RED NICHOLS IN THE 1920s

1920s' New York was full of young jazz musicians who’d rolled in from somewhere else. Ernest Loring Nichols, a redheaded kid from Utah fell into partnership with a studious-looking trombone player from nearby Long Island named Miff Mole. Instantly they clicked, and together set the standard for hot recording bands of the early 20s. They recorded under an ever-changing roster of goofy names like The Arkansas Travelers, or The Tennessee Tooters—names that seem at odds with the polished skill and urban sound of their hits.

By 1925 Red Nichols was the man to see if you were a musician in New York and needed a job. He was the 'go to' guy, equally connected to record labels needing talent and top-flight musicians looking for work. A well-schooled musician tutored by his bandmaster father, Red could pick up a violin, sit down at the piano or play the cornet. His cornet style has been praised for its “ringing tone and springy, punchy, rhythmic drive.”

When George and Ira Gershwin mounted their 1930 Broadway musical Strike Up the Band, they turned to Red Nichols to put their orchestra together. Nichols filled the chairs in the pit band with rising stars in the jazz world. On opening night as the curtain parted, first-nighters were treated to the sound of Jack Teagarden, Benny Goodman, Jimmy Dorsey and Glenn Miller—all under the baton of Red Nichols.

Red Nichols was a skilled talent scout. His studio sessions were a magnet and proving ground for top, young, white jazz players. Many would go on to become star bandleaders of the Swing Era. In the late summer of 1927 Jack Teagarden had finished a gig in a society dance band at San Antonio’s Gunther Hotel. Impulsively the 25-year-old trombonist hit the road for New York in a Cadillac belonging to the wife of one his band mates. One warm August evening they landed in Times Square. Dropped off at a phone booth in mid-town with his bags and instrument case, the first person Jack called was Red Nichols. Always on the lookout for something new to offer the record-buying public, Red was quick to capture Jack Teagarden’s soulful, blues-driven sound and playful vocals on disc.

Pint-sized with flame-red hair, Red Nichols was a go-getter with a good head for business. And he was clean and precise in his playing, a modernist always exploring new territory. But Nichols’ popular success drew criticism from some who called him an 'entertainer' rather than an 'artist.' Critics saw his success as “selling out” or somehow inauthentic, not true to the spirit of hot jazz as it was played by Jazz Age cornet hero, Bix Beiderbecke.

Saxophonist Bud Freeman and his friends often worked in studio groups led by Red Nichols but would not agree with Sudhalter about Nichols' musicianship. Freeman once said, “In the opinion of our group, Nichols was a synthetic player. He was a clever musician and made a lot of records, but he was a very mechanical player.”

This week on Riverwalk Jazz The Jim Cullum Jazz Band tells the story of Red Nichols and his Five Pennies, illustrated with numerous historical recordings of Nichols and the ensembles he led.

In spite of the controversy surrounding his work, Red Nichols was the most recorded and successful musician-bandleader in New York in the 1920s. He led enormously popular bands featuring some of the most creative white jazz players of that time, under names such as The Five Pennies, The Red Heads, and Miff Mole and His Little Molers. This voluminous output of recorded work—Red appeared on about 4,000 recordings in the 1920s—is recognized today as a major expansion and refinement of the harmonic and compositional possibilities in jazz...

CHEERS: THE SAGA OF SAM AND DIANE

Ted Danson and Shelley Long lit up television in the 1980s through the hit sitcom "Cheers" (1982–1993). As Sam Malone, the ex–Red Sox pitcher turned bar owner, and Diane Chambers, the sophisticated waitress with lofty ambitions, their on-screen relationship became one of the most iconic love-hate dynamics in TV history. From the very first episode, the tension between Malone’s smooth-talking charm and Diane’s intellectual wit created an irresistible spark. Viewers could sense that every argument carried a flirtatious undercurrent, and every romantic moment carried the risk of another fiery clash. This constant push and pull made the show’s heart beat just as strongly as its comedy.

The creative team behind "Cheers" understood immediately that Danson and Long had a rare chemistry. Danson’s laid-back style and physical humor balanced perfectly against Long’s sharp delivery and polished presence. Even during long stretches of dialogue-heavy scenes, they kept audiences riveted. Their banter felt natural, never forced, which allowed the relationship between Sam and Diane to evolve in a way that felt believable. By the time the two characters officially became a couple in season two, millions of viewers were invested not just in the comedy but in the outcome of their romance.

Behind the scenes, their working relationship mirrored some of the tension portrayed on-screen. Shelley Long was known for her meticulous approach, dissecting scripts and often seeking adjustments to ensure her character’s integrity. Ted Danson, while equally committed, relied more on instinct and spontaneity. At times, their different methods led to friction, but that friction translated into energy that fueled their performances. Cast members recalled that even when Long and Danson debated over how to play a scene, the result was almost always electric once the cameras rolled.

The romantic storyline between Sam and Diane became so central to the series that it shaped much of "Cheers" during its early years. Episodes were built around their arguments, reconciliations, and the constant question of whether their personalities could ever truly fit together. Critics praised the pairing as one of television’s most complex comedic romances, noting that Danson and Long elevated what could have been a standard sitcom relationship into something layered with vulnerability and bite. Their connection made the audience believe that two people who clashed so fiercely could also care so deeply.
Off-camera, their relationship remained professional, though not always easy. Shelley Long’s decision to leave the show in 1987 after five seasons was a pivotal moment. For Danson, who continued on as the lead for the remainder of the series, it meant saying goodbye to a partnership that had defined the show’s identity. Long explained that her departure was motivated by a desire to pursue film opportunities and to spend more time with her young daughter, but she also acknowledged that the intensity of working on "Cheers" had taken its toll.

Their careers took different directions after that point. Ted Danson went on to solidify his place as one of television’s most versatile stars, appearing in projects ranging from "Becker" (1998–2004) to "The Good Place" (2016–2020). Shelley Long transitioned into film roles such as "Troop Beverly Hills" (1989) and "The Brady Bunch Movie" (1995), while occasionally returning to television, even reprising Diane in later "Cheers" episodes and a memorable guest spot on "Frasier." Each time they reunited on screen, audiences were reminded of the spark that once dominated Thursday nights.

Time has continued to highlight the impact of their partnership. Shelley Long, born in 1949, is now 77 years old. Ted Danson, born in 1947, is 79 years old. Both are still cherished by fans who recall their era-defining roles. Long largely stays out of the spotlight today, while Danson continues to act in acclaimed projects, but the memory of Sam and Diane remains a centerpiece whenever conversations turn to the greatest couples in television history.

Their on-screen firestorm still stands as a reminder that sometimes the most powerful connections are born from differences, not similarities, and that audiences never forget when two actors strike lightning together...

FORGOTTEN ONES: LOUISE CAMPBELL

Louise Campbell is just a footnote in Hollywood history. She made films for just a short 10 year period, and her most famous work was probably with Bing Crosby. Louise Campbell Weisbecker was born on May 30, 1911 in Chicago. Despite her success in Hollywood, she made it clear she preferred the stage.

Campbell attended St. Michael's School.and DePaul University, studying dramatic arts at the latter. She gained additional dramatic training at the Chicago School of Expression. She said that when she was 6 years old, she decided to be an actress after she watched a production of Uncle Tom's Cabin.

At one point, she worked as a dental assistant, an experience which she said was "invaluable to me in my acting" as she observed changes in patients' facial expressions in the dentist's office, with their changing expressions displaying "their real character."

Campbell gained early theatrical experience by performing in stock theater. Her Broadway debut was in Three Men on a Horse (1935). Her other Broadway credits include Julie the Great, Guest in the House (1941), A House in the Country (1936) and White Man (1936). A column in the June 13, 1942, issue of Billboard complimented "Louise Campbell, that fine actress, for a lovely, beautifully projected, altogether excellent performance in Guest in the House."

Campbell went to Hollywood in 1937 and made 13 films in the 1930s and 1940s. Her film debut was in Bulldog Drummond Comes Back (1937).Her film credits included Bulldog Drummond sequels, Night Club Scandal (1937), Men with Wings (1938), The Buccaneer (1938) with Fredric March, and The Star Maker (1939) with Bing Crosby. It would be her most popular film, playing Bing's wife in the loose bio of songwriter Gus Edwards. Watching her film appearances, Louise looks and sounds amazingly like Mary Martin.

Despite leaving Hollywood in 1947, she would occasionally act on the stage. “The demands of the screen are less than those for the stage,” she told The Times in 1939. The close-up, for instance, is a tremendous aid to the screen player. In close-ups the star has a chance to put over any emotion called for, with a lot of rehearsals and direction, whereas on the stage the actress must manage to get that emotion over without any such assistance whatsoever. Then, too, the stage demands talent and hard work, not merely personality and looks.”

Campbell was married to actor Horace McMahon, whom she met when they were both in the Broadway play Three Men on a Horse. They wed in 1938 and remained married until his death in 1971. Not much is know about Louise's private life, but I believe she had three children. Campbell died November 5, 1997, in Norwalk Hospital in Norwalk, Connecticut. She is buried at St. Mary's Cemetery in Norwalk, Connecticut. Louise led a full life, and she was remembered by her family even if she was not remembered by Hollywood...

RECENTLY VIEWED: TOY STORY 5

I really didn't cry during Toy Story 5, like I did at the other movies, but the film was still extremely sad. I saw the movie with my 13 year old daughter, who announced this past Father's Day weekend that she wants to see the new live action Moana movie with her friend. I am crushed but back to Toy Story 5. Toy Story 5 is a 2026 American animated adventure comedy-drama film produced by Pixar Animation Studios for Walt Disney Pictures. Directed by Andrew Stanton, who conceived the story and co-wrote the screenplay with Kenna Harris, it is the fifth main installment in Pixar's Toy Story film series and the sequel to Toy Story 4 (2019). The ensemble voice cast features Tom Hanks, Tim Allen, and Joan Cusack among those reprising their roles from the previous films, joined by Conan O'Brien, Scarlett Spears, Greta Lee, Shelby Rabara, Mykal-Michelle Harris, and Craig Robinson. Set two years after the events of the fourth film, Toy Story 5 follows Jessie (Cusack), Woody (Hanks), and Buzz Lightyear (Allen) as they and the other toys deal with the presence of Lilypad (Lee), a tablet and the new favorite plaything of Bonnie (Spears).

While Hanks said in May 2019 that Toy Story 4 was the final film in the franchise, the possibility of a fifth film had not been ruled out. Development on a fifth film was confirmed in February 2023, with Hanks and Allen returning. Stanton was confirmed as the director in June 2024 and later as a writer. It is the first main film in the series with no involvement from co-creator John Lasseter, who left Pixar in late 2018. The franchise's composer, Randy Newman, returned to score the film, marking his tenth collaboration with Pixar, while Taylor Swift contributed the number-one single "I Knew It, I Knew You" to the soundtrack. With a budget of $250 million, Toy Story 5 is one of the most expensive animated films ever made, and the most expensive film produced by Pixar.

Toy Story 5 had its world premiere in Los Angeles on June 9, 2026, and was theatrically released in the United States on June 19. Like its predecessors, it received positive reviews from critics, who praised its visuals, voice performances, humor and themes, although some questioned the screenplay and justification for existing. It has grossed $310.2 million worldwide, breaking several box office records, and becoming the ninth-highest-grossing film of 2026.

I won't talk about the plot, but there are some truly tender moments. Now that my children are teenagers, I feel like those toys. One line in the film stuck with me: "You may not feel like you don't matter anymore, but what's important is you mattered to someone sometime"

MY RATING: 8 out of 10

THE LAST DAYS OF JANIS JOPLIN

On October 3, 1970, Janis Joplin walked down the quiet hallway of Hollywood’s Landmark Motor Hotel, a new pack of cigarettes in her hand. A clerk later described her as friendly, but restless an image that now feels haunting.

That day, she had been making phone calls that went unanswered. Her brightly painted Porsche sat outside untouched, a symbol of her wild energy, even as her own seemed to dim. She told her producer about recording “Buried Alive in the Blues” the next morning, speaking with the same enthusiasm that had fueled her career. But as the hours passed, her spark faded into silence.

On stage, Janis was pure fire her voice raw, fierce, unforgettable. But when the spotlight turned off, loneliness often crept in. She reached out to old friends, searched for company, and found herself alone once more. Every missed call, every canceled plan, pressed harder on her heart.

She still found the strength to share a joke with the hotel staff before retreating to her room for the last time. By morning, the door would never open again. At just 27 years old, her life ended in that small space, leaving behind unfinished songs, unspoken words, and the ache of what might have been.

Joplin's sister Laura said "the heroin Janis used that night she had purchased around 4PM that afternoon from George, her supplier for as long as she used the drug. She was careful to use only one supplier, and he was careful about what he sold," Laura wrote in Love, Janis. "Usually, he had a chemist check the drug before he sold it. For that batch, the chemist had been out of town. He had sold the dope without checking it. The dope Janis had bought that Saturday was four to 10 times stronger than normal street heroin. It was 40-to-50 percent pure."

The official report called it a heroin overdose. But those who knew her best believed it was more than that, it was the weight of rejection, the hunger for love, and the scars she carried long before the fame.
Janis Joplin’s voice still echoes, not only in her music but in her story: a reminder that behind even the brightest flames, there can be fragile souls yearning simply to belong...

STAR FRIENDS: BING CROSBY AND CONNEE BOSWELL

The year was 1937, and the airwaves were alive with the sound of swing. Bing Crosby, already a household name with his warm, easygoing baritone, was redefining popular singing. Across the country, Connee Boswell—formerly the heart of the Boswell Sisters—was stepping into her own spotlight. Her voice carried a jazz-inflected elegance, a playful lilt that could turn even the simplest melody into something unforgettable.

When Bing and Connee first met in a Los Angeles studio, it wasn’t just another session. Bing, ever the gentleman, greeted her with that trademark grin and a casual, “Ready to make some magic?” Connee, seated in her wheelchair—her disability never dimming her spirit—shot back with a mischievous smile: “Only if you can keep up.”

The microphone crackled to life, and the band struck up the opening bars of “Bob White (Whatcha Gonna Swing Tonight?)”. What followed was pure chemistry. Bing’s voice flowed like a calm river, steady and reassuring, while Connee’s danced around his lines—syncopated, teasing, full of swing. The duet soared to #2 on the charts, and listeners couldn’t get enough of their playful banter woven into melody.

Over the next few years, their partnership blossomed. They recorded “Alexander’s Ragtime Band”, a spirited Irving Berlin classic that hit #1 and even raised funds for polio research—a cause close to Connee’s heart. Then came “An Apple for the Teacher”, a cheeky tune that had audiences grinning from coast to coast. Each song was more than a recording; it was a conversation between two artists who understood each other’s rhythms.

Offstage, Bing often spoke of Connee as one of his favorite female vocalists. “She’s got something no one else has,” he told a reporter. “That phrasing—she swings without trying.” Connee, in turn, admired Bing’s generosity in the studio. He never overshadowed her; instead, he created space for her artistry to shine.

Their collaborations weren’t confined to records. Radio listeners tuned in to hear them on programs like Kraft Music Hall, where their duets brought warmth and wit into American homes during uncertain times. For many, those broadcasts were a lifeline—a reminder that joy could still be found in harmony.

As the 1940s dawned and musical tastes shifted, Bing and Connee’s paths diverged. Yet their recordings remain timeless, echoing an era when music was intimate, playful, and profoundly human. Today, when you hear “Basin Street Blues” or “Between 18th and 19th on Chestnut Street”, you’re not just listening to notes—you’re hearing a friendship, a shared love of song, and a moment in history that still swings...

PHOTOS OF THE DAY: CANDID LUCILLE BALL

Here are some candid photos of the great Lucille Ball (1911-1989). I am in the minority. I think she was a better movie actress than television comedian...

HOLLYWOOD WIVES: ANNE MARIE BRENNING

Anne Marie Brenning (February 27, 1922 – April 26, 1971) was a German-born woman best known as the wife of iconic actor Peter Lorre. Though she lived largely outside the public eye, her life intersected with Hollywood history through her marriage to one of cinema’s most enigmatic figures. Anne Marie was born in Hamburg, Germany, to Otto and Katie Brenning. Little is publicly known about her early years, but she came of age during a turbulent time in German history, witnessing the rise of the Nazi regime and the devastation of World War II.

Anne Marie met Peter Lorre in the early 1950s at a private clinic in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Bavaria, where both were patients. Their shared experiences and connection led to a romance that culminated in marriage on July 21, 1953, in Los Angeles, California.

At the time, Peter Lorre was already a well-established actor, known for his chilling performance in M (1931) and roles in classics like Casablanca and The Maltese Falcon. Anne Marie became his third wife, and their union would last until his death in 1964, though they reportedly separated in 1962.

The couple had one daughter, Catharine Evelyn Lorre, born in 1953. Peter Lorre once remarked affectionately that their daughter “looked like him, but it looked better on her.” Despite the glamour of Hollywood, their family life was marked by personal struggles, including Peter’s declining health and addiction issues.

After Peter Lorre’s death in 1964, Anne Marie lived quietly in Los Angeles. She passed away on April 26, 1971, at the age of 49. She was laid to rest beside her husband at Hollywood Forever Cemetery in Los Angeles.

Though Anne Marie Brenning never sought the spotlight, her life was deeply entwined with one of Hollywood’s most distinctive actors. Through her daughter Catharine, her legacy continued—though tragically, Catharine also died young in 1985. Anne Marie remains a quiet figure in the annals of film history, remembered primarily through her connection to Peter Lorre, but her story adds a human dimension to the life of a man often shrouded in mystery...

DOCUMENTARY: JUDY GARLAND - BEFORE THE RAINBOW

 

RECENTLY VIEWED: SCARY MOVIE 6

Okay, I know what you think - Scary Movie 6 is hardly a classic movie, and it is not. However, the original two movies that came out in 2000 and 2001 represented a different time in my life. Back then I was single, and it seemed like the world still could laugh then. So when this new comedy came out, I had to see it. Scary Movie (colloquially known as Scary Movie 6) is a 2026 American parody film directed by Michael Tiddes and written by Marlon Wayans, Shawn Wayans, Keenen Ivory Wayans, Craig Wayans, and Rick Alvarez. It is the sixth installment in the Scary Movie film series, following Scary Movie 5 (2013), and has been referred to as the spiritual sequel to the first two films. It stars Marlon, Shawn, Anna Faris, and Regina Hall. The plot follows Cindy Campbell and her friends Ray Wilkins and siblings Shorty and Brenda Meeks reunited when the same masked killer from the first film resurfaces.

A sixth Scary Movie film was announced in 2024 and later that same year, it was revealed to have the involvement of the Wayans family for the first time since their departure from the franchise following the release of Scary Movie 2 (2001) due to creative conflicts with the original producers. Scary Movie was released in the United States by Paramount Pictures on June 5, 2026. Like the previous films, it received negative reviews from critics, but grossed $106 million against a $30 million budget.

The movie parodies almost every horror movie and some popular movies that have come out. The cast is excellent and Annna Faris, Regina Hall, and The Wayans Brothers have not missed a beat. Two welcomed returns that I think made the movie is the return of Cheri Oteri and Chris Elliott. I wish thet were in the film more.

Now the comedy is great, and I actually laughed a lot at the gross out humor. It's been awhile since a film came out like this. However, the story is not there, but who needs a plot in a Scary Movie film! For some of the humor and inside jokes, you have to be a Scary Movie fan. I am so it was just a fun movie to see. Nothing more and nothing less...

MY RATING: 7 out of 10

CELEBRITY DEATH CERTIFICATES: VINCENT PRICE

Here is the death cerificate for legendary actor Vincent Price who died at the age of 82 on October 25, 1993...

A NIGHT AT THE OPERA: A PERFECT MARX BROTHERS MOVIE

"A Night at the Opera" (1935) came about, in fact, because "Duck Soup" had failed so badly at the box office in 1933. The Marx Brothers’ earlier films had been successful, but this one, regarded today as a classic, had laid a giant egg in its own time. (According to small-town theater owners, grassroots America much preferred the homespun comedy of Joe E. Brown to the Marx Brothers in any case.)

It was Irving Thalberg, the brilliant production head of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and erstwhile “boy genius” of Hollywood, who came to the Marx Brothers’ rescue. He became acquainted with Chico Marx on the high-stakes bridge circuit in Beverly Hills, and this led to a discussion about the brothers moving to M-G-M. “I can make a film with you that would have half as many laughs as your Paramount films, but they will be more effective because the audience will be in sympathy with you,” he told Groucho.

As Groucho told Richard Anobile some forty years later, “He was right. If you recall the opening of 'Night at the Opera' where Harpo is trying on the costume of the lead singer, the singer comes into his dressing room and discovers Harpo, and begins beating him. This immediately established sympathy for Harpo, and puts the audience on his side. The plot of the film revolves around our helping two lovers, Kitty Carlisle and Allan Jones, get together. The audience was in our corner. This is exactly what Thalberg wanted.”

The trick was to integrate Groucho, Harpo, and Chico into such a story without diluting their own anti-establishment brand of humor—no mean feat, considering the insipid nature of most romantic subplots in films of this sort. But Thalberg wasn’t about to destroy the appeal of the Marx Brothers. In fact, he spared no expense or effort to make this film a success. He hired playwright George S. Kaufman and his partner Morrie Ryskind to work on the script. They were no strangers to Marx territory, having written both "Cocoanuts" (made into a 1929 film) and "Animal Crackers" (made into a film), but they were firmly established in New York (where they’d recently won a Pulitzer Prize for their play "Of Thee I Sing") and had no particular desire to move West. Thalberg lured Kaufman to Hollywood with a salary of $10,000 a week! In true M-G-M/Thalberg fashion, other hired hands were brought on board to improve and “doctor” the script. In all, the film boasted eight writers, though only three received credit.
Thalberg made the unprecedented decision to test the finished material “on the road,” in a specially-prepared stage version of the screenplay. Every performance was a test: what worked, remained. What didn’t, was changed.

With the comedy honed to perfection, Thalberg made sure the other elements of the film were their equal. A recent M-G-M arrival named Allan Jones was hired for the juvenile lead, and a newcomer from Broadway named Kitty Carlisle was borrowed from Paramount, where she had appeared in two films with Bing Crosby. Their unaffected performances and attractive singing voices contribute a great deal to the “tolerability” of the straight material in "A Night at the Opera". (And the songs aren’t bad, either. “Alone,” by M-G-M’s house songwriters Nacio Herb Brown and Arthur Freed, became a hit.)
The Marx Brothers are further aided and abetted by a hand-picked supporting cast, including the indispensable Margaret Dumont, the imperious Siegfried Rumann, the insufferable Walter King, and the incompetent Robert Emmett O’Connor. Perfect foils, all.

Last, but not least, it should be said that "A Night at the Opera" presents the Marx Brothers at the peak of their powers. Groucho and Chico never had a funnier encounter than the “party of the first part” contract negotiation. Chico never had a better double-talk showcase than his description of the aviators’ trouble-ridden trip to America. And the threesome never participated in a funnier single set piece than the stateroom scene.

So it was M-G-M, never noted for its contributions to screen comedy, that produced one of the greatest comedies ever made. Not by chance, or circumstances, but by gathering together a group of outstanding talents and channeling their efforts toward a goal of perfection. Best of all, their work has stood the test of time...

RALPH FIENNES AND 1993

1993 was Ralph Fiennes' "breakout year." He had a major role in Peter Greenaway's film "The Baby of Mâcon" with Julia Ormond, and, later that year, he became known internationally for portraying the brutal Nazi concentration camp commandant Amon Göth in Steven Spielberg's "Schindler's List." For this, he was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor. Though he did not win the Oscar, but did win the Best Supporting Actor BAFTA Award for the role. His portrayal of Göth also saw him listed at number 15 on the AFI's list of the top 50 film villains.

Fiennes later stated that playing the role had a profoundly disturbing effect on him: "Evil is cumulative. It happens. People believe that they've got to do a job, they've got to take on an ideology, that they've got a life to lead; they've got to survive, a job to do, it's every day inch by inch, little compromises, little ways of telling yourself this is how you should lead your life and suddenly then these things can happen. I mean, I could make a judgment myself privately, this is a terrible, evil, horrific man. But the job was to portray the man, the human being. There’s a sort of banality, that everydayness, that I think was important. And it was in the screenplay. In fact, one of the first scenes with Oskar Schindler, with Liam Neeson, was a scene where I'm saying, 'You don't understand how hard it is, I have to order so many-so many meters of barbed wire and so many fencing posts and I have to get so many people from A to B.' And, you know, he's sort of letting off steam about the difficulties of the job."

Fiennes put on 28 pounds to play the role. He watched historic newsreels and talked to Holocaust survivors who knew Göth. In portraying him, Fiennes said, "I got close to his pain. Inside him is a fractured, miserable human being. I feel split about him, sorry for him. He's like some dirty, battered doll I was given and that I came to feel peculiarly attached to."

Spielberg on Fiennes' audition: "I saw sexual evil. It is all about subtlety: there were moments of kindness that would move across his eyes and then instantly run cold."

When survivor Mila Pfefferberg was introduced to Fiennes on the set, she began shaking uncontrollably, as he reminded her too much of the real Göth...

THE BANNING OF THE OUTLAW

In 1941, while filming "The Outlaw," Howard Hughes felt that the camera did not do justice to Jane Russell's bust. He employed his engineering skills to design a new cantilevered underwire bra to emphasize her figure. Hughes added curved structural steel rods that were sewn into the brassiere under each breast cup and connected to the bra's shoulder straps. This arrangement allowed the breasts to be pulled upwards and made it possible to move the shoulder straps away from the neck. As a result, the design allowed for a larger amount of Russell's bosom to be exposed. Contrary to many media reports afterward, Russell did not wear the bra during filming; according to her 1988 autobiography, she said the bra was so uncomfortable that she secretly discarded it. She wrote that the "ridiculous" contraption hurt so much that she wore it for only a few minutes, and instead wore her own bra. To prevent Hughes from noticing, Russell padded the cups with tissue and tightened the shoulder straps before returning to the set. She later said "I never wore it in 'The Outlaw', and he never knew. He wasn’t going to take my clothes off to check if I had it on. I just told him I did." The famed bra ended up in a Hollywood museum—a false witness to the push-up myth.

Although the film was completed in February 1941, Hughes had trouble getting it approved by the Hollywood Production Code Administration due to its emphasis on and display of Russell's breasts. The Production Administration set the standards for morally acceptable content in motion pictures, and ordered cuts to the film. Hughes reluctantly removed about 40 feet, or a half-minute, of footage that prominently featured Russell's bosom. However, 20th Century Fox decided to cancel its agreement to release "The Outlaw"; as a result, Hughes stood to lose millions of dollars. Ever the resourceful businessman, he schemed to create a public outcry for his film to be banned. Hughes had all his managers call ministers, women's clubs and housewives, informing them about the 'lewd picture' Hughes was about to release. 

The public responded by protesting and trying to have the film banned, which generated the publicity Hughes needed to establish a demand for the film and get it released. The resulting controversy created enough interest to get "The Outlaw" into theaters for just one week in 1943, and then it was pulled due to violations of the Production Code. The film was released widely on April 23, 1946 when RKO Radio Pictures premiered the film in San Francisco, where the theater owner was arrested for showing a film "offensive to decency." The MPAA maintained that Hughes switched prints and did not show the version that was approved. Hughes resigned from the MPAA and filed a $1,000,000 lawsuit demanding triple damages. He lost the suit and all the appeals. Despite the legal battles and many bans, United Artists continued to roadshow the film in 1946 and 1947 and it set records almost everywhere it was shown. Originally banned in New York, it was finally shown on September 11, 1947 when the ban was lifted...

GARRETT MORRIS: THE EARLY YEARS

The first seasons of Saturday Night Live feature big names we all remember. Bill Murray, John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Gilda Radner, Chevy Chase (OK, we remember Chevy but we don’t have to like him). Most of them went on to movie stardom, celebrity rehab, or both. But there’s one name we hear about much less: Garrett Morris.

Which is strange. Garrett Morris was the first Black performer on Saturday Night Live, paving the way for Black actors in televised sketch comedy. Without Garrett Morris, is there an Eddie Murphy? How about Tracy Morgan or Kenan Thompson? Morris laid the groundwork for Key & Peele and the ladies on A Black Lady Sketch Show.

 
One would think he would be a greater presence in the pantheon of beloved SNL performers. One would think we’d celebrate him every Black History Month. Or that he would constantly be welcomed back to the SNL stage alongside all the other legendary living alums of this show. But he is often forgotten or sidelined.

 
The sad truth? Garrett Morris’s time on the historic comedy show isn’t remembered as a precious moment in comedic history. Rather, it is a bitter time capsule filled with disrespect, heavy drug use, and racism.

 
There was a lot of turmoil for Morris to get onto that Studio 8H stage in the first place.
He came to the show a trained theater actor, not an improv Second City guy like Belushi or Aykroyd. While he did have an improvisational background, it looked a lot different than his castmates’ experiences in Chicago and Toronto.

 
“I learned improv with Imamu Amiri Baraka, not at Second City. And the workshops were more about talking about problems in the ghetto — the aim wasn’t necessarily comedy,” Morris confessed to Maya Rudolph in the Hollywood Reporter. “So, when John Belushi and Gilda Radner got into Saturday Night Live, they had a comedy range from one to a hundred. My range was from “Hate Whitey” to “Kill Whitey.”

Though he was light on improv training, Morris arrived at SNL with some serious chops in his toolbelt. Morris began his journey in show business as a playwright; in fact, he exclusively thought of himself as one. “Mind you, I had two plays that had been produced in New York City,” Morris remembers. “In fact, New York commissioned a play from your boy, okay, and then I wrote another play, which was produced in New York and in L.A.”

 
With his theater work proving successful, it was a leap of faith for Morris to even take the TV job. But despite his reservations, he entered the Saturday Night Live fray as a writer. That position seems like a natural fit given his background but trying to transition from plays to sketch proved to be a challenge for Morris. “I’m a playwright, so I was having trouble getting my stuff down to a minute or a minute and a half, to fit into some sketch.”

 
In addition to the writing challenges, Morris was met with America’s pastime: racism. “I was a little disappointed in Michael O’Donoghue,” Morris remembers. “Because he was associated with National Lampoon, I made some progressive assumptions I shouldn’t have made. He was a racist motherfucker. I suggested I could play in this skit, a doctor. He had the nerve to tell me, ‘Garrett, people would be thrown by a Black doctor.’ … So once or twice, he and I did some stuff together, but I always knew what he really was.”

Being the only Black person in the room is never easy. Often, the solo Black person in question will think the racist comment or moment was in their head, or even that they made it up. Fortunately for Morris (or unfortunately, depending on how you see it), he knew his perception of racist behavior wasn’t simply one man’s opinion. Other cast members noticed what was going on.

 
“Garrett was treated horribly, horribly— by the writers, by some of the performers, and Lorne,” notes OG cast member Jane Curtin. “They just dismissed him... I found it amazing that he let it go on for as long as it did, but it took its toll, it clearly took its toll on Garrett.”

 
So the problem wasn’t just making the transition from theater to TV. It was personal. Morris was not liked by his fellow writers. His sketches were not getting put on the air, not being taken seriously, and even worse, they were stolen.

 
“The first three months or so, a guy there stole an idea and then added a little something to it, and he didn’t even give me credit for co-writing,” Morris remembers about one particularly egregious example of joke theft. “This guy stole from me and then told Lorne I couldn’t write.”

There was a silent coup underway, led by white writers, to oust Garrett Morris from the writer’s room. What was head honcho Lorne Michaels’ response? Put Garrett Morris in the cast! You can’t say Lorne didn’t get creative.

 
“When the challenge came to get rid of me as a writer, Lorne let me audition for the Not Ready for Prime Time Players,” Morris remembers. “He did not fire me. And to this day, I am thankful for that.”

MUSIC BREAK: NOEL COWARD - LET'S DO IT

HISTORY OF A SONG: LET'S DO IT

Songwriter Cole Porter has recorded many controversial songs in his long career, but the lyrics to "Let's Do It" are probably his most controversial. The first of Porter's "list songs", it features a string of suggestive and droll comparisons and examples, preposterous pairings and double entendres, dropping famous names and events, drawing from highbrow and popular culture. Porter was a strong admirer of the Savoy operas of Gilbert and Sullivan, many of whose stage works featured similar comic list songs.

The first refrain covers human ethnic groups, the second refrain birds, the third refrain marine life, the fourth refrain insects and centipedes, and the fifth refrain non-human mammals.

With "Let's do 'it'" a euphemism for sexual intercourse in English, author Sheldon Patinkin wrote that it was "the first hit song to proclaim openly that sex is fun."  The author of Staging Desire: Queer Readings of American Theater History drew a line from Porter's use of barely veiled double entendres such as "Moths in your rugs do it, What's the use of moth-balls?" to his "pleasure" in barely masking his homosexuality from the public.

The song has regularly lent itself over the years to the addition of contemporary or topical stanzas. For example, in 1955 the lines "Even Liberace, we assume, does it," "Ernest Hemingway could just do it" and many more were added by Noël Coward in his Las Vegas cabaret performance of the song, in which he replaced most of Porter's lyrics with his own.

In Porter's publication from 1928, the opening lines for the chorus carried three derogatory racial references: Chinks, Japs, and Laps.

The original was:

Chinks do it, Japs do it,
up in Lapland little Laps do it...

The original line can be heard in several early recordings of the song, such as a recording made by the Dorsey Brothers & their Orchestra (featuring a vocal by a young Bing Crosby), Rudy Vallée, Paul Whiteman And His Orchestra, all in 1928, and a version of the song by the singer and well-known Broadway star Mary Martin (with Ray Sinatra's orchestra), recorded in 1944. Another example is Billie Holiday, in 1941.  Peggy Lee with the Benny Goodman orchestra recorded a version in 1941 with these lyrics.

CBS came up with less offensive lyrics, which NBC adopted, and changed the opening to the refrain: "Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it." when they recognized that the line was offensive...

RECENTLY VIEWED: MARTIN SHORT - LIFE IS SHORT

I am a sucker for a good documentary, especially on my favorite stars. I just finished watching Martin Short: Life Is Short, and it is one of the better documentaries I have seen. This is actually my third one of the year. I also watched the Chevy Chase documentary as well as the John Candy one. After I saw the Chevy Chase one, I disliked him more. After I saw the John Candy one, I felt sad for him. However, after seeing the Martin Short documentary, I surprisingly felt good even though Short has been through his share of tragedy.

Martin Short is a comedy legend to multiple generations.In the 1980s, he created one brilliant character after another with SCTV and Saturday Night Live — from the hyperactive Wheel of Fortune superfan Ed Grimley to the hyper-defensive lawyer Nathan Thurm.Then in the 2000s, he gave the world the clueless film buff Jiminy Glick — and most recently, podcasting sleuth Oliver Putnam on Only Murders in the Building.

In February, after the documentary was finished, his daughter, Katherine, took her own life at the age of 42.Short told Morning Edition host A Martínez, "The reality is that my daughter had a severe disease: mental illness. Like cancer, some diseases are terminal. And hers was terminal."

Short says the documentary's director, Lawrence Kasdan, suggested postponing the film's release.

"My instinct was the opposite," Short said. "Because it's about love, loss and survival… I think we proceed. We must figure a way to survive through grief without denying it or without in any way undermining its importance."

The documentary reveals just how often Short has had to endure the deaths of family members. Between the ages of 12 and 20, he lost his father, mother and brother. Then in 2010, his wife, Nancy Dolman, succumbed to ovarian cancer. Their blissful relationship is a highlight of the film, as told through Short's own home videos.

"When I first saw a rough cut of this documentary," Short remembered, "I said to Larry Kasdan, 'I didn't know you were in love with Nancy!' Because it is a love letter to her."

If you didn't like Martin Short - watch the documentary still because you will like him more after. The home movies were touching, and it showed the absolute love Martin and Nancy had for each other as well as the amount of love everyone has in the business for Martin Short. This documentary has done something none of the others have, it has made me cry. The documentary feels short (no pun intended), because it is so interesting! 

MY RATING : 10 OUT OF 10

MUSIC BREAK: BENNY GOODMAN - LET'S DO IT

HOLLYWOOD URBAN LEGEND: JUDY HOLLIDAY

URBAN LEGEND: Was actress Judy Holliday, who sometimes played dumb blondes on the screen really a genius?

ANSWER: YES!

A New York girl, born and raised, Judith Tuvim was the only child of parents Abe Tuvimand Helen. In school, she excelled in academics, winning several awards for her skills as a writer. While in her early teens, she developed what would become a life-long love for theater. In 1938, she made her professional debut as part of a nightclub act called "The Revuers". Her partners in the act included aspiring playwrights Betty Comden and Adolph Green. "The Revuers" had a loyal following and even their own weekly radio show on NBC. In 1944, The Revuers broke up after a failed attempt to break into films. Judith adopted the stage name of "Judy Holliday" as part of a "makeover" process that was orchestrated by 20th Century Fox.

Despite her image as a "dumb blonde", Judy Holliday had an IQ of 172. She often said that it took a lot of smarts to convince people that her characters were stupid. "You have to be smart to play a dumb blonde over and over and keep the audience's attention without extraordinary physical equipment."

A MOMENT WITH ED O'NEIL

Ed O’Neill, remembered as Al Bundy from Married with Children, never wanted to return to sitcoms. By 2008 he was semiretired, enjoying life in Hawaii, and pursuing occasional dramatic roles. When asked to meet Modern Family creators Christopher Lloyd and Steven Levitan, he resisted, declaring he was done with sitcoms. Even after agreeing, he warned them: “I did eleven years on Married with Children, and that’s enough.” His aversion came from disliking live-audience formats, which he felt ruined timing. The creators pitched their idea differently—two cameras, shot like a movie—and eventually convinced him to read the script. He was struck by its quality: “Oh shit, this is good.”

But O’Neill wasn’t the obvious choice. Craig T. Nelson was initially favored, chosen after a literal coin toss. Nelson, however, demanded star money, and his reputation for being difficult, coupled with a controversial remark, soured the network. In contrast, everyone described O’Neill as humble and easy to work with. Willing to take less money, he embodied the grounded patriarch Jay Pritchett. The role reinvented his career, balancing humor with gravitas. For O’Neill, Modern Family was more than a hit: it validated his craft and gave him a second iconic character...