The Real Night Stalker

Well, I tried. No one can say I didn't. I watched the premiere of the new "Night Stalker" show and I can't say I was impressed. There were some fun touches-it's made by one of the producers of "The X-Files" (before it jumped the shark) which was inspired by the orginal show so you know they weren't just coattail riding for the hell of it. And the orginal Carl Kolchak, Darren McGavin, made a nonspeaking cameo (in his old garb even) so I can assume we're not going to hear some Adam West style bitching from him. But it wasn't enough.

For those not in the know "Kolchak: The Night Stalker" was an ABC series that ran for 20 episodes from 1974-75. McGavin plays an enterprising reporter for INS (in one of the series' running gags INS, or International News Service, is continually mistaken for other things) who keeps stumbling on elements of the supernatural while investigating his stories, much to the dismay of his editor, Tony (the fabulous character actor Simon Oakland). Kolchak always had his trusty Instamatic camera at the ready but as a photographer he made a great reporter-none of his photos were ever proof enough (if the camera didn't get taken away or smashed by that week's monster). Carl also had his trademark attire-Jack Purcells, seersucker suit and a straw hat perched back on his head. The show is pure 70s camp-the witch who was a fashion designer, Tom Skeritt as a flaming warlock and yes, you could see that zipper running up the back of the lizard suit but it didn't matter. Carl was cool and the chemistry between McGavin and Oakland was great.

I have a special attactment to "Night Stalker" because watching one of the TV movies that started the series is one of my earliest memories. My parents played cards with another couple, instead of a babysitter they brought us kids along. Free of parental supervision we could watch completely inappropriate television (I also remember watching the network premiere of "Rosemary's Baby" this way too.) One night we watched a movie about a strangler. I clearly remember a scene where the strangler was knocking on a door and a woman was coming down the stairs. My five year old self was completely terrified. I spent years after that wondering what that movie was. I wrote the local TV people, asked my family, all to no avail. Finally, 17 years later, one of my then fiance's roommates put in an old TV movie on tape and there it was-just as I remembered it. I was floored but really excited the search was over.

So, now they've redone it and my only question is why? The original was a cult show at best. How many dorks besides me will get it? Why not just make a "Night Stalker" like show as an homage-imitation is the sincerist form of flattery. If I want the new "X-Files" I'll watch "Lost", if I want the Night Stalker I'll tune in to the Sci-Fi channel or, better yet, buy the boxset when it comes out in October.

Otto & Otto and Stanley

Week of the Dog

I just found out that this week has been The Week of the Dog. I haven't ever heard of this holiday, sounds like one of those made up jobs to me but one I am happy to observe.

It has been many years since I had a dog of my own but I live with two. They are my boyfriend's and we all circle around in his orbit. Though I am a beloved pack member (is there any better feeling than seeing a happy dog running at you pell mell as you get out of your car?) I am in no way an authority figure. You'd know if you ever saw me walking them-these dogs have been walked together every day for 5 years but let me man the leashes and it's total Keystone Kops action.

This post would undoubtably be improved by including their photos but I'll have to rely on words alone.

First there is Stanley, the Old Dude. He's a handsome Golden Retriever/Collie mix but he doesn't look like a mutt instead like some fancy new breed you just haven't heard of yet. He has a lovely gold coat with a racing stripe straight up the middle of his long collie snout. The whole combo thing went kind of wrong with the ears though, they ended up way too small for his large frame. With one ear cocked up he still looks puppylike despite the increasing gray gauntness that old dogs get. I love Stan and Stan loves me but he also feels a tremendous responsibility for me. The collie in him says I'm Joe's most valuable sheep who must be protected and herded at all times-it seems I'm forever kneeing his big gold butt out of the way. He is also a bit of a humper-not of people-just other preferably large, dominance-oriented dogs like the massive Rotteweiler Stan glommed onto at this year's Dog Swim. You go Old Dude!

Then there's Sir-Barks-a-Lot aka Otto. The woman who came before me wanted a dog with a beard and Otto fit the bill. (Fortunately for me, she left both shortly after.) At the pound his breed was listed as "Terrier X" ( a great name for a punk band) but happily enough it turns out he is a Portuegese Water Dog. If you have never seen one they are black, about knee high with a curly coat and big hairy Muppet feet. One breed description I read described them as "winsome and full of fun" which doesn't even cover half of it. Otto is a complete Epicurean, like that famous Greek sect he studiously seeks pleasure and avoids pain. One look at him furiously rolling from side to side, snorting with pleasure and you'd know what I mean. He adores chasing the ball, but he's somewhat less enthusiastic about bringing it back (not as much as fun). Otto's youthful good spirits keep Stanley young and us all laughing.

So I observed this Week of the Dog with some chin scratching, ball throwing and a healthy dose of walks-in other words any week with these good, good dogs.

Read to Me

The CD player I use in my car has not been performing consistantly (which drives me absolutely insane-nothing like being primed to hear a song and get...nothing) so I have been checking out some audio books from the library. Now I'm as big a fan of music as anybody but I think a good audio book actually makes the commute go faster. I love to be read to IF, and it's an important audio book if, the reader is good. An audio book in the wrong voice is pure torture no matter how much you love the book. A recent example of this for me is the audio version of Right as Rain by George Pelecanos. The rest of the book is fine but when we get to the perfomance of the bad guys, who might kindly be described as hicks, it's bad. The actor in question cannot do country-his performance makes Cletus the Slack Jawed Yokel on "The Simpsons" look subtle.

An example of the good match between material and performer are the Nancy Drew books as performed by the actress Laura Linney. She reads them perfectly-straight up with no hint of camp. The cliffhangers are scary, Nancy is plucky and perfect and everything always turns out for the best. They are a treat to listen to, I'm sorry that she only did the first five books in the series, I gladly would have listened longer.

Another kids audio series I have been enjoying are the Little House books read by Cherry Jones, the Broadway actress. There is also a fiddle player so all the songs in the books (and there are a lot of them) are performed as well. Ms Jones brings a lot of warmth to her reading which is just right for these nostalgic books.

It's interesting to revisit kids books as an adult, there's so much more going on. Like how Nancy and Laura adore their fathers so. I'm afraid Nancy's never going to settle down-Ned and every other man in the universe are going to fall way short of Carson Drew. And Laura is essentially the son her father never had-she's always helping him outside while ladylike Mary stays inside. I think Charles Ingalls (the character) must be, next to Atticus Finch, one of the best dads in all of literature. While Ma is a total racist with regards to the Indians, not a necessarily unreasonable point of view given the Indians' occasional violent behavior that is until you see Pa judging each Indian by the content of his character. Laura is forever getting rebuked for having an opinion or speaking her mind. I think it rather fortunate (even if it sounds hardhearted) that Laura's husband, Almanzo, became an invalid after they married. That way Laura could be in charge the way she wanted to be all along.

An Open Letter to Kanye West

I saw you on the hurricane fundraiser where you said that the President doesn't care about black people. I'm no Bush fan (none of them get an sensitivity points for this crisis in my book) but I must beg to differ. It's not that he doesn't care about black people, it's that he doesn't care about poor people. No politicians do. Because poverty is the problem whose solution continues to elude us (not that we've been trying that hard). It's the problem that is the soil that other problems-gangs, drugs and violence-take root in and flourish. There's very little political hay to be made solving the problem of poverty-any cure would likely cost billions of dollars and take so long to occur that no politician could profit from it. That person would likely go down in American, if not World, history but that's a lot of delayed gratification and we're not really so good at delayed gratification. The poor don't contribute money to candidates or even vote. Their only real political action is to bleed government programs dry. What good are they?

Yes Kanye, the people of New Orleans got screwed-pants-on, no-kiss screwed. They didn't just slip through the cracks they were blown through with a hurricane force fire hose. But it wasn't because they were black, it was because they were poor-too poor to influence politics in their favor, which was the screw that happened long before Katrina.

September 16, 2005

National Day of Prayer and Rememberance
September 16, 2005

"Well, I wish I was in New Orleans,
I can see it in my dreams,
arm in arm down Burgundy
a bottle and my friends and me
New Orleans, I'll be there."

-Tom Waits

Neighborhoodies Wish List

For those who don't know Neighborhoodies is the Brooklyn based company devoted to the simple premise that everyone should have their own clothing line. They started with hoodies with neighborhood names on them (natch) and people just ran with it from there.

I have ordered 6 to date-5 for gifts and 1 for me. Mine is a literary allusion, Maycomb Co., the setting of To Kill a Mockingbird. When it arrived there was a card from Michael, the president of Neighborhoodies, complimenting me on my choice. He said he had been considering a Boo Radley one himself. I would have ordered more but they are expensive. Not that I begrudge them a penny-by all reports they run their business right (no sweatshop them) , the quality is extremely high and they're just so damn cool. It's just more than my budget will allow at this time.

So, in lieu of buying more right now, I am compliling a wish list (which satisfies a whole other Sam urge). Most are other allusions, which I think are the coolest. I'm still waiting for someone to get mine but I live in hope.


-Real Right Records (These are all references to George Pelecanos books which are full
Petworth Panthers of cool place references. And since Neighborhoodies does unde-
The Spot ear now too, I could get a set-The Spot sweatshirt with the
Mystery Spot underwear, referencing the Upper Pennisula's
most famous tourist trap of course.)

-Pency Prep (The school in The Catcher in the Rye-I confess I stole this one.)

-Little Five Points (The Atlanta neighborhood where I got my second, cooler, tattoo.)

-Unless (From Dr Seuss' The Lorax)

-Firecracker (From my favorite Ryan Adams song, which could have been a big
hit except nobody was going to go for a song about a plane
going down after 9/11 even if that wasn't what it was really
about.)

-Ruffian (For my favorite racehorse, girl power icon of the 70s.)



Visit Neighborhoodies at www.neighborhoodies.com.

Songbook Entry #1

One of the most enjoyable books I've read in the last few years is Nick Hornby's Songbook. It's a slim volume that lists his favorite songs and why he loves them. I have the hardback which includes the CD of songs. (If you buy the paperback I think you're on your own in that respect.)
It also has cute little drawings by Marcel Dzama who seems to be the hipster artist of choice (he also did CD covers for Beck and The Weakerthans).

I enjoyed the book so much I am making my own. I think all music fans should-it could be like a passport. We show each other upon meeting and instantly get an idea of each other that would otherwise take a long, long time.

So here's my first entry:

"Famous Blue Raincoat" Jennifer Warnes

Though written by the great Leonard Cohen, this is the version I knew first and love best. A co-worker at Hawley-Cooke Booksellers, Henry Karpinski, thought I would like her Cohen tribute al bum and he was absolutely right. (Isn't a recommendation from a friend the best kind of debt?) Over time this version has become my favorite song to sing in the shower-an important litmus test.

Nick Hornby claims that a pop song intrigues us until we "solve" it. Despite reading the lyrics in Cohen's collection of poetry, Stranger Music and years of debate with other Cohen fans I don't feel like I have solved this one yet. Who is Jane? Who is the woman at the station? The speculation continues...

This song, and Mr. Cohen in general, was also a conversational subject at an important life moment-my enthusiam for the song was the tipping point for my beloved at our first meeting.
(Thanks again Henry!)

My Dinner with Pelecanos

The following is a piece I wrote for the local paper's "My Town" column. They declined it and published a piece on stormchasing instead (go figure).

My favorite story to tell right now is the story of my dinner with author George Pelecanos-otherwise known as A Cautionary Tale of a Loudmouth Girl or How Not To Conduct Yourself and Make an Indeliable Impression.

My boyfriend, who got me hooked on Pelecanos' Derek Strange novels years ago, works at the Borders corporate office and was kind enough to add, when invited to dinner with the author himself, "Can my girlfriend come too?" Lucky for me the answer was yes. I felt luckier still when I was told I would be the only woman at the table.

Oh yeah. Those were odds I could handle.

In the weeks leading up to the dinner I spent serious time considering what to say. As with other arists I appreciate and whose works I treasure I feel I owe them a debt. I almost wish they'd be caught in a situation only I could help them out of. "I've got this," I'd say. "For all you've done for me it's the least I could do." Short of that, what I'd like is an honest exchange. Book signings or post concert fetes are awkward social constructs. It's hard to have more than a minute or two of interaction, which makes it nearly impossible to express anything heartfelt. There's also the sinking feeling that everyone else will be expressing the exact same sentiment as you are and that they will all blur together and become meaningless. I don't want to sleep with anybody and I don't harbor any delusions about them being my new best friend, I just want to speak my heart and know I was heard.

Lest I sound a little too excited, I would offer in my defense that in those weeks I had to put a beloved pet down and was introduced to the very real possibility that I might not have a job in the near future so the dinner took on larger proportions in direct corrolation with how much life was knocking me sideways. I made a conscious decision if I was going to the ball I was definately going to dance.

The day finally came. Befitting our status as dinner guests we got to meet the author before the signing. He was nice and looked exactly like his author photo-I would have recognized him anywhere. I was relieved that my voice still worked and I was able to make small talk. His author escort complimented me on my outfit and my new earrings bought specially for the occasion. I was on a roll.

The signing went well. I wished for more people but the ones there were serious fans. The reading was great and made me like the new book, Drama City, more.

After the signing we walked over to the Earle for dinner. I was quiet, mostly, listening to the others talk. I had a Marilyn moment when my skirt blew up ; fortunately, I was in the back so it went unnoticed.

The Cinderella feeling continued at dinner while hearing about the creation of his books, who will be playing Derek Strange in the forthcoming movie and all the behind the scenes at HBO's "The Wire" (which he helps produce and write). Halfway through the evening I was pretty pleased with how I was acquitting myself-I had said several of he things I had planned and they seemed to go over well. More than that, I was actually having a good time, surprising for a champion nervous overthinker like myself. Good food, good company, lots of endorphins-what's not to like?

Pelecanos told us that he had written a song that was going to be recorded and released. Music fans all; we were very intriugued and asked what it was about. He said, "It's about the one you didn't sleep with, the one that got away." He said it was inspired by a scene from the movie, "Lady From Shanghai" where a character is telling another how he saw a woman only once but thought about her for the rest of his life.

Unlike nearly everything else I said that evening, which had all been carefully considered (or at least semi capable thinking on my feet) what came hurtling out of my mouth-all unbidden- was, "That's not 'Lady From Shanghai' that's 'Citizen Kane'."

Now anybody who knows anything about Pelecanos knows he's a huge movie buff. HUGE. He wrote an entire book where the runing joke is a movie that everyone wants to see. For Pete's sake the man studied film.

I had the unreal floaty feeling you get when you make an ass out of yourself. Where time seems to slow and you're not really sure you said that out loud. Hopefully, it's just some incrediably vivid dream you'll soom be waking from.

Lucky for me the Earle is a very dark restaurant so no one could see how red I was.

After a brief pause, I was too embarrassed to note if it was a stunned silence, the conversation continued without me. I was hopeful that the moment would be forgotten over dessert and coffee but it was not to be. When the evening was breaking up George came over to me and thanked me for correcting him in front of everyone. Though I'm pretty sure he was kidding me, my heart sank anyway. Not the impression I was hoping to make. We said our goodbyes and departed.

Never one to cede the last word or miss an opportunity for a laugh, the next day I devised a plan. I called the Borders in Silver Spring, Maryland where there was a signing later in the week and bought a copy of "Citizen Kane" to be given to Pelecanos at the event.

In an exciting postscript a few weeks later I received a nice note, thanking me for the DVD and saying, among other kind things, that he was "charmed rather than shamed".

Mission accomplished.

(This is the first thing I ever submitted for publication electronically-boy, rejection happens fast in the 21st century.)

You can visit George Pelecanos at his website www.georgepelecanos.com. or in your local bookstore or library.

??hoyden??

hoyden (hoid'n) n. A high-spirited, boisterious, or saucy girl.

Think Jo March. Or Laura Ingalls. Kathleen Edwards. Laurie Notaro. The list could go on and on. Any girl who can't be bound by convention or fashion is a hoyden. Hoydens are full of pluck and up for anything. They may not be the prettiest girl in the room but you can't take your eyes off them.