Mike Whitney - Words and Music

IT WAS A FORTRESS COMING HOME - They Could Hear It Before They Could See it - By Allen Ostrom

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 07:52:54 -0500

via 398th.org

This plane landed safely! Amazing story.

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listening to "Mike Whitney - Bewitched, Bothered.."

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 13:48:51 -0500

listening to "Mike Whitney - Bewitched, Bothered.."

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 12:50:04 -0500

listening to "Mike Whitney - Bewitched, Bothered..":

Kate, Enjoy!

Numb by Mike Whitney « Gloom Cupboard

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 18:00:21 -0500

October 10, 1968

It was snowing in Detroit that morning, and the wind was picking up, rattling the soot-filmed plate glass windows in my small office. Some of the coating remained from the black smoke of the downtown fires during the July Riots of ‘67. The trip through the Western Ohio region had been long: Tuesday through Friday. For the past eighteen months, I had averaged a thousand miles per week on the company’s Chevy Biscayne.

Instead of returning to Home Office, I spent a second day in Findlay. Marathon Oil supported that office. They turned over delinquent accounts at 120 days, and other than sending bills, did no collection effort. The bills were mostly credit-card accounts. We had a manager with over two years on the job, a good crew and regular profits.

My daydream ended. I was back in my office with “Western Ohio Regional Manager” stenciled on the door in faded gold paint. I contemplated the grime on my single window overlooking Hudson Ave. I daydreamed frequently, sometimes unaware that my attention had wandered.

I never accepted how lucky I was to have a white collar job, even one with a ring around it. Me, sporting my fancy high school diploma, smart mouth and small respect for authority with no tolerance for foolishness except my own.

I perused morning mail from my five branch offices, noting the latest income figures as well as hirings and firings. There was an iron-clad rule in Monday morning meetings with the other three regional managers. The president of the company and the company founder both demanded that if you couldn’t report good news, be damn sure you report all the bad. Turn-over was incredibly high; pay incredibly low. The job was unpleasant in the extreme.

I listened to a Dictabelt from Bill Bannister in Columbus. A recent rare good hire from Beneficial Finance, the former loan man recited a grocery-list of problems he was valiantly attempting to overcome. These included a huge backlog of ill-will from creditor/clients that had been ripped off by previous staff at First National Credit. Fraud was rampant. I recognized the defeated tone of voice, and guessed I would be looking for a new manager in Columbus soon. I sighed, and chewed a ragged cuticle, feeling the first beads of sweat begin to run down my sides.

This was day three without a cigarette, and my fingers still smelled good like a cigarette should. I gathered myself for the trip down the hall to the office of Robert R. Shallert, the company’s president. Taking a deep breath, I knocked lightly on the dark mahogany door and stepped inside.

Shallert’s office was a corner space roughly 15’ by 15’ with grimy windows on two sides overlooking downtown and the riverfront area. In the smoggy distance, the bridge to Windsor, Ontario was barely visible. The room was crowded with smoke, Depression-era furniture, and two equally round, diminutive men in their late fifties. One had a cigarette in his mouth: the other sucked on a black cigar. They seemed like Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee from the Twilight Zone.

Behind the desk, Shallert stubbed out his cigarette in an over-flowing ashtray; but not before the drooping ash fell into his ample lap. He coughed, sneezed, and brushed ash from his double-breasted charcoal suit coat. The other round man continued looking out the window. Shallert said, “Mike, good morning. Sit down.”

I settled into a dull red leather chair and caught myself reaching for a cigarette again. The founder, Ted Masserman, kept his back to me. Pungent smoke rose in a cloud around him. After becoming a lawyer on the G.I. bill, he brought S.O.P. into the collection business just in time for the Depression. It was great timing if you wanted to start a collection business: there were plenty of unpaid bills in the twenty years after the Great Crash of ‘29. From Detroit, he opened offices in Michigan and Ohio until he had 24. Most were profitable until credit cards took over in the mid-nineteen sixties.

Ted swiveled his chair around to face me. I imagine he believed he looked grim; not ludicrous, which was my impression. I struggled not to laugh at his Halloween pumpkin scowl.

Shallert exhaled blue smoke and cleared his throat. “We need to know what’s going on in your region, Steve. The losses continue, both in dollars and in trained personnel. What are you doing to stop these losses?”

The silence grew thicker than the blue air in the cramped room. Ted, still showing his owl scowl, suddenly leaned forward in his chair and kicked me in the ankle. My perpetual numbness thinned into something darker. He continued his tirade as though nothing had happened. “Talk to us, boy. You’ve had almost two years and your results are terrible! What is your plan of action?” His face grew purple spots on each cheek, and he sucked violently on the soggy end of his cigar.

I could have told him the facts. That this was the beginning of the end for his tawdry little empire. That credit cards had already taken over. That he was a cosmic joke, and evil incarnate. Instead, I grinned. Standing up from my chair, I straightened my tie, buttoned my glen plaid suit coat over my vest and picked up the ashtray from the desk. I emptied it onto Ted’s shining head, taking care to get maximum concentration on top dead center. It took a long moment – it was large and full to overflowing. Ted was shocked into immobility. I carefully set the ashtray back on Shallert’s desk, patted my hands together, and walked to the door.

Turning in the doorway, I smiled as they gaped at me. “Ashes to ashes, gentlemen.” They were both slack-jawed with disbelief. Ted began fluttering his hands about his head and shoulders. Sputtering came from his mouth. I closed the door, walked back to my office and cleaned out my desk.

Riding down the elevator, through the lobby, and outside on the street, I was still grinning like an idiot. Change was in the air. Or maybe it was the Tigers finally winning the World Series that day, 4 games to 3, against the St. Louis Cardinals that had people on the street smiling back at me.

© mikewhitney 2009

via gloomcupboard.com

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I got a speeding ticket

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 09:38:49 -0500

I THOUGHT I COULD TALK MY WAY OUT OF IT UNTIL THE OFFICER LOOKED AT MY DOG IN THE BACK SEAT

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listening to "The Beatles:The End"

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 15:50:09 -0500

listening to "The Beatles:The End"

Class of '61 Reunion Party

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 13:46:05 -0500

Cleveland Hotel Ballroom

“Someone told me you were married, Madge Kelly! I thought you said you’d wait for me.”

“Yes, Bill, but that was 50 years ago. And you’re still funny. How are you?”

“Very well, thanks. Is that your husband smiling at us over by the punch bowl?”

“Yes, his name is Donald.”

“Handsome man, well done! I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. And you?”

“Great, interesting times to live in…”

She nodded, “The world is so crazy..”

He nodded back, “Do you remember that beer party in ‘59 where the host knocked out my front tooth because I laughed at him when he was mad?”

“Yes,” hiding her smile, “Larry Hammond, graduated the year before, football player, you were hitting on his girl friend, Nancy Foote. Then you laughed after he threw down his beer, jerked the needle off the record, screamed, Everyone shut up! That was probably not a good time to laugh.”

“Did you know he had stitches taken in his hand? He cut it sliding over my tooth? Hit me while I was laughing. Ruined his golf and tennis for weeks. I went over to apologize the next day, and I looked fine, jammed the tooth back up and it stayed. His friends were with him, his hand covered in bandages. His father was a doctor, had to come home from a party, house a mess, son drunk and bleeding on the carpets.

He tried to run me over with his car about a week after that. I was hitchhiking home from basketball practice, and he came up on the sidewalk after me in his Corvette.”

“Really?” She laughing heartily now, “Well, would you believe? Look over there, that couple by the door? That’s Nancy and Larry Hammond, married almost 50 years.”

“Let’s go say hello.”

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JFK at the Army-Navy Game

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 10:42:30 -0500

Photo used with permission of http://theselvedgeyard.wordpress.com/

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Careful with those updates!

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 14:52:31 -0500

From: Mike

Glad you like your new puter. Shelagh’s getting one today, as well! Staying with XP. Great curve climber but still shy with tech stuff. XP she very good to me, except the time I tried to uninstall SP 2 then reinstall it. BSOD attached.

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Polar bear: I come in peace....

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 12:31:57 -0500

I come in peace…..A bit of photojournalism of real life events.

Polar Bear: I come in Peace

Norbert Rosing ’ s striking images of a wild polar bear coming upon
tethered sled dogs in the wilds of Canada ’ s Hudson Bay .

The photographer was sure that he was going to see the end of his dogs when the
polar bear wandered in.

It ’ s hard to believe that this polar bear only needed to hug someone!

The Polar Bear returned every night that week to play with the dogs.

May you
always have love to share,
Health to spare ,

And friends that care

See and download the full gallery on posterous

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Longtown Sound 594 Peanut Butter Monday

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 20:10:31 -0500

http://wlso.fm/wordpress)” style=”FONT-WEIGHT: normal; FONT-SIZE: 22px; COLOR: rgb(136,136,136); FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; TEXT-DECORATION: none;” target=”_blank”>Longtown Sound

Longtown Sound 594 Peanut Butter Monday Featuring- Josh Woodward, Heather Edwards, Megaphone, Ryan Egan, The Blue Seeds

It’s a 20 Minute Peanut Butter Monday. Short is sweet, short is quick and short is good. In short, it’s perfect for a Monday! Enjoy the tuneage and please, pass it on!
-unc.

Today’s Featured Artists-
Josh Woodward - The Voices
Heather Edwards - Song About Nothing
Megaphone - Making Sense
Ryan Egan - Follow the Sound
The Blue Seeds - Lost Highway

Subscribe

This posting includes an audio/video/photo media file:

Download Now

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Townes Van Vandt

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 10:28:53 -0500

TOWNES | YOU’VE GOTTA MOVE– OR JUST YOU’RE WAITIN’ AROUND TO DIE

Posted: 16 Nov 2009 05:07 AM PST

“You know when Robert Johnson said ‘you gotta move’ — I figured that out. It’s like, you’re happily floating through nothing– you know, nothingness. Â All of a sudden, a big giant fish, they way I picture it… grabs you and… puts you in a form, and slams you on the face of this veil of tears, and says– You’ve gotta move! “

–Townes Van Zandt

From Waitin’ Around to Die–

For the first 14-15 years of his life Townes Van Zandt was a happy, healthy, athletic young man from a prestigious background. As Guy Clark put it–

â€™He was being bred to be Governor of Texas– seriously, it was that kind of family.â€™

In his mid to late teens he started to develop a bi-polar disorder and was diagnosed â€˜manic depressive with schizophrenic tendencies’. By the age of 19 he was thought to be a danger to himself, a suicide/OD waiting to happen, and his adoring parents took the hard decision to have their eldest son hospitalised and treated. They used the best doctors, the most advanced therapy in the leading facility in the country .

The combination of electricity and chemicals helped temporarily to alleviate Townes symptoms, possibly saved his life,but they also wiped out most of his childhood memory, and his subsequent attempts to settle down were constantly derailed by his depression and the addictions that accompanied it.

Five years, one album, a marriage and a little boy later, the blues having taken hold for good, Townes hit the road. He spent the next 30 years self medicating with drugs, firewater and a dark sense of humour, to somehow survive long enough to create a collection of the greatest contemporary folk songs America has produced.

‘How close can you cut it to your own bone? Did you break your own heart? Â Did you scare the shit out of yourself? That’s what matters. Â Townes went for the passion not a bunch of clever bullshit. Â He sounded like himself.’

–Guy Clark

‘Everything is not enough

Nothing is to much to bear

Where you been is good and gone

All you keep is the getting there.’

‘Time shes a fast old train

Shes here then shes gone

And she won’t come again

Won’t you take my hand’

‘When will she see

That to gain

Is only to lose

All that she offers me

Are her chains,

I got to refuse’

‘Lay down your head poor boy

Feel how the ground does move

Hear how them drivers sing

What now my darling one

Go find a little fun

You are not needed now’

‘My days they are the highway kind

They only come to leave

But the leavin’ I don’t mind

It’s the comin’ that I crave.

Pour the sun upon the ground

Stand to throw a shadow

Watch it grow into a night

And fill the spinnin sky’

‘Ride the blue wind high and free

She’ll lead you down through misery

Leave you low come time to go

Alone and low as low can be’

‘Tomorrow the mountains will be sleeping

Silently the blanket green and blue

And I shall hear the silence they are keeping

I’ll bring all their promises to you’

‘Chained upon the face of time

Feelin’ full of foolish rhymne

There ain’t no dark till something shines

Iâ€™m bound to leave this dark behind’

‘Goodbye to all my friends

It’s time to go again

Think of all the poetry

And the pickin’ down the line’

– Townes Van Zandt

MARILYN MONROE & MONTY CLIFT | HOLLYWOODS DENIM-CLAD MISFITS

Posted: 15 Nov 2009 01:38 PM PST

1960, Reno, Nevada — The cast, writer, and director of The Misfits. Montgomery Clift as Perce Howland, Eli Wallach as Guido, screenwriter Arthur Miller, director John Huston, Clark Gable as Gay Langland, and Marilyn Monroe as Roslyn Taber (and who had recently divorced Miller) — Image by Â© Underwood & Underwood

There are certain films of the 1950s-60s that capture what I love best– Hollywood icons clad in cool denim. Â The Wild One… Rebel Without a Cause… and the list goes on. Â Wild, rebellious, good-looking misfits wreaking havoc on the mainstream squares– and doing it wearing denim all the while. Â Yes.

Marilyn Monroe (in her Lee Storm Rider jacket) & Monty Clift (who wore Lee Riders jeans) in John Huston’s 1961 film The Misfits.

Marilyn Monroe wore her fair share of denim back in the day– both onscreen and off. Â In The Misfits, alongside costar Montgomery Clift, you see great Lee icons ofÂ denim history well worn by Hollywood’s finest. It’s an added bonus for a film that’s a true classic,Â and full of real-life Â irony, sadness and loss of epic proportion– which just serves to add to my sentimental yearnings for this bygone Hollywood era.

The idea for the film was born back when Arthur Miller was in Reno divorcing his first wife, and stayed at the Pyramid Lake Guest Ranch– a popular “divorce ranch” back in Reno’s booming 1960s divorce trade (Miller then married Marilyn Monroe just three weeks later). Â His brush with local “misfit” cowboys & wild horses during that time inspired a short story that appeared in the October 1957 issue of Esquire magazine, and later spawned the screenplay account of the end of the cowboy era in the great American West.

Luckily, the making of The Misfits was documented by nine photographers from the renowned agency Magnum Photos, including such acclaimed artists as Henri Cartier-Bresson, Inge Morath and Eve Arnold.

Classic shot of Marilyn Monroe (in her Lee Storm Rider denim jacket) seemingly oblivious to the world on the set of The Misfits — image by photojournalist Eve Arnold.

The filming of John Huston’s 1961 epic on the Wild West’s fading glory,Â The Misfits, was fraught with tension and troubles right from the beginning, and soon became the most expensive black-and-white ever film made in it’s day. Â The story-line about cowboys rounding-up wild horses to sell off to the dog food companies also raised quite a stir at the time– it was recently referenced on Mad Men as Don Draper and crew are hired to stop the bleeding caused by the negative press the film brings upon the pet food industry. When you watch the film through the filter of 1961 society, you realize it was a little bizarre to say the least.

John Huston, Marilyn Monroe, and Arthur Miller on the set of The Misfits — Image by Â© Bettmann

You had the rebellious, hard-living director John “The Monster” Huston as ringleader– and by all accounts Huston’s most pressing concern while filming was drinking heavily and getting to the local Nevada casinos as quickly as possible every night. Â Legend has it he ran up a sizable gambling debt that the studio stepped in and picked up. Â The tales of Huston’s ability to blow through $50,000 in about an hour’s time back then are still talked about today.

Can you feel the tension? Ugh.

Writer Arthur Miller was on set with wife Marilyn Monroe throughout the filming of The Misfits– a vehicle he wrote to show off her acting range. Â Their marriage was in shambles– she was having an affair with Yves Montand, had filed for divorce and kicked him out of their digs while shooting the film. It made things a little uneasy as you can imagine– Miller could do nothing to stop it, felt totally emasculated, and was often off sulking in the shadows.

Marilyn’s star was fading, and she was also deep in the grips of excessive drinking and popping prescription pills. Â Things were so bad, filming had to be stopped early on so she could detox, get back on track, and hopefully finish-up the making ofÂ The Misfits. When things did resume she crippled production with her chronic tardiness, if she bothered to show up that day at all. Â This would turn out to be Marilyn’s last completed onscreen work before her tragic and mysterious death in 1962.

September 27th, 1960, Reno — Arthur Miller talks with Clark Gable on the set of The Misfits, a film of a screenplay written by Miller for his soon-to-be ex-wife Marilyn Monroe, also in the film. — Image by Â© Bettmann. That is some combo miller is sportin’— straw cowboy hat, black socks, and white Jack Purcells.

November 1960, Reno, Nevada — Marilyn Monroe and Clark Gable bid goodbye (left) to each other as they completed filming of United Artists’ Â The Â Misfits, written by Marilyn’s husband, Arthur Miller. The mark on Gable’s cheek is makeup used to simulate blood for a movie scene. A few days later Gable suffered a coronary attack. It was announced Nov. 11, that Marilyn and her husband have separated and the actress would file for a divorce. — Image by Â© Bettmann

Another Hollywood legend, Clark Gable, also saw his limelight dimming as his years of being the sexy, pompous, lothario leading man were well in the past. Â But Gable wasn’t going down without a fight– he scrambled to slim down from 235 lbs for the role by taking insane amounts of Dexedrine (read: speed), which surely wasn’t good for his already weakened heart. Â According to some, Gable also insisted on doing his own stunts for The Misfits– which included him being brutally dragged across a dry lakebed at a pretty fair clip. Â The cocktail of diet pills, stress and physical toil are thought to have put more stress on Gable than he was able to handle. Â Sadly, this would also turn out to be Gable’s last work– he passed away just 12 days after final filming of The Misfits was completed.

Montgomery (Monty) Clift in a Wrangler 11MJ denim jacket.

Montgomery Clift was a sexy & sensitive Hollywood heart-throb during the 1950s in classic films like– A Place in the Sun, From Here to Eternity, & The Young Lions. Clift and fellow contemporary, Marlon Brando were both fast-rising movie stars back then and highly competitive with one another. Â When James Dean blew onto the scene stealing their heat, he would proudly refer to his own acting style as a complex melding of both Brando and Clift– combining Brando’s macho “F-You” attitude with Clift’s softer “help me” appeal. Â Jimmy openly idolized both Brando and Clift, and took every opportunity to be in their presence, and in the case of Clift he would sometimes call Monty just to hear his voice. Â Though he’s not talked about much these days, Montgomery Clift was a definitely the golden boy back in his prime, which made his fall from grace all the more painful.

Original caption from 1956— Actor Seriously Injured in Crash. West Los Angeles, California: A policeman examines the wreckage of actor Montgomery Clift’s car after it crashed into a power pole following a dinner party at the home of Michael Wilding and Elizabeth Taylor. Clift suffered serious head injuries and was taken to Cedars of Lebanon hospital. —- Image by Â© Bettmann

In 1956, Montgomery Clift was leaving a party at the Beverly Hills home of close friend Elizabeth TaylorÂ when he violently smashed his car head-on into a utility pole. Â Taylor was quickly alerted of the accident by a friend who had witnessed it happen– she immediately raced to Clift’s side, where Taylor bravely pulled his tongue out of his throat to keep him from choking to death, and stoicly stayed by his side to comfort him. Â Clift was a real mess– suffering a broken jaw and nose, a fractured sinus, and multiple facial lacerations which would require plastic surgery. Â He would never look the same again– but that was not the worst of it.

After a long recovery, he returned to the set to finish filming Raintree Country with co-star Elizabeth Taylor. The studio execs worried that the film would prove to be a flop, but Clift instinctively knew that diehard fans and curious movie-goers would flock to the film if only to see the difference in his looks before and after the horrible, and well-publicized, crash. The pain of the accident led Clift to find comfort in alcohol and prescription pills– which only further added to the erosion of his physical health and famous looks. Â By the time he signed on in 1960 for The Misfits, Marilyn Monroe, who had her own troubles at the time, famously described Monty Clift as “The only person I know who is in worse shape than I am.” Â Clift continued to act after The Misfits, but it was painfully obvious that he would never again be anything close to his former self. Â His health continued to spiral, as did his drug and alcohol abuse.

OnÂ July 22,Â 1966, Clift spent most of the day holed-up in bed at his New York City townhouse. Â His live-in personal secretary, Lorenzo James, went up to say goodnight. Ironically, Â The Misfits was on TV that evening, and Lorenzo asked Clift if he would like to watch it. “Absolutely NOT!” was the reply. This turned out to be the last known time that Montgomery Clift spoke to anyone. The next morning he found Clift dead from an apparent heart attack.

Google Inc., 20 West Kinzie, Chicago IL USA 60610

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FLASHSHOT November 15, 2009 - Mongo's Epilogue

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 11:19:48 -0500

FLASHSHOT
Daily Genre Flash Fiction
http://www.gwthomas.org/flashshotindex.htm
=========================================
ISSUE TWO THOUSAND-SEVEN HUNDRED-FORTY November 15, 2009
—————————————————————————————————————-
MONGO’S EPILOGUE
By Mike Whitney So, Mongo sails away into a secure cache with viral shields up. Bev is
stowed securely beside him and binary fission son Melvin is well sedated for
the aimless eternal wandering among the stars as a series of ones and zeroes
from whence they came.

Huzzah, Mongo, you had a good run, old son. And in the future, whenever that
was, remember not to talk back to your personal deity. Ominos Dominos, and
hold the anchovies. This is the End and Only the Beginning. — Chicago
Doors.
—————————————————————————————————————-
Mike Whitney was born in Chicago on the day Albert Einstein died. He lives
on a hillside in North Carolina with only implanted memories of how he got
there. Visit: stayonthehill.blogspot.com —————————————————————————————————————-
© 2009 Mike Whitney

KINGS OF THE NIGHT a free webzine of Sword & Sorcery fiction, featuring
Peter Welmerink, David A. Hardy, Robert E. Keller, James Lecky and more.
http://www.gwthomas.org/kingsofthenight.htm

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listening to "Leon Russell -- Back to the Island"

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 08:21:57 -0500

listening to "Leon Russell -- Back to the Island":

St Croix is calling us…

WISH I WERE BORN IN BEVERLY HILLS

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 10:40:46 -0500

http://theselvedgeyard.wordpress.com)” style=”FONT-WEIGHT: normal; FONT-SIZE: 22px; COLOR: #888; FONT-FAMILY: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; TEXT-DECORATION: none;”>The Selvedge Yard

WISH I WERE BORN IN BEVERLY HILLS

Posted: 13 Nov 2009 05:02 AM PST

Alice Cooper drinks a beer as his two companions enjoy a glass of champagne in front of a white Rolls-Royce in Hollywood, California. — Image by Â© Neal Preston

When I was around 10 yrs old the family needed a new start, so we packed up and left upstate NY– headed out west. Â We jammed everything we had, including the ol’ man’s ‘79 Harley Low Rider, into the back of a rusted-out old maxi-van and hit the road. Â That cross-country trip is one I’ll never forget… After a quick stop in Anaheim, we set sight for Phoenix, AZ. Â We didn’t have a whole lot of prospects, no job waiting or family to speak of. Â But if you’re determined and willing to roll up yer’ sleeves and work your way up, you can get ahead in America– even now, no matter what people say. Â Mom wasn’t above waiting tables to feed us kids, and badass biker man worked at a machine shop that ground-out those threaded connectors you see on the end of coaxial cable. Â It was a nasty place– the oil flowing through the massive screw machines hung in the air like fog, and he’d come home at the end of the night shift soaked to the bone. Â I admire their work ethic and sacrifice, and consider myself lucky to have been through all I have, because I know I’m a survivor who can face most situations head-on.

Try to put the screws on me, and I’ll screw right from under ya’.

I remember when we started to do pretty well as a family, and moved from the west side of Phoenix to the more affluent east side. Â Well, I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t say that it felt like The Jeffersons– movin’ on up, brother. Â I spent my formative years living, working, and carousing town– Biltmore, Arcadia, Paradise Valley and Scottsdale. Â The Valley as they call it, while well populated and spread-out, still had a small town feel back then. Â Now it’s mostly an endless, soul-less strip mall with a revolving door of comers and goers. Â People around town knew each other back in the day, and put down roots. Â And we had our share of local celebrities that you’d see out and about. Â Guys like Rob Halford of Judas Priest, Glen Campbell, and you guessed it, Alice Cooper. Â Where did I meet Alice Cooper? Â Where else– at church. Â Oh, and the car wash. Â Alice is one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. Â And a helluva golfer to boot.

Don’t go judgin’ a book by it’s cover.

August 1978 — Alice Cooper lays on the hood of a white Rolls Royce that is parked in the driveway of his then California home. — Images by Â© Neal Preston

THE PSYCHEDELIC SG “FOOL GUITAR” | ERIC CLAPTON’S EPIC GIBSON GROWLER

Posted: 12 Nov 2009 08:25 PM PST

Eric Clapton of Cream and Producer Felix Pappalardi during a recording session for the album Disraeli Gears at Atlantic Studios —- Image by Â© Michael Ochs Archives

I’ll never forget the first time I saw a picture of Todd Rundgren holding what I immediately deemed to be the coolest guitar in the world. Â I’m a bit of a guitar nut– I’ve got a nice little stable of beauties currently, and I tell myself that I’d play more if it weren’t for TSY and a few other distractions– Â another thing on the list of things I’d love to do more frequently. Â Anyway, the image of that majestic hand-painted Gibson SG was forever seared on my mind’s eye. Â Later, I learned more about the coveted guitar– it’s creation by the hands of a 1960s Dutch design duo called the Fool, the mysterious changing of hands among notable guitarists over the years, and the recent sale to a collector who paid in the neighborhood of $500,000 for the legendary axe. Â It’s amazing what a little paint can do…

Eric Clapton of Cream, one of the hottest trios (along with the Jimi Hedrix Experience) on the 1960s.

From The Saga of Eric Clapton’s Famous Fool SG–

Todd Rundgren was completely blown away the first time he ever saw the guitar. That was back on March 25, 1967, hanging from Eric Claptonâ€™s shoulders. Cream was on-stage at the RKO Theater making its American debut as part of disc jockey Murray the Kâ€™s Music in the Fifth Dimension extravaganza. Rundgren was in the audience and the Gibson mesmerized him. Eric, in fact, had just started using the SG. Part of the mythology insisted that the paint was still tacky during this spectacular musical concert revue that also included the Who, Mitch Ryder, Wilson Pickett, the Blues Project and Smokey Robinson and the Miracles.

That was a little difficult to believe but the fact remained that Clapton had purchased the guitar only a few months earlier at the beginning of 1967. This would become his main axe for the next two years. Eric would use the cherry finish double cutaway for both live and studio work; it would be featured prominently on Disraeli Gears and would also appear on Wheels of Fire, Goodbye, and on the subsequent live albums, Live Cream and Live Cream Volume II.

August 29th 1967, San Francisco — Psychedelic rock band Cream performs at the Fillmore Auditorium. — Image by Â© Ted Streshinsky

The legend of the Psychedelic SG â€• as it was sometimes referred to â€• was oft-told and varied from telling to telling. Claptonâ€™s Les Paul Standard had been stolen and replaced with this Gibson. Initially, everyone referred to it as a Les Paul SG. But they were wrong. Les Paul did not like the new SG design and asked that his name be taken off the model. By 1963, the guitars were known simply as SG Standards.

There were no Les Paul SGs in 1964.

Not only was it identified incorrectly model-wise, but everyone also goofed up the year. Originally, everybody thought it was a 1961; a close examination of the body revealed a sixth screw hiding just under the lower left corner of the bridge pickup. Prior to 1964, only four screws were used. That was the giveaway.

Claptonâ€™s guitar, then, was a 1964 regular issue SG Standard.

April 1967, New York — Eric Clapton of Cream recording “Strange Brew” at Atlantic Studios — Image by Â© Michael Ochs Archives

When he first began playing the Gibson, the guitar was still fitted with the original Deluxe Vibrolo tremolo arm; Clapton simply fixed the mechanism in place. The vibrato bar was eventually removed and replaced with two other tailpieces: another Gibson tremolo with a flexible piece of metal instead of springs; and a non-tremolo trapeze-style unit.

The tuning heads were switched out from the standard-issue ivoroid Klusons to Grovers.

And then there was that trippy acid-influenced paint job by the Fool. A Dutch design collective and band (they released one eponymous album produced by Graham Nash), the original members were artists Simon Posthuma and Marijke Koger. The hippie pair had designed clothes and album covers for the Hollies, Procol Harum, the Move, and the Incredible String Band. But it was after seeing what theyâ€™d created for the Beatles pals that Eric fell under the influence.

Simon and Marijke had psychedelicized one of George Harrisonâ€™s Stratocasters and transformed both John Lennonâ€™s piano and one of his Gibson acoustics. Theyâ€™d also illustrated an astonishing three-storey mural on one of the exterior walls of the Beatles’ Apple Boutique in London.

Eric saw that and knew immediately he wanted his recently-acquired Gibson SG turned Fool-ishly psychedelic. The original cherry finish was given a coat of white primer and then the oil-based paints were applied on top. Brushed-on enamels. Every inch of the instrument was painted including the back of the neck and even the fretboard.

Maybe not such a great idea at the time.

The psychedelic graphic was as weird as it was beautiful. Â A winged wood sprite with curls of fire sat astride a cotton candy cloud. His left hand grasped a triangle while his right hand held a spoon-shaped beater about to strike it. The arch of his right foot balanced gently atop a tone control, while the toes on his left pointed delicately downwards towards a pickupâ€™s toggle switch. Yellow six-sided stars sprinkled against a sky of azure and aqua orbited him. Swirls, flames and gradient shades of blues, greens, and yellows danced across the instrumentâ€™s body. An orange orb dipped behind a burnt sienna mountain range that floated across the pickguard.

During live performances, paint chips literally flaked and flecked off the neck while Clapton played. Eventually, all the excess paint was permanently removed. Soon, Clapton began using Gibson ES-335s and Firebirds. One day, he simply left the guitar with George Harrison, who was a friend, and never returned for it.

Eric Clapton in 60’s psychedelia with the fool guitar — Todd Rundgren perhaps playing tribute.

Around June 1968, the Beatle, in turn, loaned it to Jackie Lomax. The singer was signed at the time to Apple Records and George knew he needed a guitar so he gave Jackie the legendary SG.

In 1971, while in Woodstock, New York, Lomax and Rundgren met at a session and became friends.Â Rundgren was astonished when he learned that Lomax owned that very same guitar heâ€™d seen hanging from Eric Claptonâ€™s neck. He told Jackie about seeing the guitar back in â€™67 and what an impression it had made on him.

A year later, in 1972, to Rundgrenâ€™s shock, Lomax offered to sell him the guitar for $500. Lomaxâ€™s only caveat was that he had the option to buy the guitar back. A year passed and not a word was heard.

Rundgren restored and sealed the body to prevent any further deterioration, replaced the rotting headstock, and retouched the paint. A fixed stop tailpiece was installed along with a Tune-o-matic bridge, Strap Locks, and new knobs. The guitarâ€™s guts were left intact and none of the electronics, wiring, or pickups were touched. He named Sunny as a nod towards the instrumentâ€™s appearance on theÂ Disraeli Gears track, â€œSunshine of Your Love.â€� The Fool SG became his main instrument until it was retired in the late â€™70s.

In 2000, Rundgren sold the Psychedelic Fool Gibson SG at a Sothebyâ€™s silent auction, where it brought $150,000. This anonymous buyer re-sold the instrument several years later for an estimated $500,000.

The Fool design collective also notably designed a little somethin’ for The Beatles–

The Apple boutique with the famous “Fool” Mural that decoated the building back in 1967.

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If you're in a hole, stop digging

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 10:52:22 -0500

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FLASHSHOT November 11, 2009

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 12:42:51 -0500

FLASHSHOT
Daily Genre Flash Fiction
http://www.gwthomas.org/flashshotindex.htm
==================================================
ISSUE TWO THOUSAND-SEVEN HUNDRED-THIRTY-SIX November 11, 2009
—————————————————————————————————————-
FLANDERS
By G. W. Thomas Jean Brugells looked up from his copy of SAVEURS. There was a line of
phantom figures trudging through the mall. He heard the girl in the black
boots-who he had spent a good ten minutes watching-cry out, “Mon Dieu!” But
he didn’t have eyes for her now. Sad, gray faces under wide helmets passed
by, clutching Enfield rifles with bayonets. They faded into the wall near
the shop selling ipods and cell phones. They were gone with a backward
glance and all that remained was a word in red, fading letters: REMEMBER.
—————————————————————————————————————-
G. W. Thomas lives in British Columbia.
————————————————————————————————————-

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listening to "ROBERT EARL KEEN MERRY CHRISTMAS"

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 12:34:57 -0500

listening to "ROBERT EARL KEEN MERRY CHRISTMAS"

FLASHSHOT November 11, 2009

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 11:29:05 -0500

Gary, iLike this one a lot! cc posterous

——- Original Message —-

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Untitled

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 14:34:08 -0500

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