They're Playing Her Song

Entertainer Lucie Arnaz was born on July 17, 1951.If you recognize this illustration as an attempt to capture her Broadway debut in the 1979 Broadway musical They're Playing Our Song, then you're really old or perhaps even gayer than I am.

I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Lucie. When I was about 9 I remember seeing her on Marcus Welby, MD as a tennis player whose career is threatened by a thyroid condition. Oh the drama!

I know it's not a very popular opinion, but I never really warmed up to her legendary mother, Lucille Ball. As a kid I viewed Ball as a gravelly-voiced, chain-smoking aloof and imposing sort of Duchess who made the rounds of the afternoon talk shows to hold court. Young Lucie, in contrast, seemed spirited and approachable.

I had a dream about the two of them a few years ago. Lucie was filming a TV version of They're Playing Our Song on Amsterdam Avenue behind Lincoln Center. Her mother showed up and caused quite a fuss. She felt that Lucie should have two trailers; one for when she was singing and one for when she was dancing. Lucie, humble as ever, appeared quite mortified.

When I was 20 I met Lucie Arnaz on Easter Sunday with flowers and a fan letter at the stage door of the Forrest Theatre in Philadelphia. It was my first fan letter, and one of the few I've ever written. I was so impressed that she wrote back, even while performing 8 shows a week in a demanding musical, while living in a strange city and traveling with three small children. I kept that letter for many years but somewhere along the way I managed to lose it. But it doesn't matter; I memorized it within minutes of receiving it:

Dear Jim,

Thank you for the flowers and the kind words. They made me feel great!

God Bless, 

Lucie Arnaz

A Force To Be Reckoned With

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...actually it this morning right

 in my bedroom.  I awoke from a dream in which I was telling someone 

that "generations of young girls"are now predisposed to become space 

travelers because of Princess Leia. 

Once awake I checked my phone and saw a text from my sister. 

It was a quote from Postcards From The Edge , which 

was written by Princess Leia herself, 

Carrie Fisher. Oh, and the quote prominently featured 

the word "generation."  

Coincidence...or was it The Force?

I have to admit I don't really understand the Force since I've never been able to sit through Star Wars without falling asleep. 

Hey Scout

 To Kill A Mockingbird and the Finch family have been very much in the news leading up to the release of Go Set A Watchman today. This little iPad doodle of Scout is my little tip of the cap to this great American novel and its creator Harper Lee. 

Why I Oughta...

7/14/15

This post offers readers a restaurant review of sorts, and a chance to see just how warped my mind is.  But I warn you, there is a section that is really gross and kind of graphic, at least by my standards. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

There's a restaurant in my new neighborhood just about two blocks from me on South Street called Jon's. They make a pretty decent cheesesteak and Buster and I have gone there for brunch a few times. This past Sunday we ordered an omelette with smoked mozzarella for me and a side of bacon for Buster. Well, mostly for Buster. He very generously offered to share since I always pick up the bill.

The omelette was tasty and so huge I left about a third of it on the plate. The potatoes were sliced into tiny little rectangles, looking more liked diced apple than anything else. They weren't great, but two or three or six squirts of ketchup really helps.

The problem with Jon's is their logo. You see Jon's advertises itself as the birthplace of Larry Fine (nee Fineberg) of The Three Stooges, who was born in Philadelphia in 1902. They've got a giant mural of him playing the violin painted high above South Street with his face comically contorted and his hair all akimbo.*

This is actually the second mural the artist David McShane painted of Larry Fine for Jon's. The first, which like the current painting, feature Larry in a loud checkered suit jacket juxtaposed on top of a black and yellow bull's eye. Larry's not really doing much in this first portrait, just being Larry, which really is more than enough. It's this first image that can be found on the menu and on a sign in front of the restaurant proclaiming "Birth Place of Larry Fine!"

At first I thought it was funny, and I wondered why they didn't just call the place Larry's or Fine's. But now that I've spent a few Sundays staring at that sign and letting my imagination run wild while waiting for frittatas and Diet Coke, I've contemplated all sorts of horrifying images.

Second Warning: the gross part is almost here.

Now there's a good chance that Larry wasn't even born at this address, only somewhere in the neighborhood. And even if he was born at this address, there's a good chance it was not a restaurant at the time. And even if it was a restaurant at the time, there's no reason to think that Mrs. Fineberg, fresh from slicing the potatoes into little rectangles for some rather mundane home fries, stooped over at the sink just long enough to squeeze out  little Larry with his crooked nose and familiar crimson locks sculpted into a topiary so ornate it strained the very limits of her womanhood, before washing her hands (hopefully!) and cracking open a few dozen eggs.

And yet...and yet...when I read those words "birth place of Larry Fine" and see that crazy face superimposed over the hypnotic black and  yellow circles receding further and further into the distance like a pinwheel, it's as if Larry is lurching forward, emerging fully formed from some slap-stick-mad-house version of a birth canal.

It's lovely that Philadelphia has found a way to honor one of its native sons who went out into the world and made good for himself while entertaining millions (including me) but he still seems an odd choice for a restaurant. Imagine eating under a sign and accompanying art work that said "Birth Place of Paul Giamatti...or Steve Busecmi!"

Nyuk nyuk nyuk indeed.


(Note: My reinterpretation of the original art work is a simple pencil drawing seriously manipulated on my Ipad.)

*I really love that word.

The Not-So-Bad Wife

7/12/15

Anybody else have that crazy dream 

last night that they worked at 

Lockhart/Gardner and Diane got mad 

when you asked about another raise, 

especially since she says she's caught 

you napping on the job? No? That was 

just me? And then she decided to leave 

the law and go back to her first love,

the theatre. 

(Among the details I've left out for brevity's sake: packing up my desk and an enormous number of Christmas decorations, Andy Cohen standing on a window ledge pretending he's going to jump, Diane Lockhart [Christine Baranski] having words with Miranda Priestly.)

At Least Nine Lives

Another birthday for dear, talented, slightly, uh, eccentric Betty Buckley. I digitally painted the "Cats" makeup and a reinterpretation of Grizabella's costume right over top of the drawing I did of her last summer.