Associated Performer, Cello: Fred Katz
Associated Performer, Woodwinds: Paul Horn
Associated Performer, Guitar: John Pisano
Associated Performer, Bass Guitar: Jimmy Bond
Associated Performer, Drums: Forest Horn
Producer: Tom Mack
Narrator: Ken Nordine
Composer Lyricist: Ken Nordine
Composer Lyricist: Fred Katz
Pull My Daisy (1959) is a short film that typifies the Beat Generation. Directed by Robert Frank and Alfred Leslie, Daisy was adapted by Jack Kerouac from the third act of his play, Beat Generation; Kerouac also provided improvised narration. It starred poets Allen Ginsberg, Peter Orlovsky and Gregory Corso, artists Larry Rivers (Milo) and Alice Neel (bishop’s mother), musician David Amram, actors Richard Bellamy (Bishop) and Delphine Seyrig (Milo’s wife), dancer Sally Gross (bishop’s sister), and Pablo Frank, Robert Frank’s then-young son.
Based on an incident in the life of Beat icon Neal Cassady and his wife, the painter Carolyn, the film tells the story of a railway brakeman whose wife invites a respected bishop over for dinner. However, the brakeman’s bohemian friends crash the party, with comic results.
In this age of Trumpistic double-speak and alternate facts, we need to take a closer look at our history and begin to understand how evil has come to be memorialized in our culture.
The vestiges of racism, slavery and corruption need to be eradicated; one step in that direction has already begun: the purging of overtly racist artifacts. Confederate flags are not appropriate to display in public; Confederate and racist monuments should be taken down (General Lee); some names need to be changed (Washington Redskins and Cleveland Indians); some products need to be rebranded (Aunt Jemima, Uncle Ben’s, Eskimo Pie).But let’s be careful how far we take this. Washington Post and MSNBC columnist Eugene Robinson recently asked: “What about non-Confederate historical figures who were white supremacists? If every statue of a racist were taken down, we’d mostly have empty pediments and plinths. It should depend on the person, the context and the memorial itself.â€
Indeed, Woodrow Wilson’s name has been removed from Princeton’s School of Public and International Affairs and Wilson College because he was a segregationist; President Ulysses S. Grant and lyricist Francis Scott Key’s statues were toppled in SF’s Golden Gate Park (both were slave holders). Locally, Orange County has decided to rename John Wayne Airport because the actor had made racist comments in several interviews. What are the contexts here?
Robinson again: “There is an obvious difference between George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, who founded our union, and, say, Jefferson Davis and Stonewall Jackson, who tried to destroy it. The fact that [they] owned slaves should temper our admiration for them but not erase it entirely.” I kind of think that sentiment goes for Wilson, Grant, Key, and even John Wayne. If you disagree, then there’s still more to do, right here in Los Angeles. The history of our city is one of oil, land and water scandals, of genocide and segregation. Maybe we should reconsider some of our local names and make some changes. And let’s not stop at racism.
The growth of California, particularly the southern portion, was pushed along by slavery. The Franciscan missions were built on the backs of the Indians, who were beaten and slaughtered by the Spanish. In 1769, Father Junipero Serra founded California’s first missions by implementing a near-genocidal policy. With the help of Spain’s soldiers, the Indians were brought to the sites of the missions and, once there, they became slaves, directed by the friars. A side note: Serra was instrumental in bringing the Spanish Inquisition to the New World. For doing God’s work, Pope Francis canonized him in 2015. Activists have toppled his statues, but that’s not enough. Anything having to do with Serra and Mission culture needs to be reevaluated.
Joseph LeConte, who was one of the co-founders of the Sierra Club and was an early advocate for conservation and preservation of California’s natural wonders, was a die-hard racist from South Carolina. He joined the UC Berkeley faculty in the late 19th century as a professor of physics and chemistry and there used scientific language to promote racist ideas. In 1939, long after his death, the university named its physics building after him. Just this week UC Berkeley pulled down LeConte’s name from the building.
Last July, the North Westwood Neighborhood Council voted unanimously to rename Westwood’s Le Conte Avenue (possibly changing the name to honor UCLA alumnus Jackie Robinson) but the city council has the final say on that. (Also at UCLA there has been a movement to rename the campus’ Janss steps, named after the Janss Investment Company, which used racial covenants to exclude people of color from buying or renting property in Westwood).
Until developer Abbot Kinney created Venice in 1905, he crusaded for Anglo Saxon racial purity through eugenics. He also demeaned women, Chinese, Jews, etc. — but, for some reason, changed his mind in later years (probably for economic reasons while he was building his “Venice of America”). Because of this disdain for minorities, Abbott Kinney Blvd. in Venice should have its name changed.
Edward L. Doheny of Pan American Petroleum and Transport Company bribed U.S. Secretary of the Interior Albert Bacon Fall to get oil leases without competitive bidding; this was part of the infamous Teapot Dome Scandal (1921-23). Fall went to prison; Doheny has a street, a mansion, libraries, and several other buildings named after him. The street and these buildings should have their names changed.
The Chandlers (the Los Angeles Times dynasty), Henry Huntington (Southern Pacific Railroad)), Isaias W. Hellman (Wells Fargo) and other prominent LA tycoons, joined in “syndicates” to monopolize development and subdivisions of Hollywood and the San Fernando Valley in the 1900s-1920s. The San Fernando valley was indeed ripe for development, but to turn it into a boom area it needed water. Under the pretext of bringing needed water to LA, Frederick Eaton (LA’s Mayor) and William Mulholland (head of the Los Angeles Water Dept.) sold the city on building an aqueduct from the Owens Valley — in eastern California — to LA proper. They created a false drought by dumping water from Los Angeles reservoirs into the sewers and supported the “drought” by scare articles in the Los Angeles Times.
LA acquired the Owens Valley water rights in a deceitful way, forcing prices down and pitting neighbors against one another. There was violence on both sides of these “Water Wars” (1905-1928) — some Owens Valley farmers were fond of dynamite — but in the end, LA won. Meanwhile, the aforementioned syndicates, with secret inside information from Eaton, connived to buy land in the San Fernando Valley at incredibly low prices. Unknown to the public, the water from the aqueduct would be used to irrigate the San Fernando Valley, allowing for unbridled development, and filling the syndicates’ coffers with money. The Owens Lake was drained, and the once bountiful farming paradise became a desert — to this day.
Should we change the names of any buildings, streets or charities bearing the names Chandler, Huntington, Mulholland or Hellman?
The city of Lakewood, developed by Mark Taper and his partners in the early 1950s, was funded by FHA loans with the stipulation that African Americans be barred. The rules stated that “incompatible racial elements†would disqualify builders from federally backed loans. Additionally, property deeds were required to prohibit resale to African Americans. Because of Taper’s complicity in this implicit act of segregation, the Mark Taper Forum should have its name changed.
This is just the tip of the iceberg. I know there’s many, many LA racists, scoundrels, and crooks I’ve missed who have had buildings and streets named after them. What do you think?
In 1995, director Paul Verhoeven’s salacious “Showgirls†— a nasty, over-the-top sex-and-sadism filled exploration of the trials and tribulations of a young woman who hitchhikes to Las Vegas to make it as a chorus girl — opened with an NC-17 rating and alienated literally every film critic in the country. The film was trounced in reviews and died at the boxoffice. Verhoeven and screenwriter Joe Eszterhas had a falling out and star Elizabeth Berkley (who played the lead, Nomi Malone), fresh off the bland TV series “Saved by the Bell,†was dropped by her agent and was pretty much blacklisted in Hollywood.
However, because of its notoriety, “Showgirls†was a success on home video; since its release it has amassed north of $100 million. In the intervening years, “Showgirls†has become a cult classic, and has been re-evaluated as more than just a sensational, trashy nudie exploitation film, transcending the “so-bad-it’s-good†category. The film has been defended by such critics as J. Hoberman and Jonathan Rosenbaum. Even Jacques Rivette, founder of the French New Wave, piped in, calling it in 1998 “one of the great American films of the last few years†for its unflinching look at the dark side of the entertainment world: “it’s about surviving in a world populated by assholes.” Even Berkley’s career picked up; she went on to star in dozens of Broadway productions — to critical raves — and carved out scores of roles on TV.
In the new documentary “You Don’t Nomi†(2019), a chorus of film critics and fervent devotees explore the complicated afterlife of the film, from its disastrous release to cult adoration and extraordinary redemption. The film features Adam Nayman (“Vice Guide to Filmâ€) and Peaches Christ (who hosts midnight screenings in San Francisco) as well as archive interview footage with the cast and crew. If you haven’t yet seen “Showgirls,†this documentary is a great introduction to it. It’s fast-paced and well-balanced, deconstructing “Showgirls†with supporters and naysayers alike.
Director Jeffrey McHale intersperses clips from other Verhoeven movies to place “Showgirls†in the context of the director’s ouvre (most of his films have contained vibrant scenes of sex and violence (“Turkish Delight,†“Katie Tippel,†“RoboCop,†“Total Recall†and the notorious “Basic Instinctâ€) as well as centering it among other sex-oriented big screen productions (“Fatal Attraction†among them). And there’s plenty of footage from midnight showings. Unfortunately, there’s no modern interviews with Verhoeven, Eszterhas, Berkley or co-stars Kyle MacLachlan and Gina Gershon (both of whose careers have flourished, thank you). All in all it’s a fun adventure. On DVD, Blu-ray, from RLJE Films. 92 minutes. Check out the film’s website here.
On the evening of May 8, 1970, I was covering a rock concert at The Grand Olympic Auditorium at 18th and Grand in Downtown Los Angeles. For years the Olympic had been home to boxing, wrestling and Roller Derby (the Los Angeles T-Birds) but from 1969 to 1970 the auditorium shared it sports events with rock concerts. Groups included Mountain, Jack Bruce, Ten Years After, Frank Zappa and the Mothers, Quicksilver Messenger Service and, on this night Little Richard. Little Richard was on his comeback trail after years of religion and gospel, and after being overshadowed by the British Invasion and American rockers who appropriated his music for their success. But on stage, Little Richard gave unequaled dynamic shows (rivalled only by James Brown).
The Olympic was a disputed cultural arena in Los Angeles at this time. Hard-core conservative fans of wrestling and boxing resented having to share their “home” with dirty, “unwashed hippies,” and the LAPD, under the stewardship of Chief Ed Davis, was well-known for its racial and cultural profiling (i.e., blacks and long-hairs). Rock events were well-attended by the LAPD, who patrolled outside and inside the building. During Little Richard’s outrageous concert I was wandering around in the audience, covering it for my college newspaper, taking notes, noticing the cops hassling — and arresting — people. At one point I was in the bathroom and overhead two cops laughing about a bust they had just made — “did you see his face when I smashed his head into the urinal” one commented.
As the evening wore on, Little Richard’s on-stage theatrics and loud music grew wilder and wilder. The audience was whipped into a rock ‘n’ roll frenzy, and Little Richard began inviting the crowd up on the stage. Only the stage — basically the ring at the Olympic — couldn’t handle the weight. In a 1990 interview with Rolling Stone Little Richard tells the rest. “Collapsed. The piano fell. The stage fell. One guy broke his leg. It was pandemonium: The crowd was screaming, and they kept screaming. I was on top of the piano, and I was screamin’ too, ’cause I was fallin’. Everybody was screamin’. Screamin’ and screamin’!”
That was all the LAPD needed. In short order scores of cops showed up, closed down the concert, and chased everyone away. Rock concerts at the Olympic pretty much died out after that. (But, in 1980, the Grand Olympic once again became a musical venue. Public Image Ltd. kicked off a half-decade of punk rock music performances that brought the auditorium a reputation for being a notorious Punk Rock venue. In June 2005, the Glory Church of Jesus Christ, a Korean-American Christian church purchased the entire property, and the Grand Olympic Auditorium ceased to exist).
Little Richard died May 9. He was 87. Richard, whose real name was Richard Penniman, was born in Macon, Georgia in December 1932. He had been in poor health for several years, suffering hip problems, a stroke and a heart attack. Richard’s agent, Dick Alen, said: “Little Richard passed away this morning from bone cancer in Nashville.
His 1955 song Tutti Frutti, with the lyric “awopbopaloobop alopbamboom,” and a series of follow-up records helped establish the rock “n” roll genre and influenced a multitude of other musicians. Richard’s career began when in the late 1940s but his early recordings with RCA Victor garnered little success. His breakthrough came when he signed to Specialty Records in 1955, releasing a run of wild and flamboyant singles – Tutti Frutti, Long Tall Sally, Rip It Up, The Girl Can’t Help It, Lucille, Keep A-Knockin’ and Good Golly, Miss Molly, among others – that made him a star on both sides of the Atlantic.
n the new documentary “You Don’t Nomi†(2019), a chorus of film critics and fervent devotees explore the complicated afterlife of the film, from its disastrous release to cult adoration and extraordinary redemption. The film features Adam Nayman (“Vice Guide to Filmâ€) and Peaches Christ (who hosts midnight screenings in San Francisco) as well as archive interview footage with the cast and crew. If you haven’t yet seen “Showgirls,†this documentary is a great introduction to it. It’s fast-paced and well-balanced, deconstructing “Showgirls†with supporters and naysayers alike.
