Happy Birthday, Dr. Fauci

December 24, 2020

Happy birthday to a true American hero, Dr. Anthony Fauci, who turns 80 today.  Wear your masks!

Speaking of masks...  I am amazed how many people still refuse to wear them.  Masks do work!  Trump has mocked and discouraged mask wearing.  He even went after President-elect Joe Biden.  "Every time you see him he's got a mask," said the outgoing president.  "He could be speaking 200 feet away...and he shows up with the biggest mask I've ever seen."

Trump's followers drink whatever Kool-Aid he serves up.  If he wore a mask and told his supporters to do the same, they would.  Yet he continues to downplay the epidemic.  "It's rounding the curve," he said before the election.  "That's all I hear about now... 'Covid, Covid, Covid, Covid.' By the way, on November 4th, you won't hear about it anymore."

Really?  The situation has never been worse.  We're losing 3,000 Americans a day.  This president has more blood on his hands than any other before him (just ask the family of Herman Cain).  His base is so cultish, they follow their leader no matter what.  So many lives could have been saved if he stopped holding live rallies and encouraged mask wearing.  He's a disgrace.

I am fervent about wearing a mask whenever I am outside.  They are uncomfortable but we have no choice.  Although most people here in Manhattan wear masks, I see a lot that don't.  I've never uttered the phrase "f***ing moron" more than in the last nine months.  I've gotten into some ugly situations with no-maskers.  "Masks don't work!" they say.  Now Manhattan is far from being a Republican or Trump haven.  These anti-maskers can't all be idiot Trump supporters.  They're just plain idiots.

I was at my barber the other day.  I've been going there for years.  A Jewish father and son from Ukraine.  They both give excellent haircuts.  So I walk in and the son is cutting some guy's hair.  He says to have a seat in the other barber chair and his father will be right with me.  They have the shop appropriately set up with clear plastic curtains as barriers.  Right as the son is finishing up the guy, I notice the guy is not wearing a mask.  I did not see this when I walked in.  If I did I would have said he has to wear a mask or I'm leaving.  So the guy leaves and doesn't even put a mask on as he left.

I asked the barbers why he wasn't wearing a mask.  The son said he was at first but took it off.  "Then you should have told him to put it on or else leave!" I said.  I did not raise my voice but I let them know how pissed I was.  "Not only is that a danger to customers, you - as a business owner - can get fined," I said.

"You're right, you're right," the father said with a dumb smile.  "He owns the pizza place over here."

"So because he owns a pizza place, he's special?" I shot back.  "He doesn't need to wear a mask?"

Well, I paid for the haircut, gave the father a lesser tip than usual (even though tipping the owner is ridiculous), and wished them both a happy new year.  They smiled and wished me the same, see you in January, blah blah blah.  I'd love to know what they said after I left.  One thing I believe, though, is they are not going to let anyone get a haircut without a mask again.  I think the part about being fined is what scared them because all they care about is money (and no, not because they're Jewish but because that's how all business owners are).

If you have another minute, let me tell you what happened yesterday.  I'm walking up Second Avenue minding my own business on the way to the supermarket.  I see this little old lady yelling at a couple and their kids because they weren't wearing masks.  She really let them have it.  I joined in and berated them as well.  "You're absolutely right!" I told her.  She was grateful I was on her side.  Then another no-masker says masks don't work.  "F***ing moron!" I say.  Then this young woman joins us and also says how terrible these people are.  The old lady said thank you.  I said, "No!  Thank YOU!"

I walked with the young woman two blocks and we talked about ignorant these people are.  "I know, they are selfish," she said.  "Don't ask what I see on the subway."  I told her I don't take the subway and then relayed the barber story to her.  We parted on 86th Street and wished each other happy holidays.  To quote Charles Grodin in Midnight Run, "For every shit in the world there are six nice people." 

It wasn't until later that night that I regretted not giving the girl my card.  She probably had a boyfriend and was not interested in a short guy fifteen years older than her.  But I had nothing to lose.  I wasn't quick enough to say something like, "If you don't have a boyfriend, maybe we can socially distance together some time."

But I digress.  This virus is a nightmare.  We all can do our part but human behavior is what is, especially in America.  We are a selfish people who only care about our own comfort.  This is no joke.  Wear your damn mask!  And happy holidays!

Geoffrey Palmer: 1927 - 2020
November 13, 2020

I have always been a Britcom fan.  After Fawlty Towers, my favorite is easily As Time Goes By, which aired on BBC One from 1992 to 2005.  The key to the show's succcess was the chemistry between the two leads, Judi Dench and Geoffrey Palmer.  The two played Jean and Lionel, a couple who were madly in love but were separated after Lionel was sent off to war.  They meet 38 years later, realize their estrangement was due to a lost love letter, and marry.

Palmer died on November 5th at age 93.  He embodied the quintessential English curmudgeon but with a very endearing and warm side, as he displayed on nearly every episode of the show.

If you have never seen As Time Goes By, the entire series is available on DVD. In these trying times, I could not recommend a more soothing entertainment.

In addition to As Time Goes By, Palmer had a memorable guest spot on Fawlty Towers in 1979, and appeared in such films as O Lucky Man! (1973), A Fish Called Wanda (1988), Mrs. Brown (1997), and Tomorrow Never Dies (1997).

The London born Palmer died peacefully at home and is survived by Sally, his wife of 57 years, and two children.

Happy Days Are Here Again!
November 7, 2020

After the worst year imaginable for this country, there is hope for real change, respect, and decency. 

For me, it's not just about getting Trump out - it's about Joe Biden himself.  From the moment he announced he was running, I was all in for him.  He was an underdog, he was ridiculed, but he never faltered.  He is the first candidate I actually made phone calls for and donated money to.  He is a decent, honorable man.  I don't agree with him on many issues, but character counts.  I have faith in him.

There has never been a more dangerous period in this country.  He will lead on Covid-19, he will be willing to negotiate with the opposition, he won't use divisive, juvenile rhetoric, and he will not blatantly lie.  He'll be a president who is presidential.  It's clichéd, but he is the right man at the right time.  Plus we'll be getting a first lady who has inner and outer beauty.  And how about our new Jewish second gentleman?  Oy, what more could you want?  To borrow an infamous Biden line, this is a big f***ing deal!

It's a great day to be an American!

Mr. Showmanship???

October 21, 2020
 

One is an ostentatious entertainer who loves excess and has a cult-like following of millions of adoring fans, and the other is Liberace.

I Think Gene Would Approve...

October 6, 2020

Redford on His 2020 Candidate

September 27, 2020

Found this interesting piece by Robert Redford.  I usually am turned off by celebrities endorsing politicians, but this is very well-written and thoughtful.

Trump doesn’t care about ordinary people. All the president’s men are enablers. He loathes refugees coming here out of Africa. And he will have appointed three legal eagles to the Supreme Court. The natural thing is to worry. His case for a second term is an indecent proposal.  If he gets re-elected, we will all feel the sting.  I just hope Biden is the candidate who can take us back to the way we were.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg: 1933 - 2020

September 19, 2020

No matter what your politics are, you have to admit Ruther Bader Ginsburg was a pretty amazing woman.  Ginsburg, who died last night at age 87 after a recurrence of pancreatic cancer, was the second woman appointed to the Supreme Court and the first Jewish woman.

A Brooklyn native, she earned her law degree from Harvard after receiving her bachelor's degree from Cornell University, where she met her future husband Martin Ginsburg.  They had two children and were married for 56 years until his death in 2010.

In 1980 Jimmy Carter appointed Ginsburg to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit.  She served until being appointed to the Supreme Court by Bill Clinton in 1993.

Ginsburg had overcome a number of serious health issues.  There was always concern when news would break about her checking into the hospital, but she was a strong lady.  She always got better and was determined to stay on the Court.

In these divisive times, it's downright heartwarming to know her best friend on the Court was Antonin Scalia.  As jurists, they could not have been further apart in their views.  But they were genuine friends, brought together by a love of opera and wine, who often dined together and even spent New Year's Eve with each other's families.  Where is that kind of bipartisanship today?  It says a lot about both her and Scalia as people.  When giving his eulogy, Ginsburg spoke of their odd friendship, and said it was about "making our differences work."

The timing of Ginsburg's death is troubling because the presidential election is just 45 days away.  Four years ago when Scalia died in February of that election year, Republicans refused to hold confirmation hearings for President Obama's Court pick.  The election was nine months away, yet they would not let a qualified Obama appointee be considered.

Now, with just six weeks before the election, Trump and Majority Leader Mitch McConnell did not wait for the body to get cold before announcing they intend to speed through the confirmation of a Trump appointed Supreme Court nominee.  The blatant hypocrisy is typical Trump.  There are several Republican senators who have nothing to lose by insisting whoever wins the election should pick the next Court nominee.  Lisa Murkowski and Susan Collins, likely to lose her seat in Maine, have said just that.  Mitt Romney is really the only GOP senator who regularly calls out Trump - he needs to speak up.  Same for Lamar Alexander, who is retiring.  Former rival now Trump flunky Lindsay Graham is on tape saying that if a Court vacancy opened, the appointment should wait until after the election.  How is he going to backtrack that now?  If Trump gets away with putting one more justice on the Court before the election - and the GOP senate helps him - it will be one more long-lasting stain that this totally unfit, pathological liar has put on this country.

Whatever happens regarding her successor, Ruth Bader Ginsburg's legacy will remain an inspiration for all Americans.

The Seven Year Headache

August 28, 2020

Seven years ago today, my third book, Unnecessary Headaches, was published.  It was my first novella, and one I remain very proud of.  My mother got to see the first two books, but did not live to see this one.  I know she would have read it and loved it.  Unnecessary Headaches is available for purchase on Amazon.com.

August 23, 2020
 

Open Letter to:
Peconic Bay Medical Center
Riverhead, NY
Andrew J. Mitchell, FACHE 
President and Chief Executive Officer
Sherry Patterson
Chair, Board of Directors

From:
Brian Scott Mednick
New York City

This weekend marks nine years since my dear parents, Martin and Bella Mednick, were taken from me - two days apart - due to the negligence of Peconic Bay Medical Center in Riverhead.

My mother passed away on August 24, 2011.  Her death was caused by negligence on the part of two attending doctors – Brenda Connolly, DO and Aura Urquia-Robles, DO – who gave her excessive doses of morphine for pain. 

My mother had a history of COPD, congestive heart failure, and breathing problems, and used oxygen at home.  The doctors were well aware of this, yet they continued to give my mother morphine to treat pain from a bone infection in her foot.  The morphine made my mother delirious – she was hallucinating and incoherent, a total contrast to her usual sharp personality.

The doctors recommended my mother be transferred to rehab to help her walk.  While in rehab at the hospital, my mother’s mental state worsened.  I pleaded with the rehab nurse to stop all narcotics, which they did.  I was informed it would take a few days to leave her system.  The day after stopping the narcotics, I received a call telling me that my mother was found “unresponsive” in her room at rehab.  I was told she fell out of bed.  How could she fall out of bed if the bed rails were up?  Obviously, they were not up, clear neglect on the part of the hospital staff.

She was taken to the ER where they inserted a breathing tube.  The ER physician, Andrew Wackett, MD, told me that morphine often causes problems in people with breathing issues.  He was taken aback that she would be prescribed so much morphine when her breathing history was known.  Yet Dr. Connolly and Dr. Urquia-Robles continued to give her round-the-clock morphine.  Totally unacceptable!

My mother had the breathing tube removed after four days but was not herself.  Despite not being on morphine for many days, she was confused and could not even hold a fork or spoon to feed herself.  She was transferred from ICU to a regular room.  An aide helped her onto a commode and then left her alone.  When the aide returned, she was on the floor and not breathing.  They brought her back to ICU and inserted the breathing tube again.  This is when I was told she would not recover.  My mother was in a coma and I had to decide when to remove the tube.  There was no hope for her – she was brain dead.

The rehab nurse admitted that my mother should not have been in a room which was the furthest away from the nurse’s station.  Also, the aide should have stayed with my mother while she was on the commode.  But it was the excessive morphine that started my mother’s deterioration.  She had been in and out of the hospital often for congestive heart failure, but I never thought her death would come about in such a needless way as this.

My father was in the hospital at the same time, having had a toe amputated.  When I broke the news to him that my mother would not make it, he was confused.  He was moved to a rehab facility near the hospital.  On Sunday, August 21, 2011, I visited him at the rehab facility and he asked how my mother was.  I told him once again she would not make it.  My father told me he had a dream that morning that he saw my mother and she said she was better and everything was going to be okay.  When I told him the reality of the situation, he just sank.  “Just sell the house and put me in a room somewhere,” he said, the most heartbreaking thing a son could hear.  He signed a “do not resuscitate” order that day.  The next morning his doctor called to tell me he had passed away in his sleep from a heart attack.  My father simply could not bear to live without my mother.  It’s sounds cliché but he died from a broken heart.  That day I decided to remove my mother’s breathing tube.  She died two days later.

This was devastating.  I lost both of my parents, whom I lived with and took care of and who were my world, two days apart.  My mother was 75, my father was 72.  As an only child, I had no one to help me through this.  While they both suffered from many health problems, I firmly believe they both would have lived had my mother not received all the morphine she was given, was properly attended to, and not been put in situations where she could fall.  She went in for a foot infection, not a problem with her heart or lungs.

I consulted three top malpractice attorneys, all of whom agreed that my mother’s death was due to negligence on the part of the hospital.  But an autopsy was not performed on my mother, which would complicate a malpractice suit.  I was also told it would cost me upwards of $10,000 and probably take two or three years to pursue such a case.  I could have futilely tried suing but hospitals are so lawyered up that it’s nearly impossible to win.

No complaint, letter or lawsuit could ever bring back my parents or ease the unbearable grief of the last nine years.  No one was held accountable.  I want it known that Peconic Bay Medical Center is a horrific hospital that should be avoided at all costs.

I used to have such faith and trust in hospitals.  I used to think if my parents were in the hospital, they would be better treated than if at home.  How wrong I was.  And sadly, I know I am not alone.  There are a lot of families who, like me, have had their world destroyed by the thoughtless malpractice of hospitals.  My thoughts are with those families.  Losing a loved one is never easy, but losing them in such a senseless way makes the loss even harder.

Nine years.  Nine years of grief.  Each year on the anniversary of their deaths, I light yahrzeit candles for them, get a fresh arrangement of flowers, and arrange my favorite photos of them on my kitchen table.  I spend several days in more anguish than usual.  Pathetic?  Perhaps.  But it is the only way I know how to mourn them.

There was a story in the news a few years ago about these parents who sued their 30-year-old son to get him out of their house.  I joked at the time that my parents would have sued to keep me there.  But it’s true.  We were that close.

I curse that hospital for taking my life nine years ago.  I view my life as divided before they died and after they died.  I kick myself for all the complaining I did when I lived with them at the end and helped take care of them.  I hate I cannot pick up the phone when a celebrity dies and say to my mother, "Did ya hear?”

I long for one more Chinese dinner like the ones we frequently had at home or in a nice restaurant.  We always got a booth.  My mother sat next to me, my father across from us with our jackets and her bag.  We'd always start with tea and soup, then split an order of spareribs before our main courses.  And, of course, there were always doggie bags.  My mother was the most selfless person I have ever known.  She put me ahead of everything.  When I was not living at home, if she and my father tried a new restaurant and liked it, the first thing out of her mouth would be, "Brian would love this.  We’ve got to take him here when he visits."

I cannot imagine how many lives were needlessly taken due to Peconic Bay’s negligence.  To them, our loved ones are just another patient, another number.  

I am not writing this letter in the hopes of "letting go."  I'll never let go.  I do not want to “get over it.”  I’ve written to Peconic Bay’s president, Andrew Mitchell, every year on the anniversary of my parents’ death.  I never get a response, don’t expect one, and frankly do not desire one.  This year I decided to take my letter public so people can know the lack of guilt, shame, and responsibility Peconic Bay has.  Andrew Mitchell and his board are cowards.

A hospital is supposed to heal people, not kill them.  Shame on you, Peconic Bay, Mr. Mitchell, Ms. Patterson, and your board of directors.

Signed a grieving son,

Brian Scott Mednick

The Wails of August

August 14, 2020

August is my least favorite month.  It's the month when I lost both of my parents.  It's also the month when Joan Rivers went into a coma, Gene Wilder died, Jerry Lewis died, and seemingly every vile person I have known in my life has a birthday.  Give me September or October anytime.

Anyway, before I post my annual mourning piece for my parents later this month, I'd like to offer something a little more nostalgic and really delicious.  This recipe can be found in the Food and Drink section of this site, but I've been eating it a lot lately for breakfast.  It always remind me of my mother.  We always had ham, cheese, mayo, lettuce, and English muffins in the fridge.  Late at night when I would be aimlessly looking for a snack, she would say, "Ya want an Engla Shmuffin?"  That's how it sounded to me.

This very simple but very tasty concontion she would often make me for breakfast, right up until the last months of her life.  I call it Bella's Breakfast Sandwich and here's how to make it.

Lightly toast an English muffin on tin foil in toaster oven.  Remove and put a little mayo on each side.  Add some iceberg lettuce to the bottom muffin.  If using packaged American cheese, put half a slice on the lettuce and the other half of cheese on the top slice.  If using deli sliced cheese, which is often thinner, just put one whole slice on each side.  Depending how thin or thick your Board's Head Deluxe Ham is (and yes, you must use Boar's Head sliced from the deli!), use two or three slices, piled in a ribbon fashion.  Loosely wrap this up in the tin foil you used to toast the muffin, completely covering it, and put back in toaster oven at 400 degrees for approximately 6 minutes or until cheese is melted and ham warmed through.

Serve with a cup of coffee or whatever your morning beverage of choice is and enjoy.  The subtle crispness of the English muffin, the hint of creamy, warm mayo, the pleasantly wilted lettuce - this is a superb combination.  I would not omit or add a single ingredient.  Makes a great snack too.  Two with a couple of deli side salads would even make a nice dinner.  Either way, this is the ultimate comfort food because with every bite, I think of my dear mother, who put as much love into her cooking as she did in raising me.  And yes, you'll long for another one as soon as you finish this.  My mother would always ask if I wanted a second one, but I never wanted to her put her to the trouble.

Try Bella's Breakfast Sandwich - a healthier and frankly more delicious alternative to the standard egg sandwich - and let me know what you think.

A Little Hanky Panky Started It All

August 13, 2020

39 years ago today, Gene & Gilda met on the first night of shooting on the set of Hanky Panky.  Because I am feeling nice, here is the whole chapter from Gene Wilder: Funny and Sad about how they met and later married:

CHAPTER 11
THIS NICE JEWISH GIRL FROM DETROIT

"I've been married twice and both times to Catholic girls...I think next time I'll
be healthy enough to at least consider 'going out' with a Jewish girl."

- Gene Wilder

The script was called Traces.  It was a comic murder mystery in the tradition of Hitchcock that Gene Wilder wanted to do simply so he could once again work with his good friend Sidney Poitier.  Gilda Radner, who had a year earlier left her star-making five-year run on Saturday Night Live, was cast as the woman Gene falls in love with in the film, which was retitled Hanky Panky.  It didn’t take long before their movie romance developed offscreen as well.

“I’d give it all up for love,” Gilda once said of her career, and in Gene she had found someone who she described as “funny and athletic and handsome, and he smelled good.”  Never so much attracted to the good-looking guy so much as the funny one, Gilda confessed, “A funny man is irresistible.  More than any looks, more than anything.”

Ironically, Gene didn’t look forward to working with “this nice Jewish girl from Detroit,” as Gilda often characterized herself.  In a 1986 interview he and Gilda did with Marilyn Beck, Gene said, “I thought this aggressive Detroit Jewish bitch was going to come on, improvise through every scene, [and] say, ‘No, no, no, no.  That’s not how we do it on Saturday Night Live,’ and push her way through.  And this little timid girl comes on...  She was just Miss Shy.”

In addition to Gene expecting Gilda to be difficult, Gene was quite different than Gilda anticipated he would be.  “She thought I was queer,” Gene said, “because she saw Stir Crazy and she got it in her head that I was tutti-frutti.  Just because Richard kissed me one time.”

“After seeing his movies,” Gilda admitted, “I thought, he’s much taller than I ever thought.  And much handsomer than I ever thought...  And not as tutti-frutti as I thought.” 

Gene and Gilda’s paths almost crossed before Hanky Panky.  “She had seen my movies and I had seen her on television,” Gene said.  “But we never met until August 13, 1981, on the first night of shooting Hanky Panky.  She says she saw me one time when I came to the NBC building to do an interview.  She wanted to come over but felt uncomfortable about doing it.  I wish she had.”

There was one complication for Gene and Gilda’s blossoming romance – Gilda was married.  Her husband was musician G.E. Smith, who for years was the bandleader on Saturday Night Live.  They were married a year and the marriage was already on the skids.  Meeting Gene just confirmed for Gilda that the marriage was over.  Gilda and Smith soon got an amicable divorce and remained on friendly terms.  Prior to Smith, Gilda had been romantically involved with Peter Firth, Bill Murray, Chris Sarandon, and Kevin Kline.

Hanky Panky began production in August 1981 with a cast that included Richard Widmark, Kathleen Quinlan, and Robert Prosky.  The film had many similarities to Silver Streak – both films mixed elements of comedy, romance, and suspense – as Gene once again portrayed an innocent nice guy wrongly accused of murder.  In the film, Gene plays Michael Jordon (a name which now elicits laughter, though at the time the other Michael Jordan had yet to reach notoriety), a Chicago architect who has recently moved to New York.  After sharing a taxi cab with a pretty young woman (Quinlan) and mailing a package for her, Michael is nearly killed by a bunch of thugs who believe he knows about a top secret computer tape. 

Michael tracks the young woman down at her hotel, but she just wants to be left alone.  After she’s shot to death, Michael finds her body and is assumed to be the murderer, leaving him no choice but to flee.  Along the way he meets Kate Hellman (Radner), who believes Michael is innocent and helps him as they run from both the cops and the killers.

The film gave both Gene and Gilda ample opportunity to join together their unique brands of humor.  Typical of this is one of the film’s broadest scenes in which the pilot of the small plane they are flying in suddenly dies.  Michael refuses to accept the fact that he now has to land the plane himself and keeps telling Kate to ask the dead pilot questions.

Upon its June 4, 1982 release, Hanky Panky was a failure with both audiences and critics.  Years later, Gene said, “If I made one mistake professionally in my life, I think it was at that point in my life doing Hanky Panky.  If I made one great choice in my life, it was doing Hanky Panky because I met Gilda, who changed where I live, how I think, how I feel, what work I do...”

When they met, Gene was living in Los Angeles while Gilda was residing in a house she had recently bought in Stamford, Connecticut.  They lived together on and off for two and a half years.  In 1982 they comforted each other as they each suddenly lost a close friend and colleague – on March 5, 1982, Gilda’s fellow Not Ready For Prime Time Player John Belushi died of a drug overdose at age 33, and on December 2, 1982, Marty Feldman died at age 49 of a massive heart attack brought on by food poisoning on the last day of filming Yellowbeard (1983) in Mexico City.

In the summer of 1982, Gene took Gilda to France for a two-week holiday.  Gilda had only been there once before when she was eighteen, and had found it a less than thrilling experience.  With Gene as her guide, she saw France in a totally different light and, according to her, “learned it could be a pleasure and I could love it.”

Shortly after they returned from France, Gene and Gilda broke up.  “Gene said he was suffocating, that my needs were smothering him,” Gilda wrote in her 1989 autobiography.  Gilda also suffered from bulimia, something she admitted to during her Saturday Night Live years.  But bulimia remained an ongoing struggle for Gilda, and even after she and Gene were married, she continued to force herself to vomit after dinner.  It got to the point where Gene saw there was little he could do to help her and eventually just tried ignoring Gilda’s eating disorder.

During their breakup, Gilda bought a dog to help her through this terribly lonely period.  The female Yorkshire terrier was named Sparkle.  Not long after getting Sparkle, Gene and Gilda got back together.  Luckily, Gene was a dog lover (in the 1960s he adopted a small female dog named Julie) and he and Sparkle had no problem taking to one another.

For Gilda, her goal was to convince Gene to settle down and marry her.  “Gene built a tennis court and a wine cellar in her Connecticut house,” said Gilda’s friend Pat O’Donoghue.  “That made her a lot less insecure.  It was sort of like an engagement ring.  For a brief moment there, she was truly, finally happy.”  Having been married and divorced twice already, Gene was in no hurry to walk down the aisle again.  In her autobiography, Gilda wrote, “My new ‘career’ became getting him to marry me.  I turned down job offers so I could be geographically available.  More often than not, I had on a white, frilly apron like Katharine Hepburn in Woman of the Year when she left her job to exclusively be Spencer Tracey’s [sic] wife.  Unfortunately, my performing ego wasn’t completely content in an apron, and in every screenplay Gene was writing, or project he had under development, I finagled my way into a part.”

Gilda’s finagling worked, for she found herself with a part in Gene’s next film, The Woman in Red.  Victor Drai, a first-time producer who had done everything from designing clothes to selling real estate (and is now a nightclub impresario who is opening his own Vegas hotel in 2012), had bought the rights to a 1977 French film called Pardon Mon Affaire.  Drai thought Gene would be ideal for the American version as a mild-mannered family man looking for a little adventure in his life.  He knew Gene’s agent, and soon Gene and Gilda found themselves having a series of dinners at the home of Drai and his live-in girlfriend Kelly LeBrock.

Gene had doubts about Americanizing Pardon Mon Affaire.  “He believed that he really didn’t want to do a remake because he figured the original was so good and it’s really a discredit to the original when you do one again,” said cinematographer Fred Schuler.  But Gene soon realized that a remake could stand on its own terms, and he ended up writing the screenplay adaptation and directing as well.

In the film, Gene plays Teddy Pierce, a shy, quiet advertising executive living in San Francisco.  One day Teddy is in the parking garage of the building he works in and notices a beautiful young woman in a red dress.  As she walks over a ventilation grate, her dress flies up à la Marilyn Monroe.  From this moment on, Teddy becomes obsessed with pursuing this mysterious woman in red as he lies to his wife and children.

For the supporting cast, Gene assembled his old friends Charles Grodin, Joseph Bologna, and Michael Huddleston to play his male buddies who cover for him.  For the title role, both Gene and Gilda thought Kelly LeBrock would be perfect.  LeBrock, who was a 23-year-old model with no prior film experience, was terrified about starring in a movie, but after enough convincing, LeBrock agreed to do a screen test for Orion Pictures and soon found herself with her first film role.  She found the entire experience to be very positive.

“Gene was wonderful,” LeBrock said.  “He was very busy but he still made time for me...  The set was one of the nicest sets I’ve ever been on...  I still hope I will find the same feeling that I had on that set.  It was a family.  We had a great time...  There was only tension on the set one day, and that was the scene of going over the [ventilation grate].  Everyone knew it was kind of an important scene to the film, and everybody sort of got a little bit uptight.  They just wanted it to be really good, and sometimes when you’re on a set people get nervous off each other.

“Gene never raised his voice, he was never out of line or anything...but you could feel the tension.  It was difficult because they were trying to get the dress to blow up, and it wasn’t working well, and they had to change the tactic.  They had to keep trying the dryers in different positions and all.  And time is money on a set, and it wasn’t a big budget film.”

Gilda played Ms. Milner (though, as Gilda pointed out to David Letterman when promoting the film, her name is never mentioned), a hideous woman who works in Teddy’s office who thinks Teddy is really interested in her.  Some critics were baffled as to why Gene would cast Gilda in such an unattractive role with not a lot of screen time.  “She looks like a ghost in this movie,” said Gene Siskel.  “She does nothing funny.”  Despite such criticism, Gilda won the Best Supporting Actress award from the now defunct Your Choice for the Film Awards, an awards program whose nominees were voted on by a panel of film critics and whose winners were chosen by the public.  Gilda beat out fellow nominees Peggy Ashcroft (A Passage to India), Christine Lahti (Swing Shift), Geraldine Page (The Pope of Greenwich Village), and Theresa Russell (The Razor’s Edge).

To write the songs for The Woman in Red, Gene acquired the talents of Stevie Wonder.  Wonder’s songs resulted in a hugely successful soundtrack album, and his “I Just Called to Say I Love You” went on to win both an Oscar and Golden Globe for Best Original Song.  In his Oscar acceptance speech, Wonder thanked Gene and dedicated the award to Nelson Mandela, who was still in prison at the time, which resulted in Wonder’s music being banned by the South African Broadcasting Corporation.

The Woman in Red opened on August 15, 1984.  It was one of the first films to receive the new PG-13 rating from the MPAA, the first being Red Dawn, which opened a week earlier (Dreamscape, which opened the same day as The Woman in Red, also received the PG-13 rating).  It did respectable business at the box office and received mixed reviews.  On the positive side, Leonard Maltin called it “Wilder’s best film in years,” while Time magazine’s Richard Schickel found it “a well-made sex farce of classical proportions” and “the summer's first comedy for adults.”  Janet Maslin of The New York Times wrote, “Mr. Wilder, who has improved greatly as a director, has also written the screenplay, and does it with an eye to everyone’s sympathetic foibles...  Whether Teddy is taking up horseback riding to impress Charlotte or turning instant hipster with a silly new suit and hairdo, Mr. Wilder manages to make him reasonably likable.”  Pat Collins proclaimed The Woman in Red the “best romantic comedy of the summer” and found Gene to be “at his irrepressible best.”

A month after The Woman in Red's release, Gene and Gilda were married.  Gilda had been trying for the better part of two years to convince Gene to marry her, and she ended up having Sparkle to thank for Gene’s proposal.  “She was very insecure, terrified of so many things, afraid to be alone for the shortest period of time,” Gene said.  “I thought, having been married before, this could be a disaster.”

Gene and Gilda were ready to leave for a vacation in France with Sparkle.  They had planned to fly from Los Angeles to New York first to visit Corinne and Gil, then leave for France.  While waiting in a private passenger lounge in the airport, Sparkle accidentally ate rat poison.  A panicked Gilda rushed Sparkle to the vet.  Gilda told Gene she would meet up with him in New York.  Gilda spent the whole day at the vet’s office while Gene flew to New York.  When Gene landed, Gilda called him to let him know Sparkle was fine and said, “I know you love me and you know I love you.  You’re so tired.  You need a vacation.  You go on to France and when you come back I’ll meet you in Connecticut and we’ll be together and we’ll be happy.  But let’s not worry about anything.”

“I’d been waiting two years for her to say something like that,” Gene later said.  Upon his return, Gene gave Gilda an engagement ring.  Orion sent them to Europe to promote The Woman in Red, and in between attending the Deauville Film Festival and doing interviews in Rome, Gene and Gilda found time to stop in the south of France where they were married on September 18, 1984 in the small thirteenth-century village of St. Paul-de-Vence.  He was 51, she was 38.  They were married by the mayor of the village in a ceremony performed in French that included only eight people, among them a Belgian couple from L.A. whom they were close friends with, some friends who owned a Danish restaurant in the south of France, Corinne and Gil, and, of course, Sparkle.  The wedding party celebrated at the Danish restaurant of Gene and Gilda’s friends, and later that evening Gene and Gilda enjoyed a traditional French wedding dinner in the chateau they were staying at.  Since they were still in the midst of promoting The Woman in Red, Gene and Gilda actually spent most of their honeymoon in Rome.

When one rude French reporter asked Gene, “Why didn’t you marry the beautiful girl in The Woman in Red?” he immediately replied, “I did!”

Pete Hamill: 1935 - 2020
August 5, 2020

Pete Hamill, one of America's greatest writers, has died at 85. 

Hamill endured numerous health problems in recent years.  He was on dialysis and wheelchair-bound.  According to his brother Denis, also a writer, Hamill fell at his Brooklyn home on Saturday, August 1st, fracturing his right hip.  He was rushed to New York-Presbyterian/Brooklyn Methodist Hospital where he underwent emergency surgery but his kidneys and heart failed while in intensive care.  He died on Monday, August 3rd.

A regular at the legendary Lion's Head Tavern in the Village, Hamill was the last of the old school, hard-drinking newspapermen who epitomized New York's gritty golden age of journalism. His 1994 memoir A Drinking Life is probably my favorite book. It's a nostalgic look back at his coming of age in 1940s Brooklyn.  A very lucky guy from a young age, the book is filled with lots of kiss-and-tell, personal and professional highs and lows, and his battle with the bottle, a habit that he kicked at age 37.

I probably own more of his books than any other author, and his style of prose has been more influential on my fiction writing than anyone else.  Aside from A Drinking Life, my other Hamill favorites are the novels Flesh and Blood (1977) and Loving Women (1989), the journalism collections Irrational Ravings (1971) and Piecework (1996), and the remarkable short story collection The Invisible City: A New York Sketchbook (1980).

Hamill had a brief, controversial stint as editor of the New York Post in 1993 and later as editor-in-chief of the Daily News. 

He won a Grammy Award in 1975 for writing the liner notes to Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks.

He sent me a letter over 20 years ago when I was still trying to get my Gene Wilder bio published.  It was handwritten, sent from his Horatio Street apartment, and very encouraging.  He told me keep writing, go on to the next project, and not to wait for editors to make decisions.  I met him once, and he graciously signed two of his books to me, both with unique inscriptions. 

Hamill was friends with Bobby Kennedy, and helped disarm assassin Sirhan Sirhan on the night of June 5, 1968 as the mortally wounded Kennedy lay nearby.  He hung out with Sinatra and dated Shirley MacLaine, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, and Linda Ronstadt, yet remained down to earth and real.  A nice guy who never forgot his Brooklyn roots, Pete Hamill led an amazing life.

In addition to his brother Denis, he is survived by another brother, Brian (best known as Woody Allen's still photographer); his second wife, journalist Fukiko Aoki; and two daughters from his first marriage.

Regis Philbin: 1931 - 2020

July 28, 2020

There are certain beloved entertainers who you know are up there in age but you just think will go on forever.  Regis Philbin was one of them.  Philbin, who died on July 24th one month shy of his 89th birthday, was a cultural icon.  His family said he died of natural causes but it was later revealed he died of a heart attack brought on by coronary artery disease at a hospital in Greenwich, Conn., where he and his wife Joy had a home.  Philbin, who lived across the street from the Upper West Side WABC-TV studio he shot his morning show, had a successful triple bypass in 2007.

Listed in the Guinness Book of World Records for having the most on-screen television time, the proud Bronx native had the warmth and humor of someone you'd want as your next door neighbor.  He dominated morning television for nearly thirty years before retiring in 2011.  His chemistry with co-host Kathie Lee Gifford was undeniable.  When Kathie Lee left, the show was never the same.  Kelly Ripa is not very engaging and, unlike Regis, is a total phony who cruelly stopped talking to him after he left the show, taking it personally.  Regis admitted he was dumbfounded by the cold shoulder, as he simply left because after three decades and having just turned 80, he felt it was time to retire.

The tributes to Philbin have been many and deserved.  I was an early fan of his while he was still doing the local morning show here in New York before it was syndicated and rebranded Live!  Our paths almost crossed several times but alas I never had the pleasure of meeting the man. 

In a business that thrives on illusion and insincerity, "Reege" was the real deal.  Like Joan Rivers, what you saw on TV was what you got in person.  He was a wonderful singer, having grown up idolizing Bing Crosby, Perry Como, and Dean Martin.  He had a natural talent for hosting, whether it was Live! or Who Wants to Be a Millionaire or even the Miss America pageant.  He really was the daytime equivalent of Johnny Carson.

Regis admitted one of his few regrets was that he did not make it big until he was in his fifties.  He won two Daytime Emmy Awards and one lifetime achievement one.

In addition to his wife of fifty years, he is survived by two daughters with Joy and a daughter from his first marriage.  His only son, from his first marriage, died in 2014 at age 49.

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A Revolutionary Podcast

July 4, 2020

Earlier this year I was interviewed by Jamey DuVall for his podcast. He was particularly interested in Start the Revolution Without Me. I did not hear from him for six months until a few days ago when he sent me this link. It is a massive undertaking, incredibly detailed and very ambitious. He breaks down films from the year 1970 by month. Go to February. The Start the Revolution segment begins at 18:45 and I start yapping at 28:00. Thanks to Jamey for including me in this very special project.

Carl Reiner: 1922 - 2020

July 3, 2020

What sad news to wake up to this morning.  Carl Reiner, legendary comedian, actor, writer, producer, and director, died last night at his home in Beverly Hills.  He was 98.  According to Reiner's nephew George Shapiro, a producer and agent, Reiner was in good spirits that day and had watched Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune with best friend Mel Brooks, whose 94th birthday Reiner helped celebrate just one night earlier.  Around 10:00 p.m., Reiner was walking out of the TV room with the aid of a housekeeper when he stumbled.  

“He didn’t fall too hard. It was a gentle buckling of the knees,” Shapiro said. Minutes later, Reiner lost consciousness. “He went out within three minutes,” he said. “He didn’t suffer. Everybody wants to go that way.”

98 is a helluva run for anyone, but Reiner's death really stings.  My first reaction was, "I can't imagine how Mel Brooks must feel."  Brooks and Reiner formed, in my opinion, the funniest comedy team ever with their "2000 Year Old Man" act, which they started performing for friends at parties before fans such as George Burns and Steve Allen coaxed them to turn the bit into five hit records.  Their last one, "The 2000 Year Old Man in the Year 2000," won them a Grammy for Best Spoken Comedy Album in 1999.  After 60 years, the material never gets old - they are among the very best comedy albums of all time.

Reiner and Brooks met when they worked on Sid Caesar's landmark Your Show of Shows, and they remained best friends for 70 years. 

Reiner would go on to create and star in The Dick Van Dyke Show, write books and plays, and act in and direct numerous films.  His best known directorial efforts include the cult classic Where's Poppa? (1970), Oh, God! (1977), and four films in a row starring Steve Martin, which established Martin as a major Hollywood comic lead: The Jerk (1979), Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid (1982), The Man with Two Brains (1983) (my personal favorite), and the critically acclaimed All of Me (1984), which won Martin best actor honors from the New York Film Critics Circle and National Society of Film Critics, as well as a Golden Globe nomination.  Reiner's last film as a director was That Old Feeling (1997) starring Bette Midler and Dennis Farina.

He had a late career resurgence as a character actor in George Clooney's three Ocean's Elevens reboots, and was a familiar face on talk shows.  An old-fashioned liberal Democrat who championed leftist causes (he was a Bernie Sanders supporter), he caught up with the times, Tweeting with abandon about his hatred of Donald Trump, saying he wanted to live to be 100 just to see Trump booted from office.  If only he could have held on four more months.

Reiner won 11 Emmy Awards (though some sources say 9 or 12) and in 2000 received the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor.

Reiner's wife Estelle died in 2008 after 65 years of marriage.  An actress and singer, she was best known for her classic one-liner in her son Rob's film When Harry Met Sally... (1989) when she famously muttered, "I'll have what she's having."

After Estelle's death, Brooks, who three years earlier lost his wife Anne Bancroft, and Reiner became even closer, having dinner together every night in front of Carl's giant screen TV, eating off tray tables in the living room as they watched Jeopardy!  At the start of the coronavirus pandemic, they both quarantined in their homes, communicating every day on Skype.  A few months before Reiner's death, he and Brooks were able to cautiously and safely resume their nightly dinner ritual in person.

In addition to Rob, he is survived by daughter Annie, an author, son Lucas, an artist, and several grandchildren.

According to Shapiro, Reiner's last meal was one his favorites: a 9-inch hot dog with mustard and sauerkraut from the legendary Pink's Hot Dogs stand in L.A.  Pink's named the dog after Reiner, who enjoyed it with baked beans on the side, something that I am sure delighted Mel Brooks.

Carl Reiner was an extraordinary talent and, from what I've been reading, a really nice guy (I met them both at a book signing when I was very young but was too nervous to say anything to them).  The thought of Mel Brooks not having his best friend and dinner companion around is heartbreaking.  Both these guys deserved to live 2,000 years.

Soap Dish
June 28, 2020

Along time ago, in what now seems like another world, the 1992 Democratic convention was held in NYC. We did our radio show, "Soap Opera Radio," at the Holiday Inn Crowne Plaza in Midtown at a terrific restaurant called Samplings. We would have a nice dinner with our guests, then retreat to another part of the hotel to tape the radio show in a restaurant that was only open for breakfast and lunch.
 

This photo is (L-R) Linda Dano, me, my mother Bella, and John Aprea. I am so glad I was able to expose my mother to a little bit of show business. We all had steak for dinner. This was John's last appearance on our show, as he was leaving Another World to pursue film work in LA. My mother and I bought a great cake for him that read, "Good-bye John and Lucas [his character on the show]. We'll miss you both."
 

John and Linda may have been the soap stars, but my mother was the superstar. So beautiful here. A day does not go by I do not think of her and the love she gave me. Now I sound like a soap opera.