100 Things About Me #185

A Lifelong Dream Fulfilled!

I opened for Don Rickles!

10/24/11

100 Things: #1 | Previous | To Be Continued

100 Things About Me #184

I Don't Know Squirt

Eww... I always thought "incontinent" was not being in a boat.





100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

100 Things About Me #183

A Boy of Color 

I made a conscious decision as a teenager that I would not grow up to be The Old Man. You know, the coot who spews on about how life was much better when he was a lad. Cats' pajamas, poodle skirts, salt water taffy, muskets, Buddy Ebsen, and all that junk.

So, I'm not doing it here. I'm being delightfully informational in a happ'nin' gnarly bebop sort of Fizzies Party.

Kids today don't have any idea of what hell is.

Hell is watching "color presentation" logos, like the NBC Peacock below, in front of every television show on a black-and-white set for years and years until Mom sees a need to upgrade to the new technology.

"Michael, color TV? Reds and blues and yellows? You don't need reds and blues and yellows. Have you done your homework? Take out the garbage. Have you done your homework? Eat this orange. It's orange...."

NBC Peacock Logo (1960s) via YouTube
I was monochrome 'til age 16, when we got color and I had begun to gray.

I am scarred.

I'm mooning the peacock and these kids today....


100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

---

Thanks to Yowp

100 Things About Me #182

Dawn of the Dark 

In the spring of 1958, the adults among us uprooted happy-go-lucky li'l Mikey from Washington, D.C. and relocated future miserable-go-troubled large Mikey to Atlanta, GA. I was six and completely disoriented.

Within a few days, my people informed me there was a movie theatre half a mile from our rental mansion (starter set).

Yes, the very same technology of images in motion I'd fancied in the old country had caught on and spread to this peculiar new world.

Plans were made. Assisted by a big brother or two, I would walk to attend my first ever Atlanta "picture show," as the weird locals termed movies.

MGM's satirical service comedy "Don't Go Near the Water" was the feature attraction at the Emory Theatre in the nearby village -- a small, single screen venue which would become my second home. The business changed my life, nurturing a growing adoration for films and providing me with a well-trained projectionist's career, all before I graduated high school with honors popcorn.

I was eager to see the celluloid exhibited before my eyes, yet we risked ambling down the wrong, uncharted paths to get there, stepping off the edge of the Earth, unknowing, unprepared, unpenciled in.

I hated when that edge of the world thing happens, especially if a Woody Woodpecker cartune^® might be sacrificed amidst the abrupt schedule change and Bactine.

Mother said I was ready to venture forth to view the afternoon's entertainment, as she buckled and snapped the baby blue parachute pack across my soon-to-Jujube childlike body.

I exited through the doorway to start the fancy toddling trek to the cinema, swiveling my noggin to facilitate a gaze into our abode.

"Allow a candle to flame in yon window, Mater," I beseeched. "I shall return, if my adorable being of innocent blondeness shall not cannonball into the abyss."

"You have your chute," Mother invoked.

"Might I utter a first and final "shoot" if I fall?" I asked, fluttering the lashes.

"S--t," corrected Pater.

"Shoot!" corrected dear Ma-ma. "Not until you stumble off the Earth when you grow elder, my sunniest of sons."

"Chute?" I asked for clarification.

"Shoot," she said.

"Shoot," I confirmed.

"Shoo."

"Who's on first?"

"Shoo 2," she appended, second in the series. "Go, my trophy."

"My stern, yet loving queen, I bid you adieu and eventually in stud poker."

"You want me to knock the Dickens outta you?" me olde man barked. "Go!"

Top hat and gloves in hand, "Do not forsake me, prehensile Pa-pa. I am off. My fate shall be thy Glenn Ford's will."




"Don't Go Near the Water" (1957) Original Theatrical Trailer via YouTube

I saw the movie.

I grew up.

I grew horizontal.

I wrote this.

And that's pretty much it.

I would enjoy watching the picture show again, but, with my spiraling age, the chances this same flick could somehow become the last movie I ever see are daunting.

Message to Self: Don't go near the "Don't Go Near the Water."

---

Image via MoviePoster.com


100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

100 Things About Me #181

Big Mike on Campus

Voted "Most Original" by my high school senior class.

Runner-up: "Most Ladylike."

Plus, unanimous wins for "Most Annoying" and "I Think of You as More Like a Brother."

100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

100 Things About Me #180

Spring Has Sprung

 I've been pondering the toys of childhood. One of the greats is the Slinky. 

The Slinky was a must-have item for me. I had to have a Slinky or I could not go on. It was as simple as that — and so be it.

I was presented my first Slinky, all silvery and metallic, on Christmas morn of Mikey's fourth or fifth year on the 1950s planet. It was a grand occasion and I immediately raced from our living room, up the ominous staircase to the second floor, and encouraged the virginal Slinky to "walk" down the steps, all the way to the bottom.

Image via Wikipedia

Success! What a sight to behold! Bravo, Slinky!

I descended, grabbed the Slinky and toddled back up to do it all over again.

Whee!

Then, I was done. As wonderful a toy as it is, Slinky is good for only about 90 seconds of enjoyment. I don't recall playing with the lovely gift ever again.

On a nostalgic whim, I purchased a colorful, plastic Slinky in 1992. I sent it down our steps once and crossed the springy coil over to the opposite hand and reversed the motion three or four times. I put the marvel into its carton and that was that.

I still own Slinky. Somewhere. Probably in a big mystery box in a closet.

I saw the toy in 1999, when we moved to our current home. I did not play with my Slinky. The 90 seconds of seven years prior continued to satiate me.

One moment.



Okay. I've huddled with myself. Sorry, Slink.

In a related memory from the titanic tot era, I fell down those early wooden steps in a nasty tumble.

Bump! Bump! Bump!

I instructed the survivors to dub me "Mlinky."


100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

100 Things About Me #179

Lovin' Me Some Christian Revelation

My First Chocolate Easter Bunny
(and Comb-Over)

100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

The Sound of Mikey

100 Things About Me #178

I've dabbled in acting, but mostly I've been holding out for the really good roles.

The other day, I read a press release. A summer stock tour of "The Sound of Music" is coming through the Fox Theatre in Atlanta, as well as Tampa and Washington, D.C. Rehearsals are scheduled in New York.

Theater of the Stars will hold auditions for children and teens between the ages of 7-17 for The Sound of Music on Saturday, April 10 at 10:00 a.m. These auditions are for Actors’ Equity and non-Equity actors. ... We are looking for girls and boys who dance and sing well to be cast in the roles of the von Trapp Family Children.

This is it! My big chance and, most importantly, my dream come true! For many years, I've been telling ev'rybody I meet and bleat that one of my favorite things would be to play Gretl in "The Sound of Music."

Obviously, I was born to perform it, yet people usually respond along these lines, "You want to play Gretl? That's a six-year-old girl!"

"I believe she's more like four," I correct them. I'm the one up for the part.

"Mike! You are 10 times older than her!"

"I'd say 14 times, adjusting for me lying in my favor about my age."

"You are insane!"

"No, I'm not. I am an actor! It's what I do, act. And ingénue. I ingénue and pre-ingénue. It's the gift."

"You are too big!"

"Pish posh. Slap some Nazi Keds under my knees and I'm dancing and tugging hearts."

"Why? Tell me why do you want to do this."

"She gets all the 'ahhhs.' Say it with me, 'Ahhh.' Pretend you're the audience, 'Ahhhhh--'"

"You'll never pull it off!"

"You forget dimply. I'm luxuriously dimpled and I do adorable. If I need shave, I'll shave."

And that's where the gift usually has to find alternate transportation home.

Here I am rehearsing "Do-Re-Mi." I give good "Mi."

Lederhosen out of storage this weekend, I'm set to go on the road.

I'm already thinking billing.

Mike Durrett

is

Gretl

in

"The Sound of Music"

(Larger, von Cuddlier Tour)

Just need a pet sitter at the house for my lonely goatherd.

100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

100 Things About Me #177

Fresh Sell

A warm glow of nostalgia and friendship washes over me whenever I happen upon the single greatest celebrity endorsement of them all, my pal Popeye the Sailor for spinach!

100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

100 Things About Me #176

Fresh Hell

I became aware of Saran Wrap about the time George Jetson was munching the pie in this commercial, meaning when the ad first aired on television, as Mr. Jetson still resides in the distant future and has not eaten the pie I saw him eat, yet.

No wonder I am screwed up.


"The Jetsons for Saran Wrap" via YouTube and "Cartoon Carnival" Radio Show
Anyway, my mother refused to buy Saran Wrap when I was a child. She said it cost too much money and, perhaps, it did in the early '60s when she was packing lunches for four growing boys. We managed through many a brown bag feast with trusty prehistoric wax paper sealing our savory, slimy slabs o' Spam sammiches.

No wonder I am screwed up.

The world changed in the summer of 1969. Hippies frolicked and Mom went wild. She purchased her first box -- and maybe her last box -- of Saran Wrap.

To this day, I can hear her in the kitchen, moaning out of frustration. She was hopeless with gadgets. In her mind, Saran Wrap's clingy, tightening qualities might as well have been an intricate system of clock gears or movable pulleys. She could not master the physical mysteries of the thin plastic, only to have every bit of the confounded material stick and tangle unto itself, far beyond any hope of salvage -- or shrinkage.

No wonder I Ziplock.

I remember the huge wad of wild Saran Wrap, the size of a stalk of dewy bananas or Mothra's cocoon.

The mass enveloped Mom's wrist, elbow, and hand (in that order).

The yards of misguided wonderfulness at both ends of the roll fluttered in the dawn cool, stretching to her right open-toed pump, while the opposite flap continued along with a feminine swoop to an eyelash.

Mother's thumb remained miraculously fresh until my high school's shop class cut her out.

"That's a wrap," I said. "Mom, how about a shrink?"

She gave me The Slow Burn Gaze of Death^™ and folded into her car and drove away.

Those kids, though, they were great. They bought me lunch.

100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

Christmas Memory 2009

100 Things About Me #175

Personal memories for this year's holiday season will be heavily infiltrated by my weeks spent on the crew of "Radio City Christmas Spectacular" at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta. The novelty of mingling each day with Santa Claus and his elves and the Rockettes would be hard to forget.

All of that is special to me, but the big pleasure was the chance to observe and visit the animal actors from the show. The four sheep and the donkey were cute, friendly, and professional, as were the pair of Arabian camels. They enhanced and brought warm life to the nativity scene.

One night, after completing my contribution to the sequence, I hurried from a nearby cubbyhole to the edge of a backstage wing to watch the birth of Christ finale. Logistical obstructions provided zero visibility of the proceedings and the dozens of participants. I was disappointed and turned to exit, when I noticed a singular face under a bright light.

The visage belonged to the camel wrapped in gold. She stood motionless and gazed towards the baby Jesus. Majestic, attentive, and at peace, she was an image I will never forget and an inspiration I need to remember.


100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

100 Things About Me #174

The Birth of the Muse

100 Things About Me #173

Ah

100 Things About Me #172

Wordsmithy

100 Things About Me #171

Michael Caine is making news, WENN reports:

"The actor played spy Harry Palmer in three movies in the mid-1960s - 'The Ipcress File,' 'Funeral In Berlin' and 'Billion Dollar Brain' -- and he's keen to bring the bespectacled Cold War super agent back to life one more time."

Show Business Is My Life

The mention of "The Ipcress File" stirred memories of my 8th grade adolescence, working at the Emory Theatre, a single auditorium in Atlanta, where I apprenticed to become a professional motion picture machine operator. This film, as I recall, was the first 35mm feature I ever screened unsupervised to a paying audience.

I was manning -- rather, boying -- the snack bar during Christmastime, 1965. We'd close the counter by 10 p.m. and I'd climb the staircase to the projection booth each night and finish out the last show with approximately 90 minutes remaining to the end titles. My mentor left the premises early and drove home as part of the big test.

I was under a lot of pressure to not bumble the reels and keep the film advancing smoothly through the trusty pair of Simplex projectors. The large, satisfied audiences gazing Caine never knew an actual grown-up was not in control.

Showing movies properly is not as easy as the task might appear. The urge to make shadow puppets is darn near overpowering. I've always managed to stop two fingers short of a bunny.

I was pleased with my performances of "The Ipcress File," heavily determined by the not getting yelled at.

Operating the machinery without a safety net during those late nights was exhilarating, but -- hey, wait a minute! -- it meant my ride was already in bed.

I didn't mind. I had grinning achievements to ponder, walking out of the building and into more dark.



"The Ipcress File" (1965) Trailer via YouTube


100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next
Poster via Moviegoods

Fox: In the Box

Continued From: "100 Things About Me #170: Fabulous Fun"


After the movie era, The Fox Theatre was on the fast track for demolition. A dazzling office skyscraper plotted to have itself erected on the prime plot of Peachtree St. Concerned citizens united in a "Save the Fox" movement, which, surprisingly, worked!


Since the mid-1970s, Atlanta Landmarks, the resulting non-profit organization, has shepherded the venue through restoration and rebirth, creating the most successful auditorium of its size (4,000+ capacity) in the U.S. Though the main focus has been on live performances -- Broadway plays, concerts, operas, and ballets -- movies have been a part of the formula, averaging 10-20 events each year, some with staggering success.

In 1978, while pursuing the radio career ("8:27, 56 degrees" -- one of my oft-copied quotes), I received a phone call. The Fox needed a second projectionist for, as I remember, the world premiere of "Born Again." Would I be interested?

"Would I?" I responded, from inside the Fox booth, four seconds later.

Little did we know, my pal Scott and I, that either of us would be affiliated with the theatre decades later. He has clocked more than 30 years, showing movies at the Fox. I placed myself in the coveted "call me if you're desperate" position about seven years ago, having moved hours away from the city.

Other motion picture machine operators, as we're known in the biz, participated at the Fox during my tenure, largely due to scheduling necessities. I mention this only to let you lucky viewers know, occasionally, Scott and I were far, far afar. We were not there. Nuh uh. No, sir and/or madam. Don't look at us. We didn't do it. We have witnesses! Back off. I've got a gun.

I've marked numerous moments of projection pride in the Fox box, as I call it, because I needed a title.

I actually do refer to the place as "The Fab," but that's for Part 3.

On-the-job highlights would certainly encompass these 70mm specials: the southeastern premiere of "The Right Stuff" (1983), a door-busting week of the supposedly over-exposed "Raiders of the Lost Ark" (1981), and the glorious revival of Abel Gance's epic "Napoléon" (1927) with composer Carmine Coppola conducting his full orchestral score in the pit. We did several nights on that one and I was so disappointed I couldn't sit out in the audience to experience the electrifying production.

In the summer of 1981, Burt Reynolds directed "Sharky's Machine," a much anticipated Warner Bros. release, in Atlanta. The Fox arranged to host a cast and crew party for Burt and his team during their shoot. I ran (with projectionist Paul) the 70mm print of "Deliverance" (1972) reel-to-reel that afternoon.

Come December, Scott and I rolled up our sleeves to screen the world premiere of the completed "Sharky's Machine," the biggest movie event to hit town since the "Gone With the Wind" uproar at the Loew's Grand in 1939. That's said acknowledging the possible exception of the 1946 Fox debut when Walt Disney personally unveiled "Song of the South" to the globe.

We knew Burt Reynolds would attend the festivities and watch from a prime balcony location, so all of the audio in the acoustically-challenged room was pre-balanced directly at his chair. To this day, movie sound checks are tweaked from "The Burt Reynolds Seat" and, if I told you where it is located, I'd have to show you "Stroker Ace."


Continued: "Back to the Fab: Bygones With 'The Wind'"

_{Fox Theatre: Closed (1975) photo ©Stan Malone, used by permission
Fox Theatre photo by hoyasmeg via Flickr, Creative Commons license
Little Girl and Fox Projector Beam photo by hoyasmeg via Flickr, Creative Commons license}

100 Things About Me #170

Fabulous Fun

When I was a small boy watching motion pictures inside Atlanta's premiere theatre, The Fabulous Fox -- it was always branded as "The Fabulous Fox" -- my mind was often off the wide, sixtyish-foot screen with wandering eyes busy consuming and embracing the mammoth movie palace, unlike any other I have ever experienced.

Plucked down, enveloped by a sea of seats underneath the vast balcony and star-like twinkly lights and fluffy clouds rolling across the ceiling, my earliest, fond memories of the showplace include "No Time for Sergeants" (1958), "The Guns of Navarone" (1961), "Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation" (1962), "Hatari!" (1962), "The Incredible Mr. Limpet" (1964), plus Jerry Lewis performing in person on opening night of "The Nutty Professor" (June 21, 1963).

And I got to see most, if not all, of those events on 25¢ admissions!

I enjoyed numerous films here throughout the '60s and into the early '70s, when the theatre business changed, moving first-run product to smaller venues dotting the suburbs. As in many cities, the shift was death to downtown exhibitors, even the architectural treasures like the Fox, which was forced to end its daily screenings after more than four decades as the south's most prestigious cinematic destination.

Shortly before the demise, I was there along with a sell-out crowd on the first evening of "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" (1969).

In the last gasps, a few years later, I recall viewing a rare revival of "King Kong" (1933).

My final visit, circa 1974, was an all-day fur-fest featuring five "Planet of the Apes" flicks. It was a Sunday. I doubt there were three dozen patrons in attendance.

The Fox struggled, but, for me, it went out like a champ -- and, sure, chimps.

I knew from the early visits, I had to be a part of this theatre. By third or fourth grade, I felt a yearning, as well as some gum under my chair.

As you may know, I have worked inside movie houses and drive-ins since the age of 10, beginning as a flunky and weaving through a full career in projection rooms. I regret never making the Fox payroll during its picture show heyday. I had the experience and connections, but the wrecking ball snuck up on me and shuttered my dream.

Continued: "Fox: In the Box"

100 Things: #1 | Previous
_{Fox Theatre sign photo from biskuit @ Flickr, Creative Commons license
Fox Theatre audience from hoyasmeg @ Flickr, Creative Commons license}

100 Things About Me #169

Easter Charade

Ordinarily, the prospects of a bunny looking up my pants and a basket full of every kid's favorite tasty snack sensation -- hard-boiled eggs! -- would be pleasing.


I was having a bad Easter. I found myself in yet another pair of two-tone shoes and one more big ears-enhancing chainsaw crewcut, but what really miffed me at five years of age was my peeps, my handlers did not understand I am a man of vision, a trendsetter.

During the festive egg hunt on the lawn, I found not one, NOT ONE Garden Omelet behind a tree or under a shrub!

Think like Baby Boomers, plebeians.


100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

100 Things About Me #168

Birthday Boy Debut

Today is the anniversary of my arrival on your planet, popping out with an introductory "TA-DA!"

And, amazingly, exactly one year to the day later, my mother arsoned a cake in my honor.

(I'll have you know, I can still squeeze into this chair.)


"Garçon! ... Bosco!"

100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next

100 Things About Me #167

Why Why Missed American Pie?

Whenever I see half a pie for sale, I wonder what exactly is going on back there in the Break Room?


100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next