"It's just a phase I'm going through."

Before my September month fades away completely, I wanted to share two more delightful art renderings from my dear friend, David Fontana.  Birthday gifts from my magical amici of time and space, place and music.  A companion to many of the muses, this I can attest to.

Lately, with all the Virgo energy (good and bad) and the slide into Libra balance, I have been putting my little steamed noodles on the Page of Twits.  And, I must admit, have been enjoying the Cosmic Giggle.  But David's art, particularly the first, is the only interpretation so far of the nearly forgotten arcane audio alchemy that was Space Pirate Radio: the phasing of two (or three!) vinyl records of the same artist...at the same time.

Let me expand on the subject. ("OH DEAR, Betty!  He's EXPANDING!")

There is a certain nostalgia for the shows of Space Pirate Radio where I threw out all the rules of what a radio program should be bound to.  Now, in my mind, this WAS from day one, January 27th, 1974.  Or even May 1968, when I first went on the air.  But for this science course students, we will examine the period from June 1974 to 1985 when the world was still primarily analog.

It is SAFE TO SAY, that a certain Expanded Mental Consciousness contributed to a Doctor Frankenstein-like environment to, AHEM...tamper in God's Domaine.

Before half a year of Space Pirate Radio had passed, I stopped being a regular disc jockey with normal interruptions and back announcing of song titles.  I felt it was destroying the trip, even if I had "bed" music underneath (Tangerine Dream or Ash Ra Tempel), while I gave out the artist information.  This was a tough evolution because I wanted the listener to know the cool (or UN-cool) music I was playing, but I didn't want to interrupt the mix.  So as the shows developed, I wanted Guy Guden, Disc Jockey, to disappear after introductions at the beginning of the show and "have some fun" being Guy Guden, Space Pirate, or Nun of the Above...a collection of Multiple Personalities, or lack thereof, guiding you through the matmos of muzik of many lands that wasn't Monrovia, but maybe was.  The Hermes of Hi-Fi.  A Quicksilver Messenger Surplus of Foreign Sounds.  If you dug it, welcome aboard; if not, you have freedom of choice.  Turn the Dial.

But I digress...

The phases.

The "trippy" shows of Space Pirate Radio began in June of 1974, where single songs blended into multiple songs.  Themes began to develop.  Sound collages began to happen.  A television set in the old KTYD studios, high atop the 8th floor of the Granada Theatre building, became a new participant in the sound mixes.  While Amon Duul 2's Yeti was playing on the air, I was armed in a production studio with several 10 and a half minute tape carts, recording random dialog off the early TV channels, switching like a juggler, looking for snippets of sound that mixed and matched.  Turn the second dial up while recording and you were surfing echo...soft, smooth and haunted, or turned to full wipe-out!  Old horror films, cheesy Italian sci-fi flicks, el cheapo ads on channel 13.  This audio alchemy added up to sonic magic.  I can still hear dialog of echoed madness from films I have no idea what they were: "Drop!  Drop!  Drop now!" "We can't!  We're TOO loaded!"  "Don't tell anyone what we saw in the garden. They'll think we're insane."  And so forth.  Found dialog, psychic mixing, with no editing.  Pop these on the air while Dance of the Lemmings is still playing, or Second Hand or Seventh Wave or Tago Mago or Atem...WHEEE!!!  A wireless OUIJA BOARD was ON THE AIR.

The first experimental show, was drenched in George Harrison's Electronic Music, voices, gags and sound effects.  It initially scared some listeners, especially if they had been tripping.  But after continued weekly exposures, they became fully initiated and verbally enthusiastic for these new transmission progressions. "Too much?" "Too much."

"Now it begins."  FLASHBACK!

Okay, I now insert the memory of a mind altering moment that would affect the topic at hand.  Like my earlier discovery of the electronic music from Forbidden Planet in 1956...and the sight of that first intoxicated wine cover of Mad magazine in 1958...I had a third childhood pre-psychedelic moment in 1959 (although it felt earlier).  This was hearing for the first time, in our little home in Fullerton, a song called "The Big Hurt" by a lady named Toni Fisher.  WHAT THE HEAVENS WAS GOING ON?   I've read the description by one person who first heard the song and saw a jet overhead and has forever linked the moment.  I believe my mother was vacuuming the furniture when I first heard it.  That is my memory lock.  This song was sound being SUCKED through a vacuum machine.  Furniture music, indeed.  This song seems to have been the initial experiment, accidental some say, of phasing, or flanging, as it's technically called.  I knew neither term at the time, and not until after I was dabbling.  I just knew, buried in my subconscious, was the desire to fly and surf those sounds again.

 

2nd Phase.

 

I carried on regardless.  So this phasing thing: if you play one record and then you play a second copy of the same record at the same time, like tantric sex, something amazing will happen.  Prepare for chills because sound that is LINEAR will become VERTICAL and TUBULAR and...OH, MY GOD!!!  AURAL SEX!!! :) :) :)

 

3rd Phase. Cold shower after 3 laps 'round the field.

 

So I attempted to enhance the audio sound of all my favourite records if I had 2 copies of the disc. David Fontana has already posted his artistic interpretation on his blog, Scungilli Sings.  He cites Amon Duul 2 from Hijack as the moment he remembers.  I can't think of a favourite work I DIDN'T try to reshape.  Besides the obvious Heavy Hitters, I remember Alan Parsons' Tales of Mystery and Imagination ("System of Doctor Tarr & Professor Feather"), Manfed Mann's Earth Band's Glorified Magnified, Nektar's Remember the Future, and a Pink Floyd bootleg (yeah, I played them) of the Screaming Abdabs as standouts.  I even did Goon Shows and Environments lps (oceans were particularly cool).

 

Of course, sometimes it would all crash and burn.  Like a lover or two, this Menage a Turntable had to be spun correctly.  Which turntable was faster?  The slower one had to have the music ahead.  The faster coming up in tempo, changing the sound.  You had to hear, on air, live, which table was doing what.  This meant splitting the song in your head to differentiate the disc.  And like Jonathan Pryce in Hysteria, all the action is in the fingers :)  A bad poke and your two bars off the beat.

 

But when it was good, OH!!!...solid bliss.

 

In my lab, I tried to go further.  3 turntables.  I tried it with the same song recorded on six carts and two turntables.  Flat and muddled.  The best cross experiment was taking both the English language version and German import of Kraftwerk's Trans-Europa Express and playing them at the same time.  The music was EXACTLY the same and phased.  The dialogue, however, was a cacophony of Ralf Hutter singing and saying the same thing in Englischer and Deutsch.  It was like a Kafka Kocktail Party.

 

Later, at Y97, I tried phasing cds.  Wasn't satisfied with the outcome.  Digital Pause Repeat Breakup was interesting, but never as visceral as old school plates.  The tables at 2K0, Y97 and KCBX were clunky, noisy and unresponsive to digital (as in FINGERED this time) speed alterations.

 

While putting together this piece, I read up on various anecdotes regarding the history of phasing, or flanging, in the years of music.   Most refer to the practice coming from the slowing of the tape machines in the recording process.  I've found nothing so far about disc jockeys doing this live.  Yet, I know I wasn't the only one playing with the sound.   When Dave Heffner from Austin, TX joined KTYD a number of years after I had been there, I found him in the afternoon phasing Grateful Dead or Willie Nelson or some of his other favourites.  And he was a daytime jock.  None of this late night space cadet stuff.  So the process has been out there for quite awhile, I suspect.  The lab equipment varies depending on who is using it.  "It's all about the Sound, man.   All about the sound."

 

4th Phase.  Ah, those phases of the lunacy.  Grazi, Fontana di Luna.

 

Al Chemical was Jazzed to be Spinning the Wax.

"Mister Sound man. Bring me a dream"

"Now it begins."

"In my humble attempt to amuse your fiance, Mr. Harker, I was telling her some rather...grim tales of my far off country."

Part of my late night ritual on the Magic Cathode Folder is to check the daily birthdays on IMDB.  A constant source of reflection.  Who chooses that A-Dult Film Star Mona Mounds, seen in such epics as Pleasure My Blender, gets a higher number at 17, than character actor George Zucco at 44?  But I digress...

A short time ago, I saw it was the birthday of the late Fred Stuthman.  "WHO DAT?" you say, banjos strumming in the background.  Fred Stuthman was Jeepers' Keeper, just the coolest late night horror host on local Los Angeles TV.  The third and best host of KCOP-TV's Saturday night program, Jeepers' Creepers.  And my first job in the wonderful weird world of showbiz.

I have a fondness in my heart for horror movie hosts.  I entertain thoughts of ending my dubious careers doing one locally, but let's back up.

Every major city seemed to have at least one or two late night weekend horror movie hosts, starting in the Fifties.  Shock Theatre, Zacherley in New York.  Vampira in L.A.  Each local, non-network station would have a package deal with some studio for horror films, all ranging from the classic Universal monsters (KTLA, channel 5 in L.A.), to RKO (channel 9), to Allied Artists (channel 11) to bottom drawer Monogram (channel 13).  So 5 would have Shock Theatre, 9 would have Science Fiction Theatre, 11 would have Chiller and 13 would have Jeepers' Creepers.  To offset the lower quality of the movie offering, more entertainment from the ghoulish host was required.  This is why on Saturday evenings in the early Sixties, yours truly would watch Bela Lugosi in The Devil Bat at 10pm on channel 13.

Okay, it's 1964, and this little horror movie nut has moved from Fullerton, California to the virgin oak lined hills of Diamond Bar.  I've been making inroads to the worlds of horror, science fiction and fantasy movie making and literature, via The Count Dracula Society and the Los Angeles Science Fantasy Society.  Jeepers' Creepers runs these charming grade B to Z flicks like Bride of the Monster.  The current host has replaced the original character Jeepers, played by Bob Guy.  After a long run, he is followed by a rare female host since Vampira, called Ghoulita.  She is soon followed by Jeepers' Keeper, played by character actor Fred Stuthman.  I like this cat.  I decide I want to visit the set.  How do I do this?  Request an interview for my horror fanzine Vampire Castle.

I write the appropriate letter and Lauren Bacall, surprise, surprise...I get an invite to visit a taping at the KCOP-TV studios on La Brea Avenue in magic filled Hollywood.  I discover the shows are taped on Monday evenings around 7pm-7:30 or so, and can last till Midnight.  Whatever segments work are than intercut into the movie breaks for the following Saturday broadcast.  I'm there, man.

So after class on Mondays from dismal John A. Rowland High School, my folks, surprisingly, let me catch a bus from Fullerton into the horrific environs of Downtown LA (NOT the upscale place to be in 1964), catching another bus going up Wilshire Blvd. to ultimately transfer north on La Brea to the sacred studios.  Forget after school football.  This is MAGIC!

Note, I say Mondays in the plural.  This is because my one-off visit begets a regular invitation to the Monday night tapings.  Producer James Sullivan asks my opinion of the show and how I would improve it.  Can you imagine how a teenage horror fan felt about such a thing?  I suggested the horror elements be darker, more gothic.  And the comic moments drier, ironic or absurdist, in contrast to the theme of each week's movie offering.  This observation made me a part of the crew (non-union of course, really just a glorified intern, but to a 15-16 year old like myself, it was my Disneyland).  I really have to thank the producer Jim Sullivan for being so encouraging.  This was a wonderful time in Hollywood.  Doors were open and talented people accessible.  Things would change by the Eighties.

But back to Mondays, 1964:

Fred Stuthman was a theatrical actor.  A tall, thin, balding man, with high cheekbones and a Valentine Dyall type of voice.  When he put on the Phantom of the Opera style clothes, long black wig, hat and cape, he was quite a commanding figure.  A living, breathing Tales From the Crypt, Crypt Keeper image.  I think he relished the role.  He was very flamboyant in these shows.  Other roles he did, he would just disolve or fade into the part.  But at this time, he was the best damn horror host on TV, who also became a friend.

My third bus would arrive across the street from the channel 13 studios after 5pm and I would greet the studio guard.  Lloyd Thaxton would be doing his daily live dance and music program from one of the two major lower studio areas, which on some shows, was redressed into the the Jeepers' Creepers mausoleum set.  I'd head into the make-up room where Fred was transforming himself.  This was an amusing situation, as often or not, the musical guests on the Thaxton Show were waiting in that room as well.  I met Herman's Hermits that way.  In Santa Barbara in the Nineties, Peter Noone lived there as well and I asked him if he remembered being in that dressing room, waiting to go on telly while this man made himself up as monster. "That must have been '65 or '66, wasn't it?  You would have been 16, yes?"  Possibly.  The show lasted from 1962 to 1966.  I hung around for the last half.

So this Monday night excursion became a habit.  I even forsake some episodes of my favourite network show, The Man from U.N.C.L.E when it was in the Monday night time slot.  I felt a slight tinge of remorse seeing a glimpse of a new first season episode on a backstage monitor during taping.  Even the Jeepers' crew were UNCLE fans.  But more important work was to be done.  And thank the pagan gods, summer reruns were to begin, so I could be loyal to both obsessions.

I started creating props for the show.  A horror movie friend at the time made a large bat out of coathanger and black cloth.  This became a set piece.  I added a skull with candle.  There may be a foto enclosed of me setting match to prop as Fred prepares for camera.  I really loved the fog machine.  This technical device for the time, a brown art deco appliance, plugged in with heated Vaseline, ready to spray clouds of smoke...this set the mood.  I loved the smell of it, even though it probably wasn't healthy.  If a take flubbed, new layers of smoke were added.  If they wanted the mists to stay ground level, like a Wolf Man movie, a metal tray was applied to the front of the machine, filled with dry ice.  This kept the clouds from rising.  Pure magic!  The effect was complete.  We WERE in the graveyard.  Like walking into your favourite Universal horror film.

In an era where home recording was only dreamt of, I have no copies of these Saturday night broadcasts.  But I did have my own kinescopes.  I would turn off all lights in the den, open the lens of my Kodak 8mm motion picture camera to full, and film off the second black and white TV set on colour stock.  Except for the fluctuating vertical lines, this actually worked quite well.  I had a small audio tape recorder.  If the batteries were strong, it came out adequate.  If not, oh, dear!  Helium moments in performance playback.  I also took my trusty Kodak to the studio and got some lovely on air and behind the scenes stuff in colour.  Fred, Jim and the crew.  Cool moments.  Better than summer camp.

Ultimately Fred left the show and started a serious career.  He appeared in a lot of interesting stuff.  Check out his resume on IMDB.  He worked in what I believe is Clint Eastwood's best film, Escape from Alcatraz.  And with Patrick McGoohan.  And Fred Ward, whom I got to know in Santa Barbara.  He's back to the satanic in The Sentinel and quite exposed as well.  He worked with both Sophia Loren and O. J. Simpson in Firepower.  He was in Network.  I hope some day to catch up on his TV work I missed, like Lou Grant and WKRP in Cincinnati.

As for Jeepers' Creepers, after Fred left, producer Jim Sullivan took over the host role.  He became The Creeper, possibly the most horrific horror movie host to date.  He looked like he stepped out of an old E.C. horror comic.  Jethro Tull meets a Nightmare on Elm Street.  Half ghoul, half wino.  Daring, but doomed.  The show had come to its end.

Over a decade later, I reconnected with Fred Stuthman.  I tracked him down doing stage work at the Music Center.  He was living in Long Beach and we corresponded by letter.  Lots of memories and a wealth of showbiz stories to share.  I decided to drop in on him.

The last time I saw Fred Stuthman, I didn't see him at all.  He was doing The Crucible at a small theatre in Hollywood.  I thought I would surprise him and come down from Santa Barbara, see the show.  When I got to the theatre on Ivar, a note was placed on the playbill: "Tonight's performance will be performed by Ford Rainey"  FORD RAINEY!  This marvelous character actor, who I had JUST HAPPENED to work with in 1973 in King Lear.  Is this incredible and bizarre or what?

With the utmost respect to Ford... I turned around and left.
 

"Tell me Hilda, does all this frighten you? Does it make you feel insecure?"

When Smokey Robinson hooked up with Trinity Broadcasting Network, he suggested an Evangelical movie project set in Motown Studios.  "The Last Christ of the Temptations" never went past first draft.

Syd Barrett as Jerry Lewis in "The Delicate LSDelinquent."  Likewise.

Everyone remembers Fats Domino and Chubby Checker.  But what ever happened to Porky Parcheesi and Hefty Scrabble?

I love the B Movie factories of the '30s and the '40s.  Does anyone remember MONOGAM Studios?  Their motto: "We only have ONE LEG to stand on."

The studio, too cheap to afford the East Side Kids or the Bowery Boys, introduced the ill-fated Skid Row Juveniles.  Also, unable to pay for Chinatown second unit work, the Mr. Wang of Alameda series was doomed to obscurity.

Citizen Kane to be remade with new product placement: RoseBudweiser.  Peter Gabriel will contribute title song: Sledhammer.

Del Monte sponsoring revival of musical "Hair."  "This is the dawning of the Age of Asparagus."

An intoxicated Tom Jones exposed himself during a concert after changing the lyrics to "It's Not Hung Usual."

Hollywood Hidden Secrets: When long time partner Bob's Big Boy ran off with new lover Pillsbury Dough Boy, jilted lover Alky of Alka Seltzer, commited suicide by throwing himself in a glass of water.

Snow White originally had 10 Dwarfs.  Did Walt fire Nosey because he was too Jewish?  Humpy for his Vice Record?  And Limpy?  There would have only been 5 Dwarfs if Dopey hadn't been a supplier and Doc hadn't performed certain operations.  The first explains Happy and Sneezy's conditions.  Grumpy had piles, but Doc wouldn't perform the operation.  Records were destroyed.

They keep sending me mail about cremation services.  I burn them in the fireplace.

Shouldn't Abbe Lane have recorded Abbey Road?

Michael Caine was once approached to join Emerson, Lake and Harry Palmer.

Max Factor and the X Factor have nothing in common.  There is no foundation to this story.

Likewise, Bette Davis has never been romantically linked with Miles Davis, Sammy Davis, Jr., the Spencer Davis Group or the Davis Cup.  Where DO these stories come from?

Joan Crawford's alter ego was Broderick Crawford.  They were never photographed in the same room together.

Hermes was the Messenger of the Gods, not a fashion designer.  It was never his bag.

"When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide."

Okay, Jo.  Here are some more rib ticklers.

Bob Fosse once considered doing the choreography of the works of Ayn Rand.  "Atlas Frugged" was the first concept.

Nipplelodian (the network for under-nourished, non-breast fed children) had proposed a series about a female child star jazz-funk group: The Jon Benet Ramsey Lewis Trio was quietly shelved.

In the sixties, Johnson & Johnson suggested a line of bath products inspired by The Man from U.N.C.L.E.  David McTallcum Powder only made it to the testing stage.

Likewise, in later years musician Peter Hammill asked Napoleon Solo to join his band, but sadly, Robert Vaughn der Graaf Generator never performed at the Roundhouse.

The planned collaboration of Jethro Tull and Yes never brought forth Thick as a Brick Relayer.

I would love to start a new town called Moderation.  Alcoholics could live there with respect.  They would never feel guilty saying, "I only drink in Moderation."

Likewise, in this town, I would name one street Not in Service.  This would make waiting for your correct bus more fun.

Robert Plant originally sang "Hey, hey, Mama.  When you move your groins.  It makes me glad you're from Des Moines."  Later, sober, this version of "Whole Lotta Lunch" was discarded.

Jimmy Page was asked to join a disbanded Bachman-Turner Overdrive.  Page-Turner is still a mystery.  But then, a good mystery should always be a Page-Turner.

Not many people know that Bob Dylan loved the mystery comedies of Nick and Nora Charles so much, he created "Ballad of a Thin Man."  An obsession with the lead actress inspired the song, "Loy, Lady, Loy."

If Bea Arthur had married William Holden, she would be Bea Holden.  If she had then made a film with The Thin Man's Myrna Loy, they would have been Loy and Bea Holden.  Or was that an Irish Vaudeville team?

Alka Salsa was briefly produced by the Miles Davis Laboratory.

Travel author Rick Steve's marriage ended when he accidentally sent a misspelled postcard from Amsterdam saying; "Wish you were her."

Gene Barry did not appear in the pilot episode of the sixties Saudi Arabian detective show, Burqa's Law.

The first concert merchandise ever sold was after a performance of Trois Gymnopedies, Paris.  The item was an Erik Satie shirt.

Where are the great porno performers of the '70s?  We know what happened to Johnny Trousersnake Disease.  But does anyone fondly recall Veronica Nose, Amber Grope, Bambi Steam, Desiree Humper and Vanessa del Groppo?  And the virile efforts of Jamie Odors and Herschel Sewage?  I miss those all night shows at the Screaming Beaver theatre. Downtown Los Angeles, at 5th and Hell.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: Armin Mueller-Stahl, with his new wife Lesley and their adopted son Nick, are heading to a horse farm in Chatsworth to film a scene about Josef Stalin in a barn, when on the Ventura Freeway...guess what happens to the car's engine?

"Nothing less. The number 10 raised almost literally to the power of infinity."

If I hadn't seen the film Forbidden Planet in 1956 at the age of 7, possibly EIGHT, I doubt Space Pirate Radio would have ever come to exist.  Aside from the Existential discussion of the change of time, placement, divergence, effect and outcome, the simple fact was...this film BLEW THE CHILDLIKE MIND!  Hallucinogens in the chocolate milk and frosted flake(s).  It changed my world, like that Mad Magazine cover did 2 years later.

My mother took me to see it in a Southern California theatre after we had moved from Michigan.  She HATED it.  Space movies and science fiction scared her.  My dad LOVED sci-fi, so we buddied up for all of the later interstellar fare.  In my childhood, HE drove me to the first Count Dracula Society meetings.  WE went to Forrest J Ackerman's house to see his sci-fi collection.  I can still remember my father talking to Forry about the classic science fiction film, Things to Come.  Cool.

But back to Forbidden Planet.  This otherworldly interpretation of Shakespeare's The Tempest was a ground breaking sci-fi film.  I'll try to avoid an in-depth thesis.  The film had many levels to excite a young boy's mind, especially Anne Francis and her Sin-emascope legs and her pre-mini (or post-mini, since this is the future) mini-skirt/dress.  Hoo-Hah!

It was the sound of the thing.  The first all electronic soundtrack major motion picture.  Completely alien.  Not a recognizable human instrument in the whole mix.  We had the theremin in Day the Earth Stood Still. An alien amidst the human orchestra.  Very cool.  But this was complete.  Like when I first heard Tangerine Dream's Atem.  Pure space.  The film's composers were Louis and Bebe Barron.

So it would appear that film soundtrack music shaped my imagination.  Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake from Dracula, Max Steiner's complete score from 1933's King Kong, Bernard Herrmann's music from Journey to the Center of the Earth and especially Jason and the Argonauts and Mysterious Island.  Jazz from my Mother...Henry Mancini with Mr. Lucky, the crazy early sounds of Lenny Dee, Errol Garner.  My Sister with classical, ballet and the soundtrack to Spartacus.  I owned Percy Faith's theme from A Summer Place and Spike Jones' stuff as well as classical.  Plug that in with surf guitar, Lou Christie, Burt Bacharach, the British Invasion and lots of keyboards.  Mix with Monster Movie Marathons, Mad Magazine, lounge music and Eurotrash films and fashion.  The nucleus of Space Pirate Radio muzak is in the lab.

These things take time.  For some, a little slower than others.  38 plus years ago, I introduced Tangerine Dream on commercial radio, 8 floors above the Granada Theatre.  A month from now, what is now Tangerine Dream, will make its "Santa Barbara Debut" in the very same theatre below.

Oh, the irony.

It takes time for some of these fads to catch on.

(Will Gaston or the Phantom himself be in the balcony?)

Herbert Lom Chaney? More or less, B.S. Morbius, or less. :)

"Where am I?"

"In the Village."

Hello Surrealists.  Welcome Dadaists.  It's a Meet & Magritte.

Every day, if the fiber kicks in...I meet the New Number 2.  I've Resigned, myself to it.

You know my name.  Look up the number.

What's in a number?  You know Number 6.  Have you met Number 54?  He's the Music Arranger.  Has a Studio.  The House Band?  Why...The Village People, of course.  Number 8 is the DJ.  If you try to leave, your progress is halted by a floating disco ball.  Known as Raver.

Como?  Who is Number Juan?

Meanwhile...

On Perry Mason the other night, Season 6, Volume 2 (how CURIOUS!), the lawyer's client was a toothless prospector who couldn't afford the legal fee.  Perry took his false teeth.  He told secretary Della Street to make note of the retainer.

If Shirley Temple had married The Saint, would she have been Shirley Templar?

If the Girl from U.N.C.L.E. had married Austin Powers, would she also be known as Stephanie Powers Powers?

Did Ironside ever listen to Leadbelly?

Did the Streets of San Francisco ever clean up during sweeps?

How could Frankenstein produce a Son if he was Baron?

Have Gum, Will Chew.  Wire Pallidentures, San Francisco.

It's true what they said about Ed Sullivan.  He had "a Really Big Shew."  And anyone with "a Really Big Shew" had a Really Big Foot.

When the Italian Mouse replaced Jon Anderson in Yes, Tales from Topo Gigio Oceans was briefly rehearsed.

When Wayne and Shuster broke up, followed by Simon and Garfunkel...Simon and Shuster was also considered.  "Book them!"

Topo Gigio was once a member of the Rat Pack.

Senor Wences once tried to enter the fast food business with a brand of cole slaw only sold at Christmas.  It was called Good King Wences' Slaw.

Christopher Walken's first attempt in pop music was to join Missing Persons.  The song Walken in LA, has never seen the light of day.

The Shadow had the "power to cloud men's minds."  Did he also have the power to cloud Carly Simon's coffee?

Simon and "a Really Big Shew" stir.  It all makes perfect sense now, tee-hee.

"What do you want?"