Mark Evanier's Blog

Today's Bonus Video Link

We love flash mobs appearing out of nowhere in public places and performing. We also love the song "Bohemian Rhapsody." So here, from the streets of Paris…

Today's Video Links

Lying awake in bed this morning at 3 AM, I started watching videos on my iPhone from last night's late night shows. I found myself laughing out loud at several segments from Stephen Colbert's program…and by the way, I'll make one of my occasionally-right predictions. Colbert's ratings are up and he and his staff are clever enough to ride their nonsensical cancelation to a lot of tune-in…so there will come a day soon when Mr. Colbert will be faced with a choice: He'll have (and may already have) lucrative, guaranteed-we-won't-cancel-you offers to do essentially the same show elsewhere.

And whoever's running CBS this week will decide they'll be better off with him than without him. Not only will they get the ratings but they'll avoid nine or ten months of being hammered as craven Trump supplicants and bad programmers. I have no idea what Colbert will elect to do but I'll bet staying right where he is will be among the options.

Anyway, he's now been doing Late Show for ten years so, acting oddly like the series started with him, he did this last night…

…followed by this, later on…

…followed by this…

And also last night, Jon Stewart returned from vacation and did one of his funniest, on-target pieces on The Daily Show…

And with that, I went back to sleep for a few hours. I'm so glad we have those guys and their shows around.

Ralph Kramden's Summer Home

William Ray sent me a link to this real estate listing.  Someone is selling 196 Furnace Dock Road in Cortlandt Manor, NY and they're asking $5.5 million for the place. What's so special about it? Well, apart from its unusual "space age" design, it was owned for a time by Jackie Gleason before he decided to relocate his life down to Miami Beach. Did you know the Miami Beach audiences were the greatest audiences in the world? That's what Jackie screamed at the end of almost every show he did from that fair city.

Among the many interesting photos of the home on the realtor's site, we find this…

I have no idea if that picture was there when Mr. Gleason occupied the premises or if a subsequent owner put it there but it prompted William to ask this question of me…

Among all of the interesting things about the house, I'm as curious with Gleason being a pal of Nixon as I am of the side by side photos of Fred Flintstone and Gleason. That leads to my question – do you know if Mr. Gleason was flattered by the Flintstones or was he miffed by the blatant "homage" of the Honeymooners?

What I always heard — and I even heard this from Joe Barbera, not that he was an unimpeachable source — was that Gleason was initially pissed. He felt that, first of all, it was weakening his ownership of the Honeymooners property to have it so visibly infringed upon. He also thought that he oughta get a hefty percentage of the profits from the stone-age knock-off.

But, as the story is told, by the time he got around to addressing the matter with his attorneys, The Flintstones was a hit show beloved by children and adults everywhere. Gleason's handlers/agents/whoever advised him that to sue would be to make headlines and he'd come off as The Bad Guy. So he decided to be flattered instead of litigious.

As I've mentioned here before, I made a comment to Mr. Barbera one day — probably the day he told me his version of the events — about how Barney Rubble had obviously been named as a sly way of saying "Carney Double." Mr. B, as most of us called him, looked startled and told me I was the first person he'd ever heard point that out. You can believe that if you like but I don't.

By the way, it's worth pointing out that Henry Corden, who was the second voice of Fred Flintstone, was occasionally hired to do a Gleason imitation to dub dialogue for Jackie. For at least one of the Smokey and the Bandit movies, he revoiced lines for Gleason's character, Sheriff Buford T. Justice, for the prints shown on airplanes, TV and other places where naughty words were verboten. I asked him if he got the job because of his Flintstones connection and Henry said, "Probably." That, I believe.

Today's Video Link

This year marks 75 years since Mort Walker's Beetle Bailey debuted on the comic strip pages and there's a new book out celebrating its long, long run. You can order that book here and while you're Amazoning, you can also place an advance order for the book that's coming out next month celebrating 75 years of Charles Schulz's Peanuts. Seventy-five years ago was a good year for comic strips.

And here's a segment that ran on CBS the other day about the Beetle Bailey book. I knew Mort Walker a little and he really was a nice, funny man who only seemed to care about doing nice, funny comic strips. There was a period there when he seemed to be doing about thirty-seven of them and I know other cartoonists were rankled about him occupying so much real estate on the funny pages…but the ones I heard grousing all seemed to be unable to produce anything better. I think he'd be proud to see how his friends and family are carrying on the traditions he started…

ASK me: Being in a Comic Book

There are certain questions I receive over and over even after I've written about them on this blog.  Here's one from Robert Rowe…

I saw your name mentioned as having been featured as a character in a story in The Flash #195 from 1970.

What are your recollections of the event? Was it only editor Julie Schwartz having some fun with the fans of the time? Were you notified that you would appear or were you surprised to see yourself in an issue of The Flash? Maybe most importantly, did it change your opinion of the book?

I wrote about this but it was some time ago some of this is me quoting myself. We used to buy our comic books at newsstands or at racks in mini-markets or drugstores. They came out Tuesday and Thursday in most areas and if you were a devout fan (as was I), you hurried to the vendor each of those days to grab up the new releases. On January 20, 1970, I did just that and among my purchases of that day was the new issue of The Flash, #195.

I was at the time working on the fringes of the comic book business. And suddenly, I bought that issue of The Flash, opened it and discovered I was a character in it.

There was a scene of The Flash doing a whirlwind autograph signing at the Muscular Dystrophy Telethon and he was calling out the names of the folks who were receiving these autographs. The comic's editor, Julius Schwartz, had inserted the names of three folks who were frequent contributors to his letter columns: Me, Irene Vartanoff and Peter Sanderson. (All three of us, by the way, wound up working in comics.)

I think "weird" would describe how I felt. I just stopped and stared at it and told myself I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. And I remember looking around at the people passing me and realizing how little this would matter to any of them. But it meant a lot to me just as having letters of mine printed in comic books meant a lot to me. It didn't particularly change my opinion of that comic or any comic. It just broke down (a bit) the barrier I felt between being a reader of comic books and being part of the world that made them.

And then about two weeks later, Jack Kirby asked me to become his assistant and I really felt like I'd crossed over.

Philippe Vidal-Dumas, R.I.P.

Very sad this morning to hear of the unexpected/sudden death of Philippe Vidal-Dumas (aka Philippe Vidal) at the age of 64. He was a giant in the French animation industry and a very nice, talented man who I had the honor of working with on five seasons of The Garfield Show. I was the Supervising Producer and I do not know what that title meant but I wrote most of the episodes, story-edited those by other writers, and cast and directed the American voice tracks.

Philippe was the Director and I know what that meant: He supervised and often drew and designed everything that made it into a TV series after it left me. I was delighted with just about everything that resulted and the few times I wasn't delighted were — I learned — instances where Philippe fought for something and lost. He was very good at his job.

The producers of the show kept trying to get me to fly over to France where all the heavy lifting was done and I kept refusing. But Philippe would come over every year and we'd hook up in Jim Davis's monster of a studio which was then in Muncie, Indiana. The show was done in such harmony that those few hours each year were all we needed. I could suggest something in one sentence and Philippe completely understood and made it work.

The first time we convened there, I had my dear friend Carolyn with me. Philippe was (of course) completely charming towards her and over a dinner meeting, included her in the discussion. Somehow — I forget how — mention of the Disney film Pinocchio came up and he turned to her and said, "I consider that the greatest animated film ever made." To which she replied, "Yes…and my father worked on it." I jumped in to explain that her father was the great Walt Kelly and he'd been one of the key animators on Pinocchio.

To Philippe, that was like hearing that he was in the presence of the daughter of some guy who'd helped Michelangelo paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. I will always remember his joy and how he pumped Carolyn for anything she could tell him about her father. Philippe was truly a lover of great cartooning and animation…and you could tell that by the way he approached every single job he did in those art forms. We wanted to work together again on something and I am very, very sorry that will never happen.

Today's Video Link

Here's Weird Al Yankovic with the definitive cover version of one of Paul Simon's best songs…

Today's Video Link

Here's the latest installment of this series. Hard to believe the guys who've been assembling these for so long and putting in such effort and passion are just now almost at the halfway mark…

A Las Vegas Story

A loyal follower of this blog made a hefty (and much appreciated) donation last night and asked that in return, I rerun this story. Okay, fine. We all have things we're willing to do for money…which, come to think of it, is kind of the theme of this story.

It took place years ago when I was in Las Vegas — a town I no longer visit. Much has changed in that town including the fact that the hotel which was then called Bally's has now been renamed The Horseshoe. Also, everything around costs eleven times as much. Here's the requested tale…

Wednesday night of last week, my plane got in around 9:15.  By the time I was checked into the hotel, unpacked and done with e-mails I had to send, it was 11:15 PM and I decided I needed some dinner.  I went online to the website of Giordano's, a Chicago-based chain that makes terrific deep dish pizzas and — lucky me! — has an outlet in Vegas, right in front of Bally's Hotel and Casino. I ordered an individual-size pie which, their website told me, would be ready at Midnight.

At 11:30, I left my hotel and began the hike over to pick up my order.  On the way, I passed a lot of those folks in colorful costumes who line the streets in touristy areas, hoping you'll tip them for posing with you for a photo. There was a homemade Mickey Mouse and a homemade Minnie.  There were shirtless body builders.  There were almost-shirtless showgirls.  There was a guy made up as Dr. Evil from the Austin Powers movies.  Characters like that.

There were also guys trying to corral tourists — mostly male but some boy/girl couples — into agreeing to be whisked off to some strip club.  I heard one of the salesguys say, "While you're there, every third drink is free."  I don't drink but if I did, that offer would make me decide, "My, the drinks there must be very overpriced." And if two drinks are your limit, the club is now trapping you into a third which, among its other impacts on you, might cause you to spend a lot more money on the ladies than you intend.

One notch down the food chain from the strip club barkers, you had a couple of hustlers offering to fix single guys like me up on a "date." Having once been a teenage boy, I kinda understand the willingness to pay money for sex. I've never done it but I understand the feeling of necessity. What I don't get is committing to it without seeing the person you're going to be having sex with.  What if Ernest Borgnine has a surviving twin sister who's turned to prostitution?  Think about that but not for too long.

When I passed one of those fellows without showing interest, he yelled after me, "Don't like girls, huh?  Then how about some pot?  Everybody likes pot!"  Always nice to see an entrepreneur who knows how to diversify his business.

And then there were the dates themselves who had cut out the middle-men: Women who couldn't have looked more like hookers if they were holding "Will hump for money" signs. A couple of them struck me as ladies who could only make that sale to men who hadn't seen them. But a couple of them looked like if you were in the market for that service, you couldn't have done much better.

I navigated past all of these individuals and thoughts to get to the intersection of W. Flamingo Rd. and Las Vegas Boulevard.  There are elevated pedestrian walkways connecting these corners.  You do not cross on street level.  You take an escalator, elevator or stairs up to the walkway, cross up there, then take an escalator, elevator or stairs back down to street level. A trek like that would take me to my pizza.

The escalators were all outta commission and so was my knee which didn't like the whole concept of stairs just then, causing me to head for the elevator. The elevators don't get a lot of usage because they're out of the way and many people don't know they're there or that they don't double as urinals.  This one seemed clean so I got in, pressed "2" and just before the doors closed, another man slipped in with me.  He was ragged with zombie eyes…probably homeless, possibly crazy.

As we rode up, he was talking to someone — maybe even me — about killing someone — maybe even me. I wasn't particularly worried about him doing that between the first floor and the second but you don't want to engage with a being like that.

I got out on 2, relatively unkilled and walked across the pedestrian bridge to the elevator that would take me down. When it came, I noticed my unsavory elevator mate coming towards it so I stepped back and let him get in by himself. I figured I'd take the next ride down or maybe the one after.

Just then, a short black lady — obviously marketing her body that evening — started to board the elevator. I stopped her with a whispered "Don't get in."

She didn't get in but asked me, "Why not?"

I nodded at the guy and just then, as the elevator doors closed, he pointed at her and yelled, "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, bitch!" And then the doors shut tight.

She thanked me and said, "You saved my life!" I said I didn't think so but maybe we both oughta wait a few minutes before the ride down. "Let's give him time to wander back to his penthouse suite," I said. So that's how I wound up talking to a Vegas streetwalker for about five minutes. It was an interesting five minutes.

She was very young and quite attractive and it was all I could do to not say, "What the hell are you doing in this profession?" She asked me where I was from — I suspect they all ask that — and when I said Los Angeles, she said, "We have something in common! I'm from San Diego!"

That's right: We had something in common! We were both from Southern California! Just us and 23.8 million other people.

I told her I was going to San Diego next weekend and, well aware she was leading up to offering the rental of any or all of her body parts, I decided to preempt that by saying, "We can't talk long. My girl friend's back in the room starving and I need to get back there with a pizza before she eats the little soaps in the bathroom."

It was a lie — Amber was back home in L.A. — but the lady bought it and the trajectory of the conversation changed. "Are you going there for Comic-Con?" she asked. I told her no; Comic-Con's not 'til July. "Though I have been to Comic-Con a lot." She asked me how many of them I'd been to and I said, "All of them." That was not a lie…and boy, does it impress the ladies.

(Fun Fact: She told me her age and the year she was born, the Guests of Honor at Comic-Con included Ramona Fradon, Neil Gaiman, Gil Kane, Stan Lee, Irv Novick, Harvey Pekar, Stan Sakai, Joe Sinnott and Jeff Smith.)

She told me she loved San Diego but she couldn't find work there that paid decently so a year ago, she moved to Vegas where she also couldn't find a job that paid well enough…until she turned to her current occupation. I asked, "Do you like it?" She said, "Most of the time. Some guys are psycho but so were some guys I waited on when I worked at Sunglass Hut."

I thought but did not say, "Yeah, but I have a hunch there was a lower rate of disease transmission at Sunglass Hut."

About then, it occurred to me that anyone passing us, as lots of people were, would assume she and I were negotiating prices. One time late at night in New York, I got into a conversation with a lady of the same vocation at the corner of W. 56th Street and 7th. Some friends of mine were coming from the Carnegie Deli and they spotted me there and probably still think I was — you should excuse this choice of word — dickering.

That's when I fibbed again to this lady in Vegas whose name I never got. I said, "Listen, I have to really save a woman's life — a woman in dire need of pizza." We took the elevator down and since there was no sign of you-know-who, said our goodbyes. She went her way and I went to Giordano's and got my order.

On my way back with it, I took the walkway again and spotted her back up there, talking with a fellow I guess was a potential customer — or maybe he was on his way to pick up a pizza. She saw me and she waved and yelled, "Thanks again!" I yelled back, "Any time!" And a lot of folks heard that and I knew just what they were thinking.

Happy Sergio Day!

Photo by Bruce Guthrie

Happy Anniversary of the day of his birth to Sergio Aragonés Domenech, otherwise known as Sergio Aragonés without the Domenech, otherwise known aa That Guy Who Draws Tiny Cartoons In The Margins Of MAD Magazine, otherwise known as the creator of Groo the Wanderer, otherwise known as My Best Friend (male division) for 50+ Years!

I was trying to think of a really fancy, expensive present to buy him but then I realized that Sergio is the kind of guy who would much prefer to just be mentioned on my blog.