50 Years Ago Today

Tonight marks the 50th anniversary of the Beatles first appearing on THE ED SULLIVAN SHOW.  I wrote about that night in my book THE ME GENERATION BY ME... GROWING UP IN THE '60s.  Here's my account of that memorable evening... along with a plug to buy the book. 

It’s bad enough I grew a foot in my thirteenth year and weighed less than a plastic lawn flamingo. I was still reeling from a shattered love affair (well, I was in love, she had no idea) and only beginning puberty. Girls became my singular focus. On the night President Kennedy was shot I took time out from grieving to ogle photos of actress Diane Baker in a LOOK magazine layout. But getting girls – while clueless and looking like a Q-Tip with eyes – that was a near impossible task.

And then the Beatles appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show.

It was Sunday night, February 9, 1964.

At the time I didn’t know they were a threat. Like everyone else I was curious to see them. They had first burst upon the scene a month before. It seemed like every hour a new Beatles song was premiering on Color Radio, KFWB. “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” “Love Me Do.” “She Loves You.” They even started playing German versions (“Sie Liebt Dich”). That’s when you knew you had a phenomenon on your hands (although German versions of Nazi anthems would be better than the Bobby Vinton schmaltzfests that were topping the charts back then).

I was almost 14, living in a ranch style tract home in an upper middle class suburb of the San Fernando Valley called Woodland Hills. I was part of the ideal American Dream family unit – two parents, two children (picture Ozzie & Harriet but with Jews).

Back in 1964 there were only three networks and we watched whatever crap was on. Human-robot Ed Sullivan hosted a weekly variety show tolerated by the entire family. I can’t tell you how many three-legged dog acts and Szony & Claire dance teams I suffered through just to catch three minutes of the Four Seasons or dancer Abby Lane in leotards.

The Beatles’ timing couldn’t have been better. The country was still in a giant funk over JFK and we needed something to lift us out of the doldrums. But why couldn’t it have been a girl group?

I was already a little skeptical. Beatles songs were fine but this was Southern California. We already had our group – The Beach Boys. They connected with our lives and our lifestyle. The beach, surfing, hot cars, that whole California dream. It was real! We were living it. Okay, well, I wasn’t living it. I don’t think I could lift a surfboard at that age. And beach bunnies seemed more impressed with Corvettes than Schwinn ten-speed bicycles with raised handlebars.

But that was unimportant. The Beach Boys were singing our anthems. “Surfin’ USA,” “Surfin’ Safari,” or the one I identified with, “In My Room” – where you locked out all your worries and fears by retreating to your cell.

In my room Ann loved me. If only she loved me anywhere else.

So I watched the Beatles that Sunday night. Me, and 72,999,999 other folks. They were dazzling, electric; unlike anything I’d ever seen. Words can’t explain why. You look at the footage today and it’s just four English guys with surprisingly decent teeth in matching dark suits and helmet hair bouncing around singing “Yeah yeah yeah” in harmony, but I could sense, right then, that something big was happening. I could just feel it. Not just big, but huge, seismic – a national coming out party for my generation.

The start of a revolution!

My euphoria lasted maybe thirty seconds because then I saw all the girls in the audience. They were being driven to complete madness. Shrieking and crying, and practically throwing their training bras onto the stage. What the hell? I had never seen this either.

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The funniest car commercial I've ever seen

Sick video day continues. 

Back in the 60s, local car dealers were ever-present. In LA we had a guy named Ralph Williams. Johnny Carson used to make fun of him on the TONIGHT SHOW mercilessly. Before Ralph was in LA he had a car dealership in San Bruno, in Northern California. You talk about commercials "you'd like to see", this is greatest of them all. Chick Lambert is the eloquent pitchman.

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My favorite new trailer: ZOMBEAVERS

"Ward, the Beaver is at it again."
Coming soon...


NOTE: THIS IS AN ACTUAL MOVIE, IT'S NOT A TRAILER PARODY.

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Friday Questions

For those of you struggling through the long football offseason, here are some Friday Questions to take your mind of your pain.

Wilhelm asks:

I'm currently working on a sitcom, which is my main focus. Lately, however, I've become enamored with the idea of an hour-long mystery series. Once writers make it, do they stick to one genre, or can they switch back and forth? I don't recall any examples of any sitcom creators creating a drama series or vice versa.

Once you’re established it’s easier to shift genres, but when you’re starting out you have to commit to one or the other. Agents need to sell you as either a comedy or drama guy.

A number of established writers have either hopped from one form to the other and some continue to hop.

Matthew Weiner, who created MAD MEN, was a comedy writer on BECKER and numerous other sitcoms. Steve Nahan, the showrunner on BONES, comes from a comedy background. Terrence Winter, who wrote on THE SOPRANOS, created BOARDWALK EMPIRE, and did the screenplay for WOLF OF WALL STREET produced SISTER, SISTER in a previous life.

Among the super-talented writers who ping-pong regularly between drama and comedy are Jane Espenson, Phoef Sutton, and Dan O’Shannon.

And I’m sure there are way more examples. So it can be done… once you have a toehold in the industry.

David P has question stemming from my recent post on WKRP:

(Was the show/concept ripped off from the song W.O.L.D. by the late Harry Chapin?).

Any thoughts on that? or comments about the song?

The song is about a world-weary disc jockey who has bounced from town to town and sacrificed his family to do so. I was a disc jockey when this song came out and can tell you all dee jays viewed this as a horrifying cautionary tale. A few of us smart ones got out. Thank you, Harry.

Here's the song:


But that’s not what WKRP IN CINCINNATI is about – specifically… although there’s a little of that in Johnny Fever. The opening title song however, is very similar thematically to W.O.L.D., just a catchier version.

If you’re not familiar with Harry Chapin, he was a rock/folk singer/songwriter in the ‘70s who tragically was killed young in an auto accident. His songs mostly tell stories and they’re exceptional. You may know the song CAT’S IN THE CRADLE, but I invite you to seek out TAXI and the sequel (named SEQUEL).

His concerts were great fun. He’d sing for three or four hours and then stick around for another one or two signing autographs and shaking hands. He was a tireless supporter and fundraiser for Stop the World Hunger. I really miss him.

Allan V has two questions about cast members who also direct episodes of their show:

1) How much of the running time does he/she have to spend behind the camera to qualify for directing credit, and
2) Are studios enthusiastic about the practice, or otherwise?

Directing is more than just the amount of time behind the camera. It’s staging, shaping performances, deciding on the shots, tone, pace, answering the thousands of daily questions on props and set decoration and wardrobe.

Most of the time when an actor directs an episode it will be one in which he does not have much to do in front of the camera. We say that the actor is “light” that week.

Obviously, when they are in a scene they have to rely on the camera coordinator or someone else to watch the monitor. But often they can go back after the take and review it before deciding to move on.

Studios don't mind as long as the episodes turn out well.  There are a few instances when actors, out of vanity, get directing assignments but are clueless about the technical side.   The producers usually provide enough assistance that the actor can't fuck it up too badly. 

On MASH, some of the best episodes of the series were directed by Alan Alda. And Kelsey Grammer has become quite an accomplished multi-camera director. To me that’s a real feat because learning how to camera block four cameras at once is daunting at best.

A number of actors have become terrific directors. Adam Arkin, Tony Goldwyn, Betty Thomas, Kevin Hooks, and that Affleck guy to name just a few.

And finally, from Mitchell Hundred:

I know you're a sitcom guy, but do you have any theories as to why police procedurals are so consistently popular with networks?

I have two theories.  Neither is based in any facts. 

1) It’s fun to try to solve the case yourself, to sift through the clues and see if you can figure it out before the characters.

2) They’re great if you just want to kick back and not have to think. Nothing very emotional is going on. You just veg on the couch and they lay out the whole show for you. Perfect for those nights when you just want to be in a TV coma.

What’s your question? 

By the way, I'm sure one of the contributing factors for why Matthew Weiner wanted to get out of comedy was to avoid having his work crunched by hack directors like this guy:

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FROZEN: My review

With the Winter Olympics getting underway, I thought today would be a good day to talk about FROZEN.

FROZEN is an example of how you can take a formula, but if you do it really really well, you can produce a terrific movie.

Think about it – FROZEN has all the elements of a successful Disney animated movie. Get out your checklist.

Mythical kingdom
Pretty princess who is funny, down to earth, and looking for love
Uplifting catchy songs
Goofy character for comic relief
Danger
Adorable forest critters
Sight gags
Magic
True love
At least one dead parent (this seems to be a Disney staple)
Evil bad guys
A happy ending

Plus the movie opens with a work sequence that might as well be the 7 Dwarfs in the diamond mine.  It's "Whistle While You Work" meets "the Volga Boatman."

They don't miss a trick. Uncle Walt would have been proud. And since he’s apparently frozen himself, the subject matter would really resonate.

But the creative team really pulled it off. A story that captures the imagination, the best songs in many a kingdom, and a cast with the likes of Idina Menzel who can sell the tunes like nobody's business.

Personally, I enjoyed the movie very much but was not swept away by it. I blame myself, not the film. Had I not seen 20 others ones that were similar, or had I been there with a child so I could share the wonder through her eyes, I might’ve had a different reaction. Still, I very much appreciated the film and marveled at its craft.

And full disclosure: Now that my kids have grown I tend to go to animated children’s movies at 10 p.m. when the children are all in bed. Who needs their caterwauling while I’m trying to find the inner child in myself?

Like practically every critic, I recommend seeing FROZEN. If you have kids they’ll be singing the songs. And once it comes out on Blu-Ray, parents of small children, you will be watching it on a continuous loop for a year. I’m just seeing it once. And tipping my mouse ears to the Disney animation unit. Hope you do as good a job with the Broadway version, ice show version, direct-to-video sequels, and ride.

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Tips for young playwrights

For a TV writer or a playwright, there’s nothing like seeing your first production. After God knows how many specs, one acts, and plays that never saw the light of day, the feeling can be glorious to see your words come to life the first time. I say that reservedly because there are some factors that could spoil it. Bad cast, bad direction, and in the case of TV – your script could be rewritten to where it’s unrecognizable.

That happened with the first produced script that David Isaacs and I wrote. It was a JEFFERSONS and we might as well have turned in a draft of THE PATTY DUKE SHOW considering how much of our script made it to the stage. (Note: Our draft of the JEFFERSONS got us our first MASH assignment so it couldn’t have been that bad.)

Playwrights don’t have that problem, but they have another. Once their play gets on its feet the real work often begins. The dreaded rewrite phase. After taking months to carefully and thoughtfully craft your play, now you’ve got a week to fix the story, throw out the whole father subplot, replace the airport scene, find a new ending, punch up a lot of the jokes, and add a two-page speech to convince a jury that Charles Manson was just a misunderstood youth.

It can be overwhelming, especially if you haven’t done it before. I remember my first runthrough. David and I had just been hired on THE TONY RANDALL SHOW for MTM in the late ‘70s. RANDALL was a multi-camera show so every afternoon we writers marched down to the set to watch a runthrough of the day’s rehearsal. I was very excited.

We arrived on the stage, the producers schmoozed with the actors, and there were still doughnuts on the crafts services table. Directors chairs were lined up in front of the set. They even had our names printed on the backs of them (although only assholes actually made a point to sit in his own chair). I took my seat along with David and the rest of the writers, all of whom were experienced. My script was in its handsome show binder on my lap and my pencil was at the ready.

The runthrough began. I was enjoying it, laughing at a lot of the jokes. Then I glanced to the side. The experienced writers were all furiously scribbling in their scripts – X’ing out things, marking certain places, drawing arrows, writing in the margins, dog earring pages. I thought to myself, “What are they seeing? This all looks pretty good to me.”

After the runthrough I walked back to the office with less of a spring in my step. We all gathered around the conference table to discuss the night’s upcoming work. A writer would just say, “And page 13, Jesus!” The other writers would agree. Nothing more needed to be said. It was obvious.

Except to me.

We went to work, each issue was addressed, and the next day the runthrough was noticeably better (even to me). Over time I began to catch on. Seeing how pros improved scripts was invaluable. There is just no substitute for experience.

But that doesn’t help the poor young playwright who now has a two-hour play to fix all by himself.

So here are some tips:

Have the right mindset mindset going in. The point of the runthrough is not to entertain you, but for you to analyze and assess what other people might find entertaining. Don't be like me.

You don’t have to totally fix the play in one night. Work on the big things first. Does the story track? Fix some of the jokes later.

Throw out anything that doesn’t work, even if it took you four months to write and was the reason you started the project in the first place.

There’s a saying on Broadway: Cut 20 minutes and run 2 years longer. Better to be short than long.

You don’t have to fix it yourself. Get feedback from people you trust. And it’s a time honored tradition in the theater to bring in “play doctors.” Abe Burrows became a legend doing that.  Swallow your pride. If you want help, seek it out.

Don’t just arbitrarily change everything that didn’t work. Sometimes it’s the acting and directing. You have to make that determination, but many times things don’t work because the actor or director doesn’t understand the intent. Keep the lines of communication open.

And finally, when you’re up all night in a hotel room tearing your hair out in a rewrite, stop for just a moment to remember how exciting it is that your play is actually being produced. It's all worth it.

In general, playwrights gravitate to television – that’s where the money and greater exposure is. But I always felt that more TV writers, especially comedy writers accustomed to the multi-camera format, should go the other way and write plays. How many plays are saved during tryouts? TV writers deal with run-throughs every day for years. Who better to tackle the process? I'm currently writing my second play.  I only hope to be in a position where I can follow my own tips.

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Before the internet...

Believe it or not, there was a time when information was not right at our fingertips. Studios all had research departments. If we were writing a show and needed to know some historical fact, or date, or even background on a recent news item we would call the research department. Two hours later an inter-studio envelope would arrive with a Xerox copy of the requested information.

And the show would be charged $500. Probably $500.02. They charged for the Xerox copy.

But as a result we would go out of our way to find alternative avenues of obtaining our research.

One was to just guess and put it in the script. In addition to a research department, all studios hired companies to fact-check finished scripts (protection against lawsuits). So since we were paying for that anyway we just used them. A memo would come back that said, “Charles Lindbergh flew the Spirit of St. Louis not Betty Boop.”

Or we would ask amongst ourselves, who knows someone who might know this? Like using life lines on WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE? For example, I could always call former girlfriends if there was a question about celibacy.

The easiest solution was to just change whatever we were looking for into something we knew. If I needed an opera singer it was always Pavarotti. I know nothing about opera. Don’t ask me to include his first name. I’d probably guess Dusty.

The point is, we were always looking for ways to skirt the ridiculously expensive research department.

One time, when I was working on that Mary Tyler Moore series we co-created, a certain sketch actor from the ‘60s came up in conversation. None of us had seen him in years and there was some question as to whether he had died.

To save $500 I called our casting director, Molly Lopata, and said we had a part in next week’s show we were writing and wanted to check on the availability of this sketch actor. We figured either she might tell us he’s dead, and if she herself didn’t know, when she called the agent she’d surely learn.

So I said, “Is ********* available next week?”  There was a long pause. “Oh, listen….” She said in a pained voice, obviously searching for just the right words to break the sad news, “I don’t know what the part is, but please, I beg of you, let me find you someone who’s better.” 

Progress isn’t always the best thing. Today we’d just Google him and have the answer in five seconds, thus denying us a laugh that must’ve lasted for ten minutes. (By the way, he was still alive. I explained to Molly the true purpose of my call and she said, “Oh, thank God. I thought you guys had lost your minds.”)

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