On the road again

Rangers Park, Dallas.  Photo by Jon Wolfert

Here's another travelogue. I file these whenever I go out of town. A compilation of them is available in my new book, WHERE THE HELL AM I? TRIPS I HAVE SURVIVED, available in all ebook formats for only $2.99 and paperback for only $6.99. Order yours here. Heck, order many dozen. Thanks.

Have Announcer Will Travel. Back from a whirlwind two weeks calling Mariners games. My three stops: Seattle, Anaheim, Dallas. Arrived in Seattle – it was 50 degrees. Left Dallas – it was 112. Packing was fun.

This was the start of the annual Seafair festival in Seattle, a stellar summer celebration with parades, hydroplane races (only slightly less dangerous than juggling live grenades), and Fleet Week. Over 5,000 Navy and Coast Guard personal poured out of their ships for a week of shore leave. Everywhere these sailors went in their white starched uniforms they were treated like heroes and deservedly so. Saw quite a few out at the ballpark. They missed a bet in THE LAST DETAIL not having Jack Nicolson take Randy Quaid to a Mariners game on his last day before life-in-prison.

The Navy brought San Diego weather with them. By mid-week it was absolutely glorious. Clear sunny skies and temperatures in the high 70’s. When it’s not cold and rainy, the Pacific Northwest is the most beautiful region on earth. Which is not to say that there’s anything wrong with the gloom. They film the TWILIGHT movies in the nearby Olympic Peninsula city of Forks. Although now I hear a lot of the vampires in the area are complaining about the new influx of tourists.

Speaking of tourists, I almost got run over eighteen times by Duck Tours. There must be 1,000 of these land/sea vehicles. Everyone thinks it’s so awesome that a car can also be a boat. Have they ever heard of a Volkswagen?

It’s the 50th anniversary of the famous Seattle Space Needle, erected in 1962 specifically for the Elvis Presley classic motion picture, IT HAPPENED AT THE WORLD’S FAIR. Apparently there’s a company that will blast people 60 miles into space and this is the grand prize of a contest the Needle officials are throwing. That should be the second-place prize. First-place is NOT being shot 60 miles into space.

The “Grunge” look is still very “in” with Seattle’s street people.

SEATTLE WEEKLY released their “Best of 2011” edition. My favorites:

“Best Place to Meet Single Men” – Don’t know.


“Best Place to Meet Single Women” – Online.


“Best Public Restroom” – Sanitary Market Building


“Best Hair on a News Anchor” – Dan Lewis, KOMO

The Mariners wound up sweeping the Oakland Bad News Bears and headed south for Anaheim. The flight from Seattle took two-and-a-half hours, roughly the same time it takes me to drive to Anaheim from my home thirty miles away.

We stayed in Costa Mesa across the street from a huge upscale shopping mall called the South Coast Plaza -- Orange County’s answer to the Mall of America. Every high-end store in the world has an outlet there. It’s the Mall of Conservative America. There’s also a Jerry’s Famous Deli, a local chain. But this one is unique in that you never see any Jews in it.

Teams from a girls’ water polo tournament were staying at our hotel. Every time I stepped into the elevator there were eight gorgeous bouncy blond athletic coeds. I felt like Buck Henry as Uncle Roy on SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE. “Hey, little girls, wanna play ‘Horsie’?”

Went to the Crab Cooker in Newport Beach for lunch. This is a funky seafood joint where everything comes on paper plates and the clam chowder is God’s mouthwash. Very informal; they don’t take reservations. One night the owner got a call from the White House. Then-President Nixon was staying in nearby San Clemente and had heard good things about this humble eatery. The president wanted to have dinner there that Saturday night. The owner said, “That’s great. Have him get here around 5:30 because at 6:00 there’s usually a line.” I can just imagine the subsequent conversation. Aide: “You don’t understand. This is a tremendous honor. The president of the United States wants dine in your restaurant . We’ll need you to close that night. ” Owner: “Look, that’s super but Saturday is a big night. Besides, as a rule I don’t close the place for private parties.” Aide: “As a rule?! As a RULE?! This is not some Bar Mitzvah reception! This is the Commander-in-Chief of the free world!” Owner: “Right. So just get him here at 5:30 and he won’t have to wait.” (Yes, I’m paraphrasing but the incident is accurate.) Needless to say, the president did not dine there. And the Crab Cooker received much better press than if he had. If Nixon were smart he would have just placed a take-out order and had Spiro Agnew drive over and pick it up.

I wouldn’t think that Ludacris’ target audience would be Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim fans but he performed a free concert at the Big A. following one of our games and over 40,000 people stuck around for the show. I can just picture it. He’s singing “You’z A Hoe” and the crowd is doing the wave.

The Mariners outscored the Angels 6-4 in the three-game series and lost two of ‘em. It’s been that kind of a year.

Next stop: Big D. Arrived at 9:30 Sunday night. Stepped off the plane and Holy Christ! It was a blow furnace. Imagine Dante’s Inferno with a lot of WalMarts. Facebook friend, Kat Winn Blanchard said, “It's so hot, Lady Gaga's meat dress is well done”.

Stayed at a fabulous hotel – the Four Seasons resort right next to the Las Colinas golf course, home of the HP Byron Nelson Championship. I’m sure it’s a beautiful course in the spring but now it’s just yellow. There were more golfers than balls in the lakes.

Actual story in a Dallas newspaper: Two new In-N-Outs were opening.

Italian designer/architect, Santiago Calatrava just completed an impressive bridge from downtown Dallas to nowhere. It ends in a slum and there’s no water or anything else to cross. It’s just there. This curious 40-foot structure with cables in a geometric design. Sometimes the Big D. stands for daft.

Oh no! One of Dallas’ great landmarks is gone. The Washateria where Lee Harvey Oswald used to take his laundry is now a Vegan restaurant.

Fortunately, the city is not completely turning its back on its rich heritage. You can take an all-day Bonnie & Clyde bus tour – see bank locations that they robbed, the Barrow family’s original old filing station, and even a house or two were innocents were needlessly gunned down. These are not Duck Tours because there is no water in Dallas other than on golf course and city park lakes, and they’ll all be bone dry by August 18th.

According to legend, Clyde’s last words were, “What do we need a fancy bridge to West Dallas for?”

Highlight of the Dallas leg (besides winning one of three from the Rangers) was getting a private tour of Cowboys Stadium. From the outside it looks like a silver version of Darth Vader’s helmet. It’s the largest domed stadium in the world. And Dallas is so flat you can see it from Lubbock.

Inside it’s a marvel. Seating capacity is 85,000 but it can go as high as 100,000 for special events like the Super Bowl or a Sarah Palin appearance. The stadium high definition video board is literally 60 yards wide. I wonder if the all-night crew ever puts porn up on that baby. Debbie would REALLY be doing Dallas on that humungous screen.

Outside the building there’s a statue of former coach, Tom Landry, wearing his traditional Stetson fedora hat. A passerby wondered why they had a statue of Sinatra out there. What is it with these people? This is the land of religious zealots, bridges to nowhere, Fox News, and (spotted at a coffee shop in a pod mall) nitwits dining outside in 112 temperatures.

Headed home Thursday morning. The TSA process at Dallas-Ft. Worth International was the easiest, fastest, and most courteous of any airport I’ve ever been to. And yet, recently the sheriff of Dallas County tried to push his way through the screening machines, blustering that he could because he was the sheriff of Dallas County. Too bad the airport is in Fort Worth County. Federal authorities led him away. Seriously, what is with these huckleberries?

The Mariners went 5-4 on my stint. Thanks to Kev, Rick, Blow, Sims, Shannon, Eric, Jon, KGJ, and of course Casper for helping to make this a winning trip, even if only by one game.

Wackos we have hired

Today’s topic is nutty secretaries that my partner and I have had. Yes, the more politically correct term is “writers’ assistant” but the less p.c. and more accurate description of them is fucking loons.

Back in the day, studio secretaries were hired by the head of the steno pool. And those people were usually the craziest. So it only stood to reason that they would hire other fruitcakes. Producers then had their pick of the damaged litter.

Note: the names have been changed to protect the insane, er… innocent.

We had Carol who was into the occult. She would play new age music and stand on her head in our outer office. Perfect for greeting guests. The way my partner and I work, we dictate our scripts to our secretary so obviously she has to be in the room. Frequently we’d be silent, trying to come up with a line, and Carol would just start randomly chuckling. We asked what was so funny and she’d say, “I’m just imagining the great joke you’re going to come up with.”

Alas, one day she was having lunch outside the commissary during a gale force windstorm and a tree branch hit her in the head. She went on sick leave and was never heard from again.

Liz used to put her head down on the table during those lulls when David and I were thinking of a line, and she’d fall asleep.

Perky Bonnie, on her first day, asked if she could have a longer lunch break because she had an abortion scheduled for noon.

Poor Gina had her Porsche impounded by the FBI. Seems she had purchased a stolen car. This, after they were about to arrest her.

There’s sometimes “good” crazy and that was Ellen. She was 30, very attractive, and came in one day to ask what we thought of the nude pictures of herself she had a photographer take. Ellen was a keeper!

Carrie and some other secretaries had a little competition going. Who could sleep with the studio president first? Carrie came in third.

One day we asked Marianne to let us proofread the script we were writing one more time before she distributed it. She said, “Y’know, up until now I’ve been very patient with you guys.”

Donny regaled us with stories of being tied up in a famous celebrity’s basement dungeon. (No, I won’t tell you who… or the address… or how long he was tied up.)

And then there’s Sarah. Sarah lived in an apartment in Brentwood. Her parakeet got out of its cage and perched on a nearby tree. So Sarah did the sensible thing, what anyone would do. She called the studio and asked for a stunt man to be dispatched immediately. I get a call at home asking if I’d approve the $20,000 that would be charged to me. The stunt man was put on hold. So was Sarah.

Fortunately, we also had some great secretaries along the way and we will forever be in their debt. Ruth Horne (these are their real names), the incomparable Lana Lewis, and the late Sue Herring, who I still miss each and every day.

Dancing with the Super Committee

This reality show proposal comes from my writing partner, David Isaacs. A brilliant idea and you can see why I write with this guy.

A new TV series. A simple idea that will also instruct America on the continuing debt crisis. "Dancing with the Super Committee."

We team Senators Murray, Kerry, Baucus, Kyl, Toomy and Pentland with superstars like Cathy Lee Gifford, Ashlee Simpson, the NBA's Dirk Nowitski, Food Channel's Guy Fieri, Housewives' Danielle Staub and Roseanne.

We have a judging panel of wild talk radio heads (We keep the ants in his pants Italian guy from DWTS).

Tom Bergeron hosts.

Everyone dances and there's a minute to cut a government program. Then the best part -- America votes off one committee member a week. The only real choice we'll ever have.

I'm looking to team up with a non-writing producer.

What's the best scriptwriting program? What's the best sitcom format?

Back from Dallas where it's not 112. Travelogue to follow next week. Here are some Friday questions asked while I was away.

Purplejilly gets us going:

What do you think about script writing software? Do you use it nowadays? I've heard several people make comments like 'don't even bother to write a script if you aren't using XXX brand softwriting script and know it inside and out.' What's your opinion on this?

I use either Final Draft or Movie Magic. Both are fine. Both have their quirks. Definitely use a script writing program.

On CHEERS, before there were these programs, one of the assistants created a program just for us. At the time it was revolutionary. Now it’s archaic. For action lines hit Alt+Cnl+2+L. For characters hit Alt+Tab+Esc+5+N, etc. There was a glossary and a format sheet and you had to set up each scene separately. It probably took longer than if we carved the script on sandstone, but again, at the time we thought this was AMAZING.

Today I can’t imagine writing a script without modern software.


Alejandro wonders:

Do you prefer any sitcom format in particular? I mean single cam, multi cam, mockumentary, animation? Or do certain projects depend on specific formats to work?

Depends on the project. Imagine MASH shot in front of a studio audience? I like aspects of each format. It’s nice to have the freedom of single camera, to not be chained to one or two sets. On the other hand, with a multi-camera show you get to actually hear the laughs, which to me is the comedy writer’s crack. And in animation you really have a lot of freedom. It costs just as much to draw a capacity crowd at Yankee Stadium as it does a kitchen, even a nice kitchen.

Family shows are interesting in that you can do them in practically any format. EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND worked extremely well as a multi-camera show. THE SIMPSONS and FAMILY GUY are stand-out cartoons. And MODERN FAMILY has the single-camera and the mockumentary form covered brilliantly.

Generally, I’m not a huge fan of the mockumentary format just because it seems a little gimmicky and is getting old. But if the writing is good like in MODERN FAMILY, THE OFFICE, and PARKS & REC, it doesn’t bother me.

The best mockumentary episode I think that will ever be remains “the Interview” episode of MASH. And that was done in 1975.

DyHrdMET asks:

Was the Dancing Homer episode the only time you let your two careers (play by play and writing) cross? I remember that you played the play by play announcer in that episode.

No. I’ve done voiceover play-by-play for probably fifteen shows and movies. You’ll hear me from time to time on CHEERS and FRASIER. Surprisingly, on FRASIER, I play the voice of the Seattle Mariners.

Last year I did a MODERN FAMILY and was amazed by how many people recognized my voice. 

Generally, I would get called in to be a baseball or football announcer for some show. I’d go to the recording studio, lay down the track, and leave. Then a year later I’d get a residual from say MAJOR DAD and think, “Why am I getting money from MAJOR DAD? Oh right. Voice over.”

It's a great gig.  A lot of money for fifteen minutes work.  Only trouble is, I could go two years between gigs. I think I was smart not to quit my day job. 

And finally, a couple from my favorite liquor, Johnny Walker:

The behind the scenes books seem to paint Sam Simon and George Meyer as the real creative forced behind The Simpsons. Did you get a chance to feel out Meyer's contributions?

Yes. George Meyer is one of the funniest human beings on the planet. I don’t think there’s a person who has ever worked with him who would disagree. And he’s a great guy (which is good because otherwise I'd hate him, he's so damned talented).

Also: Did they ever start giving the writers a decent wage?

Yes. After the first couple of years. SIMPSONS writers are now getting much more than show jackets. I think that was the main issue we fought for in the most recent WGA strike. 

What’s your question?

My first brush with show biz

Here's another excerpt from the book I'm writing about growing up in the '60s in the San Fernando Valley.  It's 1964 and I'm a young teenage nerd...

That mystery glass booth at Wallichs Music City record store remained empty until July. And then an odd control panel appeared inside. Ominous with a big circular green fluorescent screen surrounded by blinking pen lights and toggle switches. Was Bond supervillain Dr. No going to move his world domination operation to a shopping mall and fire his nuclear missiles from a Woodland Hills store window?

What the hell was this thing?

Two turntables and a microphone arrived.

Holy shit! It was a radio station studio! And not just any station. KFWB!

Back in the ‘60s radio played a big part in the life of a teenager. As unfathomable as it may seem, kids could not access music through their phones back then. They had to rely on AM radio. A fierce loyalty developed between the listener and station. Most cities had two competing rockers and you were aligned with one or the other. I was a KFWB man over KRLA. Why? I have no idea. They were both exactly the same.

That station loyalty and identification extended to the disc jockeys. A local survey revealed that L.A. teenagers trusted disc jockeys more than their parents, teachers, policemen, even their religious leaders. I still haven’t decided whether that’s admirable or really sad.

But one of my favorites was KFWB’s Gene Weed. Picture David Caruso but younger, not craggy, not a weasel.

Gene would now be doing his show every Saturday afternoon from Wallichs. There is a God!

This would be a two-man operation. The engineer manning the turntables and Gene across from him at the mike. Outside, pimple faced kids pressed their faces against the glass like canned hams. Mine included.

Most would watch for ten minutes and then move on to the similar, and more lively, monkey cages. Not me. My schmooshed face never left its spot. I knew I had to get in there. Somehow. Fate smiled when Gene showed up one day with a cold. I raced down to Kaplan’s mediocre Deli and returned with a Styrofoam cup of their horrible chicken soup. A gofer had been born. From that Saturday on I stood in the corner, watching in awe as he introduced records and made golf reservations over the phone. This was the life for me, I thought. At 14 I had found my calling. Forget that at eight I had also found my calling as a baseball announcer, and at six I saw myself driving a steam shovel.

One week the all-night man, Larry McCormick filled in. Larry was the first African-American to crossover from R & B radio to a mainstream station.

He was also the first person to tell me I’m an idiot if I go into radio. I was stunned. He cautioned that disc jockeys had limited futures and the industry itself was just a cut above traveling medicine shows. I would come to learn years later that he was absolutely right. But at the time I was mystified.

Larry McCormick went on to break the color barrier in local TV news and became the first African-American anchor. And Gene Weed fled radio to become a top TV director.

But in the late summer of 1964 I couldn’t think of a better way of spending six or seven decades than by playing “My Boy Lollipop.” Larry Lujack, a top rated jock in Chicago for much of the ‘60s and ‘70s was often asked, “What do you say to a kid who wants to be a disc jockey when he grows up?” and Larry would say, “You can’t do both.”

A jaw dropping pilot you've got to see

This is IT'S A DOG'S LIFE from 1979. It was produced by Norman Lear's company (although his name is nowhere to be found). In fairness, it was written by a terrific writer but the concept and execution is just so stupefyingly terrible that it hardly matters.

This pilot aired once on "Failure Theater" (code name for when networks aired unsold pilots in the summer to burn off their cost -- still a better alternative than reality shows). Friend-of-the-blog, Howard Hoffman taped and saved it (God love 'im) and now for the first time since Carter was President, here's IT'S A DOG'S LIFE.

I'll be anxious to get your reaction. And see if you even made it all the way till the end. Like me, you'll be thanking and cursing Howard Hoffman.

More hilarious unsold pilots

Hello from Dallas where it’s a tad hot. Here are more great unsold pilots. From the unsold pilot book by Lee Goldberg. And remember, these are all for real.

TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER    ABC-1964 -- Two aliens from Venus come to earth, meet an inventor, and go into business with him selling to unknowing earthlings products created for another planet.


13 THIRTEENTH AVENUE    CBS-1983 – Similar to one of yesterday’s entries, this one features a widower and his son who move into a Greenwich Village apartment building inhabited by a model who’s a witch, a C.P.A. who’s a werewolf, a lawyer who’s a vampire, a superintendent who’s a troll, and their psychiatrist.


WHERE’S EVERETT?    CBS-1966 -- Alan Alda (of all people) as a young father who goes to get the morning paper and finds that aliens have left an invisible baby on his doorstep. (Oooh, if only I knew about this when I worked with him on MASH…)

YAZOO   NBC-1984 -- William Conrad (the Fat Man from Jake &) is a widowed journalist who goes fishing one day, falls asleep in the boat, and wakes up in a magical world called Yazoo, populated by the Peppercorn Puppets. (I can't believe this one didn't go.) 


AFTER GEORGE   CBS-1983 – Susan Saint James as a widow who discovers her late husband programmed his personality into the computer that operates their house. (MY HUSBAND THE HARD DRIVE)

JUSTIN CASE   ABC-1988 – One of the 12,000 ghost pilots but this one featured the great George Carlin as a ghost private eye.

WHO GOES THERE?   CBS-1965 – Two troublesome ghosts haunting a southern California tract house materialize as General Custer and Indian Chief Running Dog.  (Tract house or crack house?)


IT'S A DOG'S LIFE  NBC-1979 – From the people who brought you ALL IN THE FAMILY comes this tale (tail?) of actors dressed as dogs. (Long before WILFRED)

K-9000   Fox-1989 – A loose cannon on the LAPD has a microchip implanted in his brain by a hot woman scientist allowing him to talk telepathically with his new partner, a genetically-enhanced German shepherd.

POOCHINSKI   NBC-1990 – Dog pilots were also big.  Stanley Poochinski is a tough, ill-mannered cop who has been gunned down in the line of duty and reincarnated as a talking, flatulent English bulldog.

THE ELIZABETH McQUEENY STORY  NBC-1959 – Bette Davis as the leader of an all-female dance troupe that travels through the Old West.


MURDER IN MUSIC CITY  NBC-1979 – I saved the best for last.  Sonny Bono as a Nashville songwriter who becomes a detective. (When he caught the bad guy did he say, “I got you, babe!”?)

A very special treat tomorrow.  I will be showing you one of these unsold pilots.  Y'all come back now, ya heah?

Hilarious unsold pilots

You think some of today’s shows are strange? Friend of the blog and writer extraordinaire, Lee Goldberg once wrote a book listing unsold TV pilots. These are just from 1955-1990 and are not complete (two of our misfires somehow managed to fly under the radar). But some of these are priceless.  These are actual projects.  Writers pitched them with a straight face and sold them.  Scripts were commissioned and then networks said, "Sure, we'll shell out millions of dollar to make these".   Can you imagine what didn't get picked up?   Anyway, with the new development season about to begin, let's go back and relive past gems. 

 
DANGER TEAM ABC-1990 – Kathleen Beller plays a bookkeeper-turned-private eye who solves crimes with the help of three animated clay figures. (Whatever happened to Kathleen Beller (pictured above)? She was soooo hot.)

GOOD AGAINST EVIL ABC-1977 -- Dack Rambo is a writer who happens to fall in love with Satan’s girlfriend.  (Don't you hate it when that happens?)

HIGH RISK ABC-1976 -- Six former circus performers team up to solve crimes. (A better title might have been JUSTICE DU SOLEIL.  Notice how many of these delightful dramas were developed by ABC?)

JUDGE DEE ABC-1974 -- Khigh Dhiegh is a roving judge in seventh century China, deciding right and wrong and solving crimes. (We had an idea for a show but it was set in the eighth century and no one wants that era.)

MADAME SIN ABC-1972 – Maybe my favorite of all of them. Bette Davis as an all-powerful dragon lady who kidnaps a former C.I.A. agent (Robert Wagner), brainwashes him with a special ray gun, and enlists him in her high-tech global intelligence agency that operates out of her Scottish castle. (Again, I'm not making these up. I couldn't.)

McCLONE NBC-1988 – Master thespian, Howie Long is pursued by evil clones.

MOMMA THE DETECTIVE CBS-1981 – Esther Rolle (from GOOD TIMES) as a maid who solves crimes.


NICK KNIGHT CBS-1989 – I bet we see a new version of this in like five minutes. Rick Springfield is a crimefighting vampire on the San Francisco police force.


HURRICANE ISLAND & STRANDED – two of the many “people are shipwrecked on a remote island” pilots. But none of them had the hatch.

ETHEL IS AN ELEPHANT CBS-1980 -- A New York photographer who shares his apartment with a baby elephant.

GREAT DAY ABC-1977 -- As described: “This pilot was supposed to illustrate how fun life is as a skid row bum in New York’s bowery.” Featured in the cast: Billy Barty and Spo-De-Odee.

A LITTLE BIT STRANGE NBC-1989 – A widower raising a bizarre family. He and his son are warlocks, his daughter is a witch, his mother-in-law is psychic, his brother a soul-singing bat (yes, a bat), and his nephew is made of mud. A “normal” girl marries into this family.

MARS: BASE ONE CBS-1988 -- A family adjusting to life on Mars, where they live next door to a Soviet technician and his American-stripper wife. (Note: the 1988 WGA strike forced cancellation of this project. I think part of the problem was that they wanted to shoot on location.)

MIXED NUTS ABC-1977 – (not to be confused with MIXED NUTS -- one of the worst movies of all time) The lives and hilarious misadventures of the doctors and psychiatric patients of a mental institution.

MR. AND MRS. DRACULA ABC-1980, 1981 -- The Dracula family moves to a New York apartment. In the second version they live in the South Bronx. Okay, now that makes sense.


SGT. T.K. YU NBC-1979 – Korean stand-up comic Johnny Yune is a Korean LAPD detective/stand-up comic. (This pilot was in competition with one of ours, about a guy-girl comedy team. And neither got on the schedule. Instead, NBC picked up PINK LADY AND JEFF, a comedy-variety show starring a stand-up comic and Japanese girl group who couldn’t speak English.  Sometimes the most absurd pilot gets on the air.)

Tomorrow: More pilots include one with Alan Alda raising an invisible baby and Sonny Bono fighting crime.  You're gonna wanna be here!

I'm going to Disneyland!

Hello from Anaheim, where I'm on the road with the Mariners.  So while I'm here, thought I'd repost my trip to Disneyland from three years ago.  It's also one of the entries in my hilarious book (which you'll notice I haven't been hitting you over the head with lately) that is still only $2.99 and you can order yours NOW by going here.   Thanks. 
My wife and I went to Disneyland. Since becoming an adult this was the first time I was ever there without kids or a joint. No strollers, no giant diaper bags, no getting home and realizing we had left somebody. Also, we had never seen the adjacent California Adventure so we wanted to go before it eventually shuts down or is completely rethought.

We figured: go before the summer begins and kids are out of school. I guess that now means February. Disneyland was packed. There were lines for everything. The biggest: Indiana Jones and the Temple of Waiting, Space Mountain, and churros. The Small World attraction is closed for renovation (thank God). A big fence surrounds it. So the line was only a half an hour.

I wore a golf shirts and long pants. I was waaaay overdressed. Come on, people! At least the ratty t-shirts and torn plaid shorts should fit! You’re going to be taking pictures in those rags.

As always, the park was immaculate… although I could swear one of the 60-year-old maintenance men in an elf suit was a former producer of TAXI. And the teenagers who work there remain the nicest, perkiest, helpfulliest David Arhuleta and Carrie Underwood clones you could find this side of Stepford.

I’m guessing the teens with major imperfections like acne or no dimples are assigned to wear those bulky heavy character costumes. It was 90 degrees and Winnie the Pooh was staggering around, tripping over strollers, kicking little tykes, occasionally sticking his head in an ice cream pushcart for relief.

Happy to say that the new Pirates of the Caribbean ride wasn’t ruined by the improvements. There were a few Jack Sparrows added and a nifty Davy Jones hologram but otherwise it’s pretty much the same. Oh maybe a little less raping but the spirit of fun is still there.

To avoid standing in endless lines Disneyland now offers “Fast Passes” for most major rides. It allows you to return for wait-free boarding. We got our Fast Passes for Space Mountain at 1 PM. Our reservations were for 9:30, thus saving us fifteen minutes had we stood in the normal line.

I was a good boy this trip. I did not stand up and ask Mr. Lincoln a question nor did I buy a Mouseketeer hat, have them scroll “Vincent” then rip off one of the ears.

With all the spectacular photo-ops Disneyland provides, all day long I saw people taking pictures of each other while standing in lines. We are truly a country of idiots.

Then there are the women trying to walk all day and night in ankle strap wedges. And they wonder why they’re crippled by Fantasyland.

Gas prices are so high that for the Autopia, the cars are now just being pushed by Disney employees.

In a nod to health conscious California, Disneyland eateries now serve healthy food along with the usual fast food junk. My wife ordered a salad. It was the third one sold this year!

The irony of the Indiana Jones ride is that Harrison Ford probably can’t ride it. It’s way too violent and rugged for a 66 year-old man.

We moved over to California Adventure, which is like going from Times Square on New Year’s Eve to downtown Flint, Michigan a year after they closed the GM plant.

The only thing worth seeing is “Soarin’ Over California”. It’s a simulated hang glide tour over the state. If only I could simulate flying on American Airlines instead of actually having to fly on American Airlines.

Wandered around the park. Don’t know the names of the “lands” per se but there’s one that’s kind of rustic that my wife just called “Wilderness Shit”. They pipe in this real stirring John Williams type music and I must say, coming out of the restroom I thought there’ve been times when I could have really used this.

Next we encountered a beach boardwalk themed land. The John Williams music gave way to Beach Boys tunes on a calliope. All these years I never knew that “Surfer Girl” was a circus song.

Disney – the company that brought you “Song of the South” and tar babies now presents “Pizza Oom Mow Mow” on the pier at California Adventure.

There’s a big classic Coney Island style rollercoaster and something called the “Twilight Zone Tower of Terror”. Not wanting my first major stroke to be in a place where the paramedics all wear Peter Pan costumes I passed on both.

We returned to Disneyland, nostalgic for the days when California Adventure used to be a parking lot.

Night fell on the Magic Kingdom and it got a little chilly. No worries. There’s a clothing store every hundred feet. Me: “Excuse me, Tracy/Stacey/Kaysee/Lacy, do you have a men’s sweatshirt that doesn’t have Tinkerbell on it? Or Mickey in a wizard’s cap? Or Mulan? Or a fucking fairy castle!?” I bought a Davy Crockett coonskin cap so at least my head was warm.

Even in the evening when the crowd thinned out there was still a 45 minute wait for the aptly named Dumb-o ride.

No trip to Disneyland would be complete without a harrowing bobsled ride down the Matterhorn. It always takes me back to my idyllic childhood, going on it once with my dear sweet grandmother and hearing her drop the f-bomb.

The Haunted Mansion is now inhabited by a bi-lingual ghost. He gives spooky instructions in both English and Spanish.

Never got to Toontown. There were enough over-stimulated, sugar revved, screaming, out-of-control little hellions in all the other lands.

And I always wonder – how many of these children were conceived on Tom Sawyer’s Island during Grad Night?

Following the fireworks and “Disney Dwarfs on Parade” or whatever the hell that noisy thing was, we dutifully reported to Space Mountain to take advantage of our Fast Pass. Wow! Space Mountain was always great but this new revamped version is awesome. You know they mean business when they tell you to take your glasses off. As I was crawling off the rocket sled on my hands and knees I said to my wife, “Now THAT’S a thrill ride!”

Finally, it was time to leave. Where did twelve hours and hundreds of dollars go? A half hour to catch the tram and another half hour to find our car in the parking structure the size of Liechtenstein, and we were merrily on our way (to hit massive traffic on the Santa Ana freeway at midnight).

I have always loved Disneyland. I’m not ashamed to say it. I am ashamed to wear any of those sweatshirts but even as a five year-old curmudgeon I marveled at the imagination, scope, and vision of this wondrous (albeit highly profitable) world. So I will be back. Soon. My Fast Pass reservation for the Little Nemo Submarine Voyage is November 21st at 6:30 AM.

How could they fire Jerry Lewis?

Thank you, Jerry for 45 years of great work. Now get out. That’s essentially what the MDA has done to telethon host/face of the charity Jerry Lewis. Oh, I’m sure he drove them crazy. I’m sure executives dove out of their 20th floor office windows when they heard he was in the building. But without Jerry there is no telethon. I mean, seriously, you’re replacing one of the icons of show business with Nigel Lythgoe?

The program will also be shortened this year from twenty hours to a mere six. And I bet they still have trouble filling the bill. Good luck getting Tony Orlando this year.

Once upon the time the Jerry Lewis telethon was a highlight of the year. Twenty hours of the highest camp, schmaltziest schmaltz, cheesiest cheese, and glitziest entertainment ever assembled on one stage. And it was all live. Jaw-dropping moments were as common as a check of the tote board.   I even wrote about it a couple of years ago. 

Jerry created this faux Vegas main showroom format, which was already dated in 1966 when he first introduced it. Over the years it became a time piece. Singers still in tuxedos and formal gowns – at 7:00 AM. Wayne Newton -- the major headliner. Lounge comics trotting out material that I’m sure killed in 1955. Puppeteers. Bird acts.

And it was all held together by Jerry. No comedian has ever taken himself more seriously, and in an unintentional twisted way, that only made him funnier. One minute dripping sincerity, the next crossing his eyes and acting like a moron. Genius! Sheer genius!

Add to the mix the fatigue factor. Put someone like that on live television with major sleep deprivation and by hour 15 you’ve got real theater. Crying, badgering, doing rat pack racial slurs. You never knew what you were going to get… from moment to moment. And again, that was the brilliance of it all. That was the appeal. Once Jerry took his tie off you were on high alert for hilarity.

Plus, it was all for a really good cause.

Say what you will, Jerry raised millions and millions for MDA. His telethon became a part of American culture. He is 85. You knew it was just a matter of time. But to not let him go out in a dignified way, on his own terms, that’s unconscionable.

As far as I’m concerned there is no more MDA telethon. And it’s too bad because Nigel’s kids need the help just as much as Jerry’s.

Thanks again for everything, Jerry. I’ll never be able to hear Rockabye My Baby With a Dixie Melody ever again without crying… and laughing.

How we got our first SIMPSONS assignment

Thanks for your Friday Questions. Here are some attempts at answers.


DyHrdMET gets us started.

Can you tell the story of how you got to THE SIMPSONS and came up with this story idea?

My partner, David Isaacs and I were friends with Sam Simon and had worked with him on a couple of other shows. When he became the showrunner for THE SIMPSONS he asked if we would write one. At the time they paid much less than a standard live-half hour sitcom. Because they were animated, the studio was able to get away with paying essentially the same as a Saturday morning cartoon. But we were fans of the show, wanted to help Sam out, and my kids were little at the time and Sam promised them jackets and toys. That’s really why we did it – for the swag.

We came in with some story notions. Most were Homer stories. At the time (early in the run) Bart was the breakout star but we identified more with Homer (Gee. wonder why that is?). I had spent the last three summers broadcasting baseball in the minors so the idea of Homer becoming a mascot for the local team stemmed from that experience. Those goofy guys dancing on dugouts very much exist. 

There are a lot of inside jokes and references to the International League in that episode – shamelessly so.

As I recall, the three of us (me, David, and Sam) worked out the story in a morning. I’m here to tell you, the real creative force behind THE SIMPSONS was Sam Simon. The tone, the storytelling, the level of humor – that was all developed on Sam’s watch.

Writing the script was a blast. I remember saying to David that there was so much you could do with these characters that I thought THE SIMPSONS could go five or even six seasons. They’re on what, year 35?

From purplejilly:

How would someone get to be a freelance script writer? For example if someone had a job, kids, and couldn’t afford to leave that job, but just wanted to write scripts on the side? Has that ever happened? Are there any successful freelance scriptwriters for TV?

I wish I could be more encouraging. But there are very few scribes today making a decent living as a freelance television writer. And if they do, chances are they’re veterans and getting these assignments from producers they’ve worked with before.

The WGA contract requires shows to farm out a minimum number of freelance assignments. But generally producers give those out to writers’ assistants or people they know, or in rare cases, young writers who’ve impressed them enough that they want to give ‘em a shot to see what they can do.

When I broke in (just after the Ice Age) there were smaller staffs and most shows had plenty of slots for freelancers. That’s how most writers got their first break – by getting a freelance assignment and delivering the goods. Now writers often get hired on staff based purely on their spec scripts. It’s a gamble that can sometimes backfire. Much less risk giving someone a freelance assignment. The first eight scripts we sold (including MASH) were as freelancers. But again, this was awhile ago.  The continent of Atlantis was still on the map.  

How you get a freelance assignment? Producers are intrigued by your specs, you have a good agent who talks you to the heavens, or you know the producer in some capacity. It’s hard to do under ideal conditions but almost impossible from long distance. Again, wish I had better news.


And finally, from Paul Eisenbrey:

I have a baseball related question. Specifically, about sportscaster grammar. Every once in a while, just often enough to be disturbing, one of you will say something like "that ball was hit a mile off the bat of Bud Cort", or "That young man has come quite a way at just 24 years of age". "Off the bat of"? "Years of age"? Who talks like that? It's as if Yoda got a gig in the broadcast booth.

Seriously (well, sort of...) is there a book of broadcast grammar that recommends such sentences? Or does stress of having to remember to give a plug every 43.23 seconds cause it? Or is ad-libbing for three and a half hours just very difficult (I couldn't do it, anyway) and sometimes oddball sentences just pop out? Or do you guys have a bet going to see how long you can get away with that sort of grammar before someone complains?

Let me know. In the meantime, it is time for me to make the dinner of Paul.

Grammatically incorrect phrases get repeated so often they just become accepted. Announcers don’t even think of them as oddball. The phrases just evolve.

Back in the '40s and '50s the style was much more formal (Chris Berman would last maybe five seconds) and I suspect phrases like “off the bat of” and “years of age” stem from that era.

Here’s the one that drives me crazy, and to my knowledge, I’m the only one who doesn’t say it. “On the night, Pujols is two-for-three.” It’s not ON the night… it’s FOR the night.” So I always say “For the night”, and for all I know the audience thinks, “That’s just weird. Doesn’t this guy know English?”

What question have you?

Bubba Smith 1945-2011

Sorry to hear of Bubba Smith’s passing. He was only 66. I worked with Bubba on two shows. Interestingly, neither of them are included in any of the obits I’ve seen. I guess he was more well-known for POLICE ACADEMY and the Oakland Raiders. But I worked with him on OPEN ALL NIGHT and THE MARY SHOW.

He was a series regular in OPEN ALL NIGHT -- a 1980 sitcom about an all-night convenience store. My writing partner, David and I wrote two episodes and guested in one of them. So yes, I acted in a show with Bubba Smith. He generally played the soft-spoken big man who you did not want to cross. In person he was just the soft-spoken big man. Of course I never said to him, “Y’know, the Oakland Raiders are just a bunch of pansies”. But he was a delightful guy. And what impressed me most was how serious he was about acting. It wasn’t just a lark. He put the same effort into learning how to play comedy as he did crushing quarterbacks into powder. You’d think directors and producers would be intimidated giving this 6' 8" bruiser notes but he was extremely receptive. And the results paid dividends. He was very funny, in an understated way that fit perfectly with his giant presence.

Bubba also guested for us on THE MARY SHOW. He played himself. I still love the premise. John Astin, as the theater critic, panned Bubba’s performance in a play that had just opened. So Bubba, furious, comes up to the newsroom to the beat the crap out of John. Name me one actor who hasn’t fantasized that same scenario. In the show, John talks him out of it and instead winds up coaching him. Watching Bubba Smith try to give a performance using John’s acting method was a hoot.

We had Bubba regale us with many football stories from his glory days in the NFL. Yes, that world is as violent and brutal as you imagine. Little things like broken bones and pain pale in importance with gaining an extra yard. They say he died of natural causes. I didn’t realize that the Baltimore Colts, Oakland Raiders, and Houston Oilers are considered natural causes.

He had dropped out of sight of late. I hope his last years were happy ones. I’m sure the tributes will talk about how big he was, how fierce he was, how popular he was. But I want to add how funny he was.

So long, Bubba. Thanks for the hits… and the laughs.

Jessica Harper responds

I'm always amazed when I mention someone in my blog and that person responds.  Jessica Harper filed a comment regarding my recent post about meeting her in a bank.  Here's what she had to say (for the two or maybe three of you who don't read the comments).  Thanks, Jessica.  You're a sweetheart.  

That is one fabulous story!
I would be lying if I said I remember the bank part (I DO remember the script) but I'm sure you were a perfect gentleman or I would have cut that conversation short!...and you were very gracious about the audition...these qualities make you a rare and compelling person in Hollywood!
Thanks for your kind words, and for sharing my link with the world. Hmmmm....wonder where we'd be today if I HAD gone out with you...? Food for thought...!
All the best Ken!
Jessica

A very rare treat

Okay... as promised...

This is an episode of television you'll want to see.  It hasn't aired in thirty years.  This is from the short-lived ABC series, THE ASSOCIATES.    James L. Brooks & company, the creative team behind TAXI is also responsible for this forgotten gem.  The series is about a group of young upscale lawyers, starring a very young Martin Short.

This episode in particular is very special and should resonate as much today as it did when it first aired.  The subject matter is television network censorship.  Short is asked to get involved in a dispute between the network censor and a sitcom showrunner over a scene the network finds offensive.  Actually, I give ABC a lot of credit for airing it.

The episode was written by Ed. Weinberger & Stan Daniels.  They won a WGA Award for it (duh).  Sincere thanks to Howard Hoffman for taping and saving it all these years.

I'm looking forward to your thoughts. 


THE ASSOCIATES - The Censors - April 10, 1980 from Howard Hoffman on Vimeo.

Who would play you in the movie?

Lately, there have been a lot of movies either made or in development about real life people. SOCIAL NETWORK for one. 127 HOURS is another. Upcoming you have MONEYBALL where Brad Pitt (of all people) plays the Oakland A’s General Manager, Billy Bean. And recently I read that the tell-all book on ESPN is soon to be a minor motion picture.

Keith Olbermann and Dan Patrick are already speculating on who would play them in the movie. (Too bad Groucho is dead, Keith.)

But it brings up the question – say there was a movie of your life – who would play you in the movie? Now your first response might be – YOU. Why not play yourself? Well, that’s only been partially successful in the past. Ann Jillian pulled it off in THE ANN JILLIAN STORY but Jackie Robinson not so much in THE JACKIE ROBINSON STORY.

Ann at least is a real actor. The truth is good actors will usually do a better job of playing you than you. Raymond Massey was a much better choice to play Abraham Lincoln than Lincoln himself, and not just because he was dead. Massey brought out a warmth that those who knew Lincoln admitted he didn’t have.

Another problem with playing yourself is pulling off those scenes when you were much younger. Imagine Mary Tyler Moore today trying to recreate Laura Petrie? Yiiiiiikes.

So if a Hollywood actor/actress were to play you, who would it be? After the joke answers of George Clooney and Penelope Cruz, which star best resembles you in looks and personality? After the second joke answers of still George Clooney and Penelope Cruz, who would it be?

Probably for me, if I’m being honest, Ann Jillian. Damn, it’s hard to play this game and not give joke answers.

Okay, for real – maybe David Strathern. Possibly Steve Colbert. Someone tall, dark, believable as a blogger.

So what about you? And how many joke answers until you settled on one that’s believable?

Here’s the thing that worries me about my movie. I can understand a studio not letting me play myself. But they probably wouldn’t let me write it either.

Note:  Come back tomorrow.   I've got something really cool.  

A little "chin music"

I’m back in Seattle calling games for the Mariners on 710 ESPN, MLB.COM, and Sirius/XM. A question I’m frequently asked is if I get to take batting practice with the players?

At the major league level, no. They sort of take batting practice seriously. And often, fans are invited to come out to the park early and watch BP and they certainly don't want to drive halfway across town to watch some yutz announcer flail around in the batting cage.

But in the minors things are a little looser. When I was broadcasting for the Syracuse Chiefs in 1988 I would occasionally shag fly balls out in the outfield during batting practice. For the most part I was horrible. Couldn’t catch a thing. But the team was very tolerant.

About halfway through the season I got up the nerve to ask one of our coaches if I could take a few swings. He said, “Sure. Grab a bat and a helmet.” I was very excited. I wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I donned a helmet and snatched a bat off the rack. In my blue jeans and polo shirt I was ready!

The coach who gave me permission trotted out to the mound to pitch to me. I climbed into the cage, dug in in the batter’s box, and prepared to drive that first pitch deep into the leftfield bleachers.

That first pitch comes… right at my head. I dive to get out of the way, just sprawling in the dirt.

Oh well. That must’ve just been one that got away.

I get up, dust myself off, wait for all the laughter to die down, then assume my fierce batting stance.

The next pitch comes. Same place. Right at my coconut. Again, I’m rolling in the dirt, sunglasses flying off my head.  The players are hysterical. 

Well, this happened three or four more times and I got the hint. That was the last time I asked to take batting practice.

Postscript: Our leftfielder made a bonehead play one night and our manager was so livid that when the player came back into the dugout the manager screamed, “You’re so bad even fuckin’ LEVINE is better!”

I, of course, took that as a compliment.

Another one of those great Hollywood stories

In early 1975 I was writing spec scripts with my partner, David Isaacs, trying desperately to break into the business. At the time we were going nowhere fast. The spec RHODA we had submitted was rejected. Then the producer left and we re-submitted it. And the new producer rejected it. (That new producer is now my next-door neighbor. I just keep re-submitting it.)

Anyway, on the way to lunch I need to stop at the bank. I probably bounced a check. I go to the back of a long line and notice that the person directly in front of me is Jessica Harper. Ms. Harper is a fine actress and at the time was very hot. She had appeared in LOVE AND DEATH for Woody Allen and had starred in the cult feature PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE among other credits.

Oh, did I mention I had a HUGE crush on her?  

So I begin talking to her. She’s very nice. I’m asking about working with Woody Allen, her career, anything to keep the conversation rolling. All the while we slowly inch forward in line. When she is finally at the front I decide to do something I never ever do. If you know me you know this is true.

I ask her out. Right there in the bank.

She very graciously declines. A teller is free, she dashes off, and that was that.

I get back in the car and relate the story to David. He of course, gives me shit for fifteen minutes. “You did WHAT?!” Finally, I say, “Someday we’re going to be big producers casting a pilot and Jessica Harper is going to walk into our office and read for us. And then she’ll be sorry.” We laugh, go back to my apartment, and continue working on a spec that will soon be rejected all over town.  Jessica goes off and stars in another Woody Allen movie and one with Steve Martin. 

Flash forward to 1993. David and I have a pilot for CBS, BIG WAVE DAVE’S and we’re casting. Who walks into our office?

Yep.

Jessica has no idea why we both seem to be beaming the minute she enters the room. Her audition goes well. She’s a terrific actress. She wasn’t totally right for the part but she still gave a great reading.

I’m on the fence about telling her the story. On the one hand, she might be a great sport and find it amusing. On the other, if we don’t hire her maybe she’ll think it’s because of the bank and we’re the most unprofessional spiteful assholes in Hollywood. So we say nothing. I’m sure if Jessica reads this or someone points her to this post it will be the first she’s heard of it. And I guarantee you she has no recollection of the bank encounter. Ten minutes of her life with some schmuck in a line.

But it’s still one of those delicious career moments. And for the record, I still have a crush on Jessica Harper and would be thrilled to work with her. She’s now a blogger and an author as well as an actress and the least I can do is plug her blog, which you can read here, and her cookbook, which you can find here.

Mr. Special Effects

Hello from Seattle where starting tomorrow I again call the action and pitching changes for the mighty Mariners.  In the meantime, I'm going to dip into the "Best Of" file. 

This is one of my favorite all-time posts so I cart it out every couple of years.  Certainly one of my funniest -- and I didn't even write it.  

I've talked about the need for showrunners to hold down the budget. What I didn’t mention was how difficult that can sometimes be. Hollywood is notorious for huge mark ups. Studios charging their own shows outrageous rent for their stages and facilities, etc. And if God forbid you need a special effect look out. In writing rooms whenever we propose even the smallest stunt we turn to my partner, David Isaacs, who has created a great character – Mr. Special Effects. He will then describe what is required to pull the stunt off and how much it will cost.

Here is an example, in the form of a memo. And believe me when I say this is TYPICAL.


Report from TV Special Effects Department:

RE: Frasier

Situation: In a dream sequence, Frasier is on the air and his board explodes.

Proposal---If I'm to understand correctly from our conversation you all want the entire radio board to explode in Frasier's (Mr. Gramner's) face. filling the studio room with smoke. It's quite a coincidence since my dad created the same effect for Mr. Al Ruddy for an episode of 'The Monkee's. (For your reference it's the one where the Monkees try to outfox a Russian agent played by Mr. Lloyd Bochner). The good news is that with all the advancements in explosive delivery it's a much easier effect. (The real reason you never saw Mr. Mike Nesmith at any Monkees reunion is that he had four fingers of his left hand blown off. It's certainly not true that he was sick of being a part of a third rate Beatles knockoff. That and feeling responsible for Yakima Canutt losing a testicle on "How the West was Won" haunted my father till he fell to his death rigging Mr. Demetrious 'George' Savalas for a jump off the Brooklyn Bridge in 'Kojak.)

Anyway, the effect is fairly simple, but of course we want it foolproof and safe. (within reason) First of all we will rig a series of explosive charges across the board. That will control the blast as oppossed to one big blast which is harder to control. I will set off the charges in sequence from a specially designed phaser. That should supply our explosion and still create the effect. We also set a charge inside the board so that in the case of a fire breaking out from the initial explosion (small possibility) I'll blow that charge which in turn would smother the flames. That, of course, would also preclude a second take.

Now I'm to understand that Mr. Gramner would like to do the stunt himself (concurrent with an 'Entertainment Tonight' segment profiling sitcom actors who do their own stunts.) That's fine but we will take the precaution of covering his body in an inch to an inch and a half of Vaseline Petroleum Jelly under a flame retardant herringbone suit. (It's uncomfortable but the guy works, what, twelve hours a week?) That will protect him vis a vis a mistake in explosion deployment. (Just to warn you in spite of caution it can happen---Sometimes to a serendipitous result. My dad worked for Mr. George Roy Hill on 'Butch Cassidy and the Sundance KId." Liitle known fact, the boxcar being blown to smithereens was not in the script. It was what we call in the S.E. business a happy accident. Thankfully the only injury was a prosthetic arm that was mangaled up pretty good. It belonged to my dad's assistant 'Spider' who had lost his real arm and half a foot working with my dad on 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'. Long story)

So we will protect Mr. Gramner. Safety for the cameramen and crew are at your discretion. Should be a do it every day, piece of cake effect. Still it's S.O.P. for me to ask you one question that's in the order of a final safeguard. Was there originally an actor you really felt could have played Frasier in the event that Mr. Gramner was unavailable or... "a handful"? Have to ask. It many times makes a tougher call but I will remind you of 'happy accidents'.

I'm going to ball park a cost for you then come up with a final tally later. I know you have budget concerns but it's a heck of a stunt. Figuring explosives , equipment rented from the studio electrical dept., special costuming from the studio costume dept., crew, overtime, dummy board and console from studio props, studio fire chief standing by, and I figure you'll want to throw in pizza for a hard working S.E. bunch, I think I can bring the whole thing off for you, on the cheap, for about 110 thousand dollars. Again that's if we're not figuring on another take.

Loved the script by the way.

Mr. S.E.

A long night's journey into day

I’m heading up to Seattle tomorrow to begin a nine-game stretch of broadcasting for the Mariners. There was a game earlier this week between the Pirates and the Braves that lasted 19 innings and lasted over six hours. That prompted this Friday question by Joe Knucks-all (yes, it’s an ode to Joe Nuxhall):

What's the longest game you've gotten to call, thus far?

Friday, September 25, 1992. The Mariners at the Texas Rangers. Sixteen innings, but first a little background:

This was the very end of the season. Both teams were already eliminated. So the game meant absolutely nothing.

The game was held in the old Arlington Stadium, a converted minor league park that was, to be charitable, a dump.

It must’ve been 100 degrees at game time and by the end -- 95.

We were doing the game on TV that night as well as radio. That meant the rotation was that I did the first half of the game on television then switched with my partner, the great Dave Niehaus and did the rest of the game alone on the radio. Did I mention sixteen innings?

Because this was the end of the year rosters were expanded. I believe we set a major league record for the number of players used in one game. The Mariners used 29, the Rangers only used 25. The Mariners employed eleven different pitchers. Between the two clubs there were 481 pitches thrown (I think 12 strikes).

We left twelve men on base. Texas left a staggering twenty. M’s second baseman, Bret Boone went 0-7.

You can’t believe what a mess my scorebook was. Completely indecipherable. Navajo Code Breakers couldn’t figure out who batted for who when.

But the incident I remember most was this: Our bullpen was down the leftfield line. Late in the game, maybe the 13th or 14th while play was in I look out and all of our relief pitchers and bullpen catchers are running out onto the field. WTF?! Seems someone discovered a big rat in the bullpen. So while members of the grounds crew removed the rodent we had a ten minute "rat delay".

We won the game 4-3. Omar Vizquel drove in the winning run and then was thrown out in a wild rundown. It was that kind of game.

And then when the game ended – 5:08 after it started -- I had to do the postgame show. That was another half hour. One of the features was the game re-cap.  I think I said something like "A bunch of guys got into the game and made outs and didn't score, and we did that for like five hours, and then someone drove in a run.  I'll have the out-of-town scores next!"

But I will say this, yes it was exhausting but also exhilarating. You get your second wind after about four hours. And the game takes on a life of its own. The adrenaline kicks in and suddenly it’s great fun.

And the way things are going this year, I’d gladly call a thirty inning game if it meant a win.

Beaver Cleaver is back on the air

My past has caught up with me.  Great Big Radio is playing a two-hour restored broadcast of one of my radio shows back when I was Beaver Cleaver on B100 San Diego in 1976.  So for those of you who gotta have the bump, have a love hangover, or want to win passes to see that great new movie ODE TO BILLIE JOE starring Glynis O'Connor at the Grossmont Cinema, tune in to Great Big Radio. 

I'm on starting at 11 PM EDT and replayed at 11 PM PDT.  You can hear it here. I was certifiably insane in those days.  Enjoy.