"Jazz Summer"

There is an episode of TV’s Who’s The Boss?, where Tony convinces Angela’s hip mother Mona to invite her straight-laced daughter to a jazz club in an effort to loosen her up. That plan works too well, as Angela can’t get enough of her new lifestyle of all-night bohemian parties with people who are unaware that the day has two twelve o’clocks. There is that moment where she wears this "morning after" glow, mind still floating in the reverie of having found her true being. That moment came to mind when I felt EXACTLY the same way after stumbling into work on the Monday morning after the first weekend spent at the jazz festival. The seeds had been sewn, the new world was born, and there was no recourse.

It was the summer of 1995. There I was, 9 AM in the basement warehouse, with such a happy head space that I didn’t know I was still wearing sunglasses! This was the first taste of the new life that was evolving for me, all because of an ad in Sam The Record Man.

Although I’ve loved jazz since I was a kid  (with adolescent Saturday nights spent twiddling the radio knobs for the CFCA big band program while my peers were out somewhere drinking and fornicating), it wasn't until the early 1990s when I had seriously started to explore the music. My friends and I had tired of the “classic rock” format, and sought other forms of music to define ourselves. Whereas they found new plateaus in the burgeoning alternative rock scene, I instead went back to the roots: first to blues, then to its close cousin, jazz.  At first, it was tough being a jazz fan in a small town. You had to take whatever slim pickings were available in delete bins, garage sales, thrift shops or fleetingly on the radio. (More on that in a future post.) That changed, upon moving to the big city for school.

In the first two-thirds of my three-year course in broadcasting, I hadn’t fully taken advantage of all that the city offered, and largely confined my spare time to record stores or rep cinemas. Sure, I had cherished friends in college, but in those hours outside of school and work, I was still searching for something else. In the summer months at the end of the second school year, the time seemed right for change. Those hot nights and weekends were devoted to the jazz world I’d been enamoured of. It was more than just the music: it was also the way of life and state of mind that it represented. I think too, that my brother’s sudden death the previous December instilled the realization that life is too precious a gift to waste, and one had to get out and take full advantage of it.

The mid-1990s was a perfect time to be a jazz fan. CDs were more affordable, and countless back catalogue recordings were being issued to disc for the first time. There was a renewed mainstream interest in the music thanks to the so-called Young Lions (players like Joshua Redman, Roy Hargrove, et al) who brought a new vitality, and a new young audience, to the form. Even those who enjoyed the most extreme forms of “alternative music” would support the new avant garde jazz scene (David S. Ware, Fred Frith, etc.). And in the years before CJRT rebranded to JAZZ-FM, one’s favourite music was still generously showcased on college radio shows throughout the day. Speciality TV channels like Bravo had an impressive catalogue of programming. Plus, with a recovering economy, a lot of Canada Council grant money supported independent music venues and recordings. 

In other words, there was a bottomless pit of jazz new and old for discovery. I wanted to bask in it as much as possible, and find some like-minded comrades in the process.  This task began inconspicuously enough, with a visit to the jazz department of Sam The Record Man, and viewing an ad for volunteers at the DuMaurier Jazz Festival. It seemed like a perfect way to get inaugurated into the jazz scene. Since I worked weekdays during the summer, I had volunteered for shifts on the two weekends that bookended the festival.

The final weekend, spent hanging around the volunteer headquarters, came with the revelation that there were other people with the same ambitions, to start the same kind of "jazz crowd" I was. A handful of us had formed a little community, resulting in subsequent nights on the town, house parties, and the forging of lifelong friendships.  Because of the festival, our lives had changed significantly: especially for me, as through “a friend of a friend”, I would soon meet Susan, the love of my life.

My life has undergone several major changes, just due to the right alchemy of things in the air at the time. The summer of 1995 was one of these. This is the first of many blog posts to be published in the next few weeks, commemorating the 25th anniversary of that “jazz summer”, with reminisces of the scene, and reviews of music that I had discovered at the time- which charted a path to a new consciousness, and (to coin a phrase from the “Who’s The Boss” theme song)... a brand new life.

This post originally appeared in 2015, in honour of its 20th anniversary. Alas, a busy work schedule hampered my time to follow up with all those articles. Now, for year 25, with the world upside down, it appears that time is all we have, so those pieces will finally be written. The prospective 25th anniversary reunion of "The Jazz Club" will have to be re-scheduled on, I dunno, the 26th? For now, while the world heals, we'll pour a glass of wine and silently relive those memories of the music, the laughter and the lives that all changed in one summer.

Judge Colt, The Wolf Man And Me

In her lifetime, my mother had relationships with (as far as I knew) three different men named Bob.

No, not at the same time!

Tonight’s post involves Bob #2, whom my mother courted briefly when I was 14.

Bob #2 had a stocky build that could have intimidated an introvert like me, but he also had a gentle, quiet disposition, evidenced by his soft blue eyes and tight-lipped smile. I never heard him raise his voice, and for that matter, never heard him laugh out loud, either. Despite his low-key mannerisms, he was quite colourful.

He drove a rickety pickup truck that was one loose rivet from a “This could be you” warning in a highway safety film. He lived on one side of a two-story house that was partitioned in the middle of the main floor by a door-sized piece of Styrofoam. His elderly mother lived on the other side. A flannel blanket for a curtain covered his living room window. His kitchen was basically a workshop, where counters were adorned with wrenches and screwdrivers instead of strainers and can openers, save for the dish rack where cups and plates waited in vain to be cleaned. Sometimes, much to his chagrin, his mother would come over and do his dishes for him. One assumed she didn’t walk through the Styrofoam.

His drink of choice was rye and coke, which he always stirred with the little wooden pencil in his flannel shirt pocket. Always. Whenever he’d pour a new shot, we would offer him a spoon or a swizzle stick. Nope. The HB still came out. If pencils hadn’t been composed of graphite, he’d have had lead poisoning.

Bob #2 had these lamb chop sideburns, which prompted me to nickname him Wolf Man. I didn’t intend to be spiteful. This was another of my ill-fated teenaged attempts at hiding awkwardness with humour. My demeanour would be taken the wrong way… but no wonder! Even so, in a few weeks, off went the lamb chops. (In the age our tale unfolds, the day’s fashion trends included leg warmers, purple hair and neon. Birdtown on the other hand, was still a decade or two behind the times. Sideburns and brown corduroy were still “in”. Even at this remove, you could still find hippies playing guitars downtown.)

By the way, these paragraphs weren’t meant as a putdown. I really did like the guy. These eccentric traits I found kind of endearing. The rebels and the oddballs of my native Birdtown always fascinated me. Anyone who shook up the town’s broomstick-derriered status quo was okay in my books.

Bob #2 and I shared common interests- some only became apparent after I knew him. He enjoyed watching westerns, serials, Tarzan and Hercules movies, which were then plentiful on WUTV, Channel 29 from Buffalo. (Readers of a certain vintage in Southern Ontario or Western New York will elicit pleasant sighs at memories of their retro programming, especially their weekends of kaiju and kung fu movies. WUTV originally played on our cable 9, until it was bumped off our VHF dial for the French Channel, and emigrated way up to cable 19, which you needed a converter to see. For years, I was deprived of WUTV, because my mother was convinced a converter would bugger up her television. But, the rest of this story belongs in a future blog post all its own.) The time with Bob #2 predates my full-fledged cinephilia. In another five or ten years, we would have had much more to discuss.

Instead, we had bonded over another medium that told stories and created worlds within a frame: comic books!

Bob had been a serious comic collector for about three decades, and stopped buying new books around the mid-1970s. He still enjoyed the medium, and would pull stuff out of his collection to re-read. It was shocking to me then that he had no interest in long-underwear superheroes. His archive was deprived of obvious things like Spiderman or Superman. Rather, his collection focused on genres that existed in the margins to the current mainstream: westerns, action-adventure (jungle, sword and sorcery), and Disney! Instead of the usual Marvel or DC banners that infiltrated most others’ collections, his would consist of titles from Dell or its sister company, Gold Key.

I was already a Gold Key fan, thanks to their runs of Star Trek and The Twilight Zone; among their many adaptations of TV show properties, from the 1960s to the imprint’s demise in the early 1980s. Gold Key’s appeal was also for their eye-catching painted covers, and the other enticing titles that I had discovered when Woolworth’s used to sell assortments of Gold Key’s in grab bag collections of three or ten. (This too deserves its own post some day, but I’ll briefly mention that UFO Flying Saucer, True Ghost Stories, and Space Family Robinson were among those discoveries.)

It was through Bob though, that I first got a taste of Dell’s long-running, serpentine Four-Color Comics, its series of one-off movie adaptations called Movie Classics, and a similar run by Gold Key, informally titled Movie Comics. Through these adaptations, I was already familiar with the stories of Rio Conchos and The Dirty Dozen long before I had seen the movies they were based on.

My parents divorced when I was very young. I still saw my father once a week or more, but I have no experience of living in a household with a patriarchal figure. If I was ever subconsciously seeking a “surrogate father” in my mother’s boyfriends, I had no longer sought such a role when Bob #2 entered the picture. By then, I was older, and had learned to live without a father figure. Additionally, several months before she began dating Bob #2, my mother’s boyfriend Frank died suddenly, just days before Christmas. I think Frank was and remained her true love. Admittedly, it felt weird seeing different men around the house for several months afterwards, but I accepted that she rightfully was trying to get on with her life, and sought new companionship. As a result, I had no expectations of Bob #2 being “my new dad”, anymore than he expected me to be a surrogate son. He was a man of few words, but I’d like to think that during his brief courtship with my mother, he recognized a bit of his younger self in me.

One Sunday afternoon, he volunteered to drive me in his rickety pickup to a couple of flea markets around the county.  In both cases, he would stand around with a Styrofoam cup of coffee and chat with people, while I checked out the tables at whatever halls or church basements we infiltrated. That day’s haul was just a couple of Family Circus paperbacks, but it’s about the thrill of the hunt, which any collector knows, and surely he did. My memory of this afternoon persists, because it was one way in which we silently bonded over this same passion.

Quite often when he came over, he would bring me a stack of comics from his collection. With one handful, he would say, “These ones, I want back." And with another handful, “These ones, I don't care what you do with them.” Some titles I recognized from the “grab bag” days (he dropped off almost complete runs of The Jungle Twins and Brothers Of The Spear), while other short-run series were unfamiliar to me. (One such title I recall was The Scarecrow, from the “want back” pile. which I read and gave back the same night.)

Perhaps his aversion to long-underwear superheroes influenced my own. In another two or three years, I would stop collecting comic books once my interest switched to film history. Further, superhero stories had become increasingly stupid and juvenile. Otherwise, a small town comic collector had few other options than Archie. (The blossoming independent and direct market worlds were out of reach.) In the later days of collecting, I slavishly bought the long-underwear stuff because “they will be worth something one day”. I’d read an issue once, shrug, and pack it away. Instead, anything I dug from the archives for re-reading was stuff considered by fellow collectors to be disposable and of little worth: westerns, crime, science fiction, action-adventure, and even some horror, published by Gold Key and Charlton. They spoke to me more. (This too is deserving of a post all its own some day.)

And among those that would get constant rotation was a title run I was introduced to, thanks to Bob: the short-lived western series, Judge Colt, published by Gold Key in 1969-70. (He had three of its four-issue run; I’d eventually track down the stray issue years later.)

I’ve always loved western movies of any stripe: from the tough 1960s revisionist westerns to the 1930s singing cowboys. Western comic books that still existed in the 1970s and 80s were still very much stuck in the 50s, largely because the majority of them were reprints from previous decades. They still adhered to the squeaky-clean “white hats vs. black hats” mentality, and had little room for the moral ambiguity to be found in, for example, DC’s Jonah Hex character.

Judge Colt, on the other hand, was an interesting bridge between the 1950s wholesomeness and the “new” western. To paraphrase a joke made by Henny Youngman around the time, “In the adult western, the cowboy still kisses his horse, only now he worries about it."

Technically, many western comic book heroes were superheroes in cowboy hats, whose amazing superpowers included larger than life stunts or tricky gunplay. In that sense, the Judge Colt series finds our hero in similar slam-bang adventures, but it had a far more psychological edge than, say, The Rawhide Kid. In fact, western comics had far too many “kids”: Billy The Kid, Kid Colt Outlaw, etc.  Judge Colt differed from the rest in age alone. He was middle-aged; hot youth was replaced with greying temples, and world-weary disposition.

Our hero, Judge Mark Colt, the much-feared “hanging judge”, rides the frontier to find the killers who gunned down his wife Maria, who was a bystander during a holdup.  In between the usual western adventure tropes, exists a brooding story of haunted love, as Maria still figuratively exists in the present through omnipresent photographs, flashbacks and Colt’s own nights of self-reflection.

Despite that he is feared for his equal proficiency with guns and ropes, Colt has an interesting Achilles heel, in that his body shakes after every gunfight. He is revealed as flawed, nakedly human, and significantly less than impervious. Colt is often morally conflicted and full of self-doubt. In his constant internal monologues, he questions if his actions are any less morally reprehensible than those of the crooks he sends to the gallows.

I’ve no information as to why Judge Colt only ran four issues. Perhaps this character was too offbeat for its audience, or perhaps he was shelved after poor sales, even though it offered the same quota of action and adventure as its six-gun competition. It would have been interesting to see his character develop in future editions, although perhaps its formula would have been too repetitive after a while. Eventually, Mark Colt would have to find all of Maria’s killers, otherwise try the patience of their readers. Comic book miniseries were more common a decade after Judge Colt ceased publication. A planned twelve-issue run would have best suited this story arc, and kept it fresh.

If you’re a collector, any of these books are worth having, although perhaps the fourth issue is the most interesting. In “Trial By Fury”, Judge Colt investigates a series of murders that are made to look like accidents, and discovers that each of the men in these so-called “accidents” are victims of a long-held revenge plot. At this revelation, Colt can only compare the killer’s actions to his own dubious mission to avenge Maria’s death. It is exactly this kind of smart writing and introspection that sets Colt apart from the usual six-gun comics.

It is tempting to say that Judge Colt had to happen so that Jonah Hex could appear, but its short run suggests that he likely didn’t inspire what was to come. The series only exists as an interesting footnote in Gold Key’s publishing history, or the history of western heroes. Still, his character seems a necessary stepping-stone between the squeaky clean 1950s cowboys and the moral ambiguity of Jonah Hex.

My mother’s courtship with Bob #2 lasted briefly, and in a few ways I was the catalyst for their separation. As time unfolded, they appeared to have less in common with each other than he did with me! After they split up, there were still some comics from the “want back” pile left at my mother’s place, although as time progressed I could no longer remember which was which.

I would occasionally see Bob #2 around town, like at a yard sale the following summer, where he bought another dish tray. I couldn’t help but chuckle. But as time passed, and as faces begin to fade, I would wonder what became of him. Only years later did I learn that he passed away, still in his 50s. I’ve no idea whether he still lived alone, or if he had any heirs.

But still, in the years after the brief time I knew him, I would revisit the stash of funny books in my mother’s basement, and he would soon enter my thoughts. I would skip over any titles featuring someone in a cape, and go for the stuff from that alternate four-colour universe that he turned me onto, and silently thank him. And especially for Judge Colt. He was the jewel of the lot.

Pulp Show 2017

Starting to save the quarters for this year's Fantastic Pulps Show & Sale!

From the website of Girasol Collectables:

"A small but terrific show featuring a variety of pulp and pulp related items.

25 dealers’ tables crammed with vintage pulp, pulp reprints,

vintage paperbacks and posters as well as other ephemera.

Plus a half-hour pulp magazine cover slide show. A great time for both

serious pulp collectors as well as the casually interested.

Lots of great stuff to see!"

My Goodness This Blog Has Been Inactive

Hi there. Heh-heh.

I've lost count now. Which number of apologia is this to make amends for inactive blog posting?

What a year. 2016 was the time I had pledged to make a fresh new start, and that didn't happen for a multitude of reasons. I then resolved to start 2017 with a clean slate and renewed sense of purpose, albeit a little late. Since December 28, I was laid up with a cold, and therefore everything in my current roster had to be pushed back several weeks. I'm still getting caught up on celebrating the holidays with relatives!

As noted on my sister blog Mount Unwatched (itself dormant also due to reasons above),  Honest Ed's closed for good on December 31. With it, went most of the adjacent businesses on Markham St. Favourite haunts such as Suspect Video, The Beguiling, and Butler's Pantry have shuttered, or are dispersing to other locations, all in the name of "progress". Just what we need: more overpriced condos, more frozen yogurt places. Yippee!  And so, culturally, last year, was like watching the slow but certain death of a loved one. Perhaps the cessation of that lifeblood is what has inspired me more to continue what I used to do, to keep that culture alive!

Thanks for taking the trip with us. More real soon.

The Old Book & Paper Show

The 2016 edition of The Old Book & Paper Show happened two days ago at Wychwood Barns. This was my second visit to the show, and it seemed that this year there were more postcard vendors than last. Otherwise, you still had exhibitors of books, magazines, comics, memorabilia, photographs, etc.

The man with the boxes of cheap paperbacks was there again this year, and I came away with the following from his table. Most of these are prime "Gee Whiz G-Man" material to be read and reviewed for this blog in the future:

Jerry Sohl: The Time Dissolver
Roger Fuller: Burke’s Law - Who Killed Madcap Millicent?
Paul Brickhill: Escape or Die
Sax Rohmer: Nude In Mink
John Buchan: Mountain Meadow
Cornell Woolrich: Deadline at Dawn
Dorothy B. Hughes: Ride the Pink Horse
Sax Rohmer: Return of Sumuru
Dorothy B. Hughes: The Bamboo Blonde
Edgar Wallace: The Clue of the New Pin
Peter Cheyney: The Stars Are Dark
Jack Webb: The Bad Blonde
Elizabeth Sax Rohmer: Bianca in Black
William P. McGivern: The Crooked Frame
Sax Rohmer: The Fire Goddess
William P. McGivern: Killer on the Turnpike

Sunday Night Movie Corner #1

Films viewed the week of April 10: three-fourths of this week's offerings are prime examples of those racy Italian movies we used to sneak downstairs to watch on Saturday nights at 2AM on CFMT Channel 47, for all their biological delights, even if they weren't dubbed in English. And since we've still exploring the deep well of British genre films after being inspired by the amazing book Offbeat! two years ago, we also checked out a trademark horror anthology film from Amicus.

From Beyond the Grave

(1974; Kevin Connor) The final horror anthology from Amicus Productions (The House That Dripped Blood; Tales From The Crypt; Vault of Horror) features tales of terror revolving around items found in Peter Cushing's antique shop (appropriately entitled Temptations) and is great fun for a Saturday night. In "The Gatecrasher", a man holds a seance after purchasing a mirror, which summons an evil spirit who appears in the mirror reflection and demands that the man "feeds" the apparition by killing for it. David Warner is very good as the man torn between good and evil, carrying out the spirit's bidding. And what an ending! In "The Elemental" Margaret Leighton is great fun as an eccentric medium (aren't they all?) named Madame Orloff (a nod to Franco?) who is called upon by a stuffy businessman (Ian Carmichael) who purchases a snuff box and now has an Elemental in his home, wreaking havoc for him and his wife (Nyree Dawn Porter).  When a writer (Ian Ogilvy) purchases a door in (guess) "The Door", and props it up in his home, he and his wife (Lesley-Anne Down) discover that it opens to another room occupied by an occultist who attempts to get into the outside world and trap the couple in this other dimension. Intriguingly, the resolution of these tales (including the wraparound story of a hapless individual who attempts to rob the old curiosity shop) depends on whether or not the storekeeper has somehow been cheated in the purchase of the goods. I've saved the second tale ("An Act of Kindness") for the last, because it's the best: an elaborate, deliberately paced story of just desserts, as a man (Ian Bannen) regales fabricated tales of his own military (experiences behind a service medal from the shop) to a war veteran (Donald Pleasence, excellent in a subtle role) now selling matches on the street. His relationship with the veteran (and his daughter, played by the actor's real-life daughter, the eerily beautiful, perfectly cast Angela Pleasence) becomes more complex and bizarre, resulting in a revenge plot against the man's nagging wife (Diana Dors, who scores with little screen time) and ingrate son... but not without a price. Although he is perhaps best remembered today for the Amicus Edgar Rice Burroughs adaptations, The People That Time Forgot, At The Earth's Core; The Land That Time Forgot, and for the Rory Calhoun cult classic Motel Hell, former editor Kevin Connor acquits himself very well in his directorial debut, in the exceptionally well-edited climax of "The Door", and with clever use of cinematic space and depth in marvellous mirror effects in "The Gatecrasher". (Warner DVD)

Lover Boy

(1975; Franco Martinelli AKA- Marino Girolami) Other than the attribute of the delightful Edwige Fenech in very low-cut dresses (when wearing anything at all, that is), there's not much to say about this bland sex comedy. When a businessman learns that his father's new wife is flying in for a visit, he dismissively sends his dorky ten-year-old son to attend to her. Upon learning that grandpa's new bride is the much younger, and scintillating, Ms. Fenech, the kid has suddenly forgotten about his tomboy girlfriend, and before long his mopey guitar-playing older brother, and their horny dad are also vying for her attention. This is a typical middle 70s racy Italian comedy, with cartoonish acting (no doubt aided by the dubbing) and questionable attempt to make adultery look like so much fun, indifferently directed hack work by Marino Girolami (best remembered for Zombie Holocaust, and for conceiving fellow filmmaker Enzo Castellari). Of some novelty value is the score by Enrico Simonetti, which belongs in a better movie. Edwige is lovely to look at, as always, but this affair (with endless shots of these goons ogling her cleavage) gets tiresome really fast. (Shoarma Digital)

The Cricket
(1980; Alberto Lattuada) The title refers to the nickname given the waif-like character played by Clio Goldsmith, whose entrance into and departure from these debauched relationships bookends this fascinating drama, but the story arc is really about the hapless chanteuse Wilma (played by Virna Lisi) who befriends Cricket (her one fan), acting as a chambermaid in a hotel she is performing at. In about ten minutes of screen time, they are ejected from the hotel, and hit the road together. Soon they meet a man (Tony Franciosa) and turn his rundown gas station-restaurant-hotel complex into a lucrative business. When he and Wilma marry, the former singer sends for her daughter, in the hopes that they can have a normal family life. But happiness proves elusive in this neon-lit morality play, as sexual curiosity and repression leads to tragedy. As with Stay As You Are, a previous film by Alberto Lattuada (whose six-year career includes Variety Lights, co-directed with Federico Fellini), this straddles between an arthouse aesthetic and exploitation film elements, but has a uniquely bluesy poetry. Even when it veers into melodrama in the final half hour, this remains a thoroughly compelling, complex study of good people who screw up; characters whose sexual liberation leads to doom. Highly recommended! Check it out! (Mya Communications)

Perversion Story

(1969; Lucio Fulci) This sensational title (admittedly no better than its alternate, One on Top of the Other) masks a pretty good giallo inspired by Vertigo (with its San Francisco setting a potential nod to its source), yet set amongst a swinging 60s milieu. A fledgling doctor (Jean Sorel), who is married to an ailing asthmatic (Marisa Mell), and has a mistress on the side (Elsa Martinelli), finds himself in more twisted situations after his wife dies, and encounters an exotic dancer who resembles her. Despite the different coloured eyes and hair, he is convinced she is his late wife. While Lucio Fulci's direction is somewhat ham-fisted, the bright cinematography and jazzy soundtrack by Riz Ortolani (featured on a bonus CD in the Severin Films DVD release) uplift a sometimes plodding narrative. The climax is genuinely suspenseful as our hero is sentenced to die in the gas chamber for murder. John Ireland is good in a small role as the detective investigating this bizarre puzzle. (Severin Films)

The Late Night Files: Snicker Theater

Snicker Theater was a syndicated program that aired in 1987 on WNBC (Channel 4) in New York City, as well as other markets. In a formula that anticipated Mystery Science Theater 3000 by a couple of years (albeit with much more low-rent production values), hosts Barry Kilbrick and Pat Mulligan (playing, respectively, Barry and Pat) would poke fun at cheesy movies, hence the title Snicker Theater. 

Saul Fischer by way of E-gor's Chamber of TV Horror Hosts, continues: 

No horror make-up, just a low-rent living room/basement set with an AWFULLY cheap-looking sofa, upon which "Barry" & "Pat" sat and watched cheesy videos, pausing every few minutes before and after the commercial breaks to make fun of the flicks... and make fun of each other, too. These two guys hosted as well as co-produced and co-wrote the show, and, as I recall, most of it was amusing. The character of "Barry" ran a bowling alley while poor "Pat" worked "down at the toxic dump" (shades of The Simpsons). 

In a typical episode, they got up and literally hopped off the set to eat at (the offscreen) Bernie's All-You-Can-Eat Frog Leg Emporium, as the movie continued playing. They returned several minutes later, gastrointestinally-challenged, and saw their mistake -- but wisely decided not to bother rewinding the video to see what they had missed (but the audience had endured). 

In the same episode, they had pizza delivered by a well-endowed blonde (another cast member), and ended up dancing with her around the set. It ended with them trying to leave the set for a much-needed "case" of cold beers, then Barry's too-short microphone cord that was trailing behind him got hopelessly caught in the closing door, as Pat cracks up with the offscreen crew, all of this visible under the closing credits. Lydia Finzi played the girl who delivered the pizza (Domino's!). The films they showed were low budgeters like Superargo vs. Diabolicus, Trinity and Sartana, etc. It was filmed in Hollywood, CA.

++++

Later, the show's producer, Dan Brenner, took over hosting duties for the rest of its brief run. (And because this show was produced in the same studio as The People's Court, Brenner apparently used the same dressing room as Judge Wapner!)

Once again, in my hobby of perusing old TV listings, I have the reaction of: "The things I know now that I wish I knew then." Talk about missed opportunities. Snicker Theater was also picked up locally. CFPL (former CBC affiliate Channel 10 from London, Ontario) aired it on Sunday nights at midnight, from September, 1988 to August, 1989. The roster consisted of low-budget Italian genre films that remain hard to find today, even for Euro-genre enthusiasts like yours truly.  And yet, at the time I was completely oblivious to the program. Why? Because this nerd would instead be spending late night Sunday nights watching or taping French and silent films on CBLFT! 

Here is a listing of the films seen on Snicker Theater, as shown on CFPL, Sunday nights at midnight, in 1988-89 (as listed in Starweek):

09-18-88  title not listed

09-25-88 Who Killed the Prosecutor and Why? (1972) Lou Castel

10-02-88 The Trojan War (1962) Steve Reeves, John Drew Barrymore

10-09-88 title not listed

10-16-88 Night of Hate (1973) Anita Ekberg, Tomas Milian

10-23-88 Mafia Vs. Ninja (1984) Alexander Lou, Silvio Azzolini

10-30-88 The Red Sheik (1973) Channing Pollock

11-06-88 Robin Hood, Arrow, Beans and Karate (1976) Alan Steel

11-13-88 title not listed

11-20-88 Jesse and Lester, Two Brothers (1975) Richard Harrison

11-27-88 No Graves on Boot Hill (1969) K. Wood, P. White, C. Hill

12-04-88 Shoot Joe and Shoot Again (1972) Richard Harrison

12-11-88 Io Semiramide (1962) Yvonne Furneaux, John Ericson

12-18-88 How To Win a Billion and Get Away With It (1966) Ray Danton, Edmond Purdom

12-25-88 Seven Golden Women Against 2-07 (1967) Mickey Hargitay, Luciana Paoli

01-01-89 28 Minutes for 3 Million Dollars (1967) Richard Harrison, Claudio Biava

01-08-89 Crime Story (1968) Stan Cooper, Helga Line

01-15-89 Who Killed the Prosecutor and Why? (1972) Lou Castel

01-22-89 The Trojan War (1962) Steve Reeves, John Drew Barrymore

01-29-89 Eyes Behind The Stars (1978) Martin Balsam, Nathalie Delon

02-05-89 Night of Hate (1973) Anita Ekberg, Tomas Milian

02-12-89 Mafia Vs. Ninja (1984) Alexander Lou, Silvio Azzolini

02-19-89 The Red Sheik (1973) Channing Pollock

02-26-89 Robin Hood, Arrow, Beans and Karate (1976) Alan Steel

03-05-89 For a Book of Dollars (1973) Lincoln Tate

03-12-89 Caesar the Conqueror (1960) Cameron Mitchell, Rik Battaglia

03-19-89 Gun Shy Piluk (1968) Edmond Purdom

03-26-89 Hot Diamonds in Cold Blood (1968) Richard Harrison

04-02-89 Electra One (1968) George Martin, Vivi Bach

04-09-89 Trinity and Sartana (1972) Robert Widmark

04-16-89 Beautiful But Dangerous (1955) Gina Lollobrigida, Vittorio Gassman

04-23-89 Superargo Vs. Diabolicus (1968) Ken Wood, Gerard Tichy

04-30-89 No Graves on Boot Hill (1969) Ken Wood, Craig Hill

05-07-89 Eyes Behind The Stars (1978) Martin Balsam, Nathalie Delon

05-14-89 The Red Sheik (1973) Channing Pollock

05-21-89 The Trojan War (1962) Steve Reeves, John Drew Barrymore

05-28-89 Mafia Vs. Ninja (1984) Alexander Lou, Silvio Azzolini

06-04-89 Jesse and Lester, Two Brothers (1975) Richard Harrison

06-11-89 No Graves on Boot Hill (1969) Ken Wood, Craig Hill

06-18-89 Shoot Joe and Shoot Again (1972) Richard Harrison

06-25-89 How To Win a Billion and Get Away With It (1966) Ray Danton, Edmond Purdom

07-02-89 28 Minutes for 3 Million Dollars (1967) Richard Harrison, Claudio Biava

07-09-89 Crime Story (1968) Stan Cooper, Helga Line

07-16-89 Who Killed the Prosecutor and Why? (1972) Lou Castel

07-23-89 The Trojan War (1962) Steve Reeves, John Drew Barrymore

07-30-89 Seven Golden Women Against 2-07 (1967) Mickey Hargitay, Luciana Paoli

08-06-89 The Red Sheik (1973) Channing Pollock

08-13-89 Robin Hood, Arrow, Beans and Karate (1976) Alan Steel

08-20-89 Hot Diamonds in Cold Blood (1968) Richard Harrison

08-27-89 Electra One (1968) George Martin, Vivi Bach

Fantastic Pulps Show and Sale... this Saturday!

I can barely stand the suspense. Always great fun and amazing finds to be had at the Fantastic Pulps Show & Sale, which occurs one Saturday every year in the basement of the Lillian H. Smith Branch of the Toronto Public Library. The 20th (!) annual show for 2016 happens this Saturday!

A definite highlight in my year-round tradition of spelunking for nostalgic treasures of yore, this sale always gives me a big Cheshire Cat grin.

Check it out!

Click here to learn more.

List-O-Mania

I've always been an avid list maker. A list of films I've watched, and a list of films I want to watch (itself running 30-plus pages) are the most durable ones I've created (and still in progress). When I go book shopping, I often carry around a little black book containing numerous checklists, often of authors' works, so I don't accidentally buy something twice (as I am wont to do with my elusive memory).

What inspired me to write this post though, were the lists I used to keep, about a year after I graduated from college. Every month, I would make a new list of films to see or books to read, over the following 30 days. The titles would easily fill one-and-a-half sides of a three-ringed 8 & 1/2 by 11" piece of lined paper. Because I wasn't working in my chosen field, and was suffering from cabin fever, these particular lists were a ploy to inspire me out of a creative slump.

However, as life and work got in the way, it was unsurprising to find that when those four weeks elapsed, many of the film or book titles didn't have little check marks beside them. I didn't consider that as an indication of failure. It mattered more that these lists inspired me to organize my thoughts, and to continue learning about the things I was passionate about.

Flash forward to the present day. Those 30-day lists made during those turbulent times have frequently appeared in my mind. Why? Perhaps because all these years later, I am in a similar rut, and my subconscious has dredged up these images as a reminder of how to re-establish some order.

In a recent private journal entry, I made a little list summarizing all of the projects (websites, blogs, articles, etc.) that I've started and thereby abandoned over the past three years. I won't bore you with the details here, but suffice it to say, the items in this list are all over the place... just like my brain. The reason for this lack of cohesion may stem from my lack of publishing anything for over three years. Whatever the pros and cons of doing a magazine, it at least brought some order to my life outside of the nine-to-five grind.

But of all the projects I've started and stopped over the past few years, you know what one I've missed the most? This one right here. Time to do something about that.

Okay, now to start this list. This month is nearly over, so let's make it a "to-do" list from April 24 to May 31, just to add some leeway while I get back into the groove. Here we go...

(click of pen)

Saturday Nights and "C Jam Blues"

The last two years spent in Birdtown was also when I really started getting into jazz. In a small town, you took whatever you found, even if it wasn't necessarily the best representation of the genre. Well, one Saturday afternoon in the fall, I hit pay dirt. I bought a handful of jazz LPs at a yard sale from some hip people in Port Dover. A couple of Keith Jarrett's, and Miles Davis At the Blackhawk were among the titles from that haul, but the prize of the lot was Charles Mingus at Carnegie Hall. This 1970s live album has only two songs, one on each side: which I likewise recorded to a C-60 cassette. (In those days, I would usually play an LP just once- when I made a tape of it, so I could listen to the music wherever I went.)

The last two years spent in Birdtown were also in the height of a recession. The economic downturn brought out the worst in everybody- even in a small town "where nothing ever happens" there were rashes of car thefts and store robberies. As a result, I was always nervous when I worked the Saturday night shift at the convenience store. One already had enough to worry about, with the drunken weirdos from the neighbouring apartment buildings raising hell, never mind all this other shit! Well, once 11 PM rolled around, and I could lock the doors to Fort Apache, elated that I survived another Saturday night unharmed, my 11:01 ritual began. On the ubiquitous Realistic tape recorder-player would go Side A of Mingus at Carnegie Hall: a rousing 24-minute rendition of Ellington's "C Jam Blues". This would be playing full blast while I performed my closing duties (counting the float, putting money in the safe, filling the coolers, etc.). The wall of sound by saxophonists Charles McPherson, John Handy, George Adams, Roland Kirk and Hamiet Bluiett remains one of the most joyfully raucous things I've ever heard: long lines of honks and squeals like an 18-wheeler and a freight train having a love child. Mingus' sound was often eccentric, and this track especially seemed the perfect soundtrack to clean out one's headspace after several hours of the usual assortment of bizarre Damon Runyon characters from the neighbourhood; and in light of the potential occupational hazards, it also made one glad to be alive.

But you don't have to take my word for it.  Here's a sample to hear for yourself!

6AM Reflections

In the final two years I lived in my hometown before moving to Toronto, I worked two jobs. One of them was doing early morning and weekend shifts at the convenience store up the street from my mother's house. The early morning part, however, didn't last that entire duration, despite my boss' good intentions, as it became apparent that the only signs of life in the store at 6AM were me, my Thelonious Monk cassette, and maybe the milkman. Oh, and this. It seemed every morning at a certain time, a squirrel would run down the telephone pole by the curb, and a bird would always stop and look into the glass of the front door. Always thought it was quite touching to observe patterns of nature such as these, which would have gone unnoticed otherwise. Was an even greater experience if it was scored with the opening flute part of Monk's "Reflections".

A Moment of Zen

One day in the summer of 2007, after I had driven my father to and from his sister's funeral in London, Ontario (because the poor man's back was hurting too much for him to drive himself), I started thinking about the past, as one often does in times like this, and took a drive around Norfolk County to pass by old haunts on my way back to the big bad city of Toronto. As dusk emerged, I had found myself on the four corners of Main St. in Delhi, beside the law enforcement office where my dad worked until he retired. This location was special to me due to the memories had at the Delhi Harvest Fest, which occurs every year on Main Street, right outside the office's front door. Sometimes too, we'd hang out in the office before or after the festival each year. On this 2007 night while I was sitting in the rental car reminiscing, as the sun nestled behind the trees, and the buildings were silhouetted by the magenta sky, there wasn't another soul on the street. The only sounds came from the car radio- Tillsonburg's easy listening station 101 FM, chosen because this was what my dad would always have playing in the office and his jeep (and for all I know, they were probably playing the same Frank Mills songs). Then as now, I was moved by this mixture of image and sound: the world seemed at peace. We easily forget how much deceptively simple moments like this mean to us, and for that matter, we easily ignore the beauty of such daily rhythms of nature, because we're too caught up in our own routines. Lately, during many times of stress, my subconscious mind has suddenly recalled this image, and with it, that feeling of peace I had at that moment. It is this image (and all it implies) that I need to have more of in my life right now.

JEB LOY NICHOLS: Now Then (Bongo Beat; 2006)

Track Listing: 1) Sometimes Shooting Stars (2:56); 2) Really Together (3:23); 3) Lelah Mae (2:46); 4) Painted My Dream House Blue (3:26); 5) Bad Fruit (2:31); 6) Let's Make It Up (2:49); 7) Morning Love (3:13); 8) Black Water Road (3:25); 9) Don't Dance With Me (3:26); 10) Ever Feel Like Leaving (3:20); 11) When Did You Stop Loving Me (3:54); 12) Sweet Tough and Terrible (3:47); 13) Love Me Too (2:59)

Collective Personnel: Jeb Loy Nichols (guitar, vocals); Shaila Prospere (vocal duet on "Really Together"); Dan Penn (vocal on "Ever Feel Like Leaving"); Tony Crow, Clayton Ivey (keyboards); Jennifer Carr (piano); Terry Baker (drums); Simeon Baker, Wayne Nunes, Andy Hamill (bass); Tony Williams, Mark Nevers (guitar); Paul Burch (guitar, bass, vibes); Fiona Hibbert (harp); Rebecca Hollweg, Loraine Morley, Roy Cousins, Struggle, Knowledge (backing vocals); Lloyd Barry, George Chambers (horns); Nashville String Machine (strings); Lloyd Barry (arranger- strings and horns)

"What kind of music is this?" said I, holding up the CD. "He's a white Al Green," replied the record seller. Good enough for me.

One of the detriments of diving for cheap records is that you're unlikely to keep abreast of new music. To be sure, there is probably a lot out there today that I would enjoy, but I have difficulty in learning about it. So for me, finding a fairly recent record of this magnitude is a godsend. The man selling this for a pittance surely undercharged himself. I've listened to this album in its entirety four or five times in the past twenty-four hours, and now I think I've stopped blubbering enough to able to write a proper review. Also, let me say that this album clocks in at a mere forty-one minutes. At last, an artist who decides not to fill a CD with eighty minutes of music just because they can. This collection of thirteen songs is just enough to keep you wanting more- indeed, after several spins, I just can't get enough of it.

Some have called this album a combination of country, reggae and soul. I'm not sure of the reggae aspect, but the other descriptions surely apply. This melange is not revolutionary, yet quietly unique. The songs are beautifully understated cries for love which recall the soul singers of yore, as well as haunting snapshots of rural life that befit any high lonesome epic. Nichols' lyrics are clever metaphors emphasizing the regrets, uncertainties and yearnings of their protagonists, who constantly surrender to fate and others' acceptance (or not).

And despite the large cast of musicians assembled in the personnel above, especially with horns and strings, the sound never feels overproduced or cluttered. If anything, Nichols' words are carefully, subtly coloured by the instrumentation-- it happily plays in the meadows of these isolated landscapes of verse. "Bad Fruit", a lamentation of an unhappy familial history ("seems like only bad fruits grows on my family tree" an appropriate metaphor) is accompanied by the sparse phrasing of an electric piano.

The instrumentation mostly offers an interesting counterpoint to the somber lyrics. The bouncy horn section in "Morning Love" (one of the best tracks) properly offsets the verse of a man pleading for the affection of an indifferent other. Likewise, the blackly humourous lyric "If you ever feel like leaving, take me with you" in the tenth track is subtly bracketed by mournful brass. In most of these songs, the characters are happy to hang on to whatever they have to get by. As heard in "Let's Make It Up", another song with jaunty horns, "there's nothing for me on that train out of town".

The feel of this album is timeless: perhaps only a number like "Sweet Tough and Terrible" (opening disarmingly with Nichols thanking his bandmates, making this feel like a live session) feels like it was taken from the early 1970's, with its strings evocative of an Al Green record, and thumping bass line recalling Sly Stone's THERE'S A RIOT GOING ON.

Despite the sadness in the lyrics, HERE NOW is absolutely beautiful to listen to. The production is sharp, colourful and never baroque. (Another highlight is the marvellous duet in "Really Together" in which two people decide to give their indecisive relationship a shot.) Each song is a masterpiece of mixed emotions, perfectly reflecting the unrequited desires in the prose, and accentuated by the conflicting tones in words and music. A phrase in the final song, "Could you find it in your heart to love me too?", is emblematic of the yearning for affection that permeates most of these tracks. But my answer to that question is yes, indeed.

Rating: *****/5


(Note: this review first appeared in my long-abandoned, barely started blog of record reviews. Since I'd like to commence with music reviews as well on Gee Whiz G Man, I've ported it to this new home.)

The Late Night Files: Jim Cook on WJET

Remember sneaking downstairs as a kid to watch TV in the middle of the night? You'd have the volume way down low so your parents wouldn't hear you, because you were supposed to be sleeping. But forbidden fruit always tasted better, and what subterranean delicacies awaited you in those witching hours.  In those days of thirteen channels, when VCRs were still a luxury (if they had been invented yet), local stations would come alive after midnight, especially on weekends. Old movies and TV shows, discarded by the media zeitgeist once something new came along, were resurrected, and often presented by a host. It was a cry of rebellion, to be awake when "normal people" slumbered, and experiencing some renegade entertainment banished from the popular eye. It was an intimate feeling of communion that other like-minded strangers were simultaneously sharing this piece of neglected culture with you. There was a mystery, an allure, as one never knew what to expect. There was an urgency too, as one could miss out on something unique, never to be repeated. All of this is lost in our current age of late night infomercials, and everything on-demand. The Late Night Files is a semi-regular column highlighting some of the shows that offered us surrogate companionship in the golden age of the late, late show.

+++

From roughly 1981 to 1985, WJET (Erie PA's ABC affiliate) offered a double-bill of horror films on Saturday nights (often procured from the AIP or Independent-International catalogs), hosted by local DJ Jim Cook (pictured, right). The first incarnation of the program was entitled The Late, Great Horror Show.

Ian Eastman, writing for E-gor's Chamber of TV Horror Hosts, remembers:

"Although it shared a lot of the trappings of other horror shows (including a really funky orange and yellow dungeon set) it had a sensibility all its own. Jim didn't wear fright makeup or a costume. He was just a "regular guy" laughing at the movies with the audience (Oh yea... and hawking lots of pizza! Pizza Hut was the main sponsor). The double feature show was broadcast live and featured a really crazy cast of guest stars. The theme music was "Night on Disco Mountain" from the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. The closing music was a really screwed up version of "Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead" from a kiddy novelty album. SIR ROBERT GHOUL-LEY, a more traditional type of host in makeup, filled in when Jim was away. In 1982 the show was replaced by syndicated episodes of Elvira's Movie Macabre."

Mr. Eastman continues:

"Jim went on to host Video Rock, a half-hour music show, but was back in 1984 with The Just Right for Late Night Horror Show. The production values were a lot lower on this version of the show. The original dungeon set and props had been destroyed so the show was produced in the WJET lunch room! The show was prerecorded -- the original was LIVE -- so Jim's snide comments about the film were always showing up in the wrong places! I don't think this version of the show even lasted a year. But (sigh) it was still better than late-night infomercials!"

I became aware of Jim Cook in the fall of 1984, when we finally had a converter for the television (after spending two years convincing my mother that the set wasn't going to blow up on account of it), because WJET was on Channel 20 in our cable system. (I don't know why it never occurred to me previously to watch it via rabbit ears on my little TV upstairs.) Although Jim was hosting Video Rock at 1:30 AM, after Elvira's Movie Macabre, I do recall that the telecast of Elvira's show, featuring So Sad About Gloria, began with a brief shot-in-studio segment, that perhaps featured Jim introducing the Macabre Movie for the night. 

Later in the year, WJET reverted to the double feature format, and the show was re-christened with a new name, as cited above. And yes, this program was really lo-fi. The production values largely consisted of Jim in a sparse, poorly lit room, reading from a clipboard. Because each film was in a 90-minute time slot, which included commercials and his inserts, the movies were obviously trimmed to fit the schedule, but we didn't mind these things so much. In the days of the late, late show, it was the entire package that mattered more. Jim was a fun, hip personality who made the overall late night experience lively and endearing.

In the spring of 1985, the program switched to Friday nights, by Jim's own on-camera admission, "for ratings". Alas, just as the summer holidays began, The Just Right for Late Horror Show quietly slipped from the broadcast band. WJET would continue to show movies on Friday or Saturday nights, but without any host.

Here is a great Youtube compendium of vintage Jim Cook clips from the original Late Great Horror Show.

And another:

God bless savedittube for keeping their VCR on!

Thanks to the miracle of online newspaper archives, what follows is a listing of films shown on Jim Cook's show from 1981 to 1985.  This is not comprehensive, as sometimes the daily television listings didn't extend late enough to include the second films. In many cases, the title of the film was not even mentioned in the listing, so we've omitted those dates as well. Listing for Elvira's Movie Macabre are included, also depending on the conditions noted beforehand.

-1981-

Nov 14: (11:30) And Now the Screaming Starts / (1:30) Graveyard of Horror

Nov 21: (11:30) The Raven

Nov 28: (11:30) Destroy All Planets - (1:30) Night of the Blood Beast

Dec 5: (11:30) The Vampire / (1:00) A Bucket of Blood

Dec 12: (11:30) Terror in the Crypt / (1:30) The Screaming Skull

Dec 19: (11:30) The Conqueror Worm / (1:30) Phantom from 10,000 Leagues

Dec 26: (11:30) Frankenstein Conquers the World / (1:30) Demon Planet

-1982-

Jan 2: (11:30) Assignment Terror / (1:30) The Spider

Jan 9: (11:30) Gamera Vs. Monster X / (1:30) Amazing Transparent Man

Jan 16: (11:30) Magic Serpent / (1:30) Day The World Ended

Jan 23: (11:30) The Eye Creatures / (1:30) Burn Witch Burn

Jan 30: (11:30) The Terror / (1:30) The Giant Gila Monster

Feb 6: (11:30) Dracula Vs. Frankenstein

Feb 13: (11:30) Night of the Blood Monster / (1:10) Castle of the Living Dead

Feb 20: (11:30) War Gods of the Deep / (1:10) Track of the Vampire

Feb 27: (11:30) Frankenstein’s Bloody Terror / (1:10) Attack of the Giant Leeches

Mar 6: (11:30) Doomsday Machine / (1:10) Last Man on Earth

Mar 13: (11:30) Reptilicus / (1:20) The Astounding She Monster

Mar 20: (11:30) The Pit and the Pendulum / (1:00) Terror From the Year 5000

Mar 27: (11:30) Journey To the Seventh Planet / (1:00) Attack of the Puppet People

Apr 3: (11:30) Black Sunday / (1:00) Return of the Giant Majin

Apr 10: (11:30) The Incredible Two Headed Transplant / (1:20) The Phantom Planet

Apr 17: (11:30) Maneater of Hydra / (1:20) The Brain that Wouldn’t Die

Apr 24: (11:30) Curse of the Swamp Creature / (1:00) Dementia 13

May 1: (11:30) Godzilla Vs. The Smog Monster / (1:00) Conquest of the Planet of the Apes

May 8: (11:30) Attack of the Mushroom People / (1:00) And Now the Screaming Starts

May 15: (11:30) Return of the Giant Monsters / (1:00) Graveyard of Horror

May 22: (11:30) Planet of Blood / (1:10) Terror in the Wax Museum

May 29: (11:30) The Oblong Box / (1:20) War of the Monsters

June 5: (11:30) Masque of the Red Death / (1:20) The Killer Shrews

June 12: (11:30) Beware the Blob / (1:20) Night of the Witches

June 19: (11:30) Die Monster Die / (1:20) Attack of the Monsters

June 26: (11:30) Black Sabbath / (1:05) Night of the Blood Beast
July 3: (11:30) Yog - Monster From Space / (1:05) Vampire Circus
July 10: (11:30) Destroy All Monsters / (1:05) A Bucket of Blood
July 17: (11:30) The Angry Red Planet  / (1:05) Terror in the Crypt
July 24: (11:30) The Conqueror Worm / (1:30) Goliath Vs. the Vampires
July 31: (11:30) The Demon Planet / (1:30) The Screaming Skull
Aug 7: (11:30) Frankenstein Conquers the World / (1:30) Assignment Terror
Aug 14: (11:30) Gamera Vs. Monster X / (1:30) The Eye Creatures
Aug 21: (11:30) The Terror / (1:30) The Beast With a Million Eyes
Aug 28: (11:30) Castle of the Living Dead / (1:30) War Gods of the Deep
Sept 4: (11:30) Track of the Vampire / (1:30) Attack of the Monsters
Sept 11: (11:30) The Amazing Transparent Man / (1:30) The Magic Serpent
Sept 18: (12:00) Attack of the Giant Leeches / (1:50) Journey to the Seventh Planet
Sept 25: (11:30) The Raven / (1:50) Burn, Witch, Burn
Oct 2: (11:30) Terror From the Year 5000 / (1:50) Last Man on Earth
Oct 9: (11:30) Attack of the Puppet People / (1:00) Black Sunday
Oct 16: (11:30) Night of the Blood Monster
Oct 23: (11:30) Dracula Vs. Frankenstein
Oct 30: (11:30) The Mummy's Tomb / (12:40) Doomsday Machine
Nov 6: (11:30) Dracula / (1:00) Baron Blood
Nov 13: (11:30) Bride of Frankenstein / (1:00) The House That Dripped Blood
Nov 20: (11:30) The Invisible Man
Nov 27: (11:30) Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man
Dec. 4: (11:30) The Oblong Box
Dec. 11: (11:30) The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant / (1:15) The Giant Gila Monster
Dec. 18: (11:30) Masque of the Red Death
Dec. 25: (11:30) Maneater of Hydra

-1983-

Jan. 8: (11:30) Planet of Blood / (1:00) Dementia 13
Jan 15: (11:30) The Undefeated
Jan. 22: (11:30) Demon Planet
Jan. 29: (11:30) Black Sabbath
Feb. 12: (11:30) The Wolf Man / (1:30) Frankenstein's Bloody Terror
Feb 19: (11:30) title not listed / (1:30) The Black Cat
Mar 5: (11:30) They Shoot Horses, Don't They?
Mar 12: (11:30) Journey Into Darkness / (1:30) Frankenstein's Bloody Terror
Mar 19: (11:30) A Minute to Pray, A Second To Die / (1:30) title not listed
Mar 26: (11:30) Shalako (1:30) Tomb of Ligeia

-from here onwards, until further notice, the 11:30 slot was Elvira's Movie Macabre, and the 1:30 slot was Jim Cook hosting Video Rock-

Apr 16: (11:30) Dr. Black, Mr. Hyde
Apr 23: (11:30) Blood on Satan's Claw
Apr 30: (11:30) The Devil's Wedding Night
May 7: (11:30) The Day It Came To Earth
May 14: (11:30) Crucible of Horror
May 28: (11:30) Silent Night, Bloody Night
June 11: (11:30) Blood Bath
July 2: (11:30) Alien Contamination
July 23: (11:30) Capture of Bigfoot
Dec 31: pre-empted by Dick Clark's Rockin New Years Eve

-1984-

Feb 11, 18: pre-empted by Olympics
Mar 31: (11:30) Capture of Bigfoot
Apr 7: (11:30) Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks
Apr 21: (11:30) Crucible of Horror
May 26: (11:30) Attack of the Killer Tomatoes
June 2: (11:30) Schizoid
June 9: (11:30) Inn of the Damned
June 16: (11:30) Blood Bath
June 23: (11:30) Dr. Heckll and Mr. Hype
June 30: (11:30) Tombs of the Blind Dead
July 7: (11:30) Alien Contamination
July 14: (11:30) New Years Evil
July 21: (11:30) The Godsend
July 28: (11:30) Monstroid
Aug 4: pre empted by Olympics
Aug 11: pre empted by World Music Festival
Aug 18: (11:30) Monstroid
Aug 25: (11:30) Kiss Daddy Goodbye
Sept 1: (11:30) Pigs
Sept 8: (11:30) Mark of the Devil
Sept 15: (11:30) So Sad About Gloria
Sept 22: (11:30) The Human Duplicators
Sept 29: (11:30) Night of the Zombies
Oct 6: (12:00) Capture of Bigfoot
Oct 13: (11:30) Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks
Oct 20: (11:30) Inn of the Damned
Oct 27: (11:30) Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

-from here onwards, Jim Cook was back to host the double feature format-

Nov 17: (11:30) Gamera Vs. Monster X / (1:00) Assignment Terror
Nov 24: (11:30) War of the Monsters / (1:00) Graveyard of Horror
Dec 1: (11:30) Frankenstein Conquers the World (1:00) And Now the Screaming Starts
Dec 8: (11:30) Reptilicus (1:00) The Conqueror Worm
Dec 15: (11:30) Destroy All Monsters / (1:00) The Raven
Dec 22: (11:30) Yog, Monster from Space / (1:00) War Gods of the Deep
Dec 29: (11:30) The Magic Serpent (1:00) Goliath Vs. The Vampires

-1985-

Jan 5: (11:30) Journey to the Seventh Planet / (1:00) Track of the Vampire
Jan 12: (11:30) Doomsday Machine (1:00) A Bucket of Blood
Jan 19: (11:30) The Eye Creatures / (1:00) The Amazing Transparent Man
Jan 26: (11:30) The Angry Red Planet
Feb 2: (11:30) Godzilla Vs. The Smog Monster
Feb 9: (11:30) Attack of the Mushroom People
Feb 16: (11:30) Return of the Giant Monsters
Mar 2: (11:30) The Crimson Cult
Mar 9: (11:30) Frankenstein's Bloody Terror
Mar 16: (11:30) Baron Blood
Mar 23: (11:30) The Oblong Box
Mar 30: (11:30) Tales of Terror

-from here, the schedule moved to Friday nights, by Jim's own admission, for ratings!-

Apr 5: (11:30) The Terror / (1:00) Equinox
Apr 12: (11:30) Tomb of Ligeia  / (1:00) Dementia 13
Apr 19: (11:30) Circus of Fear / (1:30) Black Sunday
Apr 26: (12:00) Night of the Witches / (1:30) The Brain That Wouldn't Die
May 3: (12:00) The House That Dripped Blood
May 10: (12:00) The Pit and the Pendulum / (1:30) Attack of the Puppet People
May 17: (12:00) Return of the Giant Majin
May 24: (12:00) The Incredible Two Headed Transplant
May 31: (12:00) Masque of the Red Death / (1:30) Maneater of Hydra
June 7: (12:00) Planet of Blood
June 14: (12:30) Return of the Giant Monsters / (2:30) Tales of Terror
June 21: (12:00) Attack of the Mushroom People
June 28: (12:00) Baron Blood / (1:50) Circus of Fear

A Love Letter in 78 RPM

One night, when I was about fifteen, while looking at my father's stereo in his apartment, I had remarked that his record player had "just two speeds". Mr. Subtlety Himself responded, "Well, who wants to listen to pissin' 78's?"

I, ever the complacent one, said nothing, preferring to keep my then-pastime of collecting and listening to 78 RPM records part of my secret world that was sequestered from the rest of humankind. Collecting these ten-inch pieces of shellac was an extension of my ongoing appreciation of, forgive me, "old music".  

Somewhere in my pre-teen years I became hooked on big band sounds through hearing them on the radio (leading to my lifelong love of jazz). When I was old enough to be home alone without a babysitter on Saturday nights while my mother went out boozing, I would often tune into the big band show on CFCA 105FM which began in the early evening and went well into the wee hours. Although Glenn Miller was a personal favourite, these young ears otherwise couldn't decipher between a Tommy Dorsey or a Harry James: it was the overall sound, ambiance and mood that appealed to me. My tastes would soon extend beyond swing, into what would be classified as popular music of the 1930s to the 1950s.

Other than a couple of Beatles 45s and Jerry Lee Lewis' "Breathless" on 78, I never had a rock and roll album until I was eighteen. As an example of how much of a Luddite I was, here are some LPs I got for Christmas during my teen years, procured from the cheap bins at Woolworth's:  The Glenn Miller Story; Enoch Light and the Light Brigade; Al Hirt. When we were required to do an "all about me" project for my Grade 9 French class, my mother suggested that I should tell about my love of Glenn Miller and big band music. I instantly vetoed that idea, stating that my classmates would think I was nuts if they read that. (In hindsight, I wished I had put it in, just to scare the shit out of them.) Yes, while my peers were listening to "Tom Sawyer" and "Highway To Hell",  I was learning the lyrics to "Have You Got Any Gum Chum" by The Crew Chiefs, or "Just To Be With You" by Eddie Fisher.

While there were plenty of these vintage sounds to be heard on the radio or on 33 RPM, I also became interested in 78s upon seeing a stash of them in my friend Todd's father's record collection, thinking they looked cool, and added these to my "search" list in those Saturday morning yard sale journeys. In the summer before I was to begin Grade 10, I spent an entire week's worth of allowance money on a small standalone record player, bought from a yard sale by my mother's friend Rae (the resale queen, who was always making a buck with buying and selling). It had four speeds: 33, 45, 16... and 78! All right!

My two "big hauls" of 78s were also performed during these eight weeks away from school. The first was when I spent another entire week's worth of allowance money on an album containing ten 78s in its paper sleeves, found at an antique shop in the sticks. (I even got to choose which platters out of dozens to fill it with!) Later in the season, my former Grade Five Teacher, and fellow yard sale freak, had a sale of his own. (Noticing a pattern here?) In his garage was a huge wine box full of 78s, marked with the sign, "Free for the taking!" I grabbed them all, and boy was it fun trying to balance a heavy box of records on my ten speed back home... downhill!

Although I collected 78s and comic books foremost because I enjoyed them, my secondary reason for doing so was for their future increasing value. One afternoon, while browsing through an antiques price guide in the "reference only" section of the public library, I was tickled pink to discover a listing for a Sir Harry Lauder side, which I owned. Its estimated value? Ten bucks! Woohoo! In a haphazard attempt to preserve these records for posterity, I had also made paper sleeves to hold them in, from a huge roll of newsprint I had acquired some time before.

What about these sounds possibly appealed to this young man who was conceived decades after they were in vogue? A lot of this stuff was already out of style before my parents would have even graduated high school! As mentioned elsewhere on this blog, I've always been enamoured of "old things": architectural art deco design, the look of antique cars, and of course, old movies, TV shows, and books. Perhaps the adoration simply resulted from seeing much of this still around in my hometown during those influential years, and consequently, they still felt "in the present". The older generation, who came of age when all of this was new, was still the dominant workforce, and continued to keep it alive. For instance, a favourite downtown newsstand-novelty store, with its trademark creaky wooden floors, still managed by the same owner after forty years, constantly had this type of music playing from the store's PA system.

A greater truth, perhaps, is that the chief appeal of these sounds was the nostalgia they instilled in me. However, nostalgia is a selective process, where one solely recalls the good things of a past era. The time our parents referred to as "the good old days", from which this music originated, was also rife with economic hardship and war. These sounds took me back to what I nonetheless believed to be simpler times, full of the same virtue, hope and old-fashioned values evoked in their melodies.

One's teenaged years encounter numerous psychological and physical changes as they advance, and likewise, one's tastes change with the same rapidity. Although I still enjoy that music to this day, it wasn't long before my concentration shifted to paperbacks (previously discussed here) and eventually, film.

In time, that yard sale record player drew its last breath, and when I finally started listening to comparatively modern music, I had purchased a stereo including a record player with only (gasp!) two speeds. The 78s, once a significant part of my youth, were unplayed for years, until I decided to include them in my own yard sale during my early 20s. They sat on the driveway in a box which had I marked with tongue in cheek, "Free to a good home".  The fellow who picked them up told me that in his country house he had a windup Victrola to play them on, so yes- to a good home they went!

Oh. And what, you may ask, was the first rock and roll LP (if you could call it that) I bought at eighteen? The soundtrack for Saturday Night Fever.