a nod correctly, writing a German circus for information on a head spinning act he saw on Sullivan from the 1960’s, accidently lighting himself on fire, having a small mouth but a proportionally large tongue, throwing the towel in the ring too soon as a cornerman for a boxer, having a bit part in a movie as a mourner with an open casket and his only line being “he looks good”,  an ambivalent fan of Ethel Merman, promoting the return of quicksand scenes in film and television, a period of near total paralysis, having tiny ear canals, an addiction to smoking jackets, his unbridled admiration for the inventor of wheeled luggage, having once grown mutton chops with a pencil thin moustache, his heartbreak for never having visited the pigeon museum in Oklahoma or the museum of barbed wire in Kansas, his failed research for who was the inventor of the term Be Kind-Rewind on VHS rental tapes, or his supposed expertise on using the horizontal and vertical hold knobs on old TVs. Although he would be the first to tell you that a lot of people claimed they were good with the vertical and horizontal hold but that they tended to over rate their abilities.

John’s death occurred quietly at his home in his easy chair, contented after he performed a splashy and rousing plate spinning novelty act routine in a Vegas lounge. Although he talked a good game of existential angst, he was actually in tune with the life he led and had few regrets. Near the end, he accepted that it was OK to be ordinary and a legacy was a silly concept.  Life was simply preposterous.  Like others before and after him, he lived, loved, lied, lauded, lamented, lusted, laughed, learned, lavished, looked, listened, latched on, loafed, luxuriated, and lollygagged as well as numerous other action words beginning with L and other letters of the alphabet.

#Epilogue

[jonfarreporter]

Turn of A Potter’s Wheel, A Sonoma Artist Recollects on The Figurative Art Movement of the San Francisco Bay Area

Upon learning about the current exhibit at the Sausalito Center for The Arts (SCA) entitled “Third Generation: The Bay Area Figurative Movement Today,” Sonoma artist and former mayor Larry Murphy was taken aback.

“If I had to spend the rest of my life looking at only one school of art it would be that group of artists,” he said. Murphy recollected his younger days coming of age just as the 1960’s had begun to change the world.

As a San Franciscan he witnessed and experienced the cultural shifts and trends that was redefining post-World War II America. San Francisco and the Bay Area was experiencing a vibrant and diverse energy that had its own style, palate of colors, tastes and even it’s own rock and roll sound.

As an artist he was attracted to pottery and watercolor, the San Francisco Art Institute was a hub at the time. Artists and designers from all over the country were coming to the Bay Area to see for themselves what the West Coast was doing.

After World War II everything in terms of culture was focused on America, and the center for art, wasn’t Paris or Amsterdam, it was New York City. Abstract art was a major influence with works by Jackson Pollock and conceptual, minimalist and pop art.

Yet as young people went westward to California for sunshine and “The Summer of Love,” art in the Bay Area was firmly figurative.

Murphy explained, “I studied under Joan Brown, I love Nathan Olivera, Robert Arneson, Wayne Thiebaud, Richard Diebenkorn especially him!” He said. “And Manuel Neri, along with many others.”

Those he mentioned are like a “who’s who” of the Figurative Movement of the Bay Area, especially those artists that would profoundly impact those artists of what the SCA describes as “The Third Generation.”

“To me the most exciting things about these artists, said Murphy is their bold compositions.

“But, especially the way they used thick rich globby paint textures, he added. Murphy who still finds time to paint, exclaimed. “They make me drool!” Suddenly pinpointing a specific recollection he blurted out. “Oh lord, also the brilliant sculptor Stephen deStaebler.”

“And, Also Peter Voulkos,” he said. “Along with Viola Frey, she was another of my teachers,” said Murphy.

Confirming Frey’s work and impact upon the Figurative Movement in the Bay Area, speaking on behalf of the Artist’s Legacy Foundation, Cynthia de Bos said. “Despite Abstract Expressionism’s dominance in the art world at that time, Frey made a conscious decision to embrace figurative art after she saw Richard Diebenkorn’s figurative show at Poindexter Gallery in New York in 1958.”

Serving as the foundation’s Director of Collections and Archives, de Bos also pointed out that, “Frey did indeed embrace the figure from as early as her student years from 1953-56.”

Similarly, especially with the art of Stephen de Staebler, it’s no surprise that as a pottery maker Murphy is an enamored fan. Applauded as a sustainer in the figurative tradition, during the post World War II era, de Staebler was an important figure in the California Clay Movement.

Murphy at the insistence of his wife Rose transferred to California College of The Arts and obtained a Master’s degree in Fine Arts.

This then eventually lead Murphy and Rose with their burgeoning young family to move to the Sonoma Valley. Murphy accepted a teaching position at the prestigious Justin-Siena, and a more settled life for him and Rose began.

After teaching art for more than 15 years, when he retired from Justin-Siena, Murphy became a pub owner in town. He later became Mayor of Sonoma. As the responsibilities of being mayor and pub-owner were stressful, Murphy still managed to keep his artwork going.

An avid fly-fishing enthusiast many of Murphy’s watercolor paintings are of scenes of lakes and streams of those fly-fishing trips. Whereas he described to KQED Perspectives, “to put myself in that beautiful place where nature is mostly untroubled by human intervention.”

Murphy doesn’t do poetry as much anymore. It’s messy and watercolor painting is more portable, he can do anywhere. Even though watercolors seem simple, to master the technique and medium of watercolor painting takes work, focus and patience.

As he used to say to his students, “there’s no such thing as ‘instant art.’ “Pop art often makes that impression. But real true art takes work.”

Reading over the exhibit program at the SCA website, Murphy reiterated the teachers and artists he knew. The Figurative Art Movement of the Bay Area did make an impact, one he remembers with affection and admiration.

“Spectacular stuff in my view, he continued, I have left out dozens of really exciting artists,” he said.

Third Generation: The Bay Area Figurative Movement Today is currently on view at SCA from Jan 5-28th, 2024. A Reception will be held on Saturday, Jan 20th, from 2 to 5pm. Refreshments will be served. For more details, visit the Sausalito Center for The Arts website.

#sonoma #Sausalito Center for The Arts #Figurative Art Movement Bay Area #larry murphy #Catherine Merrill

[packernet]

New Post has been published on https://www.packernet.com/blog/2022/09/01/14-has-a-nice-ring-to-it/

14 has a nice ring to it

I’m  old enough to remember none of the 1960’s glory years. My first Packer memories are of the 1971-72 seasons. Weird scenes and fuzzy recollections of Bart Starr coming to the sideline holding his throwing arm; a nearly spent Ray Nitschke dragging a bad leg on his way to a pick six. Then there’s that one great division title in ’72, amidst the Dan Devine dumpster fire.

As a Packer fan coming of age in the 1970’s-and-80’s, I learned to expect losing. We learned that lesson over and over. To dream during those two long decades was to dream of .500 team that “might” flirt with playoff contention. Most of the Forrest Gregg and Bart Starr years were pretty dark ones in Packer lore.

Quality and Consistency

Combing my memory for this history is to remind my fellow Packer backers to enjoy the ride. Since 1992, we’ve been pretty spoiled as a fan base. Other than the Patriots, who has had a better 30-year run than Green Bay? Not many, if any.

While coming up short in the playoffs in 2020, ’21 and ’22 were painful pills to swallow, we continue to have a consistent winner to look forward to each week. Although we have “only” two Lombardi trophy’s in the last 30-years, you know fans in Detroit, Minnesota and dozens of other NFL fan bases would gladly trade for our win-loss records.

So what about 2022?

Aug 8, 2019; Green Bay, WI, USA; A Green Bay Packers helmet sits on the sidelines during the game against the Houston Texans at Lambeau Field. Mandatory Credit: Jeff Hanisch-USA TODAY Sports

This year the Packers have a deep talented roster; a presumptive HOF-QB coming off back-to-back MVP’s; a defense that’s loaded (on paper) featuring 7, yes 7, number 1 draft picks that could be among the best in the league; they’re in a weak division in the weaker conference. Leaving training camp the roster looks deep and about as healthy as we could hope.

Let’s not forget that our starting line-up will soon feature 3 All-Pro level players (Bakhtiari, Jenkins and Alexander) that missed most or all of last year.

A trip to the desert in February?

My prediction for 2022 is the Green Bay Packers coast to a Division title and they exorcise the LaFleur/Rodgers recent playoff demons by winning the NFC Title. On February 12th, 2023, the Green Bay Packers will defeat the Buffalo Bills in a nail biter to notch a 14th World Championship. In the unlikely event that these optimistic prognostications go awry, remember to enjoy the ride.

[pleasantlyinsincere]

Older, long-ish article about and with quotes from Mal’s diary and manuscript. Maybe gives a small impression of what to expect.

First published in The Sunday Times Magazine, 20 March 2005

By Mark Edmonds

Exclusive: WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM THEIR FRIEND

One man devoted himself to running the daily lives of The Beatles. So why do his diaries, seen here for the first time, strike a sad note?

HERE, THERE AND EVERYWHERE The Beatles were his life. He was their mate, driver, skivvy - even co-musician. Mal Evan's diaries, seen here for the first time, reveal the everyday secrets of pop's greatest band.

Mal Evans began the 1960's as a Post Office engineer in Liverpool. By the end of the decade, he'd appeared in three out of the five Beatles films and was an occasional musician on their albums. It was Mal playing the organ on Rubber Soul, Mal who sounded the alarm clock in A Day in The Life. On Abbey Road, it was Mal, not Maxwell, who banged the silver hammer.

Part of the Beatles' small but exceptionally protective inner sanctum, Mal was one of just two witnesses at Paul McCartney's first wedding. Among the hundreds of claimants to the threadbare title "fifth Beatle", he was arguably the most deserving. Wherever the Beatles went, Mal would never be far behind.

In the 10 years he spent as their road manager, Mal was blessed with a greater insight than most into the group's spectacular rise, their domination of pop in the middle years, and their painful implosion in a welter of recriminations. Throughout the decade, he kept a series of diaries and wrote an unpublished autobiography; all of this had remained unseen, part of an archive that went missing when Mal himself died in bizarre circumstances in 1976.

For many years, an ever-growing number of Beatles historians have regarded the Mal Evans archive at the Holy Grail. Last year, rumors surfaces that it had turned up in a suitcase in a Sydney street market (not true) and that it contained outtakes of unreleased Beatle songs (ditto).The reality is rather more prosaic: 10 years after Mal's death, Yoko Ono was told about a trunk full of his effects that had been found by a temp clearing out files in the basement of a New York publisher; she arranged for them to be shipped back to his family in London. Among those effects were his diaries, which his widow, Lily, kept for years in an attic at her home.

Together with the photographs on these pages, most of them taken by Mal himself, they amount to a fascinating collection: the unwitting historic recollections of a Forrest Gump of a man, who by sheer good fortune ended up in the right place at the right time.

The story, inevitably, begins in Liverpool. A keen rock'n'roll fan, Mal would while away what he called his "extended lunchtimes" at the Cavern Club before putting in a brief appearance at the Post Office and then heading off to his house in Hillside Road, Mossley Hill.

In 1961 he had married a local girl, Lily, whom he had met at a funfair at New Brighton. Their first child, Gary, was born in the same year. Mal's life was settled, mundane and ordinary; nobody could have predicted that the bizarre twists and turns of his life in the next 15 years would lead to his premature and avoidable death at the hands of the police in California.

At the Cavern, Mal was soon noticed by the Beatles, who had a lunchtime residency at the club. George Harrison felt that Mal, at 6ft 3in, would make an ideal bouncer. He was also of an exceptionally gentle disposition, and Harrison was canny enough to realize that this too would be useful in the years ahead.

In the first few pages of his 1963 Post Office Engineering Union-issue diary, which includes information about Ohm's law and Post Office pay rates, he reflects upon his good fortune. Looking back on the previous year, he writes: "1962 a wonderful year... Could I wish for more beautiful wife, Gary, house, car... guess I was born with a silver canteen of cutlery in my mouth. Wanted a part time job for a long time - now bouncing... Lost tooth in 1962."

With this, Mal sets the tone. We soon find he is more the Pooter than the Pepys. As The Beatles' road manager - and trusted implicitly by all four - he is presented with an "access all areas" ticket to one of the best parties of the century. Yet somehow he never quite realizes it.

The year 1963 is crucial for The Beatles, ergo for Mal. At the start of the year it is becoming clear that working with them, particular on tour, is a more engaging diversion for him than family life in Mossley Hill. The band, now managed by Brian Epstein, are beginning to realize their potential. Mal drives them to London for one of their early BBC appearances (see panel [end of the article]), and later they make the most of the capital.

January 21, 1963: "Lads went shopping. Paul and George bought slacks. George a shirt in Regent St. This was before the Sat Club recording and we lost them for a while. Back to Lower Regent Studios for recording talent spot. Met Patsy Ann Noble, Rog Whittaker, Gary Marshall, a really good show. Also on the bill was a Birkenhead singer. At about 8.15 the boys went to Brian's room in the Mayfair for a Daily Mail interview. I parked the gear and joined them later... We left London at about 10 o'clock, stopping at 'Fortes' on M1 for large dinner - bought by the Beatles - and so homeward bound. Met a lot of fog... suddenly after leaving M1 short time windscreen cracked with a terrible bang. Had to break hole in windscreen to see... Stopped for tea at transport cafe... and arrived home at about five o'clock. I was up at 7.45 but lads laid in till about five that night. Lucky devils. They were on that night at the Cavern as fresh as ever with no after effects. The Beatles certainly have gone up in my estimation. They are all great blokes with a sense of humor and giving one the feeling they are a real team."

For much of the early 1960's, touring became Mal's life. Against the wishes of Lily, left at home with Gary, Mal gave up his job at the Post Office in order to be at the Beatles' beck and call full time, clocking up industrial levels of mileage driving from Liverpool to London. He was also expected to attend to almost every personal whim. John Lennon, who had a predilection for enigmatic silences, would punctuate these with murmured requests such as "socks, Mal" - at which point Mal would scoot off to Marks and Spencer to fetch six pairs in navy cotton.

By the spring of that year, Beatlemania was under way, Mal and Neil Aspinall, another old friend from Liverpool, accompanied the Beatles on all of their tours, making up what was an astonishing pared-down entourage. Aspinall still runs the Beatles' Apple organization.

The Beatle' first European tour began in Paris in January 1964. The ever-loyal Mal was on hand, this time accompanied by Lily and their young son. Mal writes about a "big punch-up" with photographers in Paris. In the manuscript of his unpublished book he recalls that this was "the only fight I got involved in on behalf of the Beatles" - although he was terrified when he and the band were nearly beaten up by Ferdinand Marcos's thugs in Manilla in 1966.

To mark the news in 1964 that the Beatles had reached number 1 in the US for the first time, Mal writes that Epstein threw a party at the hotel. Some journalists then hired prostitutes to provide a lesbian show for the Beatles in the room next to Epstein's. "It was a little unnerving to have these ladies performing before our eyes with each othe in one room, with Brian and more staid members of the press in the adjoining living room. I guess celebrations caters to everybody's different tastes."

With Beatlemania in full swing, Mal seems strangely oblivious: there is no sense in any of the diaries that he is working for the most famous, most successful pop stars of the time. But odd, intimate little moments are recorded:

March 18, 1964: "Had plastic cups in top pocket - milk poured in by George. John says after sarnies, 'Mal, you are my favorite animal.'"

****

After two further exhausting years on the road, the Beatles were ready to give up touring: the whole tiresome process had ceased to be of interest to the group. The Beatles, and Mal, for that matter, were just worn out.

But now there was a larger role for Mal as a studio "fixer": as the music became more complicated, he was dealing with an increasingly outlandish inventory of instruments and equipment, and he sometimes contributed as a musician. More than any other year so far, 1967 presented Mal and the Beatles with undremt-of possibilities: it was the year of satin tunics, Carnaby Street and Sgt. Pepper; the band was its creative, cohesive peak. On a more mundane level, Paul found himself without a housekeeper at his house at St. John's Wood - so Mal moved in with him. Mal writes of this time fondly, but complains of Paul's dog, Martha, fouling the beds.

Within a few months, Mal had moved his family - his second child, Julie, had been born in 1966 - from Liverpool to Sunbury-on-Thames, about equidistant from Paul's house and the homes of the other three in the Surrey stockbroker belt - another indication of how he'd let the band take over his life. Mal was also beginning to enjoy some of the more illicit aspects of the mid-1960s rock'n'roll lifestyle.

January 1, 1967: "Well, diary - hope it will be a great 1967. Have not slept... Friday night's recording session and journey to Liverpool. Late afternoon went over to the McCartney's in Wirral, and had dinner with them. Paul and Jane [Asher, McCartney's then girlfriend] had traveled up for the New Year - also Martha. Fan belt broke."

January 19 and 20, 1967: "Ended up smashed in the Bag O' Nails with Paul and Neil. quite a number of people attached themselves, oh that it would happen to me - freak out time baby for Mal.

"Eventually I spewed but this is because of an omlette I reckon. I was just nowhere, floating around. Slept till 5pm. Flowers arrived for George for his anniversary tomorrow. Made up yesterday with new number I'm counting on it and ringing alarm [he is referring to A Day in The Life, Sgt. Pepper's closing opus]. So George came back to flat for tea tonight, that is before we went home. He was in bedroom reading International Times, I was asleep on bed, very bad mannered. Left for home with Neil driving.. On M6, starter jammed. 10/- to free it. Hertz van still no comfort... I spent some time in the rest room."

Mal's diary describes the recording of the Sgt. Pepper album in some detail, referring to the song "Fixing a Hole" as "where the rain comes in". But there were soon signs that he is beginning to feel a little hard done by.

The rest of 1967 was as busy for Mal as it was for the Beatles: the overblown, complicated Sgt. Pepper was time-consuming. As soon as it was was completed, Mal flew with Paul to LA to see Jane Asher who was touring with the Old Vic company. The three took a trip to the Rockies and returned to LA by private jet. Mal took up the story: "We left Denver in Frank Sinatra's Lear Jet, which he very kindly loaned us. A beautiful job with dark black leather upholstery and, to our delight, a well stocked bar."

When they arrived, they went to Michelle and John Phillip's [of the Mamas and the Papas] house and Brian Wilson [of the Beach Boys] came round. Mal writes of joining in on guitar for a rendition of On Top of Old Smokey with Paul and Wilson. Mal, however, was not impressed by Wilson's avant-guarde tendencies; at the time he was putting together the Smile album. "Brian then put a dampener on the spontaneity of the whole affair by walking in with a tray of water-filled glasses, trying to arrange it into some sort of session." Mal wasn't keen on glass harmonicas - he would have preferred Elvis.

When they returned in April 1967, the Beatles began work on what was to become the ill-fated Magical Mystery Tour project. The band, with Paul taking an increasingly dominant role, was showing signs of stress. Mal wrote "I would get requests from the four of them to do six different things at one time and it was always a case of relying on instinct and experience in awarding priorities. They used to be right sods for the first few days until they realized that everything was going smoothly and they could get into the routine of recording...Then I would find time between numerous cups of tea and salad sandwiches and baked beans on toast to listen to the recording in the control room."

Once they'd completed the recording, Mal, Neil and their families were whisked off to Greece by the Beatles at George Harrison's expense. They spent a month under sunny skies on a wooden yacht in the Aegean. But their return. however, darker clouds were forming on the horizon. Before the summer was out, Epstein was dead after an overdose. Without his guiding hand, the Beatles plunged into the chaotic Magical Mystery Tour project. As ever, Mal was a crucial element, organizing the coach tour that formed the centerpiece of the film, recruiting actors and extras, then flying to Nice with Paul to film the Fool on the Hill sequence.

According to Mal, this trip, as did many, took place on an impulse; without luggage or papers. Paul sailed through immigration with no passport, but they were refused entry to the hotel restaurant because they didn't look the part. They headed off to a nightclub. "We had dinner in my room... The only money we had between us had been spent on clothes, on the understanding that money was to be forwarded from England by the Beatles office. After the first round of drinks... we arranged with the manager for us to get credit."

The next day, Mal and Paul returned to the club. "We took advantage of our credit standing, as money had still not arrived from England. News about Paul's visit to the club the previous night had spread, and the place was jammed. Now Paul, being a generous sort of person, had built up quite a bar bill, when the real manager of the club arrived demanding that we pay immediately. On explaining who Paul was and what happened, he answered, "You either pay the bill, or I call the police!" It certainly looked like we were getting thrown in jail. It was ironical, sitting in a club with a millionaire, unable to pay the bill." Eventually the hotel manager agreed to cover the money.

Paul and Mal returned to London, where Paul was to edit the film. But it was panned by the critics when televised that Christmas.

****

The year 1968 saw the genesis of Apple, the groups tour to Rishikesh in the Himalayas at the invitation of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi - and increasing tensions.

By the time the band arrives in India, Mal is already there, having carried out a recce a few days earlier. Ringo demands a doctor as soon as he gets off the plane. From Mal's memoir from February: "'Mal, my arm is killing me, please take me to a doctor right away.' So off we go looking for one, our driver leaving [sic] us to a dead end in the middle of a field, soon to be filled with press cars as they blindly follow us; so we explain to them that it's only Ringo's innoculation giving him trouble. When we arrived at the hospital, I tried to get immediate treatment for him, to be told curtly by the Indian doctor, 'He is not a special case and will have to wait his turn', so off we go to pay a private doctor ten rupees for the priviledge of hearing him say it will be all right."

The Beatles, accompanied by an entourage that included Mia Farrow, Donovan and the Beach Boy, Mike Love, write half a dozen songs in India, most of which are to end up on the White Album they release later that year. Mal's diary comments favorably on the sense of Karma that seemed to have settled on them. "It is hard to believe that a week has already passed. I suppose the peace of mind and the serenity one achieves through meditation makes the time fly." He even enjoyed the food, unlike Ringo, who famously turned up with a case of baked beans.

But the tranquility does not last, "Suddenly... excitement.. Ringo wants to leave... Maureen can't stand the flies any longer." Mal himself spent a month in India, before returning to London to help the others with the White Album sessions.

Later in the year, Mal travels to New York with George. They go to visit Bob Dylan and the Band, who are rehearsing at Big Pink, the Band's upstate retreat.

November 28, 1968: "Up at 10.30 to Woodstock... To Bob [Dylan] for Thanksgiving. Meet Levon [Helm] of the band, he is drummer, plays great guitar. Around the table after turkey, cranberry sauce, etc... & also Pecan pie. Bob, George, Rich, Happy, Levon... around the guitars while many children play; Sarah [Dylan] great - turkey sandwich and beer. To Richard [Manuel] & Garth's [Hudson] home for farm sessions - home to bed."

At this point, Mal's 1968 diary comes to an end; it has been an action packed year with two hit singles and a sprawling double album - but the Beatles are no longer a cohesive unit.

In the midst of a miserably cold winter, the band and Mal set off for Twickenham studios, where they are to start work on the project that is to become Let It Be, a filmed record of the Beatles at work. Already there is discord, and in front of the cameras they begin to disintegrate; from Mal we also get the first murmurings of real discontent.

January 13, 1969: "Paul is really cutting down on the Apple staff members. I was elevated to office boy [Mal had briefly been made MD of Apple] and I feel very hurt and sad inside - only big boys don't cry. Why I should feel hurt and reason for writing this is ego... I thought I was different from other people in my relationship with the Beatles and being loved by them and treated so nice, I felt like one of the family. Seems I fetch and carry. I find it difficult to live on the £38 I take home each week and would love to be like their other friends who buy fantastic homes and have all the alterations done by them, and are still going to ask for a rise. I always tell myself - look, everybody wants to take from, be satisfied, try to give and you will receive. After all this time I have about £70 to my name, but was content and happy. Loving them as I do, nothing is too much trouble, because I want to serve them.

"Feel a bit better now - EGO?"

The Let it Be film is to feature the Beatles in what is to become their last public performance, on the rooftop of the Apple office in London's Saville Row. Squabbles put to one side, the band, accompanied by Billy Preston on keyboards, are clearly enjoying themselves. Mal is unusually perky too.

January 24, 1969: "Skiffling 'Maggie May'; Beatles really playing together. Atmosphere is lovely in the studio - everyone seems so much happier than of recent times."

January 27: "Today we had the engineer to look at the roof of No.3. 5lbs sq. in is all it will take weight wise. Needs scaffolding to make platform. Getting helicopter for shot of roof. Should get good shot of crowds in street, who knows, police might try to stop us. Asked Alistair [Taylor, Apple office manager] to get toasted sandwich machine."

January 29: "Show on the roof of Apple. Four policemen kept at bay for 40minutes while the show goes on."

With the Beatles in free fall, Mal busies himself with jobs for other Apple artists and fetching and carrying for individual Beatles. Throughout the 1960's he and Paul had an affinity, and in March 1969, Mall was one of just two witnesses at Paul's wedding to Linda Eastman in London. The same day, George Harrison's home is raided for drugs.

March 13: "Big drama, last night about 7:30pm Pattie rang the office from home for George to say '8or 10 policemen including Sergeant Pilcher had arrived with search warrants looking for cannabis'. George went home with Derek and lawyer, and was released on £200 bail each. "

Mal, meanwhile, has financial worries.

April 24: "Had to tell George - 'I'm broke'. Really miserable and down because i'm in the red, and the bills are coming in, poor old Lil suffers as i don't want to get a rise. Not really true don't want to ask for a rise, fellows are having a pretty tough time as it is."

The Beatles record their last album, Abbey Road, in the summer of that year. Mal's diaries note that four alternative titles were mooted before the band settled on a title that celebrated the home of EMI studios. "titles suggested: Four In The Bar; All Good Children Go To Heaven; Turn Ups; Inclinations." Mal helps with John's Instant Karma, but he is finding Paul distant.

The next year, 1970, sees the Beatles continuing with their solo projects. The band is no longer recording together.

January 27: "Seem to be losing Paul - really got the stick from him today."

February 4: "To bed at 4:30am to rise at 7:45 to help get the children dressed... Lil had a driving lesson at 8am, then driving test at 9am which she passed. Bed after a couple of hours. Feel a cold coming on again. Walk into office late afternoon to meet Ringo go to shake he says ' Give us a cuddle then' its worth a million pounds that is and feel really recharged. George & Steve bass & guitar. Nanette. Ringo Drums."

February 5: "Bed this morning late.Up at 1 to phone. Conversation with Paul, something like this: 'Malcolm Evans' 'Yeah Paul' 'I've got the EMI [Abbey Road studio] over this weekend - I would like you to pick up some gear from the house' 'great man, that's lovely. session at EMI?' 'Yes but I don't want any one there to make me tea, I have the family, wife and kids there.' "

Mal clearly took Paul's distance to heart. There was now no group to look after. Mal continued to work with John, Ringo and George on their solo efforts and with the small stable of Apple musicians he had helped to build up. But for him, the adventure was pretty much over. When the Beatles broke up, there was a very strong chance that he would to.

Mal remained an employee of Apple until 1974, when he moved to LA, ostensibly to work as a record producer. He left Lily and the children the same year, moving in with Fran Hughes, whom he had met at the Record Plant studios in Los Angeles. The split from Lily had depressed Mal, and it was clear that he continued to miss the family, long after he walked out on them. Neither his family, nor the Beatles, his second family, were now close. "The times I had with him were brilliant. He was an extraordinary person," says his son, Gary, "But from the moment he met the Beatles to the moment he died, he wanted to live two parallel lives. He would have lived six months in the States and six months here, if he'd been able to get away with it."

On the morning of January 5, 1976, exactly two years after Mal had walked out, Lily took a phone call from Neil Aspinall. He told her that Mal had been shot in LA. "I immediately thought he'd been shot in a bank," says Lily, "I had to wake up the kids and tell them. I didn't know he was so low. He must have been missing the kids, depressed."

Mal had been killed by an officer of the Los Angeles Police Department, who had been called to a disturbance at his home in LA after it had been reported that he had been brandishing a weapon, which may or may not have been an air rifle. Fran had called the police. Gary believes he was drinking heavily and may have been on cocaine at the time. "It was all part of the rock'n'roll, '70s lifestyle." Gary added that he thinks his father may have been behaving like that in the knowledge that even if he was unwilling to end his own life, the LA police would show no such hesitation.

George arranged for Mal's family to receive £5000 in his death; he had no pension and he had not kept up his life-assurance premiums. Lily and Gary have met Paul twice to discuss the ownership of some Beatles lyrics Mal had tidied up, which she wanted to sell. Paul appears to have reached generous out-of-court settlements with her. Over the years, the Mal Evans archive has dwindled as Lily has been forced to sell other parts of it piecemeal.

As she looks back on the 1960s, Lily regrets the amount of time Mal gave up for the Beatles, but has fond memories; she and the children adored the huge fireworks parties that Ringo organized at his homes in Weybridge and Ascot. For Gary, who was 14 when his father died, memories of the 1960s are bittersweet. "The Greek holiday was wonderful. there were good times interspersed among the 'Where is he's?'

"I'd go to school on the Monday, and the teacher would say, 'What did you do at the weekend?' I'd say, 'I went round to John Lennon's house'. I thought that was normal. Sometimes I found it all a bit much. I'd be picked up from school by my dad in John Lennon's psychedelic Rolls-Royce. He'd be wearing a cowboy hat, surrounded by kids. I'd think, 'I don't need this'."

Ultimately, Gary remains disappointed about the fact that the Beatles did not make proper provision for his father or his family. When Mal left, Lily had to return to work to pay the mortgage and keep the children going. "It was very tight," Gary recalls. "We were on free school meals. It's very galling when you look back at what my dad's imput into that band and we ended up like that." We asked Sir Paul McCartney to comment, but a spokesperson said he was "unavailable".

It's difficult to properly evaluate Mal's contribution to the Beatles, but for a long period he was regarded as indispensable. He was trusted, universally liked, and desperately loyal: his diaries give away no indiscretions, though he certainly would have been party to them. Even Lily acknowledges that, "he would have had a few flings." But none of that bothered her: she always seemed more concerned that he was "too nice for his own good" and that the band would treat him "like a dishcloth".

If he had followed her advise and remained a Post Office engineer in Mossley Hill, he would have missed out on Sgt. Pepper, the Beatles in India and his meetings with Elvis, his hero. And his passing, too, in the sprawling suburbs of Los Angeles, might also have turned out to be just a little less rock'n'roll.

****

EXCERTS FROM MAL'S DIARIES:

January 20, 1963: Mal drives the Beatles to London

Picked up George at about 10.45 then picked up John, Paul & Ringo... George bought me dinner at Whitchurch and took over the driving up to about 20 miles before the M1... My only wish was for better headlights on the van otherwise admirable to drive, and I could not have wished for better company. They [The Beatles] made me feel at home with them at once. After steady 70-75 miles down the M1, entered London via Finchley... The boys seemed to know their way and... took us to the door of EMI house. There we met Kenny Lynch, Jess Conrad & Carol Deene all nice people.

January 4, 1967: Recording Penny Lane

Traveled to London left about 11am. Lil's back acting up a little again. Recording "Penny Lane" but Paul and John still not satisfied so will do voices again tomorrow. Went to Bag O' Nails about 3.45 after session. Cyn, Terry and Stan. Jane came to studio in her car. Had fish and chips in studio. Joss sticks burning a plenty tonight, really do get to like the smell.

January 27, 1967: Sgt. Pepper

Started writing song with Paul upstairs in his room, he on piano. What can one say about today - ah yes! Four Tops concert at Albert Hall. Beatles get screams they get the clap. Off to Bag after gig. Did a lot more of "where the rain comes in". Hope people like it. Started Sergeant Pepper.

February 1, 1967:

"Sergeant Pepper" sounds good. Paul tells me that I will get royalties on the song - great news, now perhaps a new home.

February 2, 1967:

Recording voices on Captain [sic] Pepper. All six of us doing the chorus in the middle, worked until about midnight. Bag took Cynthia [Lennon]. Bed about 5.30pm after no sleep. Ugh! Cleaning lady Mrs. Turner. Cor!!! Had to go to doctor in 6 George Street. Bought Ringo some undies for his visit to the Doctor.

March 30, 1967:

Played cow bell on Ringo's number [With a Little Help From My Friends]. Paul asked after who played that great cow bell...

February 17, 1968: In India and recording The White Album

The press really tried kicking down the gates into the Ashram - the Indian people on the Ashram called me halfway through, but as soon as an Indian reporter told me "no bloody foreigner is going to stop me in my own country" I cooled it.

February 23, 1968:

The Beatles all met Maharishi on his cottage roof... off to the beach after lunch, well its not really the beach but the bank of the Ganges... Jane still not well although the other minor complaints have been 'faith healed', and Ringo had a dead rat in drawer.

July 9, 1968:

Oobledee [Ob La Di, Ob La Da] goes well and Eric Clapton plays [sic] a visit... Off to pub for toasted cheese sarnies, later Paul went to the pub with George, Neil and Pete for a pint. John and George guitars - Ringo drums for new version of 'Revolution'. Put up slide for kids and filmed Julie on it.

September 13, 1968:

Heard today that the police arrived at EMI to bust us after we had left. On further enquiries this did not appear to have happened - wouldn't matter anyway, what would they find?

March 12, 1969: Paul and Linda's Wedding

Paul and Linda got married this morning at Marylebone registry office, due to at 9.45 but Mike's train from Birmingham was delayed... When Peter Brown and myself passed the registry office at about 9.15 there were only a few photographers and ardent fans standing in the rain, but when we left at 11.30am or perhaps it was 11.15am we were mobbed by a crowd of about 1000. Heather [Linda's daughter] was carried out by a policeman and Ray of the hire car company... Back at home, they did a couple of TVs and then went to the local church to be "BLESSED". Off to the Ritz Piccadilly for a wedding lunch, where we were joined by Neil and Sue. Escargot for moi; TV interview in the Ritz and deliver Paul and Linda McCartney to home and feet up by the fire.

August 8, 1969 (Accompanied by drawing of Abbey Road album cover photo)

Up at 8.30am, arriving at 9.45am. Ringo first at 10.15 with the others arriving just after eleven. Policeman gets quite excited at a few people, and Ian missed the picture. George, (??) and I go to Regents Park Zoo and meditate in the sun. To Krishna temple for lunch and studio for 3pm. Yoko, John and Ringo went to Paul and Linda's for lunch. It was very nice.

#mal evans #the beatles #the bit about Ringo giving him a hug is my fav

[sweetdreamsjeff]

A Meeting of Mythologies

Guitarist and singer Jeff Buckley was a budding superstar. He died in Memphis in May 1997 at age 30. This is his story.

by Danielle Costello

April 3, 2017

In the fall of 1997, I spent an evening with my older brother traversing New York City’s Lower East Side, searching for the spirit of Jeff Buckley. Our intended altar was Sin-é, a tiny bar-cum-performance space that was once a muse to the late singer with the unforgettable falsetto and a knack for colorful asides. A few wrong turns instead landed us in the right place, called 2A, where a Buckley intimate was keeping bar. Tom the bartender and my brother stayed in deep conversation while the hours and customers fell away.

Nine years later, my brother and I found ourselves face to face with another Buckley intimate: Midtown Memphis. I was new in town, moving into a guesthouse a few blocks from Rembert where Buckley had lived in the spring of 1997 while working on a follow-up to his first (and wildly successful) 1994 album release, Grace.

In the music world, Jeff Buckley had all the right stuff for stardom: a critically acclaimed album, respect from industry insiders, heartthrob looks, and mystique. The industry first took notice when he stunned the audience with his unforgettable vocal chops at a tribute concert for his folk-singer father, Tim Buckley, who abandoned him early in life and died of a drug overdose two months after their first meeting. 

Jeff Buckley left a mark on Memphis that has been somewhat tainted by media accounts of the evening of May 29, 1997, when he drowned after wading into the Memphis harbor for a late-night swim. But today, nearly 20 years after his death, recollections from friends and acquaintances show that his time in Memphis was more than just a tragic ending. It was about an artist and a friend living life authentically in a city that knows more than a bit about music. And lots about tragedy.

As described in the book 1,000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die: A Listener’s Life List, “Buckley struck some admirers as a rock god a lá those of the mystical late 1960s, a singer forever in search of unattainable ecstasy. At the same time, he could sound like a tortured Sylvia Plath type, desperate to convey a particular depth of feeling. He could wail like an opera singer nearing the big final scene, and create extemporaneous themes like a jazz player.”

Jeff Buckley’s first Memphis moment wasn’t even in Tennessee; it was in Iowa, fall of 1994, where his band headlined a show with Memphis indie hard rockers, the Grifters. Neither group had ever heard of the other, but proximity and pre-show beers would signify the beginning of a friendship. Although affinity among touring bands isn’t uncommon, this relationship began with a typical mutual creative admiration that grew into real-life affection, the latter poignantly summed up by Grifters bassist Tripp Lamkins’ recent comment: “I miss him all the time.”

At the end of that fall 1994 tour, the Grifters would reunite with Buckley at the former South End downtown. Still largely an unknown, the singer drew a small crowd, mostly due to the Grifters’ efforts to rally support for their new friend. The following year, Buckley would land in Memphis again, this time with a big crowd at the New Daisy Theatre on Beale Street. Thanks to major-label backing — Grace, his first studio album, was making the rounds on radio stations across the country — he was quickly gaining celebrity, touring the world and capturing admirers with a vocal presence as commanding as the Mississippi River itself.

University of Memphis sophomore Emily Helming was in the front row at the Daisy that night, having been a fan since discovering Buckley on the radio in her home state of Oregon. With one last beer for courage, she decided to find her way to the tour bus to thank the man whose live performance had blown her away.

“That’s a great thing about Memphis — you can get up close with people you couldn’t elsewhere,” Helming remembered on a call between my home in West Virginia and hers in New York City. It’s true. During my five years in Memphis, I played taxi driver for Tommy Ramone; shared a table at Wild Bill’s with Samuel L. Jackson; made small talk with Luke Perry in the lunch line; and told Kate Beckinsale that, yes, she could give my dog a piece of chicken. Memphis has time and space for characters, not celebrities. It’s an endearing indifference.

As for getting that chance to extend flattery to Jeff Buckley, Emily Helming got a dose of character instead. While she talked with his bandmates near the bus, he descended its steps and addressed her without saying hello.

“You’re the vanilla girl. I smelled you on stage.” As quickly as he interrupted the conversation, Buckley walked away. He wasn’t rude, Helming pointed out. He was just there and gone. Doing what came naturally. Unbeknownst to Buckley, he was channeling the city of Memphis itself. 

Rolling Stone magazine named Buckley’s Grace number 303 of the “500 Greatest Albums of All Time,” saying, “Buckley had a voice like an oversexed angel, and the songs here shimmer and twist. The fierce rocker ‘Eternal Life’ up-ends Led Zeppelin’s take on the blues while honoring it: Instead of a hellhound on his trail, Buckley, who drowned in 1997, evokes immortality bearing down on him.” He was also listed as number 39 among the magazine’s “100 Greatest Singers of All Time.” 

Like Jeff Buckley, I had a small taste of Memphis before making it my home, in the form of a weekend trip with a friend. Not long after we exited Sam Cooper, my preconceived ideas and reality collided, and kept at it for the entire weekend. It was the slow drip of Midtown, not the gush of Beale. It was accents whose velocity left Southern drawl in the dust. It was a barista who offered us tofu pie instead of pecan in a quiet Midtown district kept barely alive, not by the smell of barbecue and the sound of live music, but by a bead shop, a bike shop, and a pizza joint called a café. Unlike New York City or Los Angeles, Memphis doesn’t deliver. It will leave you underwhelmed — and wanting more.

When I made Memphis home in 2006, I learned the complicated life cycle of Overton Square and discovered big rocks at Mud Island that would allow me closer to the river. I found theater in fast-talking coffee shop characters and had love affairs with pimento cheese sandwiches. I learned that everyone, and everywhere, in Midtown has a story — not least the well-known panhandlers whose yarns, though not entirely inspiring, get credit for effort beyond, “Spare some change?”

I learned that Memphis doesn’t have change to spare. Decades of strife — yellow fever, deaths of American icons, racial discord, economic despair, and violent crime — had given way to trickling evolution, Memphis-style. Here, growth happens “only in ways that make sense,” says one of the city’s brightest offerings, producer-director Morgan Jon Fox.

Fox’s career could easily take him to New York or Los Angeles, yet leaving hasn’t been on his radar because he sees Memphis as “a place where soul seeps from the cracks in the concrete and overgrown parking lots. Here in Memphis, we have a community. We pride ourselves on the grit and grind attitude of us against the world. There’s nothing clean and safe about the art that’s made here.”

Fox’s sentiments are echoed by another Memphis success story, writer-director-producer Robert Gordon, who literally wrote the book on creative culture in his hometown, It Came From Memphis: “You can come here and be a star or amount to nothing; either way it’ll have no impact on the greater community.”

“Memphis allows you a great freedom,” says Gordon. “You don’t encounter a world of agents and publicists and managers — there’s not that pressure. The expectations, in fact, are low. The edge where artists live here is wide. You work at your own pace, you develop in public as much as you want, then you take it somewhere to sell — either in a van with a guitar, or to one of the cities of industry, or from your bedroom to the internet. We are a city for creatives.” 

In the same way Buckley’s vocal stylings varied, so too did his guitar playing. Through the years, his style ranged from reggae and funk to rock and grunge, from jazz and country to the guitar-picking style showcased in his cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” a track that became one of his most well-known recordings. His version of the song was inducted into the Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry in 2014.

Expand



DAN BALL

Unlike other cities that attract the so-called creative class, Memphis isn’t big on consequences. Rent is relatively cheap, and starting over is the currency of creativity, which runs the gamut: music, film, TV, food, theater, writing, photography. Newcomers and natives alike have equal opportunity to climb or linger, to seek or simmer, to do it their way. After living in small towns and big cities like New York City and South Beach, I myself eventually pressed the thumbtack into the far left corner of Tennessee because why not, where else? Every writer should be Southern for a little while.

Buckley’s bartender friend Tom Clarke, whom I tracked down on an email trail through three states, said Jeff had only planned to be in Memphis for a little while, too. Former Memphian Joey Pegram emailed me from China, recalling interactions with the star who “could just be himself and hang out and people treated him like one of the gang.”

If Buckley wanted a break from the pressure of making art in New York City, he found it in the Bluff City. The Grifters’ Tripp Lamkins says of his friend, “Jeff was kind of how you imagine he’d be.” Hypercreative. Moody. Shy. Witty. He “radiated at a high frequency,” says former NYC roommate Joe Murphy, who coincidentally became a Memphian himself long after his friend’s time here.

As a marvel of the public eye, Buckley met expectations. Here’s the guy who did a wicked Cher impression; who’d share morning coffee at Rockopolis, aka the apartment shared by Tripp Lamkins and Lucero’s Roy Berry across from Shangri-La Records; who paid out of his own pocket for the Grifters to fly to Australia when their label, indie powerhouse SubPop, wasn’t keen on the expenses. Buckley was like any human: multidimensional. Observers saw the obvious, and intimates discovered the depth. It was the Grifters, after all, who introduced Buckley to Memphis, and Memphis to Buckley. Among his friends and acquaintances, there was a consensus: He felt at home in a city where he was treated as a friend more than a spectacle.

A drummer by trade, Joey Pegram recalls running into Buckley one afternoon, hanging out on a patio with friends in Cooper-Young. The group walked a few blocks to play music at a friend’s practice space at Plan B gallery, formerly an industrial bakery no one remembers. For Pegram, the highlight of his acquaintance with Jeff Buckley was that jam session, where the two switched instruments and Buckley’s facility on the drums matched his comfort in a big city with a small-town feel. “I think he liked Memphis and the folks there,” says Pegram, “because we didn’t fawn over him or kiss up to him like I suspect a lot of people often did.”

Moving to Memphis in early 1997, Buckley began work on his newest album at Easley McCain Recording. He performed several shows at the downtown venue, Barristers, a bar tucked away in an alley off Jefferson Avenue. Buckley was a lively entertainer, but in Memphis he could let loose in ways that record labels and big-city venues either didn’t allow or didn’t cultivate. At one of his Monday-night gigs at Barristers, Joey Pegram and Emily Helming were there, separately, and it’s telling that both remembered a night where fans sat on the floor — not typical of Memphis bar crowds, or maybe any bar crowds. 

Helming says Buckley seemed frustrated that evening, but when he played the first notes of his infamous Leonard Cohen cover, “Hallelujah,” the atmosphere changed. Pegram added another layer, saying, “The music created a kind of sparkly magical feeling in the room … and people were kind of looking at each other, smiling like they knew they were experiencing something really special.”

In a city whose musical history is forever wet to the touch, a major performer who called it home for merely a few months hardly makes a ripple. Buckley’s Memphis legacy is more about him than his music. In many ways, Buckley’s time here is a well-kept secret. Doug Easley, who worked with Buckley at Easley McCain Recording on that never-finished second album, says there’s “a kind of hush about it.” Of the small group who got to know Buckley, some waited 20 years to talk about it.

The album that took shape between Easley McCain Recording and the house on Rembert Street would be released in rough form in 1998 as Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk. Tripp Lamkins can’t bring himself to listen to it all the way through, nor does he believe that it’s the album his friend intended to release. Without Buckley himself to lend insight, fans and friends are left to go the way of college literature courses: to look for themes and draw comparisons.

Sketches has the unapologetic candor of New York City and the disturbing human-ness of the Southern Gothic tradition. Intentional or not, there’s Memphis flavor on the album. Songs like “Your Flesh Is So Nice,” with its hollow, unproduced edge, could sit comfortably between the Reatards and Harlan T. Bobo on a Goner Records compilation. The classic-denim cool, straight-whiskey buzz of “Witches Rave” might be inspired by one of Memphis’ most beloved exports, Big Star, whose song “Kangaroo” was a favorite cover for Buckley. 

Buckley is part of a coterie of soul seekers — a mix of names recognizable and unknown — who have come from other states and countries to a home inside the Parkways, or maybe they never left there to start. For those inclined to follow their noses more than their wallets, for those who feel that, as Robert Gordon and others have said, “life is short and art is long,” Memphis is a beacon. The living is cheap. The pace is slow. This sets it apart, even from somewhere as close as Nashville. You don’t have to make it in Memphis, but you can — it’s just different. Memphis is creative awakening, growing untamed like kudzu. Buckley’s journey through this city is also a reflection of just that.  

On May 29, 1997, while waiting for his band to travel to Memphis from New York to join him in the studio, Buckley went for a swim in the Wolf River Harbor, reportedly fully clothed and wearing boots. He drowned after being pulled under in the wake of a passing tugboat. His body wasn’t found until June 4th. The autopsy report deemed the drowning accidental, as no signs of drugs or alcohol were found in his system.   

Memphis Magazine April 2017

Danielle Costello

A former Memphian, Danielle Costello is now a freelance writer/editor in Morgantown, West Virginia. A mom of two, exercise enthusiast, and dog-rescue advocate, she spends her free time making 45-minute 30-minute meals and savoring disrupted sleep.

#jeff buckley #a meeting of mythologies #Memphis #Danielle Costello

[harrisonarchive]

George Harrison greets a fan at the Southern Area Beatles Fan Club convention, Wimbledon Palais, London, December 14, 1963. Photo: The Beatles Book.

“On 14th December there was a performance at the Wimbledon Palais for the Southern Area Fan Club Convention. All 3,000 fans present got to shake hands with The Beatles — when they weren’t bombarding them with jelly babies. Halfway through, George said, ‘I’m not doing this,’ and he packed up, went to the stage door and began looking for a cab. I ran after him and said, ‘What are you doing? You can’t walk out, we’ve got to finish.’ And then John turned up with his guitar. I said, ‘What are you doing?’ and he said, ‘Well, if he’s leaving, I’m leaving.’ But they did finish the gig and they shook hands with all the fans — about 10,000 of them, actually, because they kept going back to the end of the queue and coming round again.” - Neil Aspinall, The Beatles Anthology (2000)

“When it actually got nearer to my turn, I suddenly felt this awful panic come over me, and I thought, ‘Oh, I can’t - I can’t meet them,’ you know. And I said to my friend, 'You go first.’ She said, 'Oh, no, I’m not going first; you go first!’ And she pushed me, and I came face to face with John Lennon. And I just, I couldn’t believe it - there he was in real life, you know, after seeing him on telly and having him all over my bedroom wall… And I just, my mind couldn’t take it, I passed out straight onto the floor. And my friend told me later that John looked over the bar and said, 'Oh, where’s she gone?’ And then my next recollection was being picked up, being taken away by the St. John’s Ambulance.... and I sort of struggled to my feet and I said, 'I’m alright, I’m alright.’ And I went back to where The Beatles were, and John Lennon said to me, 'Are you alright?’ So I said, 'I’m alright’ - and I went to walk away, because seeing him was enough. And all of the sudden somebody touched me on the arm, and I looked up and it was George Harrison. And he says to me, 'Are you alright?’ George Harrison was my idol, he was the one I’d come to see.... I saw him there, I said, ’Oh, George!’ And I held my arms out to him. He looked a bit bewildered, I think I frightened him a bit; I don’t know if he thought I was going to jump over the bar, but he sort of held back a bit. And when I realized I wasn’t going to get hold of him - he had his hands on the bar, and I just took hold of his hand and kissed his hand, and thought, 'I’m not gonna let you go now.’ I just held onto his hand. And then I was gradually led away by the officials, you know. I was sobbing, and my friend was sobbing; everybody who had met The Beatles were all sobbing.” - Sue, a fan attending the event, from a 1982 Beatlemania documentary (x)

#George Harrison #The Beatles #fan recollections #fan recollections: 1960s #Beatlemania #John Lennon #Ringo Starr #Paul McCartney #Neil Aspinall #George and John #1963 #fits queue like a glove

[thislovintime]

These photos don’t exactly go along with this news blurb, but the theme fits loosely, at any rate.

“The Monkees are coming to Nashville tomorrow and three West End High School freshmen have gone out on a limb to make the boys’ visit a real New Year’s party. Patty Thompson, Beth Harris and Jan York, who have spend the holidays planning ways to meet and treat the Monkees, will spend New Year’s Eve baking a heart-shaped cake decorated with the girls’ earnest message: ‘We love you, Monkees.’ Doc Holiday, disc jockey for the concert sponsor WKDA radio, has promised to give the cake to the teen idols. ‘And if I see [Davy] Jones eating a piece of the cake I baked,’ said Patty, ‘I’ll just die right there.’ Beth, Jan and Patty saved their allowance for three weeks to buy a ticket for the Monkees show. […] Patty, Beth and Jan share a common wish for the New Year — a face-to-face talk with one of their favorite fellows. Asked what they would do if they caught a Monkee backstage after the performance, the girls replied: Jan: ‘I’d scream!’ Patty: ‘I’d cry!’ Beth, with a gleam in her eye: ‘I’d faint, but I’d make sure I fell in the direction of a Monkee.’” - The Tennessean, December 31, 1966

#Peter Tork #Davy Jones #Micky Dolenz #Michael Nesmith #The Monkees #Monkees #Monkees fans #60s Tork #1960s #Tork fan recollections #lol at Beth and 'I'd make sure I fell in the direction of a Monkee' #long read #can you queue it

[industrial-horror]

TRILOGY OF TERROR

On March 4, 1975, a strange announcement appeared on television sets across America. Some ABC affiliate stations had decided not to air a made-for-TV film called “Trilogy of Terror” in its scheduled timeslot. The reason? It was simply too upsetting to be shown when it was supposed to air – they were moving it to a slot three hours later that night.

Other stations aired the movie but made sure to offer a disclaimer that it might be upsetting for young viewers, something that was just not done in those days. It seemed hard to believe that a modestly-budgeted network “Movie of the Week” could upset station managers so much that they would become concerned for their viewer’s welfare, especially since two-thirds of the 90-minute movie was basically forgettable. The anthology film starred Karen Black – who’d recently earned an Oscar nomination for “Five Easy Pieces” – in multiple roles. In the first two parts, she played a seductive teacher and a vengeful twin sister but made little impression on viewers.

The third part, “Amelia,” was different, though. Black played a character hoping to impress her anthropologist boyfriend by giving him a gift of an African “Zuni fetish doll,” a frightening looking wooden warrior with a spear. Alone in her apartment, Black’s character finds that the doll is not what it appears to be. He literally comes to life and tries to kill her. As he stabs and slashes her feet, chases her, and hides behind furniture, the audience is unsure whether Black will defeat her terrifying attacker, lose her sanity – or both.

In the decades since the television movie’s first airing, “Amelia” had become an eerie part of the public consciousness. Viewers who saw it in 1975 – or have watched it since – are unable to forget Black’s battle with the little terror. Before she passed away in 2013, Black said that more fans approached her to talk about her fight with the killer doll than all her other roles combined.

Author Richard Matheson was one of the writers of “Trilogy of Terror.” He had come up with the idea for “Amelia” over a decade earlier when he was working on the “The Twilight Zone.” He had pitched a script called “Devil Doll” to series creator Rod Serling, but the story turned out to be too grim for 1960s broadcast standards. Matheson ended up tweaking the idea slightly and using it for “The Invaders,” which starred Agnes Moorehead, as a woman who is terrorized by a group of tiny sinister aliens.

Years later, Matheson often collaborated with director Dan Curtis – who did the original “The Night Stalker” with Darren McGavin – and they came up with the idea for “Trilogy of Terror” and pitched it to ABC. Writer William F. Nolan scripted the first two segments, based on Matheson stories, and Matheson himself scripted “Amelia,” which was basically the story from the abandoned “Twilight Zone” idea.

Matheson figured that “Amelia” would be the standout segment – and he was right. Over the years, when he went in for meetings at studios, he was often approached by executives who confessed to wetting themselves while watching the film as a child.

The studio and Dan Curtis thought otherwise, though. They felt the stunt casting of Karen Black in all three stories – a total of four roles with the twin’s in the second episode – would be the real hook. Initially, Black was not interested in the part. She only agreed to star when her manager was able to secure a role for her then-husband, Robert Burton.

The filming was not without its problems. The production required the use of three puppets, which were not easy to operate. In interviews, Black said that the crew sometimes had to simply throw the doll at her so that it looked like it was moving. Many times, its head of arms fell off when it was supposed to be running. Working with the little terror was often hilarious, not horrifying, she admitted.

But the viewers didn’t see any of the funny stuff. There was nothing to laugh about in “Amelia.” The final part of the trilogy is mostly silent, with Black’s character being browbeaten by her overbearing mother over the telephone and then trying to calm herself with a shower. Once that doll comes to life, she uses everything she can – an ice pick, a suitcase, even an oven – to fight whatever evil has caused it to attack her. In the closing moments, it’s clear that the doll is not yet finished claiming victims.

Oops, spoiler alert.

“Trilogy of Terror” eventually made it to the home video market in the early 1980s, but before that, kids like me had to wait for it to be repeated on ABC. Luckily, they often brought it back so that we could experience the horror over and over again. It would be the fleeting recollections of how we all had to watch it in the late 1970s that caused the movie to develop a cult following. Even though the Zuni doll came back in 1996 for a sequel, it’s the original film that we all know and love.

But not everyone was so fond of it. Karen Black often complained about the fact that people remembered “Trilogy of Terror” at the expense of the rest of her career. “I wish they said, ‘That wonderful movie you did for Robert Altman,’ but they don’t,” she told an interviewer, “They say, ‘That little doll.’”

[tkc-info]

Oliver Alphonse Whitaker

"Today you did an amazing job, Oliver."

Oliver smiled despite himself. He had been been pretty amazing—controlling everyone had been exhausting— but amazing nonetheless.

"I guess I wasn't so bad."

Oliver Whitaker is one of the protagonists in The Stolen Child, as well as a main character in The Kinship Chronicles.

Ever since Matthias and Dahlia Everitt lost their recollection of The Kinship --utterly unexpectedly-- the Whitakers were tasked with keeping an eye on them, lest they regain their memories. Thus, Oliver has had to act like a spy of sorts from the tender age of five; for the Everitts had a daughter who happened to be his age.

Oliver's parents take their job with painstaking profession, twisting their whole personalities into those of the perfect neighbors and friends for the cheerful, unsuspecting Everitts.

Alas, Oliver is different. As much as Clara and Carter Whitaker's relationship with the Everitts is nothing but pretense, Oliver does have true feelings for Cal. She is, after all, his oldest friend. The one who's stood by his side and become his confidante for years.

If he were to go into detail about what his 'job' entailed, he'd just say that he needs to know whether Cal has an insignia, and therefore is a Saz. If he were to go into detail about what he thinks of his 'job', he'd let you in on his deepest wish: he wants Cal to be a Saz so that he can finally let the facade drop.

Unbeknownst to his best friend, Oliver has been preparing her introduction to Mirror and The Kinship for... quite a long time. Because a guy can dream, can't he?

Fortunately for him, Cal is a Saz. Unfortunately for him, she doesn't learn of The Kinship in the best of ways.

Oliver is tall at almost 1'9m/6'2" (he's 1'87m/6'1"), and his lean physique shows signs of being physically strong. For this reason, many people would consider him handsome; although oddly so.

Cal sometimes jokes that Oliver doesn't look like the type of guy one would want their children with, what with his all-black clothing and blue hair. Because even though he's naturally brown-haired --the same chestnut colour as his eyes-- Oliver dyes his hair.

In spite of all the stereotypes his appearance may bring to mind, Oliver's very caring and hardworking. He feels repulsed by the mere thought or committing any kind of violence, and enjoys teasing and joking around --especially if the target of his jokes and teasing is Cal.

He's bisexual.

He's a puppeteer (learn more about puppeteers)

Oliver was born the 24th of January of 2004 in Mirror London

He doesn't like nicknames for himself

Cal calls him 'Ollie' at times to annoy him

His parents had him at 28

Oliver has two moles hidden at the left side of the index finger of his left hand

He's shortsighted and wears contacts; sans when he's at home

Likes to wear several leather bracelets around his wrists

Cal's the one who dyes his hair

As of the beginning of The Stolen Child, he's been dating Atalanta Everitt-Melton for some months

Oliver would like to study puppeteer medicine in order to become a doctor in Mirror

He doesn't like animals

He has a fear of cats

He has a fear of heights

His favourite foods are pepperoni pizza and cranberry scones

He's very studious

Likes to wear colourful onesies as pyjamas

He's very allergic to dust

Enjoys watching documentaries and learning random information

His family's apartment in Aboveground London belongs to his paternal Grandmother

His family's house in Mirror London looks like a picture-perfect 1960s American house

Oliver's a fan of Kpop

His favourite songs are Blood, Sweat & Tears by BTS and Gee by Girls Generation (playlist)

Introduction to The Kinship Chronicles's characters: 2/8

Cal Everitt

Diana Zubairu

Selvar Zandstra

Atalanta Everitt-Melton

Hunter Hao

Morgan Hao

Caleb Verninac

#the kinship chronicles #the stolen child characters #oliver whitaker #Spotify

[yourbespokeartisanalapocalypse]

Terror in the Crypt

So... last night I continued my Halloween-inspired binge of horror movies (who am I kiddding, I watch them all year round like an obsessive weirdo) with this little doozy...

Yes, it’s the slightly obscure and much maligned Terror in the Crypt (1964), based on Sheridan Le Fanu’s 1872 lesbian vampire tale Carmilla and one of Italian director Camillo Mastrocinque’s final films.

You can watch the entire film for free here but before you do, let me tell you why I love films like this even though so many reviewers complain about them. 

For a start, as a fan of all things gothic, I’m a sucker for any movie which opens with a scene like this:

Horror films of this period really take a lot of effort over period stylisation (emphasis on style not accuracy) while not worrying at all about the constraints of authenticity. So we end up with vintage 1960s hair and makeup mixed with beautiful late-Victorian costumes and interiors. The anachronisms, for me, are a big part of the appeal because they create a sense of the uncanny, a feeling that this exists in some space outside of time, outside of reality, as though you’re watching a dream sequence that only follows its own internal logic. 

That sense of uncanny dream logic is only further cemented by the sorts of things I know people complain about. The acting does often seem wooden - in fact, there are times in this film when the acting is so wooden and the faces so expressionless and the speech so toneless, that it feels like a deliberate choice, as though these characters are themselves caught in a disconnect, as though they too are feeling as though they are reading lines or going through motions they cannot control. Sidenote: I actually thought Adriana Ambesi, who plays the central character was very good and will hear no criticisms.

The film’s dreaminess is actually a key feature of the plot since so many scenes occur at night, often after the central character has been sleeping. In scenes like this one below, a character awakes and...spooky things happen. Is it real? Is she dreaming? The mystery deepens!

It may be that the script is poorly written (apparently it was written in only a matter of days), or it may be an effect of a bad dub, but the dialogue has an overwrought, over-determined feel to it, that draws attention to its own theatricality. And that, too, feels uncanny, unreal, and, dare I say it, a bit dream-like to me. How can I not love lines like:

“Oh it's so beautiful here. Perhaps nature has purposefully set the stage and is waiting for the actors to enter... But who knows if the play is farce or tragedy? This is a spot where one could come for pleasure...or for death."

Let us not forget that Le Fanu’s original tale begins with the narrator describing a strange visitation from a mysterious woman. Afterwards her father tries to assure her it was a dream: 

But I was not comforted, for I knew the visit of the strange woman was not a dream; and I was awfully frightened.

The original story is also written from memory, and of a time which seems dream-like in recollection: 

I now write, after an interval of more than ten years, with a trembling hand, with a confused and horrible recollection of certain occurrences and situations, in the ordeal through which I was unconsciously passing.

Le Fanu’s story is so deeply invested in psychological experiences - in the tricks and vaguries of memory, and in blurring the borders between dream and reality. It also makes clear that even though the vampire might elicit “a strange tumultuous excitement”, the narrotor finds herself wooden and listless: 

"...my energies seemed to fail me. Her murmured words sounded like a lullaby in my ear, and soothed my resistance into a trance..."

So yes, i guess you’d be perfectly justified to say that in Terror in the Crypt the dialogue is stilted, the acting wooden, the period poorly rendered, but honestly, to me those are all things that add to its charm because they all make it feel dreamlike and unreal in a way that isn’t too far removed from the original Victorian text. 

Watching Terror in the Crypt I feel like I’ve stepped into someone else’s dream and I genuinely wish modern horror films were more interested in that dream-like quality. There are exceptions, of course, but after c.1980 it feels like horror took a turn away from the psychological. 

As an interesting note, according to this review, the end credits on the American International TV version have Anglicized names which reference people blacklisted by Hollywood in the 1950s: 

This creative renaming might have been the act of someone on the American side, thumbing his nose at the legacy of the blacklist; but it could also have reflected the wishes of the Italian crew, since many of the talented Italian directors and technicians identified themselves as Communists during the early 50s (though many changed their minds after Krushchev's speech on Stalin, and after the brutal response of the Soviet Union to the Hungarian Uprising in 1956), and ended up working with many of the Hollywood expatriates (heck, Halevy even ended up co-writing Horror Express for the Spanish).

Oh, and just to finish, for any Christopher Lee fans, this film will be more of a curiosity than a delight. He’s in it (highly billed too) but only in a very minor role. Though I suppose if you were to go by lines in the script then it’s a much bigger role than when he played Dracula for Hammer!

EDIT: I just finished reading Carmilla and in hindsight this movie is actually pretty faithful to the original text. Bravo Hammer!

#christopher lee #italian horror #spanish horror #cult movies #cult cinema #classic horror #gothic #vampire #carmilla #sheridan le fanu #halloween #film review #female vampire #vampyr #book adaptation