some things are classic, some things are just old

The opinions expressed here are solely those of the author. Your results may vary.

I love old movies. Of course, I have my favorites — those that I have watched over and over again. I think its funny when watching an old movie — one that I have seen dozens of times — and I catch myself staring as though its the first time I have ever seen it. That is a true sign of how much I like a particular movie. 

Cable network TCM shows old movies and they have some in their vast library that they broadcast way more than others. Among them, there are some that — surprisingly — I have never seen. Each August, TCM highlights a different actor and shows a collection of their movies for an entire day. The selections are a mixed bag of popular and well-known titles from the performer's resume, along with some lesser films in which the actor was featured in a tiny role. This past Friday spotlighted the versatile Jack Lemmon. Along with fan (and TCM) favorites like The Fortune Cookie, The Apartment, Days of Wine and Roses and the all-time TCM staple Some Like It Hot (a movie that I will sheepishly admit I do not like), the 8 o'clock time slot was filled with the 1970 Neil Simon comedy The Out-of-Towners — which I have never seen. So, with nothing else to my liking on any of the other seven zillion channels offered by my cable provider, I watched.

Host Ben Mankiewicz introduced the film with a proper build-up, citing Neil Simon's comedic prowess, Jack Lemmon's adeptness at playing the "frustrated everyman" and a host of supporting actors in small roles long before they became notable figures in their own right. I was sold. A quick scan of the movie's IMDB page told me to be on the lookout for the likes of Billy Dee Williams, Anne Meara, Richard Libertini, Ron Carey, Robert Walden, Graham Jarvis, Anne Prentiss, Dolph Sweet, Phil Bruns, Johnny Brown and Paul Dooley. (These folks went on to lucrative careers as in-demand character actors and their names are very meaningful to those of us that fancy themselves aficionados in Hollywood trivia.) Jack Lemmon's co-star for this 101 minute ride was Oscar-winner Sandy Dennis, an actress who I never quite got. Nevertheless, under the capable direction of Arthur Hiller, a one-time television director who went on to helm The In-Laws, Plaza Suite and several collaborations with Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor, I figured I'd be in for some great laughs.

I wasn't.

Considering The Out-of-Towners was lauded as a comedy, I didn't laugh once. I have seen plenty of "the nightmare that doesn't end" movies... and there have been a lot. Films like Martin Scorsese's After Hours, Adventures in Babysitting, Being John Malkovich (I'm sure there are others), where the main character is trapped in a seemingly never-ending circumstances where things just keep getting increasingly worse. Nothing goes right. Everything  goes wrong and there is no relief in sight. Except in those movies, the situations were just ridiculously implausible and outrageous. In After Hours, Griffin Dunne's beleaguered "Paul Hackett" encountered a succession of surreal characters who live exclusively in a nocturnal New York City. They were cartoonish and weird for the sake of being weird. In Adventures in Babysitting, Elisabeth Shue and her brood suffer a flat tire that - though a series of preposterous events — escalates into a run-in with organized crime and eventually Thor, the god of thunder.

In The Out-of-Towners, Lemmon and Dennis just fall hapless victims to a long-running series of bad luck... sometimes as a result of Lemmon's own arrogance. Nothing really outrageous or comically bizarre. Just plain bad luck. The story starts with Ohio suburbanites The Kellermans (Lemmon and Dennis) leaving their little provincial cocoon to fly to big bad New York City so Mr. Kellerman can apply for a prestigious corporate position. The interview is to take place at 9 AM sharp the next morning, so the Kellermans wisely plan to arrive the night before, have a lovely, leisurely dinner at an expensive restaurant, retire to a pre-arranged suite at the illustrious Waldorf Astoria, awaken to breakfast in bed, after which Mr. Kellerman — properly refreshed — will make his interview on the dot of 9 and "wow" his prospective new employers. This is hardly the script for a comedy, but, in the hands of comedy master Neil Simon, it had the potential of being uproarious. 

It was not.

The Kellermans (especially Jack Lemmon's over-zealous "George") can't seem to get out of their own way. He has an angry chip on his shoulder and spends the entire movie scribbling the names of everyone who has wronged him on an ever-growing list that he threatens to present to his attorney for promised lawsuits. However, the hardships that the Kellermans experience are totally plausible. There's bad weather that forced their flight to be diverted. There's confusion as to which train to board (Kellerman's fault). The dining car on the train runs out of food. It begins to rain as they walk to the hotel. New York is in the middle of a cab strike, a sanitation strike and a subway strike. The hotel doesn't hold their reservation. They get robbed. (again, Kellerman's fault). The bad luck just goes on and on and on. It's not funny. It's frustrating, irritating and infuriating, but not funny. Jack Lemmon is annoying. He is irrational, relentless and — at the same time — wishy-washy. He is curt with those trying to help him and especially snippy with his loyal wife. After a while, I just wanted someone to push him into the East River. The more understandably irate he became, the more unfunny the movie became.

As the story grew to a sentimental close, it took an abrupt turn and fell back into frustration for an unsatisfying and perfectly lazy ending.

In its initial release, The Out-of-Towners was outperformed at the box office by Beneath the Planet of the Apes. It received fair reviews and was remade almost twenty years later with Steve Martin and Goldie Hawn in a story slightly adjusted for the times.

The highlight of the movie was the parade of supporting actors, all showing the germination of bigger and better roles to come. However, those are 101 minutes I could have spent elsewhere.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

he rode a blazing saddle

The internet is filled with opinions. There is a recent trend among posts on such micro-blogger sites as X and Threads as far as opinions are concerned. That is the concept of "unpopular opinion." Users preface their unpopular opinion posts with "Unpopular opinion, but..." and proceed to offer an opinion on a particular topic. "Unpopular," however, is a relative term, depending on the circles in which you travel. Statements like "Unpopular opinion but, mustard doesn't belong on any type of sandwich." are just looking for an argument. The ones that say things like "Unpopular opinion but, Charles Manson was an awful person" are just plain stupid. Opinions on things like television shows, movies, books or food are just opinions. They can only be labeled "popular" or "unpopular" depending on who is reading the statement. I have noticed that a lot of "unpopular" opinions reflect the way I feel. So, I will venture into the realm of "unpopular opinions" and register one of my own.

"Unpopular opinion but, I can't watch Blazing Saddles anymore."

I saw Blazing Saddles in its initial theatrical release. I went to the movies with my parents. It was six months before my 13th birthday. I was familiar with Mel Brooks and his brand of comedy. I loved watching Get Smart. I loved seeing Mel and then partner Carl Reiner play out their "2000 Year Old Man" act on the Ed Sullivan Show. I loved staying up to see Mel Brooks give a frenzied interview on The Tonight Show with  Johnny Carson. I got most of the jokes in The Producers, the first Mel Brooks movie I ever saw and one of my mom's favorites. But when Blazing Saddles hit the theaters, my dad couldn't wait to see it.

My dad was a proud racist. He watched All in the Family as though it was a documentary. He spewed out ethnic epithets as part of his normal everyday conversation. He spoke the notorious "N-word" the way some people say "good morning." That word popped up regularly in dinnertime conversation. My father often peppered his rundown of the day's activities with the "N-word" when describing interactions with customers at the supermarket at which he worked. Sporting events broadcast on television were cheered on by my father with phrases like "look at that 'N-word' run!" It was only as an adult that I realized that this was so grossly wrong and — in hindsight — it should have turned my stomach the way it does now.

My father didn't stop at African-Americans. His vitriol was hurled at Asians, Italians, those of Polish extraction, the Irish, Catholics and even Jews... despite the fact that we were Jewish! So, when my dad read the early reviews of Blazing Saddles, he couldn't wait to be a part of the experience. And when we saw the film... boy! oh boy! did my dad laugh. To be honest, everyone laughed.

Yes, yes... I fully understand that Blazing Saddles was written as biting satire. I know that Mel Brooks collaborated with Richard Pryor, a pioneer in controversial comedy and himself master of topical satire. I get that the way certain words and phrases in Blazing Saddles are used was very well thought out. The jokes are always at the expense of the bigoted ignorant characters. These characters are presented as too stupid to know they are stupid. Cleavon Little, as protagonist "Sheriff Bart," is intelligent and always outsmarts the brainless townspeople. I know that Richard Pryor encouraged Mel Brooks to employ the "N-word" in an effort to "tell the truth" about how racial prejudice functions as a brutal weapon in America. Mel Brooks fought with Warner Brothers over the inclusion of the word. Brooks, whose contract explicitly gave him final content control, stood his ground, making few and insignificant changes to the script.

I get all that. But in 2026, I cringe when I hear that word.

I am reminded of a time when that word was used in sitcoms that I watched. It was used on Sanford and Son, All in the Family and The Jeffersons. It was famously used in a skit on a first season episode of Saturday Night Live, where host Richard Pryor and cast member Chevy Chase played a very racially-charged game of Word Association. I am reminded of a time when that word rolled off my father's tongue like he was asking my brother to "pass the peas" at the dinner table. The use of that word, over time, tapered off on television to the point where now, it is audibly "bleeped" and appears as a line of asterisks in closed-captioning. 

This afternoon, Turner Classic Movies is showing a selection of Mel Brooks movies in honor of his 100th birthday. Wedged between Spaceballs and Young Frankenstein is Blazing Saddles.

Happy Birthday, Mel Brooks. I still can't bring myself to watch.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

famous in a small town

I was a big fan of the Andy Griffith Show. I still am. I have seen the original 249 episodes so many times that it's gotten to the point where I can identify a particular episode within the first minute. (Sadly, I watch so much "classic" television, I can employ this same ability with many shows. Kind of like a trained monkey.) 

Nothing compares to you

The "Andy Taylor" character was introduced on a 1960 episode of The Danny Thomas Show as a back-door pilot. General Foods, the show's sponsor, immediately signed to back the new series and The Andy Griffith Show debuted later the same year. At first, Andy Griffith's character was a scheming, backwoods "good ol' boy," presiding as sheriff over the fictional North Carolina hamlet of Mayberry. But as the show went on, Andy became more of a family man and the voice of reason, gently guiding the citizens of Mayberry in often heartwarming tales. Sure there was an amount of humor — mostly provided by the stalwart supporting cast of Don Knotts, Frances Bavier and Howard McNear — but the stories that involved Andy's relationship with his son Opie proved to be the most memorable. The series placed in the top ten in ratings for its entire eight-season run. Originally, Andy Griffith signed on for — and was only interested in — five seasons. As Season Five drew to a close, popular co-star (and multiple Emmy Award winner) Don Knotts, expecting to soon be unemployed, negotiated a five picture deal with Universal Studios. Meanwhile, CBS threw a ton of money at Andy Griffith and he reluctantly committed to three more seasons. As a result, Knotts left the show, the series began filming in garish color and things took a turn. Although, it remained popular, The Andy Griffith Show — beginning with Season Six — morphed into a surrealistic clone of shows like The Beverly Hillbillies and Green Acres. Andy became the sole normal person in a town filled with unrealistic lunatics. Looking like a forerunner to David Lynch's Twin Peaks, Andy became less of a sheriff and more of a stranger in a strange land. The citizens of Mayberry became one-dimensional cartoonish weirdos instead of the outré but friendly folks of the show's early days. Characters like Emmett the pompous fix-it man, Goober the bumpkin grease monkey and stuffy pseudo-intellectual county clerk Howard Sprague became more prominent and the situations became more slapstick. Eventually Andy Griffith had had enough. As the final season came to an end, genial Ken Berry was introduced as a gentleman farmer, all set to become the focus of the town's subsequent adventures in Mayberry RFD. Berry's "Sam Jones" was a level-headed, even-keeled fellow, cast from the same mold as Sheriff Andy Taylor. Except, Ken Berry was no Andy Griffith. He was close, but he lacked Griffith's large, authoritative demeanor. Andy was funny and frequently sarcastic, especially when it came to ribbing his deputy played by Knotts. "Sam Jones" was very laid back and vaguely humorless.

I'll give you two seasons. 

Mayberry RFD premiered on September 23, 1968 with Sheriff Andy Taylor and school teacher Helen Crump getting married. Don Knotts as "Deputy Barney Fife," as well as Andy Griffith Show regulars Ron Howard and Frances Bavier were also on hand as familiar faces to boost series' rating and appeal. As Mayberry RFD found its footing and its audience, Andy and his family moved to Raleigh and were never seen in Mayberry again. Sam, his son Mike and the goofy citizens of Mayberry were on their own to carry the show. Inexplicably, "Aunt Bee" (played by befuddled Frances Bavier) stayed on as Sam's housekeeper, despite being Andy Taylor's aunt.

I watched Mayberry RFD, but I would not classify myself as a "fan." You have to remember, back in the days of "classic television," we only had three networks from which to choose entertainment. We often watched TV shows just because "they were on." If you didn't watch television, you were forced to do something constructive or perhaps even interact with your family. So, folks would slog through poorly written garbage like My Mother the Car rather than help their kids with homework or fix that broken screen door. Not that Mayberry RFD was on par with My Mother the Car, but its production and writing certainly wasn't up to the standards of — say — The Dick Van Dyke Show... or even The Andy Griffith Show. Mayberry RFD just continued the silly sitcom-y writing of late seasons of The Andy Griffith Show that brought the series to a sad demise.

The Three Shumuck-skateers

First of all, no matter how nice a guy Sam Jones was, there was no way — no way in hell! — that he'd be friends with Goober, Howard and Emmett. I understand that Mayberry was a small town and the pickin's were slim, but Goober was an uncouth, loutish moron who wasn't remotely aware of the limits of his limited knowledge. Sure he could change an oil filter, but when it came to participating in a conversation, he'd quickly expose his lack of social relevance by quoting Captain Whammo, his favorite comic book hero. Emmett Clark was no better. As proprietor of the fix-it shop, this conceited idiot would treat every out-of-commission item brought to him in the manner — he'd smack it with a ball-peen hammer. Despite his reputation as a "fix-it" man, Emmett couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were printed on the sole, yet he had the Mayberry market cornered in the fix-it business. Howard Sprague, the self-assured, self-proclaimed intellectual, goes out of his way to phrase the most common expressions in a haughty collective of obscure synonyms for the sole purpose of appearing smart (and being an asshole). When know-it-all Emmett mixed the paint color to the wrong shade while graciously painting Sam's house, Howard explained that the "pigmentation was of the incorrect hue." Oh, fuck you and your pigmentation, Howard.

Hutchins? Swanson?

Sam's love interest is clearly the most attractive woman in Mayberry — Millie Swanson, the cheery counter girl at the bakery, as played by the adorably quirky Arlene Golonka. She is so out of Sam's league, but since she is stuck in Mayberry, she has to make due. Curiously, when Millie was a character in the late seasons of The Andy Griffith Show (and her last name was "Hutchins") she came this close to marrying Howard Sprague. That story line was never acknowledged once Millie and Sam became an item. It should be noted that just prior to the series premiere of Mayberry RFD, Arlene Golonka played a feisty prostitute in the Clint Eastwood Western Hang 'Em High. I don't believe that occupation existed in Mayberry, so Millie was relegated to the closest approximation  — working in a bakery. In several episodes, I swear I caught Goober, Howard and even the married Emmett ogling Millie when she popped in to Sam's county office in her little pink bakery dress.

Jodie's bro

Mike, Sam Jones' typically average sitcom son, was played by Buddy Foster.... and he was no Ron Howard. Buddy, whose unsure raspy vocals gave voice to both the little boy in the iconic "How Many Licks?" Tootsie Roll commercial and the "Count's Son" in the Ringo Starr-narrated, Harry Nilsson-scored animated fable The Point, learned nothing from his Academy Award-winning sister Jodie. His on-camera performances were less than memorable and painfully uninspired. He lacked Ron Howard's charm, comic timing and acting capability. Buddy delivered his lines as though he was just handed the day's shooting script and he just learned how to read.

Know your Alices

In the second season of Mayberry RFD, Aunt Bee was replaced by Sam's ex-Army sergeant cousin "Alice Cooper," played by sitcom staple Alice Ghostley. That's right — Alice Cooper. In 1970, the boundary-pushing shock rocker was still a couple of years away from superstardom. The band (at that time, "Alice Cooper" was the name of the band) had released two albums to mostly negative reviews, but they were slowly gaining attention for their outrageous live performance. However, Mayberry RFD's target demographic was far removed from the burgeoning rock & roll scene. The coincidental character name would only be funny for future viewers of the show's reruns. Alice brought her signature bewildered character to the Jones' household — awkwardly fitting into her new surroundings and, once, even impulsively purchasing an antique harp. (Hilarity ensued.)

Mayberry RFD often resorted to recycling old premises from other TV series, including the Andy Griffith Show. I suppose they hoped that in the pre-VCR, pre-digital recording, pre-streaming services era, no one would notice. But now... oh, I noticed. There's an episode when Mike is coerced by his shitty friends into driving a car. When the underage Mike gives in to peer-pressure and crashes said car, his friends take off posthaste, leaving Mike to take the full brunt of his easy-going dad's wrath. This scenario is straight from the Leave It To Beaver playbook. Another episode puts Millie, eager to break out of the bakery game, in a secretarial position. The ultra-naïve Millie is unaware that her employers are bookies. This is a direct lift of a Season Six installment of the Andy Griffith Show in which Aunt Bee innocently takes a job working for counterfeiters. As the series progressed, more episodes focused on one of the many supporting characters, giving each a full 22 minutes in the spotlight.

Purge

At the end of the 1971 television season, despite wide-reaching popularity and high ratings, CBS president Robert Woods pressured Head of Programming Michael Dunn to cancel all of CBS's so-called "rural" shows. This included The Beverly Hillbillies, Green Acres, Petticoat Junction, Hee Haw and The Red Skelton Show, a variety series with a decidedly older, Midwestern appeal. Dunn personally hated these shows, but was hesitant to cancel them because they still garnered high ratings... and high ratings equaled sponsorship dollars. A frustrated Robert Woods fired Michael Dunn, bringing in Fred Silverman, who had no problem dropping the proverbial ax, thus implementing the notorious "rural purge." (Green Acres star, the venerable Pat Buttram noted: "CBS canceled everything with a tree in it — including Lassie.) Silverman ushered in a new, ground-breaking and influential era of television with shows like The Mary Tyler Moore Show, All in the Family, Cannon, Kojak and The Sonny and Cher Show, a variety show that was way hipper than Red Skelton's folksy revue. Mayberry RFD was also a victim of the rural purge. Its final episode, a confounding tale of Emmett's invention being of interest to an aerospace company, was broadcast in March 1971. 

Not for Buddy

In the aftermath, Ken Berry landed a show more suited to his talents as a song-and-dance man. The Ken Berry Wow Show showcased up-and-coming performers like Teri Garr, Cheryl Ladd and a budding young comedian named Steve Martin. Goober and Emmett (George Lindsey and Paul Hartman) showed up on The New Andy Griffith Show, a short-lived attempt at rekindling the Mayberry spirit. Although Andy was a different character, Goober and Emmett were the same two lunkheads from Mayberry. That show lasted 13 weeks. Lindsey took his "Goober" persona over to the syndicated version of Hee Haw, which in spite of its cancelation by CBS, went on to a successful 23 more seasons. Paul Hartman, however, passed away in 1973. Alice Ghostley, Jack Dodson (who played "Howard Sprague") and Arlene Golonka all enjoyed continued success, showing up in various film and television roles over the next several decades. Buddy Foster....? I suppose his sister invites him over for Thanksgiving dinner. He'll come... as long as she hides her Oscars.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

the masterplan

Laurie Jacobson started following me on Instagram a few years ago. Just out of nowhere, based on our common interests in old Hollywood, dead celebrities, pop culture, she started following me... dumb, ol' Josh Pincus. This struck me as odd, because I'm just a nobody in the vast world of social media. Laurie, on the other hand, is a celebrated author who has appeared on CNN, Entertainment Tonight and The History Channel. She has produced high-profile television programs like Mary Tyler Moore's Twentieth Anniversary Special. She is a noted and respected authority on Hollywood history. If that isn't enough, she was enrolled in a comedy workshop taught by Harvey Lembeck. Among her classmates were John Ritter and Robin Williams. Oh yeah, and she's married to Jon Provost, the star of over 250 episodes of Lassie. And me? I'm just some yutz who draws pictures of dead celebrities and posts pictures of things that make me laugh. But, Laurie likes my sense of humor and we've enjoyed lively on-line exchanges centered around our shared passion for Hollywood trivia. However, we have never met.

But I had a plan.

Laurie and Jon make appearances at various fan conventions all over the country. Laurie talks about her books, the latest of which is an exclusive, behind-the-scenes look at the Beatles iconic performance at Shea Stadium in 1965. Jon signs photos and cheerfully greets fans who grew up watching his adventures with the world's most famous dog (no, not Scooby-Doo!) Because Laurie and I are "Facebook Friends," I saw that the couple were going to be at the Lehigh Valley Heritage Museum on Memorial Day weekend, as part of the society's celebration of America's 250th anniversary. Situated just an hour outside the birthplace of America (Philadelphia, for those of you who flunked history), the Lehigh Valley Heritage Museum presents a sort of mish-mash of history. Its permanent displays highlight people and events that impacted the germination and growth of our country. Some are specific to Allentown, Pennsylvania (the actual location of the museum). Most, however, are not. It's as though someone from the Lehigh Valley Historic Society visited the museums in Philadelphia and said to themselves: "Fuck this! We'll start our own museum!" Their hearts are in the right place. It's just their actual history isn't. (In their defense, in September 1777, the Liberty Bell was hidden in a church in Allentown for nine months to prevent the advancing British soldiers from melting it down for weapons. Oh, and Billy Joel sang a pretty disparaging song about Allentown.) 

I presented the idea of driving up to Allentown to Mrs. Pincus. My wife, who is also a Facebook connection of Laurie Jacobson's, is always up for any sort of long car trip. I also decided not to tell Laurie that we were coming. Again, we have never met and the pending surprise would be... um.... surprising!

My day started early. I had an appointment to have my car inspected. So there I was, in the waiting room of a Subaru dealer, scrolling through Facebook while I waited for my friendly Subaru  service representative to let me know my car was ready. On Facebook, I saw pictures of a smiling Laurie and Jon buckled into their airplane seats, along with the caption: "On our way to Allentown." This sort of excitement, of course, is the sentiment of folks who have never been to Allentown. 

With my car all serviced, I drove home. Mrs. P was getting ready for our little adventure. She gathered together a few small Philadelphia-centric items from her Ebay store stock to give to Laurie and Jon as a memento of their friends in the City of Brotherly Love. I grabbed a few "Josh Pincus"-branded pins and keyrings as a reminder of the evils of the internet. I loaded the address into the trusty Waze navigation app on my phone and we were off. We followed Route 309 North, which is a straight shot to Allentown from our house. As we got closer to our destination, Waze led us through a few small, congested neighborhoods dotted with shopping centers and housing developments — hardly the place one would expect to find a museum... speaking as a spoiled Philadelphian who is used to museums being sprawling architectural marvels placed along side other architectural marvels. But, as we turned a narrow corner, there it stood — the Lehigh Valley Heritage Museum — just like it looked on its website. We found a convenient parking spot right on the street out front. I gathered up a little gift bag with the goodies we planned to present to Laurie and Jon and we headed in.

A fair amount of folks had gathered and queued up in the facility's auditorium to have a quick chat with Laurie and Jon, as well as getting some memorabilia signed. I purchased Laurie's TV Dinners book and joined Mrs. Pincus in line. Ahead of us, Laurie and Jon were seated at a long table. They were chatting and laughing and posing for pictures with a crowd comprised of people mostly around my age. There were a few youngsters (around eight or nine) who seemed bored with being dragged along on grandma and grandpa's little jaunt. The line crept along at a pretty steady pace until we found ourselves in the coveted "next" position. As Laurie was speaking with the woman in front of me, she shot me a glance and, I could tell that she did not recognize me from any picture I may have posted on Facebook. I interjected a smart-ass comment into their conversation and Laurie smiled. Then it was my turn.

I stepped up to the table and said to Laurie: "I just wanted to make sure that you've been getting my holiday cards.*"  Laurie looked at me with a half-smile and a puzzled expression. Then I spilled it. "I'm Josh Pincus," I announced and I dropped a handful of JPiC buttons and stuff  — all emblazoned with my 5-yerar old redheaded visage — on the tabletop in front of her. Laurie lit up! She jumped from her chair and exclaimed: "JOSH PINCUS! You're Josh Pincus!"... and she threw her arms around me. I introduced her to Mrs. Pincus and she gave my wife's hand a warm embrace. Mrs. P offered her Philly souvenirs and Laurie smiled and beamed with appreciation. It was so humbling to see Laurie express such excitement to meet dumb ol' me... but it was very sweet. Laurie signed my book. She told me that I keep her laughing all day with my Facebook posts. I thanked her several times and Mrs. P and I took seat at the back of the auditorium for Laurie's and Jon's presentations.

After some brief introductions, Laurie delighted the room with stories of Hollywood acquaintances. She revealed secrets of what it took to stage the Beatles show at Shea Stadium at a time when rock concerts at a ballpark was just not a thing.  She talked about meeting and marrying Jon and then spooked the crowd with an eerie tale of the last days of Marilyn Monroe. Laurie was followed by Jon Provost's account of life as a working child actor in the 1950s. His compelling stories were both informative and amusing, as he spoke of working with the likes of Jane Wyman (his mother's idol), Natalie Wood and Robert Redford. He offered heartfelt memories of the late June Lockhart and humorous anecdotes concerning Kurt Russell. At the conclusion of the presentation, my wife and I made our way down to the front to say our "goodbyes." before leaving for home.

Laurie was cornered by three women who were gabbing non-stop about classic television. They weren't having a conversation as much as they were droning pointlessly. They peppered their dissertation with memories of long-forgotten stars of black-and-white series, some of whose names slipped their minds. But, they weren't headed towards any apparent conclusion. Mrs. P and I politely hung back, waiting for these ladies to wind down their time. But, they showed no sign of stopping. Laurie smiled politely and offered me a wink and silent plea of "help!" Finally, she courteously attempted to bring their filibuster to a halt by saying she had to say goodbye to some friends. The women would not relent, so Laurie just stepped past them to greet Mrs P and me. We said our farewells and Laurie posed for a quick picture before reiterating how happy she was to finally meet us in person. It was truly sweet. We waved to Jon, who was busy with a couple of fans. He smiled and gave us a wave back.

My plan was successful. 

www.joshpincusiscrying.com.

* A few years ago, Laurie asked for holiday cards to cheer up her friend, actor Jay North (of Dennis the Menace fame). Jay was ill and she thought some cards from fans would brighten his spirits. I sent one and also sent a separate card specifically for Laurie and Jon. Sadly, Jay passed away in 2025.

here we are now, entertain us

I like to watch movies. I like to watch movies with my wife and I like to watch movies alone. Sometimes, I have to do both of those because I don't always share the same tastes in movies with my wife. Recently, I have watched a few recent releases that — in a million years — Mrs. Pincus would not have sat through. One was a fairly graphic horror movie. I know from past experience that Mrs. P has little tolerance for horror movies. I still remember her watching Creepshow through fingers protectively threaded across her eyes and asking how much longer will this go on. The recent movie I watched would have had her exiting the room after the opening scene. I watched another recent release that would not have held her interest at all. It was a very slow build-up until the story started to come together. So, I have — more or less — become the official movie screener for the Pincus household. I will chose a movie for the two of us to watch, based on whether or not Mrs. P will like it. I will happily admit that I'm not always right.

Recently, I suggested a made-for-television movie called A Carol for Another Christmas. It was originally broadcast in 1964 on ABC. It was only shown once until it resurfaced a few years ago on the  Turner Classic Movies network. I thought it was a good choice for us to watch. It was written by Rod Serling and Mrs. P is a long time fan of Twilight Zone. It featured well-known actors like Sterling Hayden, Ben Gazzara, Eve Marie Saint, Peter Sellers, Robert Shaw and Pat Hingle. So, we settled in to watch. It turned out to be a long-winded, smack-you-over-the-head, message-filled piece of anti-nuclear propaganda that was produced, in part, by the United Nations. It was a tedious, repetitive, preachy, self-righteous 84-minutes that seemed twice as long. As we watched, I could sense that Mrs. P was getting "antsy." Fifteen minutes in, her full attention was given to her cellphone. That evening's entertainment choice was a bust on my part. I vowed to be more discerning in future suggestions.

Last night, we interrupted our usual evening's viewing of cartoons (our cable provider recently began carrying MeTV Toons, a 24-hour network devoted to the cartoons of our youth) to watch a movie. I selected a movie that I remember watching years ago. I asked my wife if she had ever seen it. She was unsure. So, we watched.

The movie in question was a 1968 theatrical release called The Night They Raided Minsky's. It was an early production from the pre-All in the Family partnership of Norman Lear and Bud Yorkin. The film had a very interesting and chaotic journey to the big screen, even before a film frame of celluloid was shot. It was based on a 1960 novel about the bygone days of burlesque in New York City. Tony Curtis was originally cast in the lead, but friction over the script caused him to walk. A young Alan Alda was considered as a replacement, but he was locked into a role on Broadway. Jason Robards was tagged just a few weeks before shooting was to begin. Mickey Rooney, then Joel Grey, were pursued for the second lead, but other bookings prevented them from taking the role. British comedian Norman Wisdom was cast despite being relatively unknown to American audiences. Joey Faye, Eddie Lawrence, Dexter Maitland and Bert Lahr — all former burlesque performers — rounded out the cast. Lahr, however, was practically on his deathbed, have been diagnosed with terminal cancer just prior to production. The cast was supplemented by solid performances from Denholm Elliot, Joseph Wiseman, Harry Andrews, Forrest Tucker and Elliot Gould in his motion picture debut. At the forefront was the adorably waif-like Britt Ekland as the object of everyone's affection. William Friedkin, fresh off his directorial debut at the helm of Sonny & Cher's 1967 hippie indulgence Good Times (and several years away from The French Connection and The Exorcist) was tapped to direct. Friedkin, who shot forty hours of footage for the project, had a vision for the final product that differed from Lear's, Yorkin's and the "powers that be" at United Artists. After working — unsuccessfully — with respected film editor Ralph Rosenblum, Friedkin moved on to another project. He called The Night They Raided Minsky's "the biggest piece of crap he was ever involved with." Rosenblum took a full year to recut and reimagine the movie with no input from the director. He introduced period stock footage. He reshot some scenes with a body double substituting for Bert Lahr, who had died during production. Rosenblum's version — which Friedkin had nothing to do with — was released to surprisingly positive reviews. It boasted the biggest budget for a film shot in New York City at the time. Its paper-thin plot, continuity errors and seedy look are all forgivable, as The Night They Raided Minsky's offered a frozen snapshot of a bygone and nearly forgotten period of entertainment history. The film — a complete work of fiction — was a love letter to the bawdy side of vaudeville and — according to the opening narration — the origin of the strip tease.

Mrs. P and I watched The Night They Raided Minsky's. It was uneven. It was creepy. It was funny. It was enjoyable. The cast was stellar, if somewhat slightly above the sitcom-level script. The full-length classic burlesque skits that were showcased was like watching a documentary, sometimes overshadowing the main plot of the movie... whatever it was. There was a love triangle of sorts. There was a shifty plot to humiliate a staunch moral advocate. There was an overbearing gangster. There was an angry Amish patriarch searching for his wayward daughter. There was a lot going on and sometimes the story was interrupted for the sake of a barrage of risque jokes. Despite the spot-on performances from Norman Wisdom, Joseph Wiseman, Jason Robards and Britt Ekland, the true stars of The Night They Raided Minsky's were the ladies who formed the disinterested, going-through-the-motions chorus of the burlesque stage. Everything came to a head in a very raucous climax and a very sit-com-y ending. 

Ninety-eight minutes later, Mrs. P and I were entertained. And I don't think she looked at the clock once.

Well, maybe once.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

I met Britt Elkand in 2016. She was very sweet.

just the facts

If you are a reader of this blog (with any sort of regularity, although I still can't figure out why anyone would be), you know all about my affinity for television. Especially old television from my youth, or in some cases, before I was born. I like old sitcoms, dramas, game shows and even commercials — all of which are readily available for viewing on cable TV or any number of streaming services. 

One of my favorite shows was Dragnet, a police procedural drama produced and created by actor Jack Webb. Dragnet began life as a radio drama, based loosely on a small role Webb played in the 1948 film He Walked by Night. Webb played "Lee Whitey," a police forensic scientist. Webb worked closely with a real Los Angeles police forensic scientist and decided that the intricate, detailed day-to-day work would make for an interesting premise of a weekly series. He was right. Dragnet premiered in the summer of 1949 on the NBC radio network. After a short period of adjustment and "growing pains," Dragnet came into its own. Under Webb's direction, actors were instructed to deliver lines in a slow, deadpan manor. Dragnet abandoned the shrill and high-strung presentation of other contemporary police dramas in favor of a slower, more concise demeanor. The show's popularity grew and Dragnet enjoyed a successful nine-season run.

At the same time, Dragnet made an easy transition to the fledgling medium of television. Loyal listeners got their first glimpse of Jack Webb as no-nonsense "Sergeant Joe Friday" on their TV screens in December 1951. Actor Barton Yarborough, who played Friday's partner "Sergeant Ben Romero" died suddenly after filming just two episodes. He was replaced by actor Barney Philips (best remembered for having an eye in the middle of his forehead in a memorable episode of Twilight Zone) for the rest of the first season. Season Two saw a new partner — "Officer Frank Smith" — played by Ben Alexander (after a brief run by actor Herb Ellis). This incarnation of Dragnet ran until the summer of 1959.

In 1967, NBC brought back Dragnet. This is the series with which I am most familiar. It, again, starred Jack Webb as "Sergeant Joe Friday" and the ubiquitous Harry Morgan as his new partner "Officer Bill Gannon." The episodes were shot in color and took full advantage of the budding "hippie" culture so prevalent in the country at the time. Webb and his cohorts represented all things good and pure, as they butt heads with various evil, counter-culture hippie freaks, pushing their society-corrupting "mary jane," "dexies," "reds" and "smack" on 60s innocent youth. Along with the standard robberies, break-ins and kidnapping, Dragnet in the 60s presented a variety of hot-headed teens and dirty hippies hell-bent on "puttin' to The Man," as well as young men and women holding respectable jobs, but "turning on" at home when working hours were through. It also dealt with race relations, while simultaneously being a little racist itself. 

Jack Webb was also a small screen "Orson Welles" of sorts. He regularly employed the same roster of character actors to appear in different roles over the course of the show's four seasons. Versatile veteran actors like Virginia Gregg, Stacy Harris, Peggy Webber, Herb Vigran, Olan Soule and dozens of others would pop up week after week as suspects or witnesses, as though we'd never seen them before. 

Virginia Gregg appeared in 14 episodes playing 14 different characters, from the flamboyant leader of a pyramid scheme to the helpful employee at a candy store (that is obviously supposed to be See's). Jill Banner, everyone's favorite "Spider Baby, " shows up in five episodes playing both sweet and surly. When the script called for a repugnant asshole, actors like Vic Perrin and John Sebastian (and — yes! — Bobby Troup, who went on to star in Webb-produced Emergency! and married Jack Webb's ex-wife Julie London) were only too happy to oblige. 

MeTV, the popular retro cable network, shows two episodes of Dragnet every morning beginning at 5 AM. Coincidentally, that's the exact time I wake up to go to work. While I enjoy a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, I half pay attention to the morning's Dragnet offering. Over time, I have seen the entire 1960s version of the  Dragnet series approximately a zillion times. I've seen Heather Menzies get threatened with a hand grenade wielded by an angry Mickey Sholdar. I've seen Tim Donnelly ("Chet" from Emergency!) head up a ring of dog-nappers. I've even spotted Kent McCord and Martin Milner playing their familiar roles of "Officers Reed and Malloy" before Adam-12 was a proper series.

But enough was enough. I ran through the series so many times, I was bored. But, then, I discovered that Buzzr!, another retro cable channel that specializes in game shows from "way back when" shows old episodes of What's My Line? opposite Dragnet in the same time slot. So, instead of watching Friday and Gannon interrogate a smarmy G. D. Spradlin for the billionth time, I watched a pre- M*A*S*H  Alan Alda ask "Is it bigger than a bread box?" I watched comedian Soupy Sales offer up a barrage of corny (but funny) one-liners before getting a "no" on his question from moderator Larry Blyden. And later, I cringed as Blyden made several decidedly racists, yet perfectly acceptable for the time, comments regarding a contestant who imports rickshaws to the United States. "Okay," I thought, "this will make a suitable Dragnet replacement."

The next day, Buzzr! showed Family Feud instead of What's My Line?

I wonder what else is on....?

(By the way, Jack Webb never — never — uttered the line "Just the facts.")

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

I fought the law

DISCLAIMER: If you are a lawyer, you might want to skip this week's entry on It's Been a Slice. I know how sensitive lawyers can get and I know how insulting I can get. In this post, I will knowingly make blanket statements and unfounded claims with little to no proof to back them up. If you are a lawyer, you won't find this particular post funny. (As for the rest of you, you may not find any of my posts funny, but I am addressing just the lawyers right now.) I am giving you fair warning to get out now.

I worked in the marketing department of a fairly large east coast law firm for nearly ten years. In that time, I grew to really, really hate lawyers. For the most part (uh-oh! here comes one of those blanket statements I was telling you about!), I found them to be arrogant, condescending know-it-alls who were convinced that just because they went to law school, they were capable of doing your job in addition to their own. They were experts on everything. They were a source of knowledge on just about any subject. On a personal level, I was often given unsolicited design advice and instruction from lawyers. 

It's complicated.

The firm that employed me was very aggressive when it came to marketing and the marketing department boasted over a dozen members. Nevertheless, lawyers constantly injected their own ideas, based purely on the fact that they went to law school. Once, I was designing an invitation for a conference in our Harrisburg office. The lawyer I was working with asked for the size of the invitation. In a telephone conversation, I told him it would be in postcard form, measuring eight and a half inches wide by five and a half inches high. He said he could not visualize it and requested a printed sample. I asked if there was a ruler available in his office. Again, he pressed for a printed, actual size sample. I told him it was the size of a regular piece of copy paper — one that is currently in a tray in the office Xerox machine — folded in half widthwise. He was not interested in any sort of exercise in origami. He demanded — demanded, I tell you! — a printed sample. I was convinced that, despite his years of college and law school education, this guy was either too important or too dumb to know how to operate a ruler.

One of my other jobs at the law firm was producing standard "support" ads for program booklets. These are very generic ads, usually offering "congratulations" or "best wishes" for someone being honored by a local organization. These ads were solicited to raise additional funds to either lessen the overall cost of an event or to contribute to a charitable entity. Because the law firm placed so many of these kinds of ads, the ordering process was streamlined to a few clicks on the firm's intranet. Every so often, an attorney - who was placing one of these ads - would request a full-color version. I would check the specifications from the organization to see if they allowed for color. If they did not, I would inform the attorney that the booklet in question would be in black & white. This, of course, would lead to an argument, because you cannot tell a lawyer that they can't have something they want. I would explain — again — that the booklet would be printed in just black ink. In some cases, I was ordered to submit a color ad and "see what they could do." Of course, "what they could do" was to tell me to resubmit a black and white ad.

Another time, I was having a heated discussion with a co-worker in her office. Perhaps our exchange got a little too loud and our voices carried out into the hallway. One of the firm's lawyers poked his head into her office. I expected him to tell us to keep our voices down, which would have been understandable. But, no... he actually began offering ways in which we could solve our little disagreement. My co-worker and I were so taken aback by the uninvited hubris this guy exhibited that we nearly forgot what were were arguing about.

Yet another of the firm's lawyers supplied a mailing list of contacts to whom he wanted a mass-mailing sent for an upcoming seminar that he would be hosting. He was very specific about the names included on the list and asked the woman in charge of mailing to pay close attention to the list — not to add any of the firm's other contact lists to his special list. The invitation was prepared, printed and mailed to his special list, as per his instructions. After a reasonable amount of waiting time, the seminar was canceled for lack of interest. The special list received not a single reply.

I was relieved of my position at the law firm just before Spring of 2018. I have had three jobs since then. But, my feelings toward lawyers have not waned. 

If you are a regular reader of this blog (besides me, I wonder why anyone would be a regular reader of this blog), you know I spend an inordinate amount of time watching television. I have taken notice of several commercials for local law firms — two in particular. The first features a local lawyer discussing his various case wins with a group of folks in a relaxed setting. Everyone is seated on a sectional sofa while the lawyer expounds on his winning record — delivered in a tone that's a strange combination of empathy and arrogance, with the "empathy" part sounding very insincere. The lawyer in the commercial reminds me of a lawyer I encountered almost ten years ago when an alleged UPS employee sued me (via my insurance company) over an alleged fall on my property. He is slimy and weasle-y and in a gazillion years I would never hire this guy to represent my interest in anything.

In another series of commercials for another Philadelphia law firm, the two principals are shown discussing important facts of a pending case (I assume) while strolling past prominent and recognizable sights in Philadelphia. There are scenes of them near the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall and City Hall. (I suppose they opted against showing them cavorting with Gritty and that's probably for the best.) Both gentlemen are dressed in tailored business suits. One of them, however, desperately needs a haircut. Up front, he has a receding hairline, but in the back....? It appears as though he leapt from his barber's chair to attend to an unexpected emergency and never returned to finish up his haircut appointment. Ever. And that appointment was months ago. I'll tell ya... if I decided to employ the services of this particular law firm and this guy and his "bushy bushy blond hair-do" walked into the office for our first consultation, I would immediately show myself to the door. There ain't a jury in the world who would take this alta kaker and his flowing locks seriously. Plus he reminds me of an old boss that I hated.

I actually have plenty more to say about lawyers, but I think I've made my point. Plus, I probably have lost a few readers.

So, sue me.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

look away, look away, look away dixie land

It is certainly no secret how much I love television. I especially love old television shows, the ones I watched as a young and impressionable child. Thanks to the magic of syndication and endless reruns, I have also developed an affinity for television shows that were broadcast before I was born. Truth be told, I have watched reruns of shows that I don't particularly like. Shows that I find annoying, frustrating, unrelatable and downright awful. But, I watch them. I've watched them in countless reruns... over and over and over again.

I find it funny how many shows I have just recently discovered, even though they ended their series run decades ago and most (if not all) of their primary cast is now long dead. There are some shows with which I am familiar, but don't like. Yet, I watch them. I have seen every single episode of I Love Lucy, a show I cannot stand. I have seen every episode of Hazel, a show I dislike more that I dislike I Love Lucy. I have seen every episode of more recent shows, like Welcome Back Kotter, a show I despise more than Hazel and I Love Lucy put together! However, I still enjoy such sappy series as Family Affair and My Three Sons. I am fully aware of just how hokey and unrealistic these show are, but there is still something endearing about them... at least to me. Your mileage may vary.

This morning, I caught myself watching an episode of Dennis the Menace. The last first-run episode of Dennis the Menace was broadcast on July 7, 1963 — a month before I turned two. I'm sure that I never saw a single episode of Dennis the Menace in its initial four-season run. I'm almost certain that my parents never watched it. Although it was the lead-in to the ridiculously-popular Ed Sullivan Show, I'm positive that my father's limited patience wouldn't have lasted two seconds subjected to Dennis's irritating antics. Besides, Dennis the Menace was on opposite The Jetsons. My brother, who was six at the time, probably preferred the outer space cartoon adventures to some pain-in-the-ass kid making life miserable for his neighbor. I, of course, only remember watching Dennis the Menace in reruns on a local UHF channel when I was home sick from school. Over the course of many many reruns, I have managed to see every insufferable episode of the series and will still watch it from time to time... including this morning. Honestly, I was not giving the show my full attention. I was perusing the situation on Facebook, a distraction that surely did not exist in Dennis the Menace's original run.

The Programming Department at Antenna TV chose the twenty-fourth episode of Dennis the Menace's second season to broadcast this morning. The episode — entitled "Dennis and the Fishing Rod" — centered around a tried and true sitcom trope. Dennis wants to buy his dad a fishing rod, but he doesn't have enough money. This scenario has popped up on dozens of other series, from Father Knows Best to Leave It to Beaver to any number of "family based" shows. As I scrolled between Facebook and Instagram on my phone, a line of dialogue caught my attention. It seems while Dennis was looking for additional funds to supplement the pittance fished from his piggy bank, he found a stack of papers belonging to his visiting grandmother. Among the papers were several ornately decorated pieces of paper that Dennis and his limited intellect were unable to identify. He presented the papers to his father and grandmother who then explained that they were money from the Civil War. They belonged to Dennis's great grandfather Jedidiah Mitchell who served under a general in the Civil War. General Robert E. Lee, to be specific. She went on to proudly proclaim that ol' Jedidiah was a personal friend of General Lee and he was a true hero. Dennis's dad chimes in to echo his mother's assertion. "He sure was!," says Dad, a broad smile drawn across his bespectacled hatchet face.

What??? Dennis's great grandfather fought on the Southern side of the Civil War? Dennis's great grandfather was a goddamn antiabolitionist! Dennis's great grandfather fought to uphold the right to own slaves. And Dennis's dear old dad is singing his praises as a "hero!" Boy oh boy! If I didn't hate Dennis the Menace before, I sure do hate him now! 

As the episode progressed, Dennis asked to wear Jedidiah Mitchell's hat and uniform, despite it being way too big. Grandmother Mitchell said "of course you can!" adding that Jedidiah would be proud. So Dennis sported that Confederate hat and uniform as when he went to show off to his beleaguered neighbor Mr. Wilson. Mr. Wilson, an avid history buff and collector of coins, stamps and things of that nature, didn't bat an eye when his young neighbor bounded into his house decked out in full Confederate military dress. He was, however, very interested in the Confederate money Dennis brought over. While examining the bill, Mr. Wilson was given the "okay" sign by the engraved image of Confederate president Jefferson Davis. The episode went from an innocent pursuit of a fishing rod for dad to a full-on misrepresentation of what the Civil War stood for, who was a hero and the continued "white-washing" of American history. I don't even remember if the fishing rod was ever purchased.

This episode, as well as many others in the series, was co-written by Hank Ketcham, the creator of the Dennis the Menace comic strip. Maybe he should have stuck to single panel gags in the funny pages of the daily newspaper.

I knew there was an underlying reason I hated watching Dennis the Menace. Now I know.

RIP Jay North (1951-2025)

www.joshpincusiscrying.com