Post# 150: Our "Secret" Identity Revealed

For our first 149 posts, fancollectorgeek has been curiously anonymous - "curiously" because the only people who likely noticed it was anonymous all knew who was writing it, and no one else likely cared. It has been easy enough to figure out who's writing, either from my Dad's obituary recently linked, or from the many links from the excellent (and personally inspirational) blog of Jim Fanning, Tulgey Wood that identify me by name.

The reason for this (however transparent) anonymity has currently been suspended, making this an excellent time to share the collectible, below, which bears my name:

Astronaut Edgar Mitchell was the sixth person to walk on the moon, in 1971. It also happens that his first and last name are the same as my first and middle - a coincidence, I'm named after my father's uncle, Edgar Mitchell Davis. Still, that coincidence was enough to make me very interested in the space program when I was a kid. I was only four years old when Mitchell walked on the moon during the Apollo 14 mission, but I vividly remember watching it on TV while visiting my grandmother's house in Akron, NY that summer. I had never heard of anyone that had any name in common with myself (well, unless I had heard of Edgar Allen Poe by that age), so I was very interested in his exploits.

When I heard that you could order an autographed photo from Mitchell's website, I decided I wanted to own one myself. Like actors like William Shatner and June Lockhart, many astronauts charge a premium for signed items. The high demand from fans who want to be sure they're getting the real thing makes it a very lucrative sideline for them. It's my understanding that for years Lockhart didn't do autographs at all until finally, in the early 90's, she acquiesced to sign at a Lost In Space convention in Los Angeles for the then unheard of price of fifty dollars a pop. Fans lined up by the hundreds keeping her busy the whole time she was there.

Now, if she was signing at the same rate that Mickey Rooney was (every 12 seconds, five signatures a minute) when he put his scribble on a Fox and the Hound photo for me, she cleared about fifteen thousand dollars an hour that day - slightly less if she took a break to stretch her wrist or get a drink of water.

Nice work if you can get it!

(Just for the record, Mickey Rooney charged 20 dollars a signature, and for charity. not bad).

Happy New Year, Charlie Brown!

Just in time for New Year's Day, this is a program from the 1974 Tournament of Roses Parade, signed by the Grand Marshall that year, with a sketch of a little character he was known for drawing.  
Jack Whitehead was an official with the Tournament for some time - I can't find any details about him - but several years back he decided to sell a lot of his memorabilia, through a friend of mine, including this program signed by Charles Schulz along with a photo of Jack and Charles together.  The Snoopy rode in the car with him.  You can see a photo of Schulz during the parade, as well as (at least just about) the only self-referencing Peanuts strip Schulz ever wrote, on the Charles M. Schulz museum's timeline page for the 70's here.

Happy New Year, folks!

The Cheesecake Concordance

The Big Bang Theory just gets better and better.  I'm really enjoying this show.

If you've been reading here,  you know I went to a couple of the tapings back in the first season, after the Writer's Strike was over.  At sitcom tapings, the audience is usually wrangled by a stand-up comedian who keeps you entertained in the long breaks between shots, and makes sure everyone quiets down when cameras are rolling.  Most importantly, he keeps up the audiences enthusiasm as the night wears on, and you have to laugh at a joke the fourth time just as if it's the first time you heard it.

At Big Bang Theory, the warm-up guy was pretty good (I hate to say I don't recall his name, I'll add it if I find one of my programs).  He did the exact same corny jokes both times I went, but I expect they get few repeat visitors.  Anyways, both times he had scripts to hand out to some of the audience members who played along with him.  I wanted one, but I didn't volunteer to sing, or play a game, so no surprise I didn't get one.  

The second time I went, he also had color photos signed by the whole cast.  I wanted one.

While I didn't get one at the show, it did occur to me that someone who got one at one of the tapings might not want to keep it, and might put it on Ebay... and I saw this picture up for auction shortly thereafter.  Few bidders, it's mine.  This one was actually not signed at the show, but at the San Diego Comic Con.  It's identical to the ones I saw being handed out, though.

Not too long ago, I had the chance to visit one of the real-life locations often "seen" on the show:  The Cheesecake Factory in Pasadena, which I'd assume is the one where "Lonely little" Penny works.  I don't know why, but on the show this restaurant is always shown as being sort of plain, almost Denny's-like.  In real life, they're borderline Very Fancy Looking, with that "jeans and t-shirts are okay"  air that so many places in California pull off so well.  I haven't tried the burger there, but Sheldon recommends it.

(A note:  Jim Fanning and I tend to call her "lonely little" Penny because that's sort of how she was described in the program handed out at the show.  You can see that program over at Jim's excellent and personally inspirational blog here.   You can also read some more news on Big Bang at Jim's December 15th post here).

The Three of Clubs - is this your card?

I've liked Penn & Teller since I first saw them - probably on Saturday Night Live, but definitely on Late Night With David Letterman on NBC in the 80's. I've been lucky enough to see them live twice (not counting the time Penn was standing outside the deli around the corner from my apartment, talking to some people as I drove by).

The first was at the Wiltern Theater which, like many places in Los Angeles, takes its name from the intersection it stands at - (Wilshire Blvd. and Western Ave. Get it?). It was called the 38% original material tour, or something like that, sponsored by Comedy Central. We had great seats - about eighth row stage right - and they did a lot of good stuff. I specifically remember Teller doing a bit where he threw a bunny into a full-sized wood chipper producing a splatter of blood. After the intermission, Penn said some people were upset about that (despite the bunny being, if you paid attention, fake), and he insisted that if rabbits were big enough, they'd do it to us in a second.

Teller did his amazing "drowning in a tank of water in plain sight" illusion. Penn talked on and on after Teller shuddered and fell still, in plain sight under water, no apparent way he could be breathing. After about seven minutes of monologue, finally discussing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on his water bottle, someone finally shouted "What about Teller?" which is the prompt he was waiting for to go on. Penn berated us for listening to him prattle on while a man apparently died before us. (Teller survived).

The finale found the two of them on a bare stage wearing nothing but plain, white t-shirts that came down to their knees. They proceeded to make all manner of objects appear out of thin air - a glass of wine, a knife, a rose with thorns. the gag was that by the end, they were both completely soaked in blood from these objects cutting and pouring on them. They bowed, and walked through the theater out to the lobby, where they stood on plastic tarps and signed anything and everything people brought up to them - and made sure each item got smeared with as much fake blood as they could wipe on it. Books left with two signatures and full handprints, concert t-shirts were signed and then wiped on their faces to smear with blood. I left with only my ticket stub signed, with Teller's thumb print and a piece of Penn's palm still showing clearly today.
Years later I saw them again at the Wilshire Theater - you guessed it, down the Boulevard from the Wiltern. Tickets were available through work, and I put in for a pair immediately. These tickets are usually pretty good, and on the way there we both expressed our desire not to get called on stage and ridiculed, as unlikely as that was.  But when we got in the theater, we saw that our seats were very good.

Very, very good.

Front row, right side.  In fact, if I stretched out my feet from my seat, they rested on the stairs you would climb up onto the stage if you were picked to help the performance.

Now, if you know me, I think you might agree I look exactly like the kind of guy a magician would be happy to call up on stage to look silly.  I won't speculate what kind of guy that is, but at least Penn agreed with me.  I remember only three specific parts of the show:

1) Teller escaped from a trunk we all examined up close on stage before the show started.

2) They did a bullet catch; fantastic.  And,

3) The card counting trick, because Penn called me up.

He does a trick where he asks someone to randomly cut the deck, then tells you how many cards are in the cut by weight alone.  He called three of us up for this one.  One guy cut the Vegas deck, the most carefully produced cards in the world, therefor relatively easy to count.  Another guy cut the standard Bicycle deck, pretty normal cards anyone might have at home, a little tougher to guess.

I cut the "nudie" deck.

Nudie cards, according to Penn Jillette, are cheaply produced with whatever cardstock is available and therefore, very very difficult to count accurately.  His count of my cards would truly show off his amazing skills.

I cut the cards, and he held them carefully out, bobbing the small stack up and down a bit and concentrating.  "Thirteen." He said, and handed them back to me.

HE then instructed us to count the cards for ourselves, and went down the row as we each verified his count - at least the first two did.

I counted twelve cards.  So I counted again.

Twelve.

The first two matched his count, and the audience applauded each time.  Then he got to me: "And how many of the nudie cards are in the stack?"

"Twelve" I said, with the board with his "13" prediction right behind me.  He froze.

"Well," he said taking the small stack from me, "It's certainly possible I'm wrong, as these are very hard to count, or, it's possible you may have been...distracted while you were counting.  would you please check again?"  He handed them back.

I counted thirteen cards this time, and everyone had a good laugh as Penn gave me one to take home, since I appreciated them so much.  I nodded sheepishly - appropriately - and slunk off stage.

The special, secret sidenote is, just as he took the stack back from me, I saw on his opposite breast pocket a single "nudie" card sticking up in plain view of the audience.  So he and they

 knew - he counted correctly, and Penn had a little fun holding one card back from me until the final count.

At the end of the show, Penn and Teller bowed deeply... and walked straight through the theater out through the lobby, and signed anything and everything  that people brought up to them.  Including my card.  (It's not the 3 of Clubs, if you were wondering - their "signature" card - it's a Jack of Diamonds.)

Penn Jillette has said the point of life is to get good stories to tell, and they gave a good story to every person they signed for, spoke to, shook hands, or wiped fake blood on a souvenir of.  Walking straight out through the crowd like that made it clear they were there for everyone who wanted a piece of them - and frankly, showed quite clearly that they truly appreciated their audience.

A class act.

Speaking of Vincent Price...

...on March 5th, 1977 I met Vincent Price.  I know this because my Dad insisted I write the date on the bottom of the autograph he gave me.

Vincent Price was in Syracuse presenting his lecture "The Villains Still Pursue Me" and I wanted desperately to go.  Luckily, as I recall, my parents were not opposed to going themselves, and perhaps had some idea how distraught/impossible I'd be if I couldn't see him.  I was ten at the time, and typical for a kid in Syracuse then, I watched "Monster Movie Matinee" on channel 3 every Saturday, and loved old horror films.  I remember dressing up to go, and I remember my parents going with me.  I don't recall if my sisters were with us.  In any case, it was amazing to see one of my film idols in person speaking about his career.  That said, remember almost nothing about what he said that day, except that if you showed a man walking into a cobweb in a film, all the men in the audience would jump.  And, that he read a poem about the parts he played.

Afterwards, he took questions from the audience and I raised my hand.  I wanted to ask him who he had really enjoyed working with.  You see, I had the book "The Films of Boris Karloff" at home, and I wanted to hear Vincent say "Boris Karloff" so I'd feel smart.  (Of course he would, they'd made several films together and Boris seemed like a great guy.  I was a little kid, though, and not too close to the stage, so I didn't get called.

On the way out, though, my Dad knew where the artist's entrance was, and somehow we got inside.  Mr. Price was there walking through the office lobby section of the Civic Center on his way out of the theater to either his ride to his hotel or (the impression I had) a restaurant across the lobby.  He was with at least one other man and I was quite pleased that he looked up and smiled as he saw this eager little kid approaching.  (I had run up ahead of my folks to make sure I'd catch him).  I told him I was a big fan - an original sentiment - and held out the "Friends of the Zoo" flyer they were passing out on the way into the theater and he obligingly signed the quite perfect signature you see here.  Not a scrawl, you can actually read his name.  I then asked my question "Who have you really enjoyed working with?"  Surely he was going to say Boris Karloff.

Price paused thoughtfully (and a little theatrically) and said well, I really enjoyed....and then proceeded to list a bunch of people I'd never heard of.  Directors.  Producers.  "So and so was always a really pleasure to work with.  Oh, and some lady was a pleasure to perform with."  As he listed off these strangers I nodded appreciatively at each as if ever name was somehow giving me a little piece of vital information I needed.  In truth they meant nothing to me, and not one of them was Boris Karloff.

It was about this time that another kid ran up next to us.  If memory serves me correctly, he was the son of a co-worker of my Dad's who went along with us, about 8 years old.  That may just be a fabrication of my memory to explain my embarrassment, because the kid ran up to Price and said "Wow cool!  Look!  His teeth are like Dracula's!!"  And held his index fingers pointed down on either of his cheeks in the universal sign for "I've got fangs."

I kid you not.

Price looked down and snarled "Away, you beast!" And waved his hand dismissively.  I swear I remember that.  Price left with his friend/manager/host, I left with my folks, and I still have  the autograph.

This was probably my first autograph I got myself.  Being a fancollectorgeek, autographs are a big deal: at the very least, you hold something touched by greatness.  If it's personalized, it's proof you touched greatness.  Strong stuff.  I've never been very interested in buying autographs myself.  I've looked on Ebay and seen four different Tom Hanks photos sporting three different signatures - not good odds.  But I really do enjoy getting a photo, or book, or just a piece of paper signed by someone I admire who I've met.  

There are limits, though.  I've never harassed someone who wanted to get away for a signature. I was lucky enough to attend the Premiere of Star Trek: First Contact at the Chinese Theater in Hollywood.  Afterwards Jonathan Frakes, who both played Will Riker and Directed the film, was cornered in the lobby signing programs for fans.  He smiled genially to each person - and I could have easily joined that faceless mob - but then I saw that as he signed each program - he craned his neck up over the crowd, searching with a look of sheer desperation for Whoever was Supposed to Rescue Him.  (I think it was a she, and she was in the restroom).  

Frakes would have never remembered my face - given the unlikely chance I'd ever "meet" him again anyways - but I had no interest in being a part of that.  So when we come back to the next autograph from my collection, remember that no talent was harassed in the procurement of any signature.

(For those keeping score: my Vincent Price autograph is kept in a book of autographs that moves between a shelf about three below the one you see in my banner, in my living room, and my desk at work).