Hippies: You Dig??

Maybe, just maybe, it was preordained by the date of my birth. I was born on December 8, 1965. And, on that date, the Beatles released their groundbreaking album, ''Rubber Soul''. This album took the Fab Four up several notches in quality and originality. The songs were grown-up, sophisticated. They spoke adult themes for their rapidly growing audience. The subjects were about love. Love lost. Love found. And, embracing the all-emcompassing feeling of love that humans should share with each other. This album, one of their finest, could be the signpost for the next stop for the Baby Boom generation [ which goes synonymous with being a Beatles fan ] that was growing into adulthood. That next stop was the ''Hippie Generation''....... I joyfully enjoyed this summer. The weather was perfect by my standards--- a few hot days, but, a nice, cool, sunny autumn-like day--- seemed to be the norm. I live in shorts and short-sleeved shirts during this time. And, as we know, this area gets pelted with bad weather a good six months of every year. So, I gratefully embraced this summer and all of its trimmings..... Now, I also adapted into a half-serious persona as a ''hippie''. I have many friends of different age groups-- some younger, some older---- and my older, hipster friends still carry the torch of anti-establishment. They do not trust the government [ which, by the way, is not exclusively a generational feeling ] and they still believe the simple pleasures in life are worth grooving over. I like the mindset of these people. They never sold out. They still light their incense and other things I should not mention. They have the old hippie mantra down: '' Love is all you need'' and all of its utopian feelings. Sure, they work and have become part of the establishment in order to survive, but, they still follow the spirit of their hearts. Criticize and laugh at them being naive, but, they have a sweetness and gentleness that the world should have more of. And, they also have great parties, too!!!!...... I have always prided myself as having straddled both the culture and the counterculture. Imagine a line down the middle of humanity. I have one foot on one side with the ''straights'', and, another foot on the side of the '' hippies''. I go whichever way the wind blows me on any given certain day or situation. I like getting down with the bikers, rebels, people who might be out on good behavior from another life. I can spit and swear and guzzle their beer with the best of them. The women are free expression women, unafraid of societies boundaries and tastes. And, then I have the other side I associate with. I can converse with an executive and pillar of the community. I can go to the baseball games and high-class social affairs. I can date the classy woman and take her out and show her the town. I firmly am grounded on both sides of life, whether to ''get down and howl at the moon'' or, ''talk shit with the suits.'' Its a nice balance....... But, the hippie thing has always fascinated me. Go back to the mid-1960's when it started. At first, the movement was focused in on two worthwhile goals: Civil Rights and ending the war in Vietnam. Eventually, the tenacity of this group made those goals realistic and they got what they wanted. I applaud the efforts. However, the good intentions and noble causes soon sank into the darkness of drug abuse and alienation from society. Also, there was some who just went along for the ride because it was the fashionable thing to do. These followers, mostly white, college age, who never felt the hardships that minorities and the poor they were ''championing'' went through, put on their funny hippie clothes, dropped acid, blasted Hendrix, and then went back to their cozy lives when the times were a changing. They had their fling at playing the radical and baiting the ''squares''. Then, it was dinner time, or, the interview with ''Merrill Lynch'' called, and, the whole merry prankster look went into the closet. Meanwhile, the true hippies, the ones that didn't have the trust funds and perfect, easy futures ahead of them, fought the battle on the front lines. They were the people who hated and protested the war [ again, minorities and the poor without draft deferments] and, yet, were sent off to fight, some never returning back alive. These were the true believers who had the best intentions, but, were victimized by all facets of society. They were exploited and conned. They believed the slogans, but, were unaware that the leaders of their movement were lining their own pockets and setting themselves up for the bright future [ Jerry Rubin, Mr. ''Yippie Leader, Don't Trust Anyone Over Thirty'', soon became a Wall Street tycoon]. Some went on with their lives. And, some didn't. I remember going to Haight-Ashbury in 1996, a good 30 years after the hippie movement had started. I was expecting some sort of spirit still around, albeit in modern, calmer times. What I saw was depressing. It was a slum. Many homeless people. Drug addiction ran rampant.Whatever spirit of the revolution was being hocked and hustled in nearby ''head shops'' that played into the fantasy of a long-ago time...... But, that was the downside. I like to focus on the good side. There was a strong vibe in the air then, a sense of anything is possible that the young always have. Some of the drugs did expand some minds and opened up a hidden fortress for some people [ let us remember that ''LSD'' was invented by the ''CIA'' in the forties to control minds ]. I am not advocating anything for anybody. Everyone should have the free will to do what they want, but, drugs were always a strong part of this period. There was also the feeling of loving everybody and accepting people on their own terms as human beings. People looked beyond ethnic and social backgrounds to find harmony with each other. There was much learning and patience towards your fellow man and woman. They realized that the only way we, as a people, can ever get along in peace, was to find common ground with each other. Prejudice must be abolished for us to go forward. It was a small spark lit of human understanding, but, it was a start. Since all groups in the world share this world, then we must all come together for its survival. For this is the most important thing facing us throughout the years: loving and caring for each other. The hippies embraced it fully. It may be their greatest legacy........ As was the music, that great music!!! For a rock lover like myself, it was an orgasmic sound. The hippie movement had the ''West Coast Sound'' as their soundtrack to the lives they were leading. You had Jimi and Jim and Janis. You had the Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead. The Beatles rocked the way from England, and, they brought along with them the Stones, The Who, Procol Harem. All music expressing the turmoil of the times and the feelings of uncertainty. There were two music festivals that cemented that feeling in the air: ''Monterey Pop'' in 1967, and, ''Woodstock'' in 1969. ''Woodstock'' always gets the high marks as the top of the mountain because it was at the end of the 60's and seemed to summon up all of what the movement was saying. I love ''Woodstock'', but, if I had to choose, I would have gone to ''Monterey''....... It was the time when the hippie culture first gained prominance. These were innocent times, the zenith of ''we can change the world''. Hard drugs had yet to destroy the generations heroes. ''Flower Power'' was felt among the youth. the word ''love'' was uttered so often during this period that it was later rightly lampooned. But, it is the only honest feeling at the time. People sat with each other, smiling contently, as the sun shined, the sky was blue, it was beautiful, and so were you. The concert was organized by the record producer, Lou Adler, and the genius behind ''The Mamas And The Papas'', John Phillips. They lined up Simon and Garfunkal, The Who, Hendrix, and Joplin. The Airplane flew, along with the Dead boys. David Crosby preached love from the stage and also the Kennedy Assasination [ you can't have a counterculture concert without political statements ]. There was a gentleness to the concert, innocence bred with the hope for the future. Sitting in the grass--- always the favorite spot for a hippie--- embracing all of humanity, while you were flying on your own personal ''trip'', somehow, brought forth the love of the heart. While future hippie get togethers would preach peace and understanding, this was the only mass gathering of the faithful who truly did follow the script. All you truly needed was love....... Like any great time, it had its ending. Eras are just that, a short span of time to embrace the moment and then move on. Death, due to war or self-abuse, claimed many. As a person grows older, you begin to sadly note the obvious: that many people are not worth saving. Some just don't hold up their end to the human spirit. They are the exploiters and the greedy. They also are the lazy and the violent. The ideals of the hippie movement were corrupted by many of these people, and, the feeling died away. My hippie friends still follow the code of that time, that other world, but, even they sadly do it with some suspicion in their eyes. It can be said that the hippie experience was one, long, dress-up party, where a splendid time was guaranteed for all. However, as with any party, morning comes with a hangover and cleaning up to do....... I had my hippie summer. It was different than those long-ago times because the times are different and I am a modern person trained to modern times. Yes, you can go camping for the weekend or go to the concert that covers you in mud and pretend, just for a while, that you are channeling the times and the spirit of those who did it for real. There is a lot to make fun of and valid criticism to level at the hippies. But, at heart, their message was the message that all humans should have, the message, I beleive, that God himself would give us: Love each other........

Defending ''The Godfather Part 3''

Oh, it is like being on a deserted island. Alone. Shivering in fright. Unsure of which way to turn without having to battle the forces against you. The world seems against you. Or, maybe, it is like trying to go the other way against a wave in the ocean. It is a mountain of resistance coming at you. You are Sinbad, fighting the monsters in the sea, just trying to barely stay alive against the savages. Yes, dear reader, that is what it is like being the only mortal on Earth that liked ''The Godfather, Part 3''........ Keep laughing. I know you are. I can hear you through this computer [ among the many features of having a blog is that with this, I can see right at you]. ''The Godfather, Part 3'' is a damn good movie. Now, what first must discarded in talking about this much maligned movie is the central, obvious fact that it comes nowhere near the masterpiece feel of its ancestors, Parts 1 and 2. The first two installments in the trilogy remain the golden standard of movie magic. They are the perfect blend of great art and great entertainment. When the lists of the finest movies ever made are compiled, these two always are included, with ''The Godfather'' [ or, ''Godfather 1''] often occupying the top spot. These movies are quoted by moviegoers who take its words of wisdom into the everyday life, applying them to both business and personal relationships [ ''its not personal, its strictly business'']. So, with the clear case of Part 3 nowhere near displaying the depth and quality of its parents, this redheaded stepchild must be judged apart from what has come before. And, believe me, it can be judged by its own merits...... Take, for example, the pleasure of reuniting with the characters we know so well. Seeing them all grown up, with the passage of time aging us all, is just like going to a family reunion and seeing a welcome face. You have Michael, all gray haired and stoop shouldered, sick and slowed down by age, but, still radiating the power we know him to be. He is dignified, the Old Lion, who has battled his enemies and won. Or, so we think. You have Kay, the estranged wife that he loved all those years ago from when he was young. This is the woman, with whom he promised in the garden of his parents house, that he was not like his family. Kay knows Michael well, so well, that she stands up to him like no one else dare to, telling him that, despite all his money and power and his search for respect, he is still a gangster, a ''common Mafia hood.'' Theirs is the central relationship in the movie, a life that started out so full of love and good intentions, but, was destroyed by his allegiance to his family and their code of life. There is the sister, Connie. No longer is she the mouse of the family. She has been reborn in her later years to be a female Michael, a cold , calculating woman who could be the reincarnation of a Borgia woman. She wants Michael to deal with his new crop of enemies like he did in the old days, through violence. But, Michael wants his soul clean and wants nothing to do with that life anymore. You also have the children of Michael and Kay, Anthony and Mary. Anthony refuses to follow the instructions of his father and become a lawyer. He wants to be an opera singer. From the way the character is played, Anthony seems less than masculine, more Fredo than Michael. Mary, the little girl, is filled with innocence and unabashed love for her father. She walks blindly into a love affair with her first cousin, Vincent. Vincent is the bastard son of Sonny and his maiden of honor conquest from the first movie, Lucy Mancini. Vincent has the temper like his old man, capable of flying off the handle at a moments notice, which he does by biting off the ear of a Corleone family enemy, Joey Zasa. You also have the supporting characters in the story, like Joey Zasa. Zasa is newbreed Mafia, all love of media and sharp clothes. The character seems to strongly resemble the real-life John Gotti in mannerisms and attitude. He seethes deadly vipor from his pores, you know right away that he is instant trouble. And, then, you have old man Don Altobelli, family friend for decades, who also has a mysterious streak to him. These are the characters the movie gives us to chew on. Right away, whether you are a fan of the movie or not, you are interested in these people and where the story will be taking them....... It takes them to new and daring places. Michael, looking for redemption in his later years, becomes involved with the Catholic Church. He wants to wash his sins from the past and have God forgive him for his murdering heart. In today's world, he can buy that redemption through a generous donation [ 600 million dollars] to the church. It will be all on the up and up, of course, because Michael is buying into the faultering real estate company the Vatican owns, Immobiliare. With this purchase, Michael reaches into the highest areas of the church, becoming as close to God, he believes, as he possibly can. But, God, as we know, does not forget the sins of a sinner, and Michael is bedeviled by internal infighting in the church, and his former life reaching out to him. Michael is trying to stay clean, but, his past keeps making him dirty...... Michael also has another reason to reach God. He is haunted by the murder of his sweet, weak brother, Fredo, in the second movie. If the killing of the police officer and mobster in Part 1 set him on the life of a murderer, then the execution of his brother forever doomed his soul. As the years passed, Michael cannot get over his horrible deed. The subject is touched on by other characters in the movie---- with Vincent, knowing the truth, lying to Mary to spare her feelings--- but, Connie is the only one who talks directly to Michael about it, as only family can do. She eases [ or, tries to] his conscience by saying how tragic it was that Fredo drowned in the boat. She knows the torment that Michael is under and wants to relieve his suffering. Both know the truth, and, both know the other knows the truth. Still, Michael cannot forgive himself. In the single best scene in the movie, he gives his confession to the man who will become the new Pope. ''I murdered my brother, he injured me.'' Then, he breaks down crying with the rest of the confession, ''I KILLED MY MOTHER'S SON! I KILLED MY FATHER'S SON!'' This scene, so well played by Al Pacino, is the highlight of the movie. It also is indictive of the tone and style of the movie. Michael, after reigning supreme in the first two installments, is now the victim, paying the price of a murderer. Haunted by the ghosts of the men he killed, particulary his brother's. This style was not accepted by the staunch fans of the series, which I have always felt was at the heart of why many people dislike this movie. Michael is vulnerable and human in this movie. The natural order of living his life the way he had has caught up with him. And, many fans do not like this arc of the character's development. They wanted old Michael....... There are flaws in the movie, no argument there. The absence of Tom Hagen, played by the great Robert Duvall, is felt strongly. But, this absence is not due to the filmmakers going a different way by eliminating him and his importance. On the contrary, Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo had a big role planned for Duvall. Originally, his characters was going to be the bridge between the church and Michael. The church was going to have Hagen killed for shady business dealings, and, Michael would become involved with them by investigating what happened to Hagen. So, then, all three movies would be about Michael and his relationship with each brother. Sonny in Part 1 being killed, therebye Michael taking control of the family. Fredo in Part 2, damning Michael forever. And, then Hagen in Part 3, with Michael making his grab for redemption in the eyes of God. The script for this proposed third chapter, was, by common consensus, a very strong script, with many pungent attacks on the illegal dealings of the Catholic Church. But, late in contract negotiations, Duvall walked, insulted by the salary he was being offered by Paramount Pictures. This threw the filmmaker's for a big loop and they had to redo the whole plot entirely by eliminating Tom Hagen.His loss is felt strongly because the Tom Hagen character was the one character that the audience felt closest to. Without him--- and Duvall's presence---- there was no connection between audience and the rest of the characters...... Then, there is Sofia Coppola, the director's daughter, as Mary Corleone. At first, Francis wanted Julia Roberts, not yet a major star, for the role. But, she was tied up with other committments and declined. Then, Francis tested Madonna for the part. She tested surprisingly well, but ultimately, Coppola decided to go with Winona Ryder. The first month of shooting went smoothly and the production was looking forward to Winona's arrival to start filming. She arrived in Rome and had one of her breakdowns. She quit the production cold and flew out on the next plane. This left Francis Coppola reeling. He was close to closing the production down, but, decided at the last moment that he had the perfect person to play the daughter of Michael Corleone, his daughter, Sofia. This decision threw the production into turmoil. Sofia was no actress. In fact, she was just nineteen and a college student. But, her father insisted and got his way. This was not a good decision. The part called for an experienced actress who could bring out the nuances of the role. Sofia, for all of her good intentions, was clearly over her head. She wasn't the disaster that her detractors claim. No, she was just there, filling a key spot with saying the lines. This is the one criticism of the movie of which I agree. Francis Coppola made a mistake here, not a fatal one to his movie, but, an important one that weakened the film. Fortunately, Sofia Coppola rebounded in the years after the movie and became a much celebrated director. She is damn good. After the beating she took in the press for playing Mary, she found her redemption behind the camera....... I like the ending to this movie at the opera. The ending is on par with any part of the previous two movies. Michael is being hunted by his enemies and by his fate. It is filmmaking brilliance on Francis Coppola's part intercutting the murders with the opera. And, then the scene on the opera steps. The shot from the gun. The cries and screams of the people on those steps. The look of horror on Michael's face as he sees who was really shot. And, the scream. It is the silent scream. With the music being its companion in pain. Finally, the scream because audible, as Michael cries out his pain with a wail towards God. The ending of this movie is completely appropriate to the fate of Michael Corleone. He got his comeuppance, as he should have. You can try to outrun God with your sins. You can pray for forgiveness and try to bribe your sins away. But, God does not forget a murderer and cannot be fooled. To end this movie any other way would be to cheat and tarnish what it is all about. The scream. Michael screaming. He deserves what he got..... The movie came out in 1990 to great hoopla. It was a movie even cynical Hollywood could not wait to see. Part 2 was released in 1974. In those sixteen years between Two and Three, the ''Godfather'' movies had reached an awesome state of grace in the public's eye. The anticipation for the third was enormous. There had to be a letdown when the film was released. And, there was. The movie did not live up to its expectations, fans felt. The first two movies had won a slew of Oscars. The third, while nominated, failed to win any honors. Despite all this, ''Godfather 3'' received good reviews from the critics and was a box office hit. Still, it has a stigma to it. It is the lesser of the three. This is true. One of these had to bring up the rear. But, there is so much to this movie, many fine, outstanding scenes, if its detractors would just look at it objectively. The acting is solid [except for Sofia]. The premise is bold [going after the Catholic Church and its dirty dealings in the name of God]. And, that last half-hour shines. If you are one of its critics, take another look at it sometime with fresh eyes. Chances are that you will like it better than you thought..... Even a film finds redemption......

The Social Network Of Computers

A few years ago there was a fine movie called ''The Social Network'', which told the story about the birth and growth of Facebook. This movie was fairly accurate, by movie standards. There was some ''artistic license'' practiced by the filmmakers, which is not unusual. A movie is the last place you should go to learn true historical facts. Anyway, the origins of Facebook came forth and its original intention was stated. It was to be what we all signed up hoping it would be, a social network, a way to communicate in that strange world that makes up cyberspace. You could talk to your family and friends via the site, and, also keep track of what was going on in your friends life. It sounded fun. And, for those of us with a big mouth who like to think they have big ideas to share  standard ''posts'' or updates, was a nice perk [ having a blog helps, too]. At first, like everyone, I was a little cynical about this. Yes, it is a good idea to stay connected to the world at large, but, it would never do for me to have this as a gateway to a social life. I was raised in a different time, a time when people communicated face to face, when relationships were formed by the instant contact one human being has for another. There is a coldness  about becoming ''friends'' with someone who is sitting in a lonely room, with a computer as a best friend. That is not me, nor, is it about anyone else that I know who is around my age. Again, getting back to pre-Internet times, our interaction with the public was direct and in your face. Social skills, so lacking in the newer generations coming along, were formed and refined. When you spoke to someone, language flowed, your words melded with theirs, and a true relationship was invented....... Not anymore. I have a little test that I use on people that I meet who are younger than me. I just let them talk. I sit back and listen to their speech patterns and inflections. You can tell right away if their social skills were defined by the Internet. The idea of holding a conversation---- using real worlds---- is quickly apparent. Also, the ability to stay focused for long periods of time. If they fail this test, then I know what I am dealing with here. Someone who is focused for the moment, but, cannot articulate that feeling for the moment. And, that is fine. Their brain has, sadly, been conditioned to small spurts of dialogue and thoughts. They are talking but the words they are saying aren't worth listening to. An even sadder residue is the lack of knowledge on how the world around them operates. They are shut out, without them understanding, of life functioning on an intelligent, adult basis. The only true way a human being can grow, it has been my experience, is to get out in the world and explore it. Explore with people. Learn from them. In the past, people would be socially inept because they had their noses buried in a book. Now, since young people refuse to read books, they learn from a computer and its websites. Conversations, usually in short hand style, ala texting, is their voice. Do my experiment some time. The next time you are out socially, say, in a bar or restaurant, where there is a wide spectrum of age around you, eavesdrop into some conversations. Chances are the over 30 crowd is speaking in complete sentences, without much profanity. The younger crowds will be speaking in computer talk, short spurts of words. That is, if they look up from their cellphones......... This is another thing. Cellphones. Ever been out with someone for a drink and they cannot let go of their cellphones? Because they are constantly checking if they have messages? Oh, we all know people like this. And, yes, it is primarily the younger crowd who is the biggest abuses of this. They talk--- computer talk, mind you---- and, then when you start talking, they keep checking their phone for whatever. Or, they text nonstop while you are trying to be social with them. This not only shows how short spanned their attention is, but, it is pretty fucking rude to the other person. You are here with me. If you wanna communicate with someone else, then go to them. And, then text me because the same pattern is happening to them that happened to me. Most people I cherish in my life do not do this, but, a few do. At first, I was put-off by the rudeness. Hey, if you don't wanna be hanging with me why did you consent to go out with me tonight? Did you think I would have waves of fun watching you text someone who is not here? Fuckin leave, then!!!! This was my thought a few years ago when cellphones became more important to some people than their sex organs. Now, I understand. It is the computer talking, albeit in a cellphone [ the case could be made that the cellphone is just an extention of the computer]. They mean no harm. They are, if they only knew it, victims of the technology age. They have many accesses to meet new people. But, they have nothing to say........ This has nothing to do with computer spurt talk. Or, maybe, someway, it does. I have noticed many people calling each other''dude'' more. Like, ''Dude, you don't know what your saying'', or, ''Dude, what song are you playing?'' Once in a while, this can be ok. But, once your over the age of twenty five, have the decency and maturity to call someone by their first name. You only use a person's last name when they are not around, like, ''I hope Scoleri comes to the bar wearing his pants.'' It is more polite, and, better manners, to address a fellow human being by their given first name. Maybe, it is tied into computer spurts and behavior. ''Dude'' may be easier to remember for some people who have had their mind shortened by the years of using the computer. I don't know, dude......... I go back to working at the school in a few weeks. I usually start by working registration week, which is not a requirement for my job. I just do it for fun [ and, money]. It is easy and it gives me a chance to say hello to the students before school starts. I get them when they take their photos for the year, so, I can exchange a few words with them while they are in line. It is a free and easy conversation. I ask them if they have enjoyed their summer off and what they did. Many tell me that they traveled or just bummed around the area. For those who have just stayed in town I ask them what their days and nights consisted of doing. Many do many activities and are out enjoying life. That is nice to hear. But, then, there are the other stories. Kids who didn't go out much. Usually, these kids do not have many friends, so, I have a soft spot for them. They tell me that their days and nights were spent on the computer, either playing games, or, surfing. And, this breaks my heart. I know they are lonely kids. They wanna find some interaction with someone. The computer is how they have been taught to find that interaction. And, as we all know, that is not how you start up a real friendship. Even as the year progresses I will ask them Monday mornings what they did over the weekend. Inevitably, it consisted of them staring at a screen that takes them all over the world. But, that world is fake. I encourage them to go do things and meet people outside the house. But, I get a look of resigned sadness and melancholy. They are stuck without the social skills to achieve this....... Please do not take away from this blog that I am anti-computer. Far from it. I love the computer and all it emcompasses. For instance, this mighty blog of mine would not be possible without the Internet [ keep your wise-ass comments to yourself!]. I love the interaction on Facebook and I love checking out various websites of my favorite things. The computer is invaluable today, especially, when hot news items are so readily available. No, my thoughts here today are about the social aspect of being a computer person. Most notably, in the younger crowd. I am on the computer a little more because I am middle-age and things have slowed down for me. I am most concerned about the under 35 crowd who is on this thing way too much when they should be out in the world meeting people and having human experiences. I still do it and it shocks me that I do it more than people who are half my age. I'm not saying to go all out and party your brains out [ I speak from personal experience there and it should be done in moderation], but, go out and have real conversations, with real people. You will be surprised, when you get a good companion to be with, on how unimportant Facebook is. You may even put down your cellphone for a while. My one complaint about computers is that it has robbed a whole generation of communication and growing closer with each other. It is too impersonal now...... I would like to go on further writing this, but, it is a beautiful summer day out now. I am going out to enjoy it. After your are done reading this I hope you will also.........

Hogan Was No Hero

Victoria Berry found the door unlocked. That was highly unusual, which signaled her first sign of suspicion. Bob normally was a very cautious man when it came to his own personal security. So, when Victoria tried the lock after repeated attempts of knocking, she felt a slight unease as she entered the hotel apartment. Upon entering, she observed many of the things she associated with her boss and fellow actor. There was clothes thrown around on couches and chairs. And, of course, there was the video equipment. Normally, this was the first thing set up at every new town that they traveled in. Bob was very interested in technology, almost obsessively so. She called out his name and heard no answer. The unlocked door still unrattled her. Bob would always lock up if he was out. Just then, to her right, Victoria observed in the bedroom, a body form on the bed, sleeping. She approached the bed, and, at first, she thought a woman was lying there. The reason is that she saw hair about the head going in every which direction. Upon closer examination, Victoria Berry discovered her error. It wasn't a female lying there but a man. And, the reason the hair was going every which way was that the head under the hair had been bashed in. More than bashed in. It was bludgeoned, as if someone had taken a heavy object, and out of supreme anger, delivered blows to the head of the victim. At first, Victoria did not know who was lying there when she called the police. In time, she shockingly found out the body lying there in bed, with blood all over the sheets and walls, was her boss and co-star, Bob Crane........ The police quickly arrived and identified the victim. As is the standard procedure in any crime scene, especially a homicide, the area was roped off. Soon, forensics experts arrived to dust for prints and look for clues. But, this was 1978, June 29 to be precise, and the technology and advancements in criminal investigations were still somewhat primitive. The Scottsdale police immediately suspected that Bob Crane, famous TV star of the 60's show, ''Hogan's Heroes'', was the victim of a murder that must have happened sometime in the early morning hours of the day. The body had the crushed in head. The detectives suspected that a baseball bat had been used to do the deed. Or, some blunt instrument, such as a tire iron. There was also one more thing that they found very interesting. Rapped around Bob Crane's neck was a umbilical cord. Like the kind you would find attached to a video camera....... Bob Crane was nice guy, everybody agreed who knew him. He had made his name in radio, most notably, in Los Angeles, where he was the morning star of radio drive time. This was the early to mid-60's and radio was just starting to develop personalities to go with their music formats. Bob Crane was funny and charming, his natural affability came through the radio to his listeners. And, he was rewarded with ratings that made him Number 1. Still, Bob longed for bigger things. He would tell his wife, Anne, and their three little children, that above else, he wanted to be a movie star, kinda like his idol, Jack Lemmon. Bob knew he was no great shakes as a dramatic actor. No, his speciality was light comedy, comedy that made you smile. His radio show showed it, so, why not try the silver screen. But, he couldn't crack into movies. Television was his only avenue. And, he willingly guest starred on many of the popular shows at that time. You can see him on episodes of comedies like, ''The Dick Van Dyke Show'' and ''The Donna Reed Show'', where he became a semi-regular. He played himself: lovable and charming Bob Crane. He still kept his radio show going during the mornings, but the rest of the day he was hustling TV work. At night, he was a doting father and husband. And, he played his beloved drums as much as he could. Bob Crane, in his heart of hearts, wanted to play jazz. He would give up Hollywood in a second if he could travel with a band. It was not to be his fate. Then, in 1965, his agent [ who naturally liked him ] gave him a script for a new situation comedy, set in, of all places, a POW war camp during World War Two......''Oh, the funny Nazis'', Bob said dismissively to his agent. He wanted no part in a show like that. But, the agent told him to take the script home and read it. Bob did, and, he also gave it to his wife, Anne, to read. Both agreed that Bob could make this work. He did. ''Hogan's Heroes'' premired in September, 1965. At first, the show took some slack because people thought they were trivializing the horrors of war. After a few months, the controversy died down and it became a hit. Bob Crane became a household name and he loved it. He loved the show, loved his castmates [ with the exception of Richard Dawson, who always needled him whenever he could]. After a while, the success of the show allowed him to quit morning radio and concentrate fully on his series. The public loved him because, like everything else he did, Bob projected instant likability and charm. He was the same on-screen as off-screen. Of course, with instant fame come the hangers-on and leeches that make up the dark side of stardom. All sorts of people made themselves available to Crane in the hopes of attaching themselves to his fame and fortune. Bob was a good looking man and women began throwing themselves at him. He kept his distance. That is, until he met John Carpenter........ John Carpenter was a gadget genius. He sold high-tech [ for its day] equipment throughout the 60's and 70's. His clients varied from the man on the street to celebrities like Elvis Presley, Tommy Smothers, and Richard Dawson. The equipment he sold was video taping cameras and machines. Again, today, this stuff is laughably primitive, but, years ago it was the toy of the rich. You could record anything, Carpenter told his famous clients, from your children's birthday parties to racy adventures in the privacy of your bedroom. John Carpenter knew about this first-hand because he liked to consider himself quite the swinger with women. And, some of his close friends whispered that they thought that Carpenter swung both ways, that he was interested in men also. John denied this, but, still, many people around him wondered.......... John Carpenter was introduced to Bob Crane by Richard Dawson. In a rare example of friendliness between them, Crane and Dawson went out one night during the show's heyday. They went to a strip club in downtown L.A. At the table with them was Dawson's good friend, the high tech buff himself, John Carpenter. Bob was friendly and charming with Carpenter, as he was with everybody, but what Bob mostly wanted to do was sit in with the house band that was playing alongside the strippers. Bob finally got up  there and played those drums, while the girls disrobed by him. Soon, Bob was visiting the same strip club nightly, playing the drums and getting to know the strippers. A seed had been planted in his soul. It blossomed quickly, changing him and his personality. In a short time, Bob was having sex with those dancers and not going home to his wife and children. Infidelity exploded the good family man........ And, he found a willing wing man in John Carpenter. Carpenter introduced Crane into the swinging world of Hollywood. Bob took to it like a duck to water. He became a sex addict, wanting to seduce any woman who crossed his path. Now, this is nothing new in Hollywood, particularly during the time of the late 60's, but, Bob Crane soon developed a reputation in the business as a man out of control with sex. He didn't smoke or drink. Sex was his vice. His loyal wife, Anne, at first, tried to look the other way, but, even she could not deny his wandering eye. They would divorce and she would get custody of his three kids. Still, despite the cheating, she held him in great affection. He was a terrific father and never denied his family anything. He was still the same old nice guy, great guy, Bob Crane, that everybody adored. But, he had his addiction to sex, which, like all addictions, took him down some dark roads. He bought the equipment that Carpenter peddled, anything new and improved Carpenter made sure to tell Bob about. The equipment was used to film their sexual encounters with women. And, it extended into the hundreds of encounters. Bob Crane had his own private photo albums and tapes of these women, so numerous that he could not remember their names or the cities he had sex with them. John Carpenter and Bob Crane hunted these women in sleazy nightclubs and strip bars. Bob would grab them because of his fame and ''Carpie'' would grab the leftovers. They photographed each other in threesomes and individually. Those close to Crane insist that he had no homosexual tendencies. But, there were the whispers about Carpenter. Some would later claim that John Carpenter held a secret love for Bob Crane....... Patti Olsen had been hired in the second season of ''Hogan's Heroes'' to play the secretary, Hilda. She and Crane hit it off immediately. Both were drawn to each other out of animal lust. Despite the stories she had heard about him [ and, the fact he was still married to Anne at the time] they began a love affair that would eventually end with them getting married on the set. Patti was very aware that Bob would never change his ways. It didn't matter to her. As long as he came home at night from his adventures, she deluded herself into thinking all was well. After ''Hogan's'' was canceled in 1971, she soon became pregnant with their son, Scotty. Financially, things were tough. Bob wasn't poor because he had the residuals from the show to keep them going. But, Bob Crane liked to work. However, the combination of typecasting [ producers only thought of him as ''Colonol Hogan''] and his growing reputation for sleazy sex, Bob had trouble finding work in Hollywood. Finally, his agent told him that he should travel the country doing community theater. Bob resisted at first because community theater was considered the bottom of the barrel in show business. In time, he would change his mind and began to go from town to town in a romantic comedy entitled, ''Beginner's Luck''. When he toured, he was a great success. Audiences still loved him. Especially, in true form, the women. It was the perfect scenario for him. Away from home and nailing chicks left and right. John Carpenter faithfully followed Bob from town to town. The women and sexual encounters piled up. But, Bob was living dangerously. In Hollywood, everyone was on the make and trading sex was thought of as advancing your career. But, on the road, it was different. There, you encountered girlfriends and groupie ex-wives. You encountered star fuckers. You encountered women who cheated on their husbands. And, then you had the husbands find out. Many towns in the country, Bob Crane made some enemies with the scorned husband or boyfriend of a woman he had been with. It was getting darker and sleazier for Bob. He had fallen down the hole of his addiction. His second marriage to Patti faltered. By 1978, he had destroyed this marriage and alienated Hollywood . There were only two things that were constants in his life: the play and his friendship with John Carpenter....... Scottsdale, Arizona welcomed ''Beginner's Luck'' in June of 1978. The carpet was rolled out for the cast and Bob Crane appearing in town was a big deal. Bob, however, by later accounts, was tiring of his life. He had started to talk to local priests about his addiction. He was trying to jump start his career and revive his second marriage. He missed his children, particularly, young Scotty. And, he was tiring of John Carpenter. At 49, Bob was thinking he was getting too old to do the swinger lifestyle. When Carpenter came to town towards the end of the month, Bob intended to break off this relationship...... On the night of June 28, after a performance of the play, Bob Crane and John Carpenter had a quiet drink together in a local club. The pickings were slim that night, no one was out. After some meaningless talk, Bob dropped the big news on John: he was getting out of the swinging scene and going back to Patti. They could still be friends, but, not involving women. By eyewitness accounts by other people who were in the bar that night, John Carpenter did not handle the news well. He started to beg Bob not to break off their roamings together. Then, he got angry. He began to put Bob down. Looking at this encounter from one side, Carpenter was acting like a lover who had just been dumped. They parted that night, both going their separate ways to their hotel rooms. Bob told John that he would drive him to the airport the next day, as Carpenter had business to attend to. Carpenter could just come on over to Bob's place. He had a key to get into the room........ When the police looked at the corpse of Bob Crane, they noticed that the head was so severely struck that it must have taken great strength to inflict such a blow. Most likely, the killer must have a been a male, based on the arc of the swing that did the damage to Crane's head. What had been used was open to debate. Some heavy blunt object, like a golf club or baseball bat. Or, maybe, a video tripod....... John Carpenter happened to call the apartment while the police were there. The police later stated that Carpenter's voice sounded agitated and quite nervous, as if he already knew what had happened in the apartment. Soon, Carpenter became the prime suspect, after the police had investigated Crane's life and the people close to him. His ex-wives were hundreds of miles away, so, they were eliminated. And, the only other person close to Crane was Carpenter........ A few weeks after the murder, John Carpenter was brought in for questioning. His answers were suspect, the police thought. While they could not put Carpenter physically in the room with evidence they knew he did it. He had guilt written all over him. Still, without DNA evidence, they couldn't arrest him. He was free........ Which he was until 1994, when the Scottsdale police reopened the case of the murder of Bob Crane. It had lay dorment for many years, but, finally, the prosecution thought they had some evidence to hang on Carpenter. It was a stain on the rental car John had when he was visiting Bob. It matched the DNA of Crane. Carpenter was arrested and tried for murder. But, because of Scottsdale police bungling in 1978, reasonable doubt was the reason the jury found John Carpenter not guilty. The jurors were later asked if they thought Carpenter was innocent. Most said they thought Carpenter killed Bob Crane but there was no evidence to support it. John Carpenter would die from a heart attack a few years later. There was no death bed confession. But, the police had the right man....... Bob Crane still lives on in the reruns of his old series. He is charming  Hogan, everybody's friend. He was a little hero in the show, battling the Nazis and getting the girl in some episodes. He was a nice guy. Never made an enemy. All-American boy.......... I'm not sure Bob Crane ever knew the real guy......

All The Lonely People

She sat at the bar because that was her life. She had to be in her mid-50's at the time. She was trying to look like she was in her mid-40's. Her name was Diana and she was one of the regulars. Scotch was her drink, which is unusual--- most women do not like the taste of the foul-tasting poison. Diana was there 4 or 5 times a week. And, on the weekends she was a mainstay. Like many people in life, she had been burned by love. Her eyes spoke the pain whenever you talked to her. Diana would start to tell you about the various men who did her wrong, one bad choice after another. And, then, the talk would always go to her true love, a man named Barry. Barry was someone she fell hard for when she was in her twenties. He was ten years older than her, therefore, he possessed the self-confidence and worldly air that she soaked up like a sponge. He was married at the time, unhappily, he told her. Whether it was true or not, she fell hard for him. Diana said that Barry told her that he would leave his wife for her, but, financially [ always the handy excuse ] he could not. His wife would ruin him. So, for a while, Diana and Barry were having this affair under cloak and dagger. There was genuine love there, according to her. And, she clung to the hope that someday, he would leave the wife and settle down with Diana. After three years, the affair lost its charm. Not from Diana. But, from Barry. He decided that he would stay with his wife after all. Barry explained to Diana that he loved her, but, he could not leave his wife. Naturally, this shattered Diana. She was heartbroken. She was angry. Mostly, she felt foolish. She had let her heart take away her common sense. It took her many years to realize that Barry, despite his protestations, never really loved her. She was just something that he kept on the side. The smile on his face that his wife would never understand, Diana said bitterly. When they broke up, Diana was just hitting the age of thirty, a crucial age for a woman. She had no husband, no children, and mostly, she became cynical about true love. Short-term love, yes, she got. But, the all-consuming, two souls merching together forever love, was something she would never have. Soon, after her failed love affair, she turned to drink and bar pickups. For twenty years, both of these vices slowly sapped away her energy and vitality. By her mid-50's, she found that barstool that had become her second home. Drinking away the hours, telling anyone who would listen her tale of woe. And, waiting for that love to come back just one more time...... John had seen death for most of his early adult life. He was a veteran of two wars, a tough son of a bitch if there ever was one. He was seventy. As with most men as they get older, the spread of middle-age increased into old age. It was hard to picture him on the island of Iwo Jima, all young and in fighting shape. But, he brought out the pictures to show us. He looked like a young Errol Flynn [ which he claimed helped him enormously with the women!]. Dark hair, not a ounce of fat to cling to his body. The pictures, which he was never too shy to show people, were of his years in the service. He was drafted into World War Two at the age of eighteen. Like most men, he wanted to fight the good fight in ''The War'', as everyone called it. Perhaps, like no other time in history, this war was universally accepted. Hitler had to go down, the same with Tojo and Mussolini. John wanted to get those bastards that had attacked his country and fellow citizens. At first, he saw very little combat. He was a Marine, naturally, and Marines wanted to kill, so, his impatience grew sometimes into a frustrating temper. Finally, after several months of '' pulling our puds'', as he described it, John and his fellow Marines were sent right into the heart of battle, fighting those detested Japanese. The island they were fighting on was called Iwo Jima, a name he couldn't have pronounced only weeks earlier. The went ashore with thousands of other soldiers, John said, all with the conviction that this battle would be over quickly. This was the spring of 1945, with the European war almost over, all attention now being directed towards the Japanese effort. John described the landing and high hopes for a quick victory. He talked about very little resistance at first. Then, his voice would become quiet and subdued. John would always need several drinks in him to talk about the death. The alcohol seemed to both open him up to his pain, and, to ironically, soothe his soul by confessing it. He talked about the bodies being blown apart and the carnage. The lucky, he said, died quickly, without any knowledge that they had been hit. The poor men who suffered knew what happened to them. The stench of death was overwhelming. The inhumanity. And, mostly, the screaming. The screams of pain. The screams towards God to help them. The screams coupled with the looks directed towards John. Those looks and screams were pleading with him to do something about their suffering. He couldn't. He did his duty like a good soldier and survived the war. That was all he could do. And, for reasons that he could never fathom, he stayed in the service after the war, only to be sucked into the Korean War five years later. There, he heard the screams and saw the agony again. More inhumanity. By the time he sat on his barstool in the mid-1990's, he was no longer John, he said. He was a Dead Man Walking, just awaiting death. John told me he had the nightmares that all veterans of war had. He saw the images of young men, his friends who never lived a long life, blown to pieces. As John would take another sip from his drink on his second home of a barstool, he told me quietly that he still heard the screams........ Mike, the bartender, heard all of the stories, he told me. He was the caretaker of people's feelings and emotions as soon as they walked through the door. He was a damn fine bartender. He knew everybody's drinks. He knew when to approach you when you were ready for another round. He knew when to give you that free drink and to pour a drink properly. A real drinker knows that you do not want a mixed drink too strong. You don't have to beat yourself up to prove how big a juicer you are. The same with weak drinks. You are paying for it, so, of course, you want the bartender to give you your dollars worth. Mike was good about all aspects of bartending. He listened well, joked around when necessary, and, when inevitably, a stranger decided to show his beer muscles, Mike would calmly talk the guy down. Some nights, though, more than talk was needed. Mike, all tall giant that he was, would carefully escort said offending party out of the gin joint. Mike had to be about 40 when I knew him. Bartending was his primary job. He seemed to have a lot going for him, so, one day, I asked him how come he wasn't out in the world tearing it up. The bar was not crowded that day, so, he had time to talk. I guess I must have hit him at the right time because a look of sadness came over him, a look like he wanted, for once, to unload on someone like everybody unloaded their problems on him. He told me that his early twenties and thirtees he was a big deal. He studied law and passed the bar and got a job in a big time law firm downtown. His life became one party after another. He lived the wine, women, and song life to a T. By the age of 32, he had the nice house, fancy car, model girlfriend, the whole shebang. Then, he defended someone that changed his life. Mike said this guy was a genuine piece of shit, a true lowlife. The guy was charged with raping a ten year old girl by knifepoint. Mike said that his client was clearly guilty and should be behind bars for the public's safety. But, as his lawyer, it was his duty to defend him, which he did. Without giving me details, Mike found a loophole in the police handling of the arrest. With this technicality, Mike was able to get his client off on the rape charge, which he did. Mike said he justified it to himself by saying that he did what any good lawyer did, which is to defend his client. Six months later, his client raped and murdered another ten year old girl. He was eventually convicted, but, for Mike, it forever stained his soul. Mike felt personally responsible. He kept telling himself that the little girl would still be alive if he had only not pressed that loophole and got the scumbag free. Mike knew that every lawyer comes to this crossroads at some time in his or her own career. But, he could not shake his feeling that he, somehow, was somewhat responsible. So, he walked away from it. He gave up defending people who were obviously guilty. He wanted something that he would not have too much of a conscious about. His only worry now, Mike said, was overserving someone. And, if he did, he made sure that person did not drive. After he was done telling me all of this, Mike smiled at me and said that I should become a bartender because I am easy to tell a story to. And, with that comment, he went to the other side of the bar. Someone wanted to talk to him about their troubles......... Kevin wanted to be in the Rolling Stones. That was his dream, he told me. To swap licks with Keith Richards and to have Mick sing his words. The Stones were his greatest influence in life. Kevin would laugh, because he was an old-time hippie. He said that his generation cared so much for the issues of the day, be it civil rights or the war in Vietnam. But, it all passed Kevin by. He cared about the world, but, didn't follow it too closely. His love, his true love, was the music. Kevin played the guitar. He was good but not great. He could sharpen his playing when he got down to playing bottle-necked blues, but, he was no Hendrix. Because he liked the Stones so much, he followed their musical influences. Especially, old time blues. When he played the blues, Kevin said, he would feel the sadness and pain floating through his system. He cried through his music. Oh, he liked the sing-along, lets dance rock and roll that Mick and the boys played, but, he loved their blues stuff the best on their early records. When he was younger, Kevin had a garage band. Like every musician he dreamed of the big time. Kevin saw himself up on that stage, and  be treating as an equal with Keith. First, he had to make the Big Break. He went on the auditions. He played his heart out. He played the bars and gave out good entertainment to his crowds, but, he never clicked. Fame, that allusive lady, was never close to him. Kevin tried every conceivable way to break into the business, from traveling all over the country, to once, he confessed to me, sleeping with a record producer's wife in the hopes of getting his foot in the door. Sadly, he did not make it. Kevin told me that by the time he turned fifty he put away his dreams of rock stardom and hanging with the Stones. The music still soared in his soul, but, now, it would be for the very few and not the legions he had envisioned. He resigned himself that his dreams were never to come true. At some point every weekend he would unpack his gear with his fellow hippie travelers and sing for the bar. We all knew his story and we all wanted to support him. He would play good and solid. The look on his face would be what would draw the attention of the audience. It was a look of someone who was there but, in a way, wasn't there. The look showed someone who went to a place in his mind and soul. That place was not in this room, but, rather, a stage somewhere. That stage had him singing and playing in his glory. He was the rock star he so wanted to be. Maybe, in that moment, he was playing with Keith and Mick was singing his words. Usually, music takes the audience into this special place, where all is well and your dreams and hopes all come true. But, whenever he played, Kevin was always going to that place with the audience. After he was done with a gig, and, all the applause had been applauded, Kevin would become himself again. And, he didn't handle that feeling well. The dreams of what might have been haunted him. One day, I walked into the bar expecting to hear his music. There was no band there. I asked the regulars where Kevin was. Mike, our fearless bartender, said that Kevin was found dead in his home earlier in the week. Soon, the autopsy report came out. He had died of a drug overdose. A rock star death....... I haven't seen these people for twenty years. I imagine some of them have passed on. And, maybe, some of them are still there. These stories are so commonplace in any bar. I hope the survivors are happy and productive. The ones that have passed away, well, I hope they found some peace on the other side. A bar is many things. Most of the time it is a fun place to have a good time with fun people. But, there are also people like these folks. Victims of love, war, the brutality of life, and lost dreams.......

Great Movie: ''Ghostbusters''

There is a fine line between insulting silliness and inventive silliness in comedy. Very few comics can straddle that line successfully. And, throwing in the concept of chasing ghosts invites even more danger of slipping on the banana peel of humor. Therefore, when the occasion does arise when silliness and invention crash at the safe intersection, we must salute the brilliant achievement in this form of comedy. With our pants around our ankles, of course...... ''Ghostbusters'' was released in the summer of 1984 and quickly became the highest grossing comedy in history [ until ''Home Alone'']. The concept of the movie was beyond simple: three parapsychologists get kicked out of college and are forced to start up their own business. Their business? Well, it is ridding homes and public places of pesky ghosts. They are ghost exterminators, flushing the dreaded spirit away with high-tech gadgets and gizmos. They store these captured ghosts in a storage tank in the basement of their building, a converted firehouse. At first, the business has no customers. They are in danger of losing everything, until, one late night, they are summoned to a swank hotel that has a history of strange psychic behavior. Through trial and hilarious error, they outfox the gremlin and he is their first capture. Soon, all of New York is swarming with these devils and the Ghostbusters are swamped for business. They add on a fourth ghostbuster and eventually, have to save the civilized world from doom and destruction........ This all works remarkably well. The comedy flows smoothly, mixing the sly one-liners with funny and crisp special effects. Usually, these two do not go together successfully. Nowadays, it standard that the special effects are the star, and, the characters--- what there are of them--- take the backseat to all the action. But, ''Ghostbusters'' was too smart to limit this to one set formula. First and foremost, the whole idea came from the brain of a comic genius, Dan Aykroyd. Aykroyd, as he has proved for several years on ''Saturday Night Live'', has a truly original comic mind. He seems to be tuned into galaxies that the rest of us do not encounter. When he travels these new destinations, Dan usually brings back a concept that has never been even thought of before. Or, if it has [ and, chasing ghosts in movies goes back in time to every great comedian] then, he puts a new spin on the formula. Originally, the film was to be a vehicle for him, John Belushi, and Eddie Murphy. It was to take place in the future, with the ghostbusters fighting different aliens in different solar systems. That concept died when his partner, Belushi, died [ Dan was actually writing a line of dialogue for John when he got the word of his best friend's death]. The idea sat on the back burner for a year, when Dan dusted it off and gave the script to Bill Murray. Murray liked it, and, when Harold Ramis and Ivan Reitman  came on board, the idea of the future was abandoned and the ghostbusters would be fighting their prey in modern times. Also, they made the conscious decision to feature Bill Murray as the central and lead force of the movie. Bill Murray, with his odd-ball observations and goofball charm, would be the perfect commentator on describing the weird events as they happened, like Groucho Marx would have........ These guys all knew each other for years. Murray and Ramis went back to ''Second City'' in Chicago, and, later on, Ramis would direct Murray in ''Caddyshack'', co-write ''Meatballs'' and ''Stripes'' for him [ and co-star in ''Stripes'']. Aykroyd and Murray would, of course, soar into the Comedy Hall Of Fame with the original ''SNL''. And, Reitman made his bones by co-producing ''Animal House'' and directing ''Stripes.'' Each was proven comic gold. And, they knew comedy. How to aim high-brow and low-brow. Both elements, if worked deftly by its creators, can spark a great comedy...... Which is what happened. To plum the depths of analysis of this simple comedy, and find something profound, would be an exercise in wasting my fucking time. This is a comedy, pure and simple, and, does very well, what is the backbone of comedy: to entertain and to make the people laugh. Nothing else. There are no deep and everlasting messages to a good comedy. Sometimes, the human behavior from the vehicle can make a lasting impression on the viewer, but, that is an added treat to the mix. The job of a comedy is to make the audience laugh. We all have various styles of comedy that tickle our funnybones. Some broad comedy works, like the Three Stooges and the ''Naked Gun'' movies. Some people laugh at the sophomoric and moronic humor, like Adam Sandler, and....... Adam Sandler, and....... Adam Sandler. You cannot tell someone what is funny, it is the territory of the viewer's mind to decide. ''Ghostbusters'' is an old idea updated in a fresh way, with many hilarious scenes and moments........ Start with the opening scenes with Bill Murray giving a rigged ESP test to a pretty college co-ed. There is some poor male sap sitting next to her trying to take the test seriously, but, Murray only has eyes for the hottie. This is the type of scene Bill Murray excels at: playing the leering, wise-ass in control of the situation. There is a look of joy on his face in every scene in the movie because Murray knows that he is in charge and is expressing our [ the audience] thoughts. That is the common thread of the movie and its strength, Bill Murray being a smartass. He seems to be winking at the audience--- never in a condescending or arrogant way--- that he knows this is silly business, and, to just relax, sit back, enjoy the show, and, he will comment and react for us on the screen. He has played this role many times in his career, sometimes, successfully, sometimes, he shoots a blank. Not here. His leering at the co-ed, and, after, Sigourney Weaver, who has a real problem of a ghost inhabiting her fridge, is comic gold. I mentioned Groucho earlier. I think Murray was channeling Groucho in this role. All he needed was a cigar....... This humor guides the movie from one charming comic nugget to another. Bill Murray tries to seduce [ in his own way] Sigourney Weaver when he checks out her apartment. He is rejected, for now. Eventually, after the hotel ghost is captured and the other ghosts come fast and furious, Weaver is reintroduced again with the same problem. Only this time, the ghost has entered her body and soul. This sets up a hilarious moment for Murray to play. He arrives at her apartment, unaware of her condition, for what he assumes is a date. Soon, he sees her condition. Does it scare him and make him run away? No. This is Dr. Venkman, folks. He doesn't get scared. He just wants to know, in his wonderful deadpan delivery, if they are still gonna go out. Even after her being possessed, his character is still trying to get laid. He has second thoughts quickly, however, when he hears her deep, possessed, Devil-like voice intone ''I want you in me!'' He replies, ''Sounds like you have two or three people in there with you already.'' Only Bill Murray could get a laugh off of that...... There are other standout comic scenes, the Mayor's office, Rick Moranis and his nerdy character, the EPA jerk [ played in a great smarmy way by William Atherton] and, finally, the last fifteen minutes or so on the rooftop. It is here that we learn Dan Aykroyd's favorite childhood memory in the form of a 40 story ''Stay Puff Marshmellow Man''. This apparition, which is the movie's biggest and most satisfying laugh, came from that furtile mind of Mr. Aykroyd. I like that he gave himself this biggest laugh, for he selflessly gives all the big moments in the movie to his friend, Murray. The look on all of their faces in priceless, as it sinks into them all that the destruction of the world will be because of a giant marshmellow man. For this one brilliant idea alone, Dan Aykroyd deserves automatic admission into Heaven...... Flashback to the scene when they capture their first ghost in the hotel ballroom. We first see the ghost in the corridors, eating like a slob off of the dessert wagon. Then, in another favorite moment, he confronts Bill Murray and slimes him. The story behind this is actually a tribute. This ghost would become known as ''Slimer'' in the ''Ghostbusters'' cartoon show. But, the actors all called it ''the ghost of John Belushi''. Dan, Bill, Harold, and Ivan all wanted their beloved, departed friend in the movie. They couldn't get him in the flesh, but, they could recreate him and his habits. It seems right that the first ghost they catch--- and, the last ghost you see on the screen before it goes to the credits--- is that free spirit Belushi......... This movie has become a generational movie for the ages. Little kids grow up on it. And, the adults can enjoy it with their kids. It successfully covers all the age bases and demographics of an audience. There are little frights in the movie, but, they are fun frights..... The movie made millions of dollars and spawned a sequel in 1989. The offspring, ''Ghostbusters 2'', sadly, lacks the charm and spirit of its parent movie. There are a couple of funny moments [ and, must be seen for the courtroom scene, where the ''Scoleri Brothers'' are introduced]. The movie made money, but, nothing like the first film. The fun of the original was it surprises and good-natured fun. The sequel seemed to be made purely for money, always a dangerous thing for a comedy. There is talk of a third movie. So far, Bill Murray is not willing to do it. And, if he says no, then, who ya gonna call??????

''Disco Sucks!''..... ''Disco Demolition''

I had one of those small TV's, you know, the black and white kind that was bought at Sears. For 1979, it was top of the line. I was going around the dial--- twisting the knob, for there was no remote-control--- and I came across a strange sight. I was on Channel 44 looking for the White Sox game. Now, I am a Cubs fan, but, I will watch the Sox if there is nothing else on. But, on this July night in 1979, the image that was greeting me was not the ballplayers playing ball. Rather, it was of a slightly overweight young man, in army fatigues, with a megaphone, imploring the crowd to follow his simple command. He wanted them to say in unison, ''Disco sucks!''...... Disco music had been around for many years in the underground clubs. Especially, the gay clubs. There has always been this type of music out there. It consists of using the same easy chords over and over again. It is music for people to dance to. Electronic mixed with studio engineering. Easy to produce, and, definitely, no great shakes to play if you are a real musician. So, this music bubbled under the surface in the late 60's and early 70's as rock was in its heyday. Suddenly, around 1974, Disco became mainstream. Rock giants from the previous decade were dying off, creatively and literally. As the harsh times of the Sixties receded, the world seemed to be in the mood to just dance, with no hidden agenda attached. Now, disco's were up and running, as many people embraced the need to shake their booties. And, then, in 1977, you finally had the Big Bang Of The Disco Revolution, with the release of ''Saturday Night Fever''. This film told the story of a dunce who had no ambition in life and didn't care. His life only came alive on Saturday nights, where he reigned supreme on the dance floor. It didn't matter that the movie was simplistic and downright hateful towards women, the public embraced it, and it became a cultural benchmark for its time. And, the music, supplied by The Bee Gees, ignited a firestorm of musical revolution. Overnight, everywhere you looked, people had white polyester suits, platform shoes, and boogied down to the nearest club to shake, shake, shake, their bodies. Disco was the music for the latter half of the 1970's...... As in any popular trend comes the opposite side: the backlash. As millions embraced Disco, so, did the fact that millions hated it. It ran the gamut from professional musicians, who saw their livelihood disappear, because with electronic dance music they weren't needed anymore to play, to teenagers [ mostly boys] who carried the banner for rock and roll. This was not a quiet crowd, as they let their displeasure be known. Now, the music stars of the day split the difference. Some stayed true to their roots and did not alter their musical form. But, some did go over to the ''dark side',' as Alice Cooper put it, and started to Disco their music up. Rod Stewart and The Rolling Stones were the best examples. Ethel Merman was the bottle of the barrel. Many die-hard fans felt betrayed by their favorite acts selling out to the market. It must be said that when Stewart and the Stones did go Disco, sales went through the roof. Rod Stewart had ''Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?'' and the Stones had ''Miss You.'' Both songs went right to the top of the charts and became signature songs for these artists. Still, many fans felt sick by the sell-out. Disco was threatening to wipe out all other types of music. What Disco really needed was someone to come in, and, like a General in battle, drive away the enemy forever..... Steve Dahl was trying to still find his bearings in the Chicago market. By the summer of 1979, Dahl had been in this marketplace for over a year, with mixed results. He had been a radio star in Detroit in the mid-70's, with his wacky voices and real-life storytelling. When he was lured to Chicago in early 1978, he was primed to take over the city. This was the days of Wally Phillips and Larry Lujack. Safe, easy, and, non-interesting radio. It was radio you had on in the background while you cleaned your house or drove the kids to school in the morning. Steve Dahl, at the ripe age of 23, represented the street humor that was all over popular culture, but, had yet to break through on radio. His first year in Chicago, at radio station WDAI, was not impressive. While he showed the signs of the rebel he was to become, he wasn't clicking with the public, at least in terms of ratings. By December of 1978, he was just another deejay in town, playing the game. Then, right around Christmas, Steve was called into the office of his boss. He was informed that the station was changing formats immediately and wanted to start playing the current hits of the day. Dahl refused to go along with the changes and quit on the spot. There was no way that Steve Dahl was gonnna play Disco music...... In the spring of 1979, Steve Dahl found another radio job, as morning man for WLUP radio [ ''the Loop'']. This was more his audience. Rock and roll teenagers and young adults, with a sneer on their lips and contempt for authority. And, contempt for the dreaded Disco music. Steve tapped into this rebellion and soon started to organize anti-Disco events at local clubs. With his new partner in crime, Garry Meier, by his side, Dahl rallied his young fans to blow up Disco records at these appearances. There was nothing dirty or vicious about these gatherings. I have heard critics say that these events were homophobic and racially offensive because Disco music had been born in those gay clubs and was embraced by a wide black audience. This is nonsense. Dahl was just imbibing in teenage energy mixed with his contempt for the status quo. It was harmless, even when Disco records were blown up every which way. While Steve Dahl did these showcases, he was quietly putting together a cult of popularity for himself..... Mike Veeck was the son of legendary White Sox owner and master showman, Bill Veeck. Any event to promote the ballclub was much welcome. In the summer on 1979, the White Sox were mired in another losing season. Their attendance numbers were next to nothing. Mostly, the organization needed a boost from the public and to bring people into the ballpark again, especially, young people. Mike Veeck was tuned into the rising popularity of ''the Loop'', particularly its rascal morning deejay, Steve Dahl. Veeck was impressed by the number of fans Dahl was gathering in clubs for these anti-Disco rallies. The penny dropped on Mike Veeck: have Steve Dahl and his ''Anti-Disco Coho Lips Army'' do an appearance in Comiskey Park and blow up Disco records in a big way. Dynamite them in a big box in center field. That should bring in some extra fans. The deal was soon made by the ballclub and the radio station. Steve Dahl would blow up Disco records between games of a twilight double-header on July 12, 1979...... Before the first game started, they were only about ten thousand fans in the ballpark. The price of admission had been dropped to 99 cents because that was the frequency of ''the Loop.'' In a stadium that holds around seventy thousand people, the ten that showed depressed Steve Dahl. It looked puny and unsuccessful. He feared failure at this event. Dahl thought the place was too big to fill for his fans. The first game soon started and Dahl, with his army hat and army fatigues on, sat glumly with his wife, Janet, and his partner Garry Meier. Steve Dahl was not expecting this to go well...... Then, around the middle of the first game, something strange started to happen. The fans showed up. Not just a couple hundred fans, but, tens of thousands of fans. Some were there for baseball, but, the majority were there for Dahl. Soon, as the game ended, every seat in the ballpark was taken and they were standing in the aisles. Many others were turned away from the gates for lack of room to place them. But, that didn't stop some from climbing the walls outside of the ballpark trying to get in. By the time that Steve was ready to take the field for the rally, estimates had around eighty thousand people watching his every move and ready to follow his every command....... Steve Dahl entered the ballpark like a Roman Emperor. He was being driven in a jeep around the field while thousands of his fans roared their approval. With him in the jeep were Meier, and ''Lorelei'' the ''Loop Girl''. Steve took his position near the infield while a huge box of Disco records were placed in center field. Fans had been encouraged to bring these records with them to the game so they could be blown up. Dynamite, three sticks, was placed around and in the box. Steve said some words to the crowd and soon gave the signal for the records to be blown up ''real good.'' Surprisingly, it went off without a hitch. The records blew high and wide and the crowd was delirious. Steve then sang a few words from his parody song ''Do Ya Think I'm Disco?'' a slam against the Rod Stewart song. Despite all the mess [ the blast blew a big hole in centerfield] the actual event of blowing up the records was a success. Soon, the cries of ''Disco Sucks!'' filled the air. Steve then took a much deserved victory lap around the field one last time and was then driven off to the cheers from his fans. Now, with a little clean up from the grounds crew, the second game would soon start....... Then, it all went crazy. Some fans, tanked up on cheap beer and cheap joints, rushed the playing field. As what always happens in a riot, it all happened very fast. Soon, thousands of people were running all over the diamond, knocking down the batting cage and stealing the bases. Some fans were sliding into the bases [ one of which was the future movie star Michael Clarke Duncan] and basically, destroying the surface of the field. The security on the field was helpless against this onslaught. Dozens cannot control thousands. Pleas from the broadcast booth from Harry Caray fell on deaf ears. Steve Dahl, fresh from the triumph on the field, at first did not know what was going on. Contrary to popular opinion, he did not tell anyone to go on the field. These actions were by a few, and, Dahl, logically, stated that maybe he should say something over the loudspeakers. If they were going to listen to anyone, he reasoned, it would be him. The White Sox brass flatly told him no, so, Dahl was helplessly watching all that was happening on the field....... The rioters were on the field for less than fifteen minutes. The police riot squad was called, and sure as you can say ''Disco Sucks''!, the crowd disbursed immediately. When the last of the rioters were gone, the field was assessed by the umpires and both ballclubs. The field was unplayable and the White Sox were forced to forfeit the second game. In time, the crowds slowly left Comsikey Park, not realizing that they had seen baseball, and, Chicago history that night. Over the next day, Steve Dahl's anti-Disco rally was being discussed in Europe..... After the dust had settled, what remained were two things.... 1. Disco died that night because there was such negative feelings directed towards the music, it showed the powers that be that there was an even stronger, more loyal audience out there that thought that Disco was uncool and old hat. The music industry, like all of society, likes to follow trends. And, with this fierce anti-Disco feeling coming out of a major ballpark, maybe, just maybe, Disco was through. Disco stars like ''K.C.'' of ''K.C. And The Sunshine Band'', and Donna Summer, later stated that ''Disco Demolition'' was the final nail in the coffin of Disco...... 2. Steve Dahl. With this infamous night, Steve Dahl became the pioneer of rebellious, anti-authority radio. Steve invented free-form radio, where the deejays no longer played just music, but, also expressed their own thoughts and personalities. Steve blazed the trail from everyone like Howard Stern to whatever favorite morning radio show you currently listen to. Steve, and his partner, Garry Meier, were the lightening rod of personality radio. If ''Saturday Night Fever'' was the Big Bang Of Disco, then ''Disco Demolition'' was the Big Bang Of Free Form Radio. Like all pioneers, Steve became a controversial figure around town. You either loved his openness or you hated his frank talk. I always loved it. No performer is more important for the direction of radio for the past 35 years than Steve Dahl........ Here we are now, 34 years later after that crazy night. Disco music never truly has gone away. It just morphed into ''Dance Music'', with even more electronic sounds and less musicians to play them. Steve Dahl, after revolutionizing radio for two decades, retired from mainstream radio and now does his podcast from his home everyday. He is a survivor, after having battled alcohol and the slings and arrows of a fickle public. No longer is he the youthful rebel...... When I hear the current state of music out there, with its vile hip-hop and techno dance mix, I'm thinking Steve might want to put the army uniform on one more time.........