When I moved recently, I had to cancel my Spectrum cable account and then get the new Spectrum system for my new address.  There are many good things about the new system -- which is cloud-based -- though some options take far-too many extra clicks to accomplish which is a bit annoying.  But that's not the point here:  bottomline, some things better, some worse, fine.

The larger issue is that, being a new, cloud-based system, all the hiccups haven't been worked out yet.  Like often getting an error message, "We're sorry, the program guide can't be accessed right now."  Or the screen image gets all pixilated and becomes unwatchable.  And other cloud-glitches.

By the way, lest you get the wrong idea, this isn't a rant about Big Cable, or technical support, or any of the normal complaints available to make about cable.  It's about idiocy.  I'll get to that.

So, to be clear, the problem here isn't that there are hiccups in a new system.  I write about technology and understand that new versions of software do have bugs that need to get worked out.  But -- what I also understand is that generally they get "worked out" during the beta testing program and before the product is released to the public to pay for.  And though that's not the issue here either, being a beta tester AND paying a lot of money each month for the honor is not a good standard, and is the foundation of the point at hand.

Yes, there are annoyances, but I do get it.  Life is full of annoyances, and I don't expect cable to be any different.  I do have other expectations, though, and we're about to get to that.

A few nights ago, there was a bigger problem than usual.  Again, not The Worst Problem in the World at all -- -- they took the system down in the late evening, rather than a more sensible 3 AM morning -- but a big enough deep sigh "final straw" to call Spectrum the next day to discuss my beta tester status.

I knew it wasn't the tech person's fault, and I was thoroughly polite.  In fact, I explained all the things I liked about the new system, as well as a few of the bigger problems.  Actually, I wasn't even going to mention the specifics, but the customer support fellow kept asking me, because he wanted to make a record of it.  Good for him.  In fact he did a good job.  Mainly, I just wanted to make the point that Spectrum should never have released the system until it was ready and instead make subscribers the beta testers who pay for the honor.  He understood all the problems, he'd heard of them from others, and understood too the issue of releasing the software before it was ready.

Now, when I make calls like this in the past, I tend to leave it there to see how customer service handles things.  When I'm had problem with Spectrum in the past, for instance, they've always said they'd rebate the cost of service for that day of the problem.  No, it's not much but they make the effort.  Fine.  Good for them.

This fellow was very polite, but clearly wasn't authorized to do more than ask questions and be polite.  Finally, realizing this, I did what I almost never do.  I said that having to pay A LOT to be a tester of a system screwing up A LOT, is not how things should be, and I thought it would be proper to get some sort of rebate for all the times the software isn't working.

And that gets us to the point.  Yes, I know, it took a while to get here, but hopefully the ride was comfortable.

The short version (oh, now, I hear you cry, he inserts a "short version"...)  is that the fellow had to go check with his supervisors what he could do.  After about 10 minutes -- coming back on line every once in a while to thank me for my patience -- he said with great pride that he could offer me...a whole $10 rebate!  Although (and this is the good part), he made clear very pointedly to make sure I understand that this is a One-Time Only Offer for the year.  Yes, they would rebate that $10, but wouldn't be able to do so again until next year.  "How was that?" he asked.

All I could do was laugh.  Literally.  I said I knew it wasn't his policy, and I appreciated all the time he'd spent on the line, and I thanked him for diligently checking to get that answer -- "But," I added, "You do know that that is ridiculous."

And it was ridiculous.  It's not just that the amount is paltry -- honestly, I wasn't looking for a big pay day -- but the "one-time only" limitation was insulting.  It's as if they're doing you a favor.  Worse, it means when the system keeps screwing up, as it will, and already has, they're off the hook.  And it doesn't take much effort to now that there is a wide range of things they could have done instead, including for just one example, offer a premium service for a month.  It would cost them absolutely zero, and it could even make them money if you end up liking it and subscribing.  But no, $10 one-time only rebate for the year.  On a bill, for some people -- if they have lots of add-on premium extras, get their phone service and also mobile service --  of $4,000 to a year, I would imagine.

I knew that that was the resolution, and let the matter dropped.  There was no need to continue the conversation, and I said goodbye and thanks, and then hung up.

Again, I understand software problems.  I even understand using subscribers to test your software while telling them they're getting The Latest technology.  And I understand that the tech glitches are only occasional, albeit steady.  I have no huge issue with that.  The benefits of cable are worth it to me.  And I've pleased well-enough with Spectrum tech support.

But then I also understand dealing with tech companies, which I have done professionally for the past 20 years, writing my tech review column for the Writers Guild of America, and at one point the TV Academy.  And $10 for a one-time only yearly rebate -- from a corporate monopoly -- is...ridiculous.  Indeed, more to the point, it's foolishly short-sighted. And counter-productive, since it risks driving customers away who might be paying for ALL of Spectrum's services, not just having a TV hiccup.

Yes, I know, it's cable.  Many people have far-worse cable problems.  But this really isn't about "problems."  It's that I'm still laughing at the "We can give you $10!!  Once."  And if we screw up again, it's on you.

But what makes me most annoyed it that I didn't reply, "That's okay -- you keep the 10 bucks.  Spectrum clearly needs it more than I do."  

Last week, I mentioned that I have a cousin who lives in Venice, Jim Kaplan.  He grew up in an area known as Miller Beach on the shores of Lake MIchigan, near the Indiana Dunes.  It's the outskirts of Gary, but was a very nice area, just a few blocks from where my beloved grandmother (and his aunt) Rose lived, as well as several other relatives.  He's always loved boats, and for the past few decades even works in the boating industry -- at first on the commercial end, though later for a company that dealt with more technical, business and Navy-related matters.

Several decades back, during our younger, more carefree and idiotic days, when he was working for the commercial shop, he did a favor for a client and was paid to take an old, small boat from Los Angeles down to San Diego, which would have been a long and overnight trip.  He needed a few friend to help crew , and I joined in.  We started out very early, and the first day was enjoyable, and late in the day we even came across a school of dolphins.  (Sorry that they are mostly underwater here, I did my best...)
​

As for the second day --

Well, did I mentioned that during that by the end of second day we had re-christened the bought "Kaplan's Folly"?  During the night, the creaky vessel sprung a leak, though we were able to contain it well enough.  But the early morning, however, that became more problematic.  And bailing out the boat because less-occasional, and more of our daily routine.

By noon, we figured that we had done our duty, because the alternative was sinking.  I think we had as far as San Pedro (which is near Long Beach) not quite half-way to our destination.  We pulled into the marina, called the boat's owner to explain the situation and say that we would be leaving the boat there, and it was now up to him to get it and figure out what to do with the dinghy.  And then we called one of the wives to drove down and get us back home.  It has remained a fond memory from afar, and something we still joke about from time to time.

​This is the most-memorable Kaplan's Folly at a time when it was still afloat...

Anyway, a few months ago Jim decided to act on his love for the lure of the seas, and bought a boat (not a big one, but nice, a sailboat/motorboat), and he goes out one afternoon a week like clockwork from Marina del Rey.  (Also at other times, including at night, but those are random.)  I join him from time to time. 
 
This is me joining him about a month ago on board the good ship Flying Fish III.
​

As I said, he always goes out at least one afternoon a week, and that day was yesterday -- and once again, I joined him.
 
It was quite nice when we took off – that’s a couple of pelicans sunbathing.  (I wanted to get a photo of the large clan of seals we always pass by in the channel, but I always remember too late to have my camera ready, and by the time the boat has passed them the photo looks like you took a picture of a lot of duffel bags.  I had my camera ready this time -- but there were only two seals on the dock, perhaps the others were out fishing, so I let it pass.  But I was at the ready for the pelicans, at least --

As we headed out, there were also a lot of ominous, billowing, dark clouds in the distance, but from how the wind was blowing (which admittedly was strong...) it appeared like we would likely miss them, seemingly being blown in another direction.  As his wife later said in a bit of wonderment, “Didn’t you hear the storm warnings?  It was on the radio.”  Short answer – no. 

The good news is that Los Angeles meterologists do a pretty fine job at predicting storm warnings..  Or at least did yesterday.  We were out in the channel for about an hour, most of the time it being in a windy squall with a few patches of lightning.  Fortunately we’d put in a sot of tent cover two weeks ago, so we were somewhat protected.  With emphasis on the “somewhat.”  Basically, as we said to one another, hey, we’re on the ocean surrounded by water – if it’s coming down from the sky, too, so be it.
 
This photo below doesn’t come even remotely close to doing it justice.  It just looks like an overcast day.  In fact, it was torrential at the time.  The camera just doesn’t pick up pouring rain, wind whipping, periodic thunder and distant lightning.  But if one looks close, you can see the left bench glistening (which is actually a pool of water) and the spread-out towel on the right, trying to soak up water to make sitting habitable.  And what should be a calm, blue, clear ocean not totally covered by pockmarks of rain -- isn’t.  And what you can also see is that no one else was devoid of sense to go out at the time.  (That’s Ship Captain Jim explaining that All’s Well.)  

​To be clear, It wasn’t even marginally dangerous in the slightest.  Just very wet.  And actually reasonably fun.  Just…well, very wet.  It was fairly calm, never got much waves, and the lightning was rare and far away.  (Maybe just three bolts in the hour at sea.)  And most-happily, if we hadn’t put up the tent cover two weeks ago – which whimsically enough was not for protection from the rain, but rather to keep the sun from beating down… -- it would have been far more uncomfortable  (In fairness, too, I could have gone underneath in the small hold, but chose not to – if my fellow shipmate had to be out there steering, I would not forsake my captain!  And on the plus side we did prove that the makeshift Kaplan Ship Co. tent cover is Storm-Worthy.  As are we.

It's the evening now, and I'm all dry.

A few weeks back, I wrote here about Trump making a speech and rambling so far all over the place that I thought it appropriate to embed a recording of the great Tom Paxton's classic song, "Ramblin' Boy."  

As longtime readers of these pages know, I'm a huge fan of Tom Paxton, so I thought it would be good to post a wonderful in-concert version of the fellow singing the song.  Plus a couple of bonuses.

I've happily seen Paxton in concert several times and even more happily got to meet him twice -- once when I was working at the Ravinia Musical Festival during my college summer and he was performing there, and another time after I wrote a HuffPo piece about him, got a wonderful email back, which led to him inviting me as a guest to his concert at McCabe's in Santa Monica, that I went to along with the inveterate Chris Dunn.  He was a thoughtful, genial fellow both times.

(The Ravinia concert particularly stands out.  He had actually shown up a day early -- we had a folk concert with Steve Goodman, Bonnie Koloc and John Prine...which is one heck of a concert!!...and Paxton wanted to see it.  Which speaks to who he is.  Anyway, he came backstage, where I was working that night and we chatted.  When he showed up the next evening for his concert, he passed by me and before I could greet him, he recognized me and remembered my name, with a "Hi, Bob."  And even nicer, while he was the one artist I wanted to meet most during that summer, and he was the only one who didn't have a manager with him, so I had to deal with him directly.  It was a joy.)

Paxton received Lifetime Achievement Grammy in 2009 which is high cotton.  Alas, it only got 14 seconds of air time, and that was split among several other performers in a quick montage.  (Though here it is...)

Anyway, this first music video comes from the Royal Hall in Harrowgate, North Yorkshire, in 2015, only four years ago, so the good fellow is still performing -- at the time, he was 78, with new albums, and yet a new UK tour that starts...on this Saturday, at age 81.

Paxton, I should note, is particularly popular in England.  And that's not just subjective hyperbole.  Indeed, eight years earlier, on January 22, 2007, when he was starting a tour of the United Kingdom, Paxton was given an official Parliamentary tribute at the House of Commons -- beating his Grammy honor by two years.

It reminds me of a wonderful story I read in an article about Paxton.  His daughter was in England and attended a folk club where the performer sang this particular song, "Ramblin' Boy."  She went up to him afterwards and said that her father wrote it.  But the singer didn't believe, not for the reason you'd expect, but because he didn't think the author was even known, stating with certainty that it was a traditional folks song.  But she persevered and kept insisting that her father really did write, "Ramblin' Boy."  And the fellow was just as insistent that he couldn't have.  Finally, a bit exasperated, he asked her, "So who is you rather."  Tom Paxton, she answered.  There was a pause, as the guy considered this, and then said, "Okay, I can see that."

Here he is in concert -- accompanied here by Robin Bullock on guitar and mandolin -- leading into the song with a fun story about bringing to Pete Seeger the song he'd just written back in 1963.  

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Okay, so, after now hearing Tom Paxton tell that story about Pete Seeger singing his song at Carnegie Hall on June 8, 1963, only two weeks after first heard it -- here is that very recording he's talking about.  And though you don't have to listen to the whole song again (since another version is coming along in a moment), you will at least enjoy Seeger's introduction, where he talks about this song you may never have heard before.  Written by "a young fella named Tom Paxton."  But if you do listen, it's worth hearing Seeger take the lead on the song in a very affectionate performance, complete with his always-wonderful harmony on the chorus as he gets the audience to sing along.

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And here's the other bonus video -- a very young Tom Paxton, probably around 27, singing the song with Pete Seeger, on Seeger's New York City television show in the early 1960s.

Given the day, I'm reminded of my most memorable April Fools Day prank.  I tend to remember it every year with no trouble, since I don't tend to do elaborate April Fools Day pranks, I loved the gag and also because I almost got fired because of it.

This was in 1983,  during my dark days when I was just a kid and didn't know any better so I worked in PR.  I was the head writer in the Publicity Department at Universal Pictures, and among my various jobs, one was to write press releases.  So, I thought it would be fun to write one for April Fools Day.  I made absolutely sure to mark it "NOT FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE" (the standard press release says "FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE") and clearly dated it April, 1.  And I only passed it around the office, and did not send it out.

Ronald Reagan was president at the time, so that gave me my idea.  And to make it work to its fullest, it's always best to put in little details that are true to ground things in reality, but twist that into absurdity (because given the subject matter I did want to make absolutely sure that this would be seen as a joke -- though enough veracity to give some people a "Wait a minute..." pause).  And as luck would have it, only a week or so before it had been announced that First Lady Nancy Reagan would be playing herself in a cameo role on the sitcom Different Strokes to present a "Just Say No' pitch.  And making that all the better, the TV show was taped on the Universal Studio lot and would take place the following week, I believe, and had received a great deal of attention.  And ultimately, it read exactly like a  standard press release, since after all that was my job, and something I could do in my sleep -- though I made the details as over-the-top and as silly as possible.  If the Truly Gullible believed it, fine, but the point of it was a joke, and I most-wanted people to get it and laugh.

I don't remember the specifics but to the best of my recollection it read in part along the lines of--

That wasn't it exactly, but it's close, and there was a bit more in the press release, as well.  

As I said, I wrote that it was NOT for immediate release, dated it April 1 and only distributed it to the people in the department.  The reaction was better than I expected, with people stopping by my office to laugh.  And then I went out of lunch.

When I got back, one of the secretaries had an ashen face and said, "You have to go to David's office -- now."  

David was David Weitzner, the Senior Executive Vice-President and head of the entire Marketing Department, not just for Publicity, but Marketing and Advertising, as well.  He was the Big Enchilada, and I was at the bottom of the barrel among the publicists.  (I originally wrote "probably at the bottom," but there was no "probably" about it.) We'd spoken a few times, but I never had a meeting with him in his office.  

When I got there, a bit wary, though more curious than anything, I saw him standing there with a face that appeared oddly beet red and body that seemed clenched.  With him was the PR Director, Fred Skidmore, a insecure fellow, always trying to impress you with his importance, who I never got along all that well with -- I always sensed he bizarrely viewed me as "a threat" somehow.  Weird, since I was the most inexperience publicist in the department, but I think that being the youngest it must have made me seen aggressive and someone who'd want to move up the ladder, eventually taking his job.  (Not only was moving up the PR ladder the last thing on my mind -- I got out of the department a year or so later when I made some quiet contacts and got myself hired to work as an assistant production executive directly reporting for Bob Rehme, the president of the studio -- but even if I'd wanted to become had of the PR department there were half a dozen people far more qualified above me, and it would have taken many years.)

So, as David chewed me out, Fred stood there looking like the Chesire Cat, doing his best to look deeply serious, but grinning widely inside.  Occasionally he'd nod in agreement to whatever David was saying,and chiming on a "That's right" from time to time.  I don't remember all that much what David was saying -- in part because it's 36 years ago, but in part because it was words that didn't matter.  It was clear he was upset, and I knew why, so the specifics were meaningless, and also the only thing I was listening for that mattered was the phrase, "You're fired."  That didn't come, so I was okay.  There is only one comment I do remember David saying -- he asked, "What do you think would be the reaction if this press release got out into the public???!"  I remember thinking, as  he pounded me with the question, that I very much wanted to answer, "The reaction would probably be -- Wow, what a great sense of humor they have at Universal...!!"  The good news is that for all my sense of whimsy, I had the good sense not to say that.  And not to say pretty much anything, but instead nod a lot and stay pretty silent, at most explaining that it didn't get out and was only distributed within the department, and "I'm sorry."

Nothing happened, other than I was told to go around the department and pick up every copy and destroy them.  I think that Fred seemed a bit let down that I wasn't drawn and quartered.

(Side note:  A few years later, after I left the department, and after I'd left Bob Rehme's office and Universal completely, and focused on being a freelance writer, though still doing independent publicity for a few more years because I had to eat, I was hired by David Weitzner to write a speech for him that he'd been asked to give at some big event.  It went very well, and he even liked the jokes I threw in.  Not a word about what would be the reaction if it got out that the head of Universal Marketing had a sense of humor..). 

Okay, in fairness, I understand why he was bothered by the April Fools Day press release, and I didn't get fired, after all.  But it was a joke, it was clearly an over-the-top joke, it was marked for April 1, and it didn't get sent out anywhere.  But, yes, I get it.

And there's a funny post script.

A couple weeks later, I was having dinner with one of my oldest friends, Patrick Goldstein, who wrote an entertainment column for the Los Angeles Times.  I'd been in the same cabin at summer camp, the oft-mentioned here Camp Nebagamon, and we also went to the even-more mentioned Northwestern University.  So, I knew I could trust him implicitly.  I told Patrick I had an amusing story for him, but added that not only could he not print it, he couldn't even ask me for permission to print it.  I said I just didn't want to get into a debate about it, he simply couldn't even ask to print it, but I thought he'd get a chuckle out of it.  He understood and agreed.  He wouldn't print it, he wouldn't even ask.

So, I told him the story and then handed him a copy of the press release.  (No, I hadn't thrown them all out...)  Patrick read the release, looked up and said..."You have to let me print this!"

I didn't.  And he didn't.  I preferred to keep my job.  But that easily I could have had it published in the Los Angeles Times -- explaining it was (obviously) just an April Fools Day joke.

Happy Aprils Fool Day.

I've been seeing billboards and TV ads for a few weeks now promoting the remake of the movie based on Stephen King's novel Pet Sematary.  They've caught my attention more than most remakes since (during my early, dark days when I was a kid and didn't know better and did movie publicity) I was the unit publicist on the original film of Pet Sematary.  I'm not quite sure why they feel a remake is needed so soon after the first one -- it's not like it comes from another era, mind you, but 30 years ago in 1989 -- but they do, and so be it.

One notable difference between this new version and the original, which is why I'm glad I worked on that one, is that the original had a screenplay by Stephen King himself.  And since we shot the movie in Maine, not far from where he lived -- which was in his contract that we film in the state -- he visited the set periodically.  We didn't talk a great deal, but did on occasion.  And since I was always wearing my Cubs hat and he's a well-known Boston Red Sox fan, that always served as a good conversation opener.
​​

Our conversations, though not many, actually lead to probably my favorite story.  Of any story I've ever told.

My brother John was a bit of a curmudgeon.  He hated things that were popular.  (Once, when he came to Los Angeles for a visit, I asked if he wanted to go to Disneyland.  When he said no, I asked why not, and he said, "Because I'm afraid I might like like it.)  On the other hand, his wife loved reading books by Stephen King.  She would ask John to read them, but  no way in the world would he read a novel by Stephen King.  Even if he had the time in the middle of his medical practice, Stephen King wasn't just a popular novelist - he was probably THE most popular current novelist in the world.  Stephen King would not be read.

But she didn't let up.  And finally, John - the good husband - gave in.  Okay, one Stephen King book.  He read Firestarter.  And he loved it so much that he finished the book in two days.  Probably hating every moment that he liked it so much.

Well, as fate would have it, not long after that, I was hired to work on Pet Sematary.  As I said, when, Stephen King would visit the set we'd generally talk about baseball or (of course) the movie, since I was also interviewing him for the production noes I was writing on the making of the film.  One day, though, I said I had a funny story for him, that I thought he would appreciate.

I told him about my brother.  I said he hated anything popular.  I explained how my sister-in-law couldn't get my brother to read his books, specifically because they were popular.  I went into great detail about who John was, and why the last thing on earth he wanted to do was read a popular Stephen King novel.

And then I explained that John finally broke down, read Firestarter -- and absolutely loved it.  Loved it so much that he finished it in two days.

Now, you must understand, this is the Best Possible Reaction that any writer can ever have.  It's one thing to be praised by fans - but it's something else entirely to have someone who is so deeply predisposed to hate your books that he's fought off reading them for years finally read one and love it so much that it's devoured.

Stephen thought for a moment after being told all this, trying to figure what to say.  It was clear he felt wonderful by John's reaction - which is pretty impressive, considering all the acclaim that Stephen King has had in his renowned career.

And then he leaned over, looked at me and said - "Tell your brother, I apologize.  I don't set out to write popular books.  It's just that people buy them."

(Not long after, I was back home in the Midwest and visited my brother who lived in Wisconsin.  And I told John this story.  His face lit up.  One of the biggest smiles I've ever seen him make.  "Stephen King said that about me???!"  he asked.  Yes - Stephen King said that about you.  He laughed out loud, and said, with much pleasure, and an acknowledgement of his own inexplicable reaction to popularity - "You know, he's probably right."  And he kept smiling.)

I didn't take all that many photos of the production -- most of my pictures were of my trips around Maine on my days off, most notably to Arcadia National Park, Baxter State Park (which I particularly wanted to go to because L.L. Bean sells a 'Baxter State Park Parka'), Campabello Island, where FDR lived when he came down with polio, and had his recuperation there -- and was the subject of the classic play and subsequent movie Sunrise at Campabello (both starring Ralph Bellamy, who as whimsy has it went to my high school, New Trier.  But I digress...)  Interestingly, it's actually located in Canada, but has been made into an "International Park."

I did take a few photos, though.  This below is 'Jud Crandall's House,' where the taciturn character played by Fred Gwynne lived.  I've previously told the stories of working with him on the film, which you can read here if interested.  The short version is that I quite liked him.  He was a bit crusty, but personal and direct.  He'd done a great deal, was an accomplished artist, hit some highs and lows in his career, and didn't take kindly to fools, but if you were straight with him, he was good to be around.  And contrary to what he may have said later in public -- perhaps it was to be diplomatic, perhaps he came to accept things -- at that time, he didn't hold much appreciation for The Munsters.  He was grateful for the good it brought him, but it seriously mucked up his career after that, and he didn't want to talk about it.

And this is the house from behind.  It's only this rear that the production did additional work on -- the structure existed before we got there, but had to be filled out for the movie's needs.

We filmed in an area known as Hancock Point, which is a bit outside the town of Ellsworth, about 25 miles from Bangor.  The town leaders wanted to give the Key to the Town to the movie company, and since the breakfast "ceremony" for that took place at a local restaurant pretty early in the morning, none of the filmmakers wanted to get up that early.  And so I -- as unit publicist -- was given the honor.  I had to make a little speech, was very gracious (and meant it) and was presented with the key.  I figured that since none of the people on the movie cared enough to go themselves to get the key, and it was presented to me...I would keep it.  And still have it.  I'm not sure what it will open up for me if I ever go back to Ellsworth, but I'm ready, just in case.

I also recall that it was a big enough deal for us to film in the state that the governor showed up one day.  (Checking records, since, no, I didn't remember, it was John McKernan, Jr., a Republican.)  He told a wonderful story about Hancock Point that I included in the press kit.  The short version was --

Back in World War II, the Germans wanted to get spies infiltrated in the U.S. so, Hanock Point being one of the easternmost parts of the country, they got a U-boat close enough to land and dropped two men off.  They were dressed as locals and went walking through the point into town -- and almost immediately were spotted and arrested, but everyone knew everyone in that small, taciturn village that any stranger instantly stood out.
​

One last photo.  It has nothing to do with Pet Sematary, but it came during my time there and is one of my favorite pictures, although it's helped by the background.  On one of my day's off, I decided to drive through the countryside.  At one point, I passed a farm, and saw a large group of cows on the far side of the field.  I stopped the car, and got out to look at them.  What can I say, I like cows...

And then I soon noticed something unexpected.  It turned out that cows are incredibly curious.  Because one-by-one, a cow would turn, spot me, and sloooooowwwwllly walk across the field to check me out.  And then another.  And another.  And another.  And...  Well, I decided to wait to see what would happen.  And this was the result.
​

​We all communed there for a while -- it would have been so rude of me to leave right after they had made the notable effort to graciously stop by and visit -- but then eventually it was time for me to head on.  From their end, I'm guessing they returned back to the far side of the field.  Perhaps discussing the whippersnapper in a Cubs cap.

I have a lot of very good memories of working on the film, and some off-beat one, not just on the set, but traveling around the state.  This includes some wonderful country-dining, a lot of blueberries and blueberry pie (Machias in northeast part of the state is the wild blueberry capital of the U.S.), going to a Triple-A minor league baseball game in Old Orchard Beach for the Maine Phillies, ​several trips to Freeport, the flagship home of L.L. Bean that's open literally 24/7 every day with countless factory outlet stores from other companies built-up around it, eating at "lobster pots" -- seemingly almost as ubiquitous and inexpensive there as McDonalds -- most memorably Bob the Lobster, understanding from the eerieness of parts of the state where Stephen King's stories come from, dismal Mexican food and an absence of a lot of ethnic food, and seeing a concert in town by Noel Paul Stookey -- Paul, of Peter, Paul and Mary -- who lived down the road in Blue Hill.

I wish the remake well.  But I'm very glad I worked on the original.

While I knew that Carl Reiner was in his 90s, I didn't realized that he was that far along into the decade.  And yes, there's something wonderful about not only doing anything on your 97th birthday, let alone having a 97th birthday, but tweeting on it.
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I remember being at a small Academy screening of Hustle & Flow, the film that won a Best Song Oscar for "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp."). When Carl Reiner showed up, the guard checking in guest had to ask his name -- Reiner was incredibly polite, with no petulance at all at not being recognized...however, the few of us in the screening room saw all this and burst into laughter. When Reiner walked in there were a lot of "thumbs up," and he just graciously shrugged. Mainly, I admired that Carl Reiner -- then 83 -- went to Hustle & Flow ​

As I've noted here, every once in a while I get burned out writing about Trump and am happy to let others jump in and carry the ball for a few days.  There are more than enough falling over themselves to chime in online, not to mention investigate (both in the judicial system and journalism) and report it all, so we're in good hands -- as the batteries recharge.

So, today instead I'll bring up something benign and of most worth locally, but which I've wanted to write about for a while, and this is as good a chance as any.

When I moved into my new home 2-1/2 months ago, a couple of things made me wary about the front door.  The first is that while it had a great lock with a wonderful "snap" (that I love), it didn't seem to lock smoothly, which struck me as pretty important.  Also, the door was set in a way that it swings closed and does so very fast, and then locks.  As sure as the sun rises, I was absolutely certain I would lock myself out at some point.  So, I made more spare keeps than usual and gave them to as many friends who live close by as possible.

The other day, the hinky front door got hinkier, and it became difficult to unlock.  Not a good thing.  Actually, it did unlock fine, just not smoothly, it became a two-handed job where you have to grab the handle and pull the door towards you, and turn the key at the same time.  (I'm mentioned the door issue before closing escrow, but the inspector didn't seem to thing it was worth noting.  Like a few other things I've had to repair.)

Though the door was passably okay, I thought it best to deal with it now, rather than later.  And checked out Angie's List, which I haven't used much, but have had very good luck the couple times I have.  And chalk up yet another.

If you live in Los Angeles, the fellow is David Leiderman at D Locks.  Though he's based in the Valley, he'll go all over -- and as it happens, when I called he was in Santa Monica about 10 minutes away, and had just finished up his prior job.  So, great timing.  

He showed up fast, was very personable, explained everything well and in detail, has a great and wry sense of humor, and got it all fixed quickly and properly, at a very reasonable price.  But the best thing is that I explained that I had another door issue -- that swinging shut fast thing.  And even though it wasn't really a locksmith matter, other than the door locks when it closes, I said I wanted to at least mention it.  And I'm glad I did, because it turned out he knew the issue and was able fixed it and in only about five minutes.  At no charge.

(I had an odd moment a couple weeks later, when the lock wouldn't turn without much difficulty.  David was very responsive, thought it was a minor, understandable issue that was explainable (short version, he thought it might be weather-related and described what why) but had an employee call me a few days later when he was in the area to come over.  I wasn't going to be in then, so we put it off -- and the matter hasn't cropped up again in the past month.  And all seems well.)

So, I now know of a very good locksmith if I need one.  My only quibble is that he doesn't take credit cards, but that's not a deal-breaker.  The wonderful service is what matters.  And I like too that he's a licensed locksmith.  So, if you're in L.A. and want to add a locksmith to your list of Home Service People to Call When In Need, you can find his website here, or call 818-209-0973.  Or write David@Dlocks.net.  Actually, it's worth checking out his website anyway, even if you don't need a locksmith right now or live in another city -- that's because he has a very information FAQ section with things to know about problematic locks and ways you might be able to fix some basic things on your own.

I've written about a few such business near me who provide great service at fair prices -- I write letters of complaint all the time, and I always figure that if I'm going to complain when things go wrong, I have a responsibility to praise those who do things right.  So, I'm very happy to add one more to the book...

From all the writing I've been doing about my friend Vicki Rskin's wonderful, just-published book A Hollywood Memoir about her parents, actress Fay Wray and Oscar-winning screenwriter Robert Riskin (It Happened One Nigh), I've come across a bunch of interesting videos that I thought I'd post, along with some stories.  And given how many articles I've written about it already, I decided not to drag it out further and just put them all together, in one big Fay Fest.

I don’t know what this first video is from, but it has to be within the last year because they mention the Broadway musical of King Kong.  It’s a piece on the original movie that uses a lot of an old interview with Fay.  I do recognize the announcer, Bill Kurtis who was a very popular TV news anchor in Chicago who then went on to do national work for CBS.  And later became a host on several documentary TV series.  (Fun note for perspective: I found out only a few years ago that he was close friends with my dad’s cousin -- and my second cousin -- Marion Elisberg Simon, who was sort of a doyenne of Arts, social programs, and Jewish community in Chicago, and he wrote an introduction to her autobiography a few years ago.  She only just passed away last year at 99.)

I also came across this fascinating video from 1998, when Fay was 91.  She had been invited to come to the Oscars, and host Billy Crystal goes down into the audience to talk to her.   What's interesting is that she seems surprised that he's there, which seems unlikely since you wouldn't invite a 91-year old legend to the Oscars, plan to talk to her live, and not tell her.  What's also possible, if not likely, is that they did indeed tell her, and at 91 she just got the stories conflated and thought they meant to only have her stand up and wave.  The point here, though, is that this is a recipe for something going very, very wrong, live on TV, with a massive worldwide audience -- and yet Fay (although a bit flustered) is sharp, bright and utterly charming.  And while every moment you think it's going to go kablooey, it never does.  What leaps out too are the looks of joy and awe on the faces of all these major stars in the audience, because that's Fay Wray there, at 91.  (By the way, that's her daughter Vicki sitting to her left, with short dark hair and wearing a sort of plaid jacket with black lapels.)
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