Horseshoes and Warped Halos

Horseshoes and Warped Halos

Super Bowl XLIV features Peyton Manning, the greatest quarterback since Johnny Unitas, leading the Colts against a team representing a town of sinners that dares to call itself the Saints.

 

February 04, 2010

With the return of the Indianapolis Colts to the Super Bowl on Sunday, February 7, all is well in my pro football world. Quarterback Peyton Manning’s finesse at rallying the Colts from fourth-quarter deficits with his precision passing is a sight to behold. Manning is capable of moving a team the length of a football field in mere seconds.

It was late Colts quarterback Johnny Unitas who mastered the “two-minute offense” that revolutionized professional football in the 1950s and ’60s. Manning has perfected that tactic. Manning’s style features the hunched shoulders, fast feet, and lightning-quick passes that defined the Unitas legend decades ago. Come Super Bowl Sunday, I’ll no doubt once again believe that the Colts’ blue horseshoe logo is actually a “U” for Unitas, just as I had presumed as a kid.

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Johnny Unitas (click for larger version)

Like most fans of the former Baltimore Colts, I had no use for the team after late owner (and alleged drunk) Robert Irsay whisked the franchise out of Baltimore one night in March of 1984. Two months earlier, a reportedly intoxicated Irsay had appeared at a press conference to promise the city that he would not move the franchise out of town, though he did remind fans that “it’s my goddamn team.” Negotiations over improvements to Baltimore’s Memorial Stadium had begun to crumble, prompting the Maryland state legislature to pass a law allowing the city to seize the team under eminent domain when it appeared that the owner might take them elsewhere. At midnight the day after the legislation was passed, Irsay had the team’s equipment and other assets loaded into 15 moving vans bound for Indianapolis. The vans were provided at no cost by the CEO of Mayflower Transit Company, a close pal of then-Indianapolis Mayor William Hudnut.

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Peyton Manning (click for larger version)

Irsay acquired the Colts in 1972 in one of the oddest deals in professional sports history: he swapped teams with then-Colts owner Carroll Rosenbloom, giving Rosenbloom the Los Angeles Rams in exchange. The following year, Irsay committed an unpardonable sin when he traded Unitas to the San Diego Chargers. Rosenbloom, who had signed Unitas for the Colts in 1956 for a mere $7,000, drowned off the coast of Florida in 1979. Though his death was ruled accidental, an episode of the PBS investigative series “Frontline” suggested that mobsters had Rosenbloom murdered. Robert Irsay died in 1997. His son Jim Irsay now owns the team.

It took a quarterback from the Manning clan to rekindle my love for the Colts 14 years after the team moved to Indianapolis. For those not familiar with the Manning football dynasty, patriarch Archie Manning was an All-American at Ole Miss who starred in a 33-32 loss to Alabama in 1969 in the first national telecast of a college football game in prime time. (Bear Bryant once referred to Archie as the greatest college quarterback he ever saw.) The sports world was captivated by a hot-shot quarterback called “Archie” leading a team nicknamed the Rebels whose fans enthusiastically waved Confederate flags. The elder Manning would spend a dozen years as the lone star of the New Orleans Saints during the team’s worst years in the 1970s and ’80s, when fans wore paper sacks over their heads in shame due to the Saints’ dismal performances. (Archie is the father of not only Peyton Manning but also current New York Giants quarterback Eli Manning and former Ole Miss receiver Cooper Manning.)

My fondness for the family grew to towering heights in 1996. Archie Manning was a commentator on Saints broadcasts following his retirement from pro ball (he’s now a commentator on CBS college football telecasts). Hoping to score a story for another publication I worked for at the time, I found Manning’s home phone number in the New Orleans directory and rang him up out of the blue one October night during Peyton’s junior season at Tennessee. I didn’t expect Manning to be so accessible, and was amazed when he gladly agreed to an interview.

When the Indianapolis Colts drafted Peyton in 1998, I finally forgave the team for abandoning Baltimore. What the hell, Robert Irsay was dead. Autumn Sunday afternoons once again found me riveted to the TV as the Second Coming of Johnny Unitas soon began displaying dazzling feats of football prowess. Peyton finally won his first Super Bowl in 2007. Younger brother Eli won his first Super Bowl a year later. Both Manning kids grew up playing high school football in New Orleans.

This year marks the first appearance by the New Orleans Saints in a Super Bowl. The early line has the Colts as a 3- to 5.5-point favorite. I’ll take the Colts minus 10 points because Indianapolis has Peyton Manning playing quarterback. It has been reported that the Saints count among their fans a group of New Orleans nuns known to “pray for the Manning brothers” to win on Sundays. Though many Sisters will no doubt be praying for the hometown team on Super Bowl Sunday, I’ll wager that others will wisely place their money on the Colts. They know a Holy Quarterback when they see one. &

Dead Folks: The Icons

Dead Folks: The Icons

Remembrances of notable individuals who passed away in 2009.

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Walter Cronkite (click for larger version)
January 21, 2010

Walter Cronkite
For two decades, Walter Cronkite commanded the attention of families in homes across America as the anchorman for “The CBS Evening News.” From 1962 to 1981, Cronkite’s calm, reassuring demeanor made him one of TV news’ biggest celebrities in the heyday of network TV. He delivered reports with a dignity rarely found in today’s loudmouth pundits. Lauded by many as “the most trusted man in America,” Cronkite sought objectivity and wanted nothing more than to tell the story. “I am a news presenter, a news broadcaster, an anchorman, a managing editor—not a commentator or analyst,” he told the Christian Science Monitor in 1973. “I feel no compulsion to be a pundit.”

He was hired by radio station KCMO in St. Louis to read news and broadcast football games under the name Walter Wilcox in the 1930s. While reporting for the United Press during World War II, he rejected an offer from Edward R. Murrow to work at the CBS Moscow bureau. In 1954, CBS chose Cronkite to host the short-lived “Morning Show” when the network went head to head with NBC’s popular “Today Show.” From the outset, he irritated primary sponsor R.J. Reynolds by grammatically correcting its popular slogan to “Winston tastes good as a cigarette should.”

The evening news broadcast had been a 15-minute program, but beginning in September 1963, CBS lengthened it to half an hour. Cronkite broadcast from an actual newsroom instead of a studio set, as done by his predecessor. He also coined his famous “And that’s the way it is” sign-off that ended each broadcast. Richard S. Salant, president of CBS News, hated the line, mainly because it used four seconds of air time.

Cronkite’s influence on the nation was well understood by President Lyndon Johnson. After CBS aired a documentary that Cronkite taped while reporting from Vietnam in 1968, Johnson turned off his White House television in anger and said that losing Cronkite—who declared the war unwinnable—meant the loss of support from middle America. (92, complications of dementia) —Ed Reynolds

Andrew Wyeth
“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape—the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn’t show.”

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Andrew Wyeth (click for larger version)

So says one of the most famous American painters about his own work, which often conveyed all kinds of wintery moods—and rarely revealed the whole story behind what was depicted. Yet for all their mystery, or their peculiar way of suggesting an emotionally charged story not yet told, Wyeth’s stunningly intimate landscapes and portraits are as instantly recognizable as Georgia O’Keeffe’s flowers or Andy Warhol’s soup cans. His most famous painting, “Christina’s World,” which depicts a slender woman partially reclined in a grassy field and looking toward an aged farmhouse, is an iconic American image on par with Grant Wood’s “American Gothic,” Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks,”

and Winslow Homer’s “The Gulfstream.” Using more shades of grays, browns, yellows, tans, and whites than one suspected even existed, Wyeth captured the starkness and stillness of rural Pennsylvania and Maine—more often than not in the dead of winter.

As far as art critics and East Coast cultural elites were concerned, Wyeth was guilty of three almost unforgivable sins. First, he chose to be a representational realist—according to many, practically an illustrator—during the rise of abstract expressionism and other parting-with-the-past movements. Second, he did not engage in progressive politics, going so far as to support Nixon and Reagan. Third, he enjoyed tremendous mainstream popularity and the requisite financial success. Oddly enough, even as his detractors vaguely hinted that he was no more a “serious” artist than Norman Rockwell, Wyeth had no trouble in getting his work into major exhibitions around the nation.

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“Christina’s World” by Andrew Wyeth (click for larger version)

 

 

 

 

That may have been in part due to a kind of cult of personality that developed around the painter, no doubt because his famous father, illustrator N.C. Wyeth, created an intriguing romantic lore concerning the family’s life at their home and studio in Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania. It was an authentic, larger-than-life scenario, but it had the same effect as a full-scale publicity campaign. Life got even larger when it began to imitate art in 1985, after Wyeth’s “Helga paintings” came to light. The world learned that the artist had secretly painted almost 250 portraits—some of them nudes—of his neighbor Helga Testorf.

 

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Paul Harvey (click for larger version)

The portraits had been done over a period of 15 years, and the secretive nature of this huge body of work led to talk of an extramarital affair. The story made the cover of Time magazine, and the furor and rumors were quietly observed by Wyeth and his wife, Betsy, who had managed almost every aspect of the artist’s career. Allowing outsiders to fuel gossip about the Wyeth family once again had the effect of a publicity campaign, leading to a National Gallery exhibit of the Helga paintings, a national tour, and a massive sale price for the collection. Whether this was a sly business move by the Wyeths remains a topic of speculation. (91, natural causes) —David Pelfrey

Paul Harvey
Conservatives mourned Paul Harvey when he died, but few of them paid much attention to his final years. Harvey was pretty much forgotten as one of the original right-wing voices on national radio—back when he was targeted by the likes of Lyndon Johnson while the Democrats were still scheming up the Fairness Doctrine. By the end of the 1980s, Harvey was just a charming folksy newscaster with long . . . pauses . . . between . . . his . . . words, and a tendency to tut-tut some of America’s more idiotic leanings. He also read his commercials among the news, although those were defined clearly at the top of each page. He’d say, “Page . . . Two,” for example, and then tell us about the great deals at Tru-Value Hardware.

Harvey’s 1952 book Remember These Things—which includes musings from his radio show—is pretty much the right-wing Leaves of Grass. Here are the closing lines, where Harvey shows himself to be a prophet. Also, check out those fine ellipses that re-create the original Harvey heaviness:

Now, my learned contemporaries of high degree . . . I am aware that my recommendations for hanging onto your Republic with both hands circumvent most of your geo-political considerations. You speak for the architects . . . I’ll speak for the builders . . . the men who can straighten rusty nails and build this all over again. Here in the hills and plains are the builders . . . wherever their towers rise. And to know them is to understand why God so often chose the simple ones . . . to confound the wise. (90, natural causes) —J.R. Taylor

 

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Les Paul (click for larger version)

 

 

 

 


Les Paul
No one is more is responsible for the startling direction music took in the second half of the 20th century than Les Paul. An incredibly talented guitarist and inventor, he backed Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, Louis Armstrong, and the Andrews Sisters, among others. By the 1950s, he and wife Mary Ford had a string of million-selling hits.

His invention of the solid-body electric guitar made his name universal. His first electric guitar was built in 1940 when he added guitar strings and two electronic audio pickups to a wooden board that included a guitar neck. He dubbed it “the log” and once said of its plucked strings: “You could go out and eat and come back and the note would still be sounding.” The Gibson Corporation began manufacturing the Les Paul guitar in 1952.

Not stopping there, Paul’s innovations in recording techniques also revolutionized the music industry. His invention of multitracking and overdubbing allowed musicians to accompany themselves by preserving a previously played track while recording additional instrumentation or vocals on other tracks. In the garage recording studio of his Los Angeles home, Paul modified sounds with the addition of reverberation and the repositioning of microphones at various distances from the sound source. He created the first eight-track recording device in the late 1950s, which launched the era of modern recording.

 

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Marilyn Chambers (click for larger version)

The most often repeated story regards Paul’s permanently bent right arm, the one used to pluck the guitar strings. He and his wife were touring in 1948 when their car slid off an icy bridge, leaving the bones of his right elbow splintered. When his doctor told him that he would have limited mobility in the arm once it healed, Paul requested that his arm be set bent at a 90-degree angle so that he could continue to play, which he did publicly until his death. (94, pneumonia) —Ed Reynolds

Marilyn Chambers
Many a proud American pulled his lever to Marilyn Chambers’ body of work. But if you lived in Utah during the 2004 presidential election, you could have voted for the former porn star as a vice presidential candidate for the Personal Choice Party. It was a typically strange career move for the former Ivory Snow model. The detergent boxes that featured her posing with a baby became collectable after Chambers made her X-rated debut in 1972′s legendary Beyond the Green Door. The savvy young lady—whose previous big-screen role was in the Barbara Streisand comedy The Owl and the Pussycat—received a then-unprecedented $25,000 for her starring role, and even got a cut of the profits.

Chambers followed Linda Lovelace into porn-chic prominence, and beat out Sissy Spacek for the lead role in David Cronenberg’s 1977 Rabid. Porn didn’t get so chic that Hollywood was ready for Chambers, though. She was back on the hardcore scene by 1980, and later produced her own line of videos with an emphasis on older women and—uniquely—older male sexual partners.

She was also the former owner of the Survival Store gun shop in Las Vegas. That explains some of her Libertarian politics. (“I want to be able to shoot [criminals]. I also want to be able to protect my country.”) Chambers was a tough businesswomen, but also a gracious lady who could carry on an interesting conversation for hours. Her legacy has not been followed by today’s porn stars. (56, cerebral hemorrhage and aneurysm) —J.R. Taylor

 

Dead Folks: Film

 

Dead Folks: Film

Remembrances of notable individuals who passed away in 2009.

January 21, 2010

Jennifer Jones
A dark-haired beauty with prominent cheekbones and perhaps the most expressive eyes ever captured on film, Jones often portrayed mercurial, emotionally fragile characters ideally suited for romance and melodrama. Portraying young women who could gush with joy and plunge into despair in the same breath may not have always been a stretch for Jones. Her private life, which was seldom private despite her resistance to interviews and publicity events, was emotionally harrowing.

 

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Jennifer Jones (click for larger version)

 

 

 

 

In other words, as went the whims of Hollywood mogul David O. Selznick, so went the career and personal life of Jennifer Jones. As a fledgling actor attempting to find a permanent place in motion pictures, Jones apparently acquiesced to the Svengali-like will of Selznick, carrying on an affair with him while being groomed for roles in the early 1940s. By the time she was wowing audiences in The Song of Bernadette (for which she earned an Oscar), the 25-year-old mother of two was already separated from her husband, actor Robert Walker. Amazingly, during that separation the couple were cast by Selznick as the young, naïve lovers in Since You Went Away, a moving and superbly executed drama about life on the WWII home front. No one has disputed the rumor that Selznick was attempting to emotionally destroy the depressed, hard-drinking Walker, who was ultimately institutionalized after his divorce from Jones. Hollywood lore also suggests a stranger theory, namely, that Selznick—who had been obsessed with Jones from the day he first saw her auditioning for a play in New York—was slyly preparing her for roles that required an intrinsic understanding of overwrought melodrama. That’s easy to believe. Anyone who has seen the romantic mystery Love Letters, the landmark fantasy film Portrait of Jennie, or Since You Went Away recognizes that Jones’ screen presence was both mesmerizing and slightly unsettling.

On the other hand, it was common knowledge that Selznick was fully in love with the real Jennifer Jones; they were married in 1949 and apparently remained happy until Selznick’s death in 1965. Shortly afterward, a comatose Jones was discovered on Malibu beach, having “accidentally” consumed too many pills and too much wine. She recovered from the coma, and over the years more cynical Hollywood gossips wondered if the entire episode hadn’t been pre-directed by Selznick. (90, natural causes) —David Pelfrey

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(click for larger version)

Karl Malden
Three generations of TV and movie viewers probably have distinctly different memories of this excellent actor, whose commanding voice and penetrating eyes once made him an impressive screen presence. The youngest may see Malden simply as the voice and face of American Express Travelers Cheques: “Don’t leave home without them.” The persona for that ad campaign (one that remains in the collective mind of another generation) was derived from Malden’s no-nonsense detective Mike Stone in the long-running 1970s TV police drama “The Streets of San Francisco,” co-starring a young Michael Douglas.

All of that transpired in the latter stages of Malden’s seven-decade career. He began with something of a bang, working with the powerful new directors and actors of the 1950s (Elia Kazan, Montgomery Clift, Eli Wallach, Marlon Brando), very quickly earning accolades for his roles in On the Waterfront, Baby Doll, I Confess, and A Streetcar Named Desire, for which Malden won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar. (97, natural causes) —D.P.

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Jack Cardiff (click for larger version)

Jack Cardiff
With very few exceptions, the list of films Cardiff directed will have any serious student of cinema wishing that Cardiff had remained strictly a cinematographer. The British filmmaker helmed the risible The Girl on a Motorcycle, a swinging ’60s fantasy with pop chanteuse Marianne Faithfull that attempted to be way out but was merely way out of touch. Still more inept was The Long Ships, a Moor-versus-Viking adventure yarn with Sidney Poitier and Richard Widmark disgracing themselves in the respective roles. The thing is, both pictures were often lovely to behold, if impossible to take seriously.

Cardiff possessed a preternatural gift for appreciating—and controlling—the effects of light and color as cast onto a motion picture screen. When film scholars speak of “painterly” cinematography, they invariably have Cardiff in mind. His Technicolor (and other film processes) wonders include The African Queen, Topaz, Death on the Nile, and Conan the Destroyer. Moreover, the three pictures Cardiff shot for Michael Powell (A Matter of Life and Death, Black Narcissus, and The Red Shoes) have no analog in modern cinema (nor many contemporary equals). Many scenes in those marvelous fantasies still have film students and technicians wondering exactly how Cardiff managed it. His autobiography, Magic Hour, ostensibly reveals certain techniques, but like any good magician, Cardiff ultimately tells us nothing. (94, natural causes) —D.P.

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John Hughes (click for larger version)

John Hughes
We can be angry with the multi-talented filmmaker for writing the screenplay for Class Reunion and directing Curly Sue, or we can admire the box office success of the Home Alone films, which Hughes wrote and produced. However, the former National Lampoon staffer and gag writer for Rodney Dangerfield and Joan Rivers leaves behind one undeniable cultural legacy. Behold the Brat Pack comedy/dramas that defined youth cinema of the 1980s. Hughes directed Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and he produced Pretty in Pink. All the screenplays were his as well. Those films made stars and/or pop icons of numerous young actors, at the same time providing the MTV generation with official soundtracks and no small amount of entries into the popular lexicon (Bueller? Bueller?). (59, heart attack) —D.P.

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Patrick Swayze (click for larger version)

Patrick Swayze
According to People magazine, Swayze was the sexiest man alive in 1991. For the kind of people who read that publication, he probably was. His leading role in Dirty Dancing made him a household name, and his turn opposite Brat Packer Demi Moore in Ghost established Swayze as a universally recognized heartthrob. His remaining résumé largely consists of roles as macho bad-ass types, which was no mean feat for a 5’9″ dancer. There again, an athletic Texan who raises horses, carries an instrument-rated pilot’s license, and studies martial arts makes good box office as a man’s man. Then there’s Swayze’s sense of humor about his status as a sex symbol and tabloid regular: witness his brilliant self-deprecating skits on “Saturday Night Live,”

 

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Dom DeLuise (click for larger version)

or his irony-rich turn as the scary-as-hell motivational speaker in Donnie Darko. His final days were a grim deathwatch that functioned as tabloid fodder after Swayze was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. (57) —D.P.

Dom DeLuise
A plump, boisterous comedian, DeLuise possessed an overbearing persona that was a favorite of Mel Brooks, who cast him in several comedies, including Blazing Saddles. DeLuise teamed with pal Burt Reynolds in Cannonball Run and Smokey and the Bandit II. He got his start in television during the early 1960s as Dominick the Great, an inept, bumbling magician whose magic tricks never worked. His appearances on “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson” and “Hollywood Squares” made him a household name. An accomplished chef, he later performed culinary demonstrations on television as his film career wound down. DeLuise once claimed that the toughest role of his career was being cast as a penny in a school play. “The part called for me to roll under a bed as soon as the curtain went up and stay there until I was found in the very last scene,” he recalled in the book Who’s Who in Comedy. “It was my hardest role to date. I detested having to be quiet and out of the action for so long.” (75, extended unidentified illness) —E.R.

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Ricardo Montalban (click for larger version)

Ricardo Montalban
Khan, Captain Kirk’s arch nemesis in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Mr. Roarke on the 1970s TV series “Fantasy Island.” Damon West on the medical drama “Dr. Kildare.” These are just a few of the many roles played by actor Ricardo Montalban throughout his career as one of the most visible Hispanic actors in post-WWII Hollywood. Born in Mexico City, he moved to Hollywood as a teenager to foster his dream of becoming an actor.

Montalban starred in 13 Spanish-language films before breaking into the American film scene in 1947, cast as a bullfighter opposite Esther Williams in Fiesta. He was under contract with MGM at the time, and said he quickly realized the studio’s portrayals of Hispanics at that time were “very insulting.” Montalban took up the cause of changing Hollywood stereotypes of Latinos, one he championed throughout his career by serving as president of Nosotros, an organization he founded for the advancement of Hispanics in the entertainment industry, for two decades. Despite this, Montalban had a friendly rivalry at MGM with Fernando Lamas as the studio’s resident “Latin lover,” a contest Bill Murray immortalized in a “Saturday Night Live” skit.

Known as a distinguished gentleman with a smooth accent, Montalban became the spokesman for Chrysler and Maxwell House coffee. He made guest appearances on countless TV shows, recently doing a voiceover on the animated series “Family Guy.” The deeply spiritual Montalban, a Catholic, was named a Knight Commander of St. Gregory, the highest honor bestowed on non-clergy in the Roman Catholic Church, by Pope John Paul II in 1998. (88, congestive heart failure) —Christina Crowe

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James Whitmore (click for larger version)

James Whitmore
Like plenty of young Broadway actors, James Whitmore watched as movie stars took over roles that he created on the stage. He wasn’t a typical leading man, but his own move to Hollywood landed him a few starring roles as a kind of ersatz Spencer Tracy. He was morally sound while getting radio transmissions from God in The Next Voice You Hear, and sadly corrupt as a career criminal in The Asphalt Jungle. He also landed a great genre role when he took on giant ants in 1954′s Them!

 

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Richard Todd (click for larger version)

 

 

 

 

Whitmore became a constant presence on television through the 1960s and ’70s, and also kept working steadily in films—favoring offbeat roles such as the lead in 1964′s Black Like Me and a simian turn in Planet of the Apes. He managed a final classic with a prominent role in 1994′s The Shawshank Redemption. A lot of people still knew Whitmore best from his years of commercials for Miracle-Gro Plant Food, and the avid gardener frequently used the sponsorship as an excuse to show up at florist events. (87, lung cancer) —J.R. Taylor

Richard Todd
The handsome, stern Irish-born actor was a popular figure in post-WWII British action films. Having distinguished himself as a paratrooper in the Allied D-Day operations, Todd made a believable war hero, most famously in The Dam Busters and The Longest Day. The Scottish burr Todd cultivated on the stage in Scotland, along with his fairly intimidating demeanor, rendered a memorable man’s man who might have been an ideal James Bond. Ian Fleming certainly thought so; Todd was his first choice for the role of 007. (90, cancer) —David Pelfrey

 

Dead Folks: Celebrities and Entertainers

Dead Folks: Celebrities and Entertainers

 

Remembrances of notable individuals who passed away in 2009.

 

January 21, 2010

Susan Atkins
As the cutest of the Manson Girls, Susan Atkins became an overnight sensation in the wake of the 1969 murder of Sharon Tate and her unborn child (as well as the next night’s murder of Leno and Rosemary LaBianca). The San Francisco native first met Charles Manson when she took a trip down to Los Angeles. They turned out to be kindred spirits, since Atkins was one of the few Manson Family members who hadn’t emerged from conservative suburbia. The lovely brunette had been raised among the budding San Francisco counterculture. Her pioneering hippie upbringing helped make her a natural thrill-killer. It also made her the least believable of the girls to later renounce Manson in favor of Christianity.

Atkins was still believable at one attempt in revising the Manson Family history. She always insisted that prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi was wrong to believe that Manson ordered the Tate-LaBianca killings to start a race war. Atkins maintained that Manson had another motive for framing the Black Panthers for the murders. The idea was to cover up Atkins’ own involvement in the earlier killing of a local drug dealer. She was certainly the most likely member Charlie would trust with that information.

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Manson family member Susan Atkins. (click for larger version)

It was less believable when Atkins claimed that she was at the scene of the crimes only because she had a child that Manson was holding hostage. (Linda Kasabian—who had refused to kill anyone during the Tate murders—avoided imprisonment with the same story.) She also kept insisting that she hadn’t really killed Sharon Tate and her unborn child. Atkins continued to get letters from addled fans praising her revolutionary mayhem. She died behind bars, of course—in the same year that fellow Manson Girl Squeaky Fromme (who had tried to kill President Gerald Ford) was released from parole after 34 years in prison. (61, brain cancer) —J.R.T.

Reverend Ike
In the beginning, he was a flamboyant evangelist who looked pretty cool on Atlanta TV back in the 1970s. Reverend Ike—known more formally as The Rev. Frederick J. Eikerenkoetter II—worked the stage like a rock star, and preached that one does not wait for one’s pie in the sky by and by. Rather, one is to enjoy the riches of Earth as God wishes. To make his point, Rev. Ike wore lots of expensive jewelry paid for by his predominantly black congregation.

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Reverend Ike (click for larger version)

He had a national audience, but Reverend Ike mostly leeched from thousand of parishioners at the United Church Science of Living Institute. His lack of a Southern accent kept him from receiving the disdain heaped on an Ernest Angley or Jimmy Swaggart. He also conned the national media with something called

“positive self-image psychology.” That didn’t sound any worse than EST. Ike peaked in the 1970s, when his broadcasts could be heard on 1,500 radio stations, but he kept preaching until a merciful stroke in 2006. His death, incidentally, was announced by family spokesman Bishop E. Bernard Jordan—who runs his own scam where he’ll charge $365 for a full year of saying prayers for you. Ike’s sad legacy lives on. (74, complications from a stroke) —J.R.T.

Fred Travelena
2009 was a tough year for impressionists. Danny Gans—whose hugely popular Las Vegas act featured his repertoire of voices—passed away last May. Fred Travelena—who passed away a month later—was a bigger name back in the 1970s. He wasn’t as famous as Rich Little, but Travelena was a regular presence on game shows like “Match Game” and “Super Password.” His broad style—with impressions from Kermit the Frog to Frank Sinatra—was never considered hip, and he was later replaced on the talk-show circuit by the likes of Dana Carvey.

He kept working, though, often secretly re-recording the flubbed dialogue of name actors in major motion pictures. Travelena also kept touring smaller venues. His assorted illnesses (including prostate cancer) inspired old fan David Letterman to bring him on as a guest in 2006. (66, non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma) —J.R. Taylor

Altovise Davis
Sammy Davis, Jr. left behind more than a wife and child when he passed away in 1990. His widow also had to deal with a tax debt estimated at up to $7 million, plus a $2.5 million mortgage and a late husband’s will that included plenty of charitable bequests. Frank Sinatra reportedly helped Altovise out with a quiet gift of $1 million. She still passed away owing nearly $3 million in back taxes. It’s notable that Altovise never cashed in with a tell-all book. She had seen plenty of decadence during her days with Sammy. We would go into more gossipy detail, but it’s not safe just because the Rat Pack is dead. Shirley MacLaine is still out there. (65, stroke) —J.R.T.

 

Dead Folks: Writers

Dead Folks: Writers

Remembrances of notable individuals who passed away in 2009.

January 21, 2010
John Updike
Much of John Updike’s work proves the adage that writers write best about that of which they know. This two-time Pulitzer Prize winner had inauspicious beginnings, growing up in small-town Pennsylvania in a stone farmhouse on 80 acres of land. The area became the setting for many of his novels about middle-class life. Most popular was the “Rabbit” series, including Rabbit, Run and Rabbit Redux, based on the character of the small-town athlete Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom.Updike wrote from an early age, working for the high school newspaper and excelling in school; he earned a scholarship to Harvard University. There he wrote and drew satirical cartoons for the Harvard Lampoon. The year he graduated, summa cum laude, he wrote and sold a poem to The New Yorker. While studying for a year at Oxford’s Ruskin School of Drawing and Fine Art, in London, Updike met E.B. and Katharine White, The New Yorker‘s editors, who encouraged him to apply for a job at the magazine. Updike moved to Manhattan and became a staff writer, a position he maintained for only two years (though he contributed to the magazine throughout his life). Moving his family to Massachusetts, Updike adhered to a strict six-days-a-week writing schedule from his home. Rabbit, Run was Updike’s second novel. His publisher, Knopf, feared that the frank description of Rabbit’s sexual adventures could lead to prosecution for obscenity, but the book was published to widespread acclaim without legal repercussions.

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John Updike (click for larger version)

 

 

In 1963, Updike received the National Book Award for his novel The Centaur, a modern myth inspired by his childhood in Pennsylvania. The following year, at age 32, he became the youngest person ever elected to the National Institute of Arts and Letters and was invited by the State Department to tour Eastern Europe as part of a cultural exchange program between the United States and the Soviet Union. Updike’s novel Couples created a national sensation with its portrayal of the relationships among a set of young married couples in the suburbs. During the 1970s, Updike continued to travel as a cultural ambassador. Rabbit Is Rich and Rabbit at Rest were published in 1981 and 1991, respectively. He published 60 books in his lifetime, working in a wide range of genres from essays to criticisms to poetry. (76, lung cancer) —C.C.

Paul Hemphill
Birmingham native Paul Hemphill wrote of a world filled with stock cars, college football, preachers, whiskey, and all-around hell-raisers that defined Southern culture. Hemphill’s newspaper columns were among his most controversial, condemning racism at a time when the subject was frequently overlooked in the Deep South. He had a knack for capturing the essence of the underbelly of Dixieland, where he admittedly consorted with prostitutes and moonshine swillers.

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Paul Hemphill (click for larger version)

 

 

A former intern at the Birmingham News, Hemphill found work as a sportswriter after his semi-pro baseball career fizzled out. Eventually, he became a daily columnist for the Atlanta Journal, where his columns about the common man became a hit with readers. He authored The Nashville Sound: Bright Lights and Country Music, which is viewed as one of the best accounts of the country music world. Hemphill wrote with simple, blunt honesty as he described the sins of his native region, including a memoir of the strained relationship with his racist, truck-driving father called Leaving Birmingham: Notes of a Native Son. (73, throat cancer) —Ed Reynolds

William Safire
William Safire, presidential speechwriter, political columnist, and author, had the unique misfortune of being both a speechwriter for Richard Nixon and a target of national security wiretaps authorized by the former president. Safire was best known for his syndicated column in the New York Times, his regular appearances on TV’s “Meet the Press,” and his writing on language and etymology. A college dropout, he entered politics by way of public relations; while exhibiting a model home at an American trade fair in Moscow in 1959, Richard Nixon and Nikita Khrushchev debated there (in what later become known as the “kitchen debate”) over the merits of capitalism versus communism. Safire photographed the event and later joined Nixon’s 1960 and 1968 presidential campaigns. In 1973, he became a political columnist for the New York Times. In addition to writing several books and novels, from 1979 through the month of his death, Safire wrote the “On Language” column for the New York Times Magazine. (79, pancreatic cancer) —C.C.

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Frank McCourt (click for larger version)

Frank McCourt
Although he spent most of his life as a teacher, it is for his memoir, Angela’s Ashes, that author Frank McCourt will be remembered. McCourt was born in Brooklyn, but his family returned to Ireland soon after his birth, where they fell into even deeper poverty. Angela’s Ashes recounts those years spent in the shadow of his father, an unemployed alcoholic whose habits kept the family broke. Three of McCourt’s six siblings died of diseases brought on in part by squalor and malnutrition; McCourt himself nearly died of typhoid fever at age 10. His book describes the awful circumstances of his daily life in Ireland, yet manages to inject humor and lightness throughout the tale. At 19, McCourt returned to the United States only to be drafted into the Korean War; on his return he talked his way into New York University (despite having never graduated high school). He graduated and got a job teaching creative writing in the New York City Public School system, which he did for 27 years. It was at his students’ urging over the years that he began writing and sharing his work with his classes. He finally wrote his memoir, which was published in 1996. It has sold more than 4 million copies, been translated into dozens of languages, and won the Pulitzer Prize for biography. (78, meningitis) —Christina Crowe

Dominick Dunne
Crime writer Dominick Dunne could be considered the forefather to such celebrity “news” outlets as TV’s E! network or TMZ.com. His life took him from wealth to the throes of addiction, from fatherhood to the grief of outliving his own daughters (two of whom died in infancy), from New York to Hollywood, all the while developing a career in investigative journalism. This born-rich Irish Catholic boy grew to become a TV executive and film producer in mid-1970s Hollywood, where he nearly crashed from alcohol and drug addiction. A period of self-exile from society resulted in his first book, The Winners. The murder of his daughter, TV actress Dominique Dunne, and the subsequent trial of her killer resulted in the legal journalism for which Dunne would come to be known.

He wrote an article titled, “Justice: A Father’s Account of the Trial of His Daughter’s Killer” for Vanity Fair, after which he became a contributing writer for the magazine. In the same genre, Dunne took several real-life murders, such as that of department store magnate Alfred Bloomingdale’s mistress, and fictionalized them in what became best-selling books. On the now-defunct CourtTV cable network, Dunne hosted a series called “Dominick Dunne’s Power, Privilege and Justice,” in which he covered celebrity trials including those of Phil Spector, the Menendez brothers, O.J. Simpson, and Michael Skakel, among others. In 2008, at age 82, Dunne traveled to Las Vegas to cover O.J. Simpson’s kidnapping trial for Vanity Fair. Clearly not wishing to be forgotten in death, Dunne wrote several memoirs and autobiographies and produced a film about his own life. (83, bladder cancer) —Christina Crowe

Donald Westlake
“Whatever Stark writes, I read. He’s a stylist, a pro, and I thoroughly enjoy his attitude.” —Elmore Leonard.

There’s an endorsement that makes sense. Most of Donald Westlake’s gritty crime thrillers conjure the same grim world one encounters in Elmore Leonard’s dark yarns. The three-time Edgar Award-winning mystery writer used more than a dozen pen names, Richard Stark being the most prolific. His were stories of heists gone wrong, betrayals, and curious coincidences that set bad men on bad paths to destruction. When adapted to the screen—and several were—Westlake’s tales called for genuine troublemakers and two-fisted anti-heroes such as Gene Hackman, Robert Duvall, and certainly Lee Marvin, who starred in the especially brutal Point Blank. For undistilled ugliness, however, Westlake’s screen adaptation of Jim Thompson’s The Grifters remains untouched. (75, heart attack) —David Pelfrey

The Eternal Outlaw

The Eternal Outlaw

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Just another day in paradise. (click for larger version)

 

December 09, 2010

Life

By Keith Richards with James Fox

Little, Brown, 564 pages, $29.99

After suffering through three decades of lousy new Rolling Stones records, nothing could be finer than falling in love with Keith Richards and his merry minstrels all over again. But it’s not the music that attracts; rather, it’s Richards’ irresistible writing voice in his memoir Life that will mesmerize as he eloquently and hilariously recounts his rock ‘n’ roll fairy tale existence. Keith (guitarist for the band since its inception 48 years ago) is quite the charmer, relating tales of outlandish rock excess with a brutally honest, hold-no-punches delivery that defines the swagger of guitar-slinging outlaws. One occasionally wonders where the truth ends and embellishment begins. But who cares? It’s all showbiz.

God bless him, Keith wastes no time giving fans what they want: drug stories! He opens with a bang, recounting his and fellow Rolling Stone Ron Wood’s arrest in Fordyce, Arkansas, in 1975. The pair unwisely chose to drive from Memphis to Dallas for their next show instead of flying with the rest of the band. Keith is quick to acknowledge his occasional stupidity and lackadaisical attitude regarding drugs: “So we drove and Ronnie and I had been particularly stupid. We pulled into this roadhouse called the 4-Dice, where we sat down and ordered and then Ronnie and I went to the john. You know, just start me up. We got high. We didn’t fancy the clientele out there, or the food, and so we hung in the john, laughing and carrying on. We sat there for forty minutes. And down there you don’t do that. Not then.”

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Richards relaxing in his home library in Connecticut. (Photo by Christopher Sykes for Life.) (click for larger version)

 

It’s the first of dozens of lurid drug stories. At the Arkansas bust, the Chevrolet Impala they were driving had “coke and grass, peyote and mescaline” hidden inside the door panels. Richards seems to be shaking his head at himself when he writes, “And I could have just put all that stuff on the plane. To this day I cannot understand why I bothered to carry all that crap around and take that chance.” In his denim cap, Keith kept a virtual pharmacy stuffed with hash, Tuinal, and more cocaine. But, of course, Keith and his bandmate escaped another brush with the law thanks to their attorney and an allegedly intoxicated judge.

There are quite a few revelations about facts of which even the most rabid Stones fan may be unaware. Richard Nixon proclaimed them to be “the most dangerous rock-and-roll band in the world” and said that they would not be allowed to tour the United States again while he was president (they did, however). Richards tells of rubbing shoulders with other stars: Marlon Brando put the make on Anita, Richards’ common-law wife, and when she ignored him, Brando tried to pick up Keith, too. When Richards met Allen Ginsberg, his assessment is that the poet is “nothing but an old gasbag pontificating on everything.”

Keith is anything but politically correct. He refers to women as “bitches,” and gays as “poofsters” and “fags.” If he had to rough up a promoter who owed the band money, so be it. Keith and Andrew Loog Oldham, manager of the Rolling Stones, had been on tour with one of promoter Robert Stigwood’s bands (Stigwood managed Cream and the Bee Gees and produced the movie Saturday Night Fever.) He owed the Stones $16,000. Stigwood was walking down a staircase backstage at a club, and Oldham and Richards were walking up when they suddenly blocked the staircase so that Keith could “extract payment” by kicking Stigwood 16 times, “one for each grand he owed us.” Oldham holds a special place in Richards’ heart. He credits him with making him a songwriter when the manager locked Jagger and Richards in a kitchen until they wrote a song (“As Tears Go By”):

“We sat there in the kitchen and I started to pick away at these chords . . . ‘It is the evening of the day.’ I might have written that. ‘I sit and watch the children play,’ I certainly wouldn’t have come up with that,” says Richards. “Andrew created the most amazing thing in my life. I had never thought about songwriting. He made me learn the craft, and at the same time I realized, yes, I’m good at it . . . [Learning to write songs] was almost like a bolt of lightning.”

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Keith and his wife Patti Hansen with daughters Alexandra and Theodora in 1992. (click for larger version)

Oldham had worked with Beatles manager Brian Epstein and was instrumental in shaping the Beatles’ image until they parted company because of what Keith speculated was a “bitch argument.” Keith writes of Oldham’s feud with Epstein: “We were the instrument of his revenge on Epstein. We were the dynamite, Andy Oldham the detonator. The irony is that Oldham, at the start, the great architect of the Stones’ public persona, thought it was a disadvantage for us to be considered long-haired and dirty and rude.”

No band member’s wife or girlfriend was sacred. Mick Jagger slept with Brian Jones’ girlfriend while Jones was living with her; Keith slept with Marianne Faithfull, who was Jagger’s girlfriend at the time; Keith began dating actress Anita Pallenberg while she was still with Brian Jones. Pallenberg eventually had an affair with Jagger while she was Keith’s common-law wife. Keith recalls: “I didn’t find out for ages about Mick and Anita, but I smelled it. Mostly from Mick, who didn’t give any sign of it, which is why I smelled it. . . . I never expected anything from Anita. I mean, hey, I’d stolen her from Brian. So you’ve [Anita] had Mick now; what do you fancy, that or this? It was like Peyton Place back then, lot of wife swapping or girlfriend swapping.”

Richards does not hesitate to share the upside of heroin. “For all of its downsides—I’d never recommend it to anybody—heroin does have its uses. Junk really is a great leveler in many ways,” he admits, acknowledging that heroin allowed him to focus when there was nothing but chaos around him.

Life is long but a fun read, with a new Richards adventure on every page. His candid style and sense of humor do not disappoint, and even those not particularly infatuated with the Stones will be intrigued and amused by this unique life story. His off-the cuff, fragmented delivery may sometimes be confusing, forcing the reader to go back over a paragraph or two, but it’s all part of Keith’s charm. &

The Grand Dame of Insults

Joan Rivers puts her wits and cosmetic surgery on display at the Alys Stephens Center.

 

November 25, 2010

Born Joan Molinsky in Brooklyn, New York, in 1933, Joan Rivers changed her name at the suggestion of a talent scout when she began working comedy clubs in Greenwich Village in the early 1960s. By 1965, she was working as a gag writer on the TV show “Candid Camera,” which employed hidden cameras to film everyday people on the street in setups that were designed to garner shocked reactions (such as trees or cars that talked to the unwitting subject ). Although Rivers is known for abrasive, brash humor that focuses on insults and self-deprecating remarks, her stage persona in no way represents her true character, as reflected in a recent phone conversation. At age 77 she’s not slowing down. In 2009 she starred in—and won—”Celebrity Apprentice” and in 2010 returned to E!’s Red Carpet to critique Oscar night fashion. She currently hosts E!’s “Fashion Police” with Kelly Osbourne. Rivers will appear at the Alys Stephens Center on Sunday, December 12, at 7 p.m., as part of the ASC Holiday Comedy Show. Alys Stephens Center, Jemison Concert Hall, 1200 10th Avenue South. Tickets: $20–$65. Details: www.alysstephens.uab.edu.

Black & White: I was surprised to learn that you worked on “Candid Camera” in the 1960s.
Joan Rivers: Yep. I think that was the original reality show. A lot of us came out of that show —Lily Tomlin worked there, George Carlin.

I also didn’t realize you were in the film The Swimmer with Burt Lancaster. How did you come to be cast in that?
They saw me working a nightclub and liked me. They wrote the part in for me, which was exciting. That was the first movie I ever did. I remember thinking what on old guy Burt Lancaster was, and he was 45 years old! I remember thinking, “God, this old guy—what’s he doing here?”

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An aging Joan Rivers, with nary a wrinkle in sight (click for larger version)

Are you ever offended by comics?
Oh no, no. I think comedy should be a little offensive. To be funny, you’ve got to step out of the box. Somebody’s always going to get offended, but that’s good. Comedy should always be making a point and making people aware of things.

It’s impressive that you were the first permanent guest host to fill in for Johnny Carson on “The Tonight Show.”
I was the first woman guest host, and then the first permanent guest host—man, woman, or child.

What type of show will you be doing in Birmingham?
It’s a standup-style show, very simple. I come out and talk to the audience for an hour, hour and a half. I talk about everything that annoys me; everything that is right and wrong with society, I discuss. It’s funny, I hope . . . they’re all funny!

You were one of the groundbreakers among female comics, weren’t you?
Well, they’ve been around for years but I was one of the first that wanted to look nice on stage. Before me was Phyllis Diller, and she always looked like a clown. But I was single and I wanted to get married, so I was trying to look as nice as I could on stage.

On “Fashion Police,” you’re working with Kelly Osbourne. Have you met her father, Ozzy?
Kelly is adorable. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her father, but I’m not so sure it is (a pleasure). I think it may be a little bit of an act with him, because she talks about her father grounding her and driving her to school. It sounds a lot more normal than you think it would be.

Pee-wee Herman was your first guest when you had your talk show on Fox (“The Late Show Starring Joan Rivers,” which premiered in 1986)?
Yes. He’s back now, he’s back on Broadway. He is so funny. It’s about time they forgave him. I mean, all he was doing was picking up a guy in a theater. So what? Don’t worry about that, there’s a lot worse things that can go on. I loved being on “Pee-wee’s Playhouse,” too.

Did you and Sam Kinison make up after he failed to appear on your show after you had promoted his appearance all week?
Oh yeah. Now there’s a talent that shouldn’t have died. He got over drugs and got married and everything was tip-top and terrific, then he gets killed in an automobile accident. He was so funny and so brilliant.

Were you on “Hollywood Squares” when Paul Lynde was there?
Now you’re mentioning names that nobody’s going to know, except the two of us . . . Paul Lynde was brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. But a mean guy. He was a bad drunk.

You’ve had a few facelifts. What is your opinion of Mickey Rourke’s face job?
All the men wait too long to have facelifts. Women are smart, and they do it when they need it. Men wait until they are really desperate and then they look like they went into a wind tunnel. They figure it’s sissy. But it’s a business where you have to look good; our business is all about that. And as you need it, you do it.

What do you do when you’re not working?
I watch a lot of old movies, I’m a big old movie buff. I love dogs, I’ve got three now. I don’t understand anybody that doesn’t have pets, something to make you have a home.

Any new shows on the horizon that you’ll be in that you can tell us about?
My daughter and I have a reality show coming called Joan and Melissa: Joan Knows Best? (It premieres January 2011 on the WE network). &

 

A Day in Hell

A Day in Hell

A candid portrayal of World War II vets not necessarily driven by patriotism.

December 10, 2009 

Mighty by Sacrifice: The Destruction of an American Bomber Squadron, August 29, 1944
By James L. Noles and James L. Noles Jr.
University of Alabama Press, 277 pages; $34.95

“Fighters coming up. Probably are friendly,” tail gunner Robert Donahue reported to pilot Bill Tune from his rear perch on a B-17 bomber dubbed Tail End Charlie. The assumption that the approaching aircraft were Allied fighter planes assigned to escort U.S. “Flying Fortress” bombers to their targets in Czechoslovakia on August 29, 1944, quickly proved incorrect. Speculation that the bombing raid would be a relatively easy mission—often known as a “milk run”—immediately disappeared. There were no Allied fighter planes to help the bombers defend themselves as the “friendly”

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Bill Tune’s B-24 flight crew posed stateside in Topeka, Kansas, before deploying overseas. Tune is in the front row at left. (click for larger version)

 


fighters opened fire on the 28 airplanes that comprised the 2nd Bombardment Group of the 15th Air Force.

The ensuing mayhem is described by Birmingham attorney, author, and former army helicopter pilot Jim Noles, and his father, retired army Brigadier General (and Vietnam veteran) Jim Noles Sr. in their thoroughly researched Mighty by Sacrifice. The book is a history of the lives and deaths of the crews of the 20th Squadron, one of four units that comprised the 2nd Bombardment Group. The 15th Air Force sent more than 500 aircraft into combat the day the 20th Squadron was decimated, with the majority attacking the Czech city of Moravska Ostrava. The 20th Squadron lost all seven of its B-17s on a raid of oil refineries and railway yards that August day.

The authors were inspired to write a history of the doomed squadron after Noles, Sr., learned that fellow Florence, Alabama, resident Bill Tune—originally from Carbon Hill—had a fascinating war story to tell. Tune, pilot of Tail End Charlie, along with the plane’s navigator, had self-published a booklet about the final mission. The Noles wanted to share more than the crews’ combat experience, though, revealing the background of crewmen in the 20th Squadron and their individual journeys that led them aboard B-17s fighting the Nazis. The result is a surprisingly honest portrayal of World War II vets not necessarily driven by patriotism, as many might assume, especially considering that the authors are veterans themselves.

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A WWII-era B-17 Bomber. (click for larger version)

 

The Noles relate the ever-present desire of American soldiers to get “duty to country” over with as soon as possible. (An aviator’s tour of duty was complete only after flying 50 combat missions, a leap from earlier requirements that required 25, then later 35 missions.) The group medical history, penned in June of 1944, noted that some men required psychotherapy to complete their quota.

Refreshingly for a World War II book, the authors share less than glorious portrayals of how spoiled many airmen were. The medical history offers a jaded, somewhat startling observation: “Combat crews often have to be treated with ‘kid gloves’; they expect much and at times their requests and complaints are unreasonable and selfish in the eyes of the ground personnel. The majority of those who fly combat have but one thing in mind and that is to fly their required number of missions and get back to the U.S. They protest any major or minor discomforts. They are the first to complain. They have been the ‘fair haired’ boys ever since they got their wings.”

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After completing his twenty-fifth mission, Bill Tune enjoyed a mid-tour R&R visit to the AAF rest camp on the Isle of Capri. (click for larger version)

 

The burnishing of war facts and figures is noted by the authors when writing of the “Combined Bomber Offensive,” the joint effort of U.S. and British air forces. Reports of “daylight precision bombing” were rather misleading.

“It was certainly daylight and it was certainly bombing, but it was hardly precise.” The U.S. Strategic Bombing Survey’s postwar review found less than impressive results. “For every hundred bombs dropped against such targets, one hit an oil pipeline, two hit production facilities, two failed to explode, three hit decoy plants, eight landed in open terrain inside the target area, and eighty-four missed the target altogether.”

By 1944, Allied escort fighters were no longer flying close to bomber squadrons because flying with the slow-moving bombers allowed the Germans to decide when and where to attack. The AAF’s new tactic sent fighters ahead of a bombing unit so that the Allies could either pick off or delay Luftwaffe fighter planes as they became airborne or before they could assemble as a group in the sky. The process was called “clearing the air.” The problem with that scheme, however, was that it left bombers vulnerable. The day the 20th Squadron lost all its bombers, the 306th Allied Fighter Wing was miles ahead, looking for Nazi fighters.

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An American bomber encounters anti-aircraft fire during a daylight run. (click for larger version)

 

Riveting accounts of frightened yet determined young men make Mighty by Sacrifice a dramatic read that complements the book’s historical aspect. The authors interviewed Bill Tune (and other survivors of the 20th Squadron), who confessed the fear involved in learning to fly an airplane. Tune, for example, flew his initial solo mission in a P-17 biplane a mere eight hours after his first lesson in that World War I-era fighter.

Of the crewmen in the squadron, 40 were killed the day all the bombers were lost, and 46 survivors were captured and remained POWs for the final year of the war. Four escaped capture, including Tail End Charlie tail gunner Robert Donahue. Donahue was changing from his awkward leather flight boots into his army brogans when he received the order to bail out of the plane, parachuting to Earth in his sock feet. He ran from would-be captors and hid in dense brush, so terrified that he “thought for sure they could hear my heart pounding,” he later said. A Czech couple sympathetic to the Allies picked him up in their horse-drawn wagon and carried him to a nearby town. Donahue was outfitted in a Slovak soldier’s uniform, which allowed him to freely continue his escape with a simple salute whenever he encountered the enemy. He ended up in the home of an elderly couple working with the Czech resistance. The next day, he continued his trip to freedom, only later learning that the elderly couple who had given him refuge for the night had been shot by German soldiers after their sanctuary for anti-Nazi Slovak rebels had been discovered.

Tune, originally a B-24 pilot, had no choice but to learn to fly quickly. His first combat mission was also his first time piloting a B-17 bomber because there was no time for non-combat training flights. The bombing raid that destroyed the 20th Squadron was Tune’s 48th mission. His escape from his damaged plane is among the most dramatic anecdotes in the book. Rendered unconscious either by an enemy shell or lack of oxygen, Tune appeared doomed. Two crewmen shoved his unconscious body from the aircraft. “Caught in the slipstream, Tune’s limp body flew back and smacked into the ball turret, breaking his leg. He bounced off the bomber and tumbled earthward.”

The reader might find it odd that a crew would shove an unconscious comrade out of an airplane. In an interview, Jim Noles, Jr., admitted curiosity about such: “The same thought crossed my mind and I never could get to the bottom of that. I don’t think that you could physically jump with somebody and exit the plane and pull the rip cord for them. Throwing him out and hoping for the best might sound sort of harsh but in that situation, with the plane on fire and people just trying to get out, they knew he would stand no chance of surviving if he remained in the plane.”

The authors know how to tell an exciting story, leaving the reader with the image of an unconscious Bill Tune plunging to his death before eventually picking up the pilot’s freefall two chapters later, when Tune regained consciousness 6,000 feet above Czechoslovakia. Yes, he finally got his parachute open and lived to tell of his adventure. &

 

Session Man

Session Man

How many people do you know who almost joined The Rolling Stones? That experience is just one of many that comprise the unusual musical odyssey of Birmingham guitarist Wayne Perkins.

 

October 29, 2009

In 1973, Island Records released Catch a Fire, the major-label debut of Jamaican band The Wailers, featuring a then-unknown Bob Marley. The album includes the reggae classics “Concrete Jungle” and “Stir It Up.” Few music fans are aware, however, that those songs’ memorable guitar parts (on one of the first albums that helped turn reggae into a worldwide sensation) were played by Birmingham guitar virtuoso Wayne Perkins. Decades later, on a recent afternoon at his Center Point home, Perkins recalls his memory of the session.

The Wailers had recorded the album’s basic tracks in Jamaica a year earlier. Marley took the tapes to London where he supervised overdubs suggested by Island Records president Chris Blackwell to flesh out the Wailers’ barebones sound into something more palatable for American and European audiences. Blackwell brought in Perkins and John “Rabbit” Bundrick, veteran session player and current keyboardist for The Who, to add riffs that went officially uncredited until the album was re-released in a “deluxe edition” in 2001 (the set features both the widely known mix as well as the original Wailers version).

“Chris Blackwell came to Muscle Shoals to record Jim Capaldi’s Oh How We Danced. Paul Kossoff, Free’s guitar player, was there. [Steve] Winwood was there, and all of us became buddies,” says Perkins, who was doing session work at Muscle Shoals Sound at the time. While at the studio, Blackwell heard the band Smith Perkins Smith that Perkins had formed with brothers Tim and Steve Smith, from Homewood. Impressed, Blackwell signed the group and took them to Europe to launch the band’s career. “The first date we ever played was at the Cavern Club in Liverpool,” recalls Perkins. “We were living out our rock ‘n’ roll dream a little bit.” Smith Perkins Smith were soon touring Europe opening for Free, Uriah Heep, Fairport Convention, and Mott the Hoople, among other groups.

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A few of the well-known albums Wayne Perkins has performed on. (click for larger version)

 

 

In the documentary Bob Marley & the Wailers: Catch a Fire (one in a series covering classic albums), Chris Blackwell says that the Wailers’ record was “enhanced [with overdubs and other elements atypical of reggae] to try and reach a rock market. What I was trying to merge [reggae] into was more of a sort of hypnotic-type feel with a kind of wah-wah [guitar] feel and different sorts of guitar going all the way through, and make it much less a reggae rhythm and more of a sort of drifting feel. . . . It’s particularly distinctive because of Wayne Perkins’ playing . . . this is the sound that started the album. ‘Concrete Jungle’ introduced Bob Marley and the Wailers to the world.”

Perkins continues: “We were in the middle of working on a Smith Perkins Smith album in London, and I ran into Blackwell on the spiral staircase at Island Records. He said that he had some reggae music that he wanted me to try to play on. I really wasn’t familiar with hardcore reggae. He wanted me to ‘do that Southern rock guitar thing, or whatever you do.’ So I met Marley, but just briefly. I didn’t know any of these guys. And the first thing I noticed when I walked downstairs was that the basement was in a fog. Lots of [marijuana] smoke. It was too funny. I tried to get down to business.”

With guitar in hand, waiting to begin recording his part, Perkins requested an explanation of how to approach this music with which he was unfamiliar. “Blackwell explained that the bass drum, sock cymbal, and the snare [drum] are on the one and three [beats]. He told me to ignore the bass guitar because it was more of a lead instrument [as opposed to a bass's typical role as a rhythm instrument]. It’s great music, but it’s kinda weird in that everything feels like it’s being played backwards. ‘Concrete Jungle’ was the very first thing that I was handed. That was the most out-of-character bass part I’d ever heard. But because the keyboards and the guitars stay locked together doing what they’re doing all through the song, that was sorta my saving grace. I thought I could follow the song, but I still didn’t know what I was going to do on guitar. So I started doodling on the front of it, and I told the sound engineer to start over about halfway through it. Then I started picking up a little something here and there. I nailed that guitar solo down on the second or third take, I think. It was a gift from God, because I really didn’t know what the hell I was doing. And then Marley came into the recording room. He was cartwheeling, man, he couldn’t get over what had just happened to his song, he was so excited. I couldn’t understand a damn thing he was saying. And he was cramming this huge joint down my throat and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He got me real, real high.”

Meeting the Muscle Shoals Sound
Though Perkins was only 21 when he played on Catch a Fire, he already had several years of professional studio experience under his belt. He was 15 when he recorded with producer Emory Gordy in Atlanta in the mid-1960s. By age 16, Perkins had dropped out of high school to play music for a living. In 1969, the 18-year-old Perkins moved to Muscle Shoals to work at a studio called Quinvy’s for $100 a week. A year later, he took over lead guitar chores at Muscle Shoals Sound (MSS) when session guitarist, songwriter, and soul singer Eddie Hinton quit to pursue a career as a recording artist. “Eddie told me, ‘I’m leaving here. You want this gig? Duane’s gone and he ain’t coming back. He’s busy,’” Perkins recalls. (Duane Allman played lead guitar on sessions in Muscle Shoals in the late 1960s before forming the Allman Brothers Band.)

Perkins says he will never forget his “job interview” at Muscle Shoals Sound. “I went in to talk to Jimmy Johnson [Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section guitarist and MSS sound engineer]. He handed me a stack of records about two feet tall, and it’s albums of all these different players, all the greatest guitar players,” says Perkins. “Johnson said, ‘I tell you what. You want this job? You want to be one of us? I don’t want to be sitting in the control room with [Atlantic Records executives] Ahmet Ertegun or Jerry Wexler and ask you to give me a little something more like a Cornell Dupree lick or a little more ‘Duane Allman kind of blues’ in style, and you not be able to do so. Any kind of guitar lick I ask you for, I don’t want to see any kind of doubt on your face. You just nod your head and go on with it. Don’t embarrass me in front of Ahmet or Wexler because these guys are our bread and butter.’ So I went home and took about two weeks and consumed that stack of records. And I got the gig.”

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Wayne Perkins, left, chatting with Eddie Hinton in Muscle Shoals in the 1970s. Perkins would soon inherit Hinton’s job as lead guitarist for the Muscle Shoals Sound Studios’ house band. (click for larger version)

 

 

 

 

Perkins recalls an after-hours Joe Cocker session at MSS when the studio’s regular musicians and staff had gone home. “I walked into the recording room with my bass, I’m thumping around. It was me and [drummer] Jim Keltner and Cocker. Everybody’s sitting around high as a kite, didn’t know what to do. They’d been that way all week, hadn’t gotten anything done. And Cocker’s sitting back there rolling these long joints with hash and grass, and apparently something else that I wasn’t aware of. They’re sitting back there in the recording room not doing anything, and then I go back there to check on them and they handed me this joint and I took a couple of hits off of it. I started thumping on my bass and both of my hands started going numb. I went over and laid down on the couch, and I woke up the next morning with the bass still strapped on me. And it’s almost time for a Ronnie Milsap session. Somebody said to me, ‘You better get some coffee.’”

Around the World with Leon Russell
Perkins’ work on the Wailers’ Catch a Fire caught the ears of several prominent names in the music industry, including the Rolling Stones and Leon Russell, with whom Perkins had worked at MSS for the album Leon Russell and the Shelter People. “After Blackwell signed us and got us to England, we started on our second album and got halfway through it, then he stopped it,” Perkins says. Smith Perkins Smith soon broke up. The guitarist returned to the States in 1973 and within a few weeks Leon Russell called to offer him the lead guitar spot in his legendary backing band. “There was a first-class airline ticket to Tulsa waiting for me, and the tour was starting within weeks,” Perkins recalls. “Leon picked me up in this Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud in Tulsa with a couple of chicks, and we go out for steaks bigger than our heads. He told me I had less than a week to learn the Leon Live album, a three-record set. So I said, ‘That ain’t a hell of a lot of time, Leon.’ I didn’t sleep for three or four days. I listened to that album over and over. But thanks to Leon, I got to see the world. With Smith Perkins Smith I had lived in England, toured Europe, and all that. But Russell took me to Australia, Japan, New Zealand, Indonesia, Hong Kong; it was just unbelievable. Great times. I’d done more before I hit age 25 than most people will ever dream of. For my money, that was the best band I ever played with.”

After a world tour, Russell disbanded the Shelter People. His next backing group was comprised of fellow Oklahomans The Gap Band. “We went out to this place called the Rose Room in Tulsa and there was The Gap Band. And they were kicking ass, the whole place was going crazy,” Perkins says. “So we picked The Gap Band up, but Leon kept the Shelter People drummer—Chuck Blackwell—and me, because Chuck knew where all the changes were, and Leon was always one to throw changes and stuff at you that nobody in the band had ever heard before. We went from first-class airline tickets with the Shelter People to a bus with The Gap Band. Leon wanted to go out and get funky, put his cowboy hat on.”

“Wayne picks up a guitar and does stuff with his fingers that other people can’t do, and they couldn’t do if they worked on it all their lives.” —Boutwell Studios’ Mark Harrelson

It was Russell who coined the nickname bestowed on the Muscle Shoals Sound house band. “Leon came up with the term ‘The Swampers’ for the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section when he recorded there. [The Swampers were immortalized in Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama."] Shortly after that, Ronnie Van Zant and them were in Muscle Shoals recording Skynyrd’s first album and I had a copy of Leon’s album [where he mentioned the Muscle Shoals Swampers in the liner notes]. I showed it to Ronnie. Leon had a song on there called “Home Sweet Oklahoma,” which is where Ronnie got the idea for ‘Sweet Home Alabama.’”

Joni Mitchell and a Pink Paisley Guitar
Perkins went to Los Angeles around 1973 to visit Jackson Browne and ended up at A&M studios, where Joni Mitchell was recording her masterpiece Court and Spark. “Yeah, that was a real special thing for me. I stopped in at A&M where Joni was cutting,” recalls Perkins, who also had a romantic fling with Mitchell. Mitchell was recording in a studio across the hall from Browne. “Joni came out of her studio and I said hello and we started talking,” he remembers. “She asked if I wanted to hear what she was working on. Joni and I hit it off. Oh boy, did we ever hit it off!”

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Perkins met Joni Mitchell in a Hollywood studio in 1973. He ended up playing guitar on portions of her Court and Spark album. (click for larger version)

 

 

 

 

“So the next day I went to see her at the place she was sharing with David Geffen over in Beverly Hills—this big, huge mansion. Geffen lived in one half and she lived in the other. I ended up going into the studio with her a couple of nights. I was watching Tom [Scott] overdub instrumental parts on ‘Car on a Hill’ when Joni asked me, ‘Do you hear anything on this?’ I did, but all my gear was with Leon. So we got her band’s equipment but the guitar wouldn’t stay in tune on the bottom three strings, so I told her this wasn’t going to work like I wanted it to. I pointed to this huge anvil guitar case in the studio that had ‘James Burton’ [Elvis Presley's guitar player in the 1970s] written on the side of it. It’s 3 a.m. Joni was hesitant to mess with it. But I flipped the case open and there was that pink paisley Telecaster [Burton's signature guitar]. I told her, ‘Here’s what we’re gonna do, we’re gonna do some city sounds like you want.’ So I took Burton’s Telecaster and I overdubbed the slide parts on “Car on a Hill” on James Burton’s guitar. When I put the guitar back in the case, I folded the damn strap different than the way I found it, so he’d know somebody had messed with it [laughs].”

“The whole thing sounded real rough, too. It kinda just sucked. It was like the worst garage band I’d ever heard in my life. Then the engineer began recording and it’s like somebody reached out with a magic wand and went, ‘Bing!’ And all of a sudden, it’s the Stones!” —Wayne Perkins, describing his first recording session with the Rolling Stones

Like a Rolling Stone
Guitarist Eric Clapton, with whom Perkins had been hanging out in Jamaica while Clapton was preparing to record There’s One in Every Crowd, contacted the Rolling Stones to arrange an audition for Perkins after Stones guitarist Mick Taylor quit in 1974. “I stayed in Kingston with Clapton for a month or two,” Perkins says. “One morning at the breakfast table Eric said, ‘Did you hear that Mick Taylor quit the Stones?’ And I said, ‘Naww, have they found anybody to take his place?’ Eric said he didn’t think they had, so I said, ‘Well, hell, put in a phone call for me.’ So Clapton called Jagger and told him, ‘Yeah, this boy Perkins can play some guitar.’ So Eric—and Leon Russell—were my references to get to the Stones.” Months earlier, Perkins had played bass on Stones bassist Bill Wyman’s solo debut, Monkey Grip.

Keith Richards, a reggae fanatic, was familiar with Perkins’ work on Catch a Fire. “Far as I know, I was the last one to audition for the Stones job. They had rented a theater in Rotterdam. I basically got off the plane and walked into the audition room,” recalls Perkins. “Keith was sitting on a couch with Bill Wyman. And there was a spotlight in the middle of the room. I set my guitars down and was just standing there, and they’re all looking up at me. I had never met them before. I was standing there in that spotlight. It was kind of understood that that’s where I was supposed to stand because nobody offered a chair. I was talking to Keith when suddenly Jagger and Charlie Watts came up behind me, and they both stood right next to me, really close. Mick and Charlie were looking straight ahead, they wouldn’t even look at me. I looked to each side and both of them are staring straight ahead like they’re posing for an album cover. Then they walked off without saying a word. They put me in the center of this portrait thing that they were doing, like a lineup. They wanted to see if I looked like a Rolling Stone, and I hadn’t even played a note for ‘em yet.”

It is now known that Perkins was competing with Jeff Beck and Peter Frampton, among others, for the job. The Stones eventually chose Ron Wood.

Perkins’ audition impressed the Stones enough that he was invited to play on the sessions that would become the Black and Blue album. “We started out cold on ‘Hand of Fate’ one night. We were just kind of starting from scratch with something that Keith had a musical idea about,” Perkins says. “He had the basic track down, but he didn’t have a bridge, or what they call ‘a middle-eight.’ I was playing a counter-guitar part to Keith, and I started doing this Motown lick that goes along to what he’s playing. And so we’re cooking along there, and Mick’s walking around the room with a tambourine, and he’d go stand in the corner and shake that damn tambourine. And he’s singing to himself, and he’s off in his own world trying to figure out what’s what. The whole thing sounded real rough, too. It kinda just sucked. [Perkins is not the first musician to comment on the Stones' lack of musical finesse.] It was like the worst garage band I’d ever heard in my life. Then the engineer turned on the red light [to begin recording] and it’s like somebody reached out with a magic wand and went, ‘Bing!’ And all of a sudden, it’s the Stones! Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Perkins lived with Richards and his longtime girlfriend Anita Pallenberg for a month or so in a cottage behind the London home of Ron Wood (who was still a member of The Faces at the time). Richards treated Perkins as the new band member. “We started hangin’ out and having a big ol’ time. We got along great,” says Perkins. “But when Mick came into the picture . . . If I was with Mick, it was all right. If I was with Keith, it was all right. But when the two of them got together, I seemed to automatically fall under a microscope without even trying. Keith and Mick were still going at it over me, because I was under the impression from Keith that I was already in the band. Keith was teaching me their songs and gave me two cassettes of about 60 songs that included what the Stones might play on their 1975 tour. While we were in Germany, they had these two rooms and on the walls were [designs] of different stage setups and they were asking me my opinion of which stage I liked. We cut ‘Memory Motel’ from scratch like we did ‘Hand of Fate.’ Keith was on Fender Rhodes, Mick was on grand piano, and I was in some soundbooth with an acoustic guitar and I overdubbed electric guitar later. And then I overdubbed some slide on ‘Fool to Cry.’ We cut like 10 tracks that were just jamming, and then later on they turned this into some stuff, and a couple of those ended up on Tattoo You.” 1981′s Tattoo You, though presented at the time as an album of new songs, was actually cobbled together from unreleased songs recorded from 1973 to 1975. Perkins plays the jaw-dropping guitar solo on “Worried About You.”

Sweet Home Alabama
In 1975, closer to home, Lynyrd Skynyrd guitarist Ed King had quit the band in the middle of a tour. They continued as a two-guitar act for a year but wanted to return to a three-guitar lineup. “Lynyrd Skynyrd offered me the job, but something didn’t feel right to me,” says Perkins. “I turned them down in December ’76 and the plane crash was in October ’77. I think about that one from time to time. Ronnie [Van Zant] was one of my best friends. I knew all the guys in the band, and I would have made a ton of money. And God knows, fate could have changed and that crash might not have happened.”

One day Perkins went to hear his brother Dale’s band, Alabama Power. “They had a great band and no songs,” he says. “They had the vehicle and I had the gasoline. I had the connections in Hollywood after all these years.” Perkins says that lawyers for the Alabama Power Company were not pleased with the band’s name, so the group changed it to Crimson Tide. “I much preferred the name Alabama Power to Crimson Tide because that’s sacrilege, to me. Crimson Tide is a great name but [the University of Alabama] was already using it.” Crimson Tide released two albums on Capitol Records, the self-titled Crimson Tide in 1978 and Reckless Love in 1979, the latter produced by Donald “Duck” Dunn, bassist for Booker T. and the MGs, with the MGs’ Steve Cropper contributing guitar parts. Crimson Tide became the house band at the Crossroads Club in Roebuck for a couple of years in the late ’70s, where well-known acts such as Yes, Joe Cocker, or Rick Derringer, if they had performed elsewhere in town that day, often showed up to sit in. “That’s one thing about the Crossroads Club. You never knew who would show up,” Perkins says. Crimson Tide split up in 1979. Perkins later released a pair of solo CDs, Mendo Hotel in 1995 and Ramblin’ Heart in 2005, as well as having his songs included on soundtracks for several films and TV shows.

An Impressive Résumé
The wide range of musicians that Perkins has worked with is impressive. In addition to the aforementioned acts, his credits include work with Albert King, the Everly Brothers, Michael Bolton, Millie Jackson, John Prine, Delbert McClinton, Jerry Jeff Walker, Roger McGuinn, Levon Helm, Bobby Womack, and the Oak Ridge Boys, among others.

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Perkins and his close pal Stevie Ray Vaughan (left) outside a Memphis studio in 1989. (click for larger version)

 

 

 

 

Mark Harrelson, co-owner of Birmingham’s Boutwell Studios, first met Perkins in the late 1970s. “Wayne’s been a part of more big time things [musically] than anybody else in Birmingham that I can think of,” Harrelson says. “To be part of that Marley thing, and then to even have a shot at being part the Stones is something that nobody else around here can even come close to. Wayne is first and foremost a player, when you break it right down. He’s a good singer and good songwriter, and he’s had a hand at making some good decisions about production and things like that, too. But the first thing that Wayne does—to me—that is better than anything else that he does is to pick up a guitar and do stuff with his fingers that other people can’t do, and they couldn’t do if they worked on it all their lives. When he went to Muscle Shoals he was a kid, and yet the first time they turned him loose on a session, everybody went, ‘Wow, this kid can really play.’”

“For my money, the best times I’ve had musically interacting with Wayne is when I told him, ‘I need you to play from here to here,’ and he just does something absolutely phenomenal to fill up that space. He’s fabulous at it. Wayne was always fearless at coming up with new ideas and just really nailing stuff.”

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Wayne Perkins today.

Recent Years
In the late 1990s, Perkins began suffering from poor health. Some days, his headaches are almost unbearable, yet he remains determined to forge ahead. Several years ago, he got his I.D. card that officially recognizes his heritage as a native America Indian, and he continues to play bass on occasion with his good friend Lonnie Mack. He’s also working on a new CD. “I’ve been one of the most blessed people you’ll ever run into in your life. And fortunate,” Perkins surmises with an engaging grin.

He’s one of the music industry’s great unheralded guitar players, often receiving no credit on records to which he has made contributions. His confidence has never waned. “I did have to work for it, and when I’m thrown in the damn shark tank [in a studio or on stage] I can swim and I can do battle, or whatever. I can hang,” he admits. “It was a lot of hard work, but the stuff just kept coming. I did everything I wanted to do, including playing with the biggest rock band in the world. If I had joined [The Rolling Stones], by now I’d probably be a dead millionaire.” &

Gear Head

Gear Head

A Birmingham musician’s custom guitar pedals and hand-made drums have become favored by indie-rock royalty.

October 15, 2009

Self-described on his web site as “a mad genius always exploring the sonic boundaries and ripping holes through time and space,” local entrepreneur and guitarist Emanual Ellinas has found a niche selling a series of custom-built guitar effects pedals that he markets nationally under the name Sitori Sonics. (An effects pedal converts an electric guitar’s basic sound into any one of dozens of sonic tones.) Guitar noise gods Sonic Youth currently own pedals made by Ellinas, as do The Flaming Lips, The White Stripes, Annie Clark (formerly of The Polyphonic Spree, now solo as St. Vincent), and Scottish band Mogwai.

“I don’t know if it was out of curiosity or simply being cheap, but I’ve always tried to fix all my own guitar equipment when it was broken,” explains the 37-year-old Ellinas, who was born in Atlanta. “I’ve been building guitar pedals [professionally] for about three years. I got started learning how to put a new battery connection on a pedal when it broke, and that gave me the confidence to change out the input jack when that broke.”

 

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Emanual Ellinas has found a niche selling a series of custom-built guitar effects pedals. (Photographs by Brian Francis.) (click for larger version)

His propensity for tinkering was evident at an early age. “When I was in third or fourth grade, I would do things like take a microwave apart when my parents would leave, and check the parts out. If I could put it all back together before they got home—so I wouldn’t get in trouble—I knew I was getting better at it. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew enough to know how to unscrew things and screw ‘em back in. And most of the time, my parents never knew that anything had happened. I soon learned how microwaves work. Then I ventured into more and more things.”

Get Rhythm
Before delving into guitars and pedals, Ellinas developed a passion for making African-style drums. “I started making drums around ’93 or ’94. I had a small store in Little Five Points in Atlanta. Actually, I shared a shop with a couple who did [body] piercings. It was drums and piercings—all of your primitive needs. I’d literally be selling a drum and you’d hear somebody scream. It was pretty funny.” He soon began selling his drums on the music festival circuit, manning a booth next to those offering T-shirts and the like. He opened a drum shop after moving to Humboldt County in northern California.

“This was pre-internet and it was a small town. Soon, I had pretty much sold drums to everybody that was gonna buy one. So it was time to move on,” Ellinas recalls.

“I always tell people it takes three days and ten years to make a drum. It took a long time, like ten years, to be able to make them that quickly. And honestly, if you don’t count the drying time—the glue, letting the skin dry—if you don’t count any of the waiting around time, I’ve got it down to about three hours, start to finish,” he explains. “But literally, it took a decade to hone the process. And it’s always just been me. I’ve had a helper or two every now and then, but mostly because I’d gotten bored and just wanted somebody to talk to. I did it all from scratch; I would cut all the wood and hammer all the steel rods into rings and weld them, shape the goatskin. Even ate a couple of the goats [laughs]. That was kind of strange, but they were good!”

Ellinas obtained the goatskins from a neighbor. “He had goats for milk and to trim his backyard,” Ellinas recalls. “Then he came over one day and said, ‘Hey, I’m gonna slaughter these goats, do you want the skins?’ And I said sure, so he showed up the next morning with the skins and some meat. I cooked it up the best I knew how. I don’t know if there’s a wrong way to cook goat, but it was tasty. Usually, I’d get skins from Africa or Pakistan because I was probably making 5 to 10 drums a week, at the least. In California, there were a lot of goat farms because it’s kind of a different scene out there. But I would far outstrip the local supply.”

 

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(click for larger version)

 

Ellinas eventually tired of making percussion instruments and shifted his skills to building guitar amps and effects pedals, though his interest in drums has recently been rekindled after a long break. “I’ve just started back making drums. I was doing really well selling them on eBay years ago, and then guys in Africa kinda figured out eBay and started pawning off terrible tourists’ drums that you could get for a third of the price of mine,” he says, laughing. “All the [customers] were like, ‘Oh, these are authentic African drums!’ But they were just junk, quality-wise. I couldn’t compete with that, though I tried to. I started making drums out of pine and stuff instead of mahogany, trying to cut corners. [Cheap wood such as pine doesn't resonate as well as more exotic ones.] But it was still just as much work. I quit doing that for a good while and started importing sitars and stuff from India. I just started doing the drums again. I put a couple out at Highland Music [where he's currently employed] just to see if anybody noticed them. Lots of people have shown interest.”

Pedal Pusher
“I’m a big pedal freak. At one point I was buying two or three a day on eBay,” Ellinas says of his fascination with guitar gadgets. “And I’d play them and within two or three minutes I’d figure out what I hated about them. I’d re-list them on eBay and would usually make money because I’m good at selling stuff,” he boasts without a pause. Indeed, his web site offers a bit of comical arrogance, especially when touting his Reel Repeat effects pedal: “Tired of the same old delay [pedal] you’ve heard on every U2 song since 1985? We are. . . . Use [Reel Repeat] once and you’ll box up that old tape delay [pedal] and toss it in the attic. Better yet, sell it to some moron on eBay for way too much.”

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(click for larger version)

Regarding his motivation to build his own effects pedals, Ellinas explains: “There wasn’t really anything out there that was doing what I wanted it to do that was under $300 or $400. I couldn’t afford that much for a pedal. My car cost $500 [laughs]. So I made a delay pedal and an overdrive pedal, a fuzz pedal, and a phaser pedal. One day I stopped in Highland Music to see what they thought about them and they bought one on the spot, and two other guys in the store bought two more. The store said they would stock them, and that’s how I ended up working at Highland Music.”

“Emanual is making guitar pedals like they made them in the ’60s, all hand-wired, high-quality,” explains Highland Music owner Don Murdoch. “In a nutshell, the big corporations would have to charge $300 to $400 for pedals like these. Emanual’s selling most of his pedals for $168.” Ellinas’ enthusiasm for his creations is one of his strengths, as well. “He’s such a great salesman,” says Murdoch. “He’s got a knack for making people really like him. He could be selling whatever. . . . And he’s a damn good guitar amp maker, too.

Ellinas says the pedal sales really took off when members of Sonic Youth mentioned on their web site that they were using his pedals. “After that, I started selling eight or nine a day—beginning, like, that night.”

On a recent Saturday afternoon at Highland Music, Ellinas’ wife Valerie, who plays with him in their band Nag Hammadi (described on the band’s MySpace page as “Middle Eastern space rock”), holds their three-month-old daughter while good-naturedly scolding her husband for a recent email he sent to Sonic Youth guitarist Lee Ranaldo. “One of Sonic Youth’s two bass players, Mark Ibold, also played in the band Pavement, which was a loud band, and Sonic Youth is a loud band. Ibold was worried that my bass fuzz pedal was too loud and was going to break his amp,” Ellinas says, offering up another dose of his infectious laughter. “Ranaldo had emailed me about the pedal and I answered all the questions about the pedal and at the end, I literally told him to tell Mark to ‘put his big-boy pants on and play the fuzz [pedal] as it was.’ Sonic Youth and I were swapping emails every other day or so, and then I didn’t hear from them for like two weeks. I kinda thought that I had messed up. But I always just assume everybody has the same sense of humor that I do. And then eventually I wondered, ‘Well, maybe they don’t. Maybe it turns out I am a jerk. But it turned out they had gone to Japan and they weren’t mad at me at all.” &

To see examples of Ellinas’ guitar pedals, visit www.sitorisonics.com or drop by Highland Music (254-3288, hlandmusic.com) at 3000 Clairmont Avenue South on Southside.