"If you have any drugs nearby, I recommend doing them before watching this video. It’s some sort of introduction to 1970s-era soccer uniforms (”kits” for the purists out there) for Germany’s Bundesliga, and it’s gonna take you on an eye-opening ride.
The only way I can describe this is that it’s equal parts Soul Train, Diego Maradona coke party, Brazilian children’s TV show, SNL “Sprockets” sketch, and malaria fever dream. Like I said, it’s best viewed with drugs. Mix yourself the Winehouse Special before clicking Play."
Yipes! Long time-y, no posties. Here's a new May-June travelog to explain, including a buzz thru Paris and car shows around the midwest -- including a short jaunt in the Tobacco King rocket car.
On eight-hour flights, you take boredom relief where you can find it. On my flight to France last week I plugged my earbuds into the arm rest to partake of American Airlines' selection of horrible in-flight movies ("27 Dresses" and "Evan Almighty" eastbound, "The Bucket List" and "Secondhand Lions" westbound). In between the celluloid dreck, I discovered something even more horrifying: AA's selection of music.
Let me explain. AA pads the audio feed for their movie channel with their "exclusive golden hits from yesteryear" channel. Okay, cool, I think, I like cheesy oldies as much as the next guy. But after listening to the first selection, I decided there was something wrong. Seriously wrong.
I give you: The Bright Elusive Butterfly of Love.
You might wake up some mornin' To the sound of something moving past your window in the wind And if you're quick enough to rise and catch the fading glimpse of someone's shadow... Don't be concerned It will not harm you It's only me pursuing something I'm not sure of Across my dreams with nets of wonder I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love
Heh... um, heh. I admit I was a little shaken by that but hey, there are plenty of weird and disturbing tunes that charted back in the day. So I hung on for the next selection. Maybe some Beach Boys? No such luck.
Behold: Billy Joe Royal and "Cherry Hill Park."
Mary Hill snuck around in Cherry Hill Park The games she played lasted all day till way after dark All the girls they criticized her But all the boys they idolized her 'Cause Mary Hill was such a thrill after dark... in Cherry Hill Park!
Alright, now I'm wondering who the hell is working in AA's entertainment programming office. Before I can formulate an answer, the next golden oldie is cued up: "Little Children" by Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas.
Little children, better not tell on me (I'm telling you) little children better not tell what you see (If you're good) I'll give you candy and a quarter If you're quiet, like you ought to be And keep your secret with me
Coincidence, or deliberate attempt to creep out a captive audience? At this point I'm unwilling to find out what's next on the in-flight perv Hit Parade, so I switch over to the French audio channel. For all I know it might have been just as lyrically deranged, but at least I wouldn't understand it.
After landing in Paris I alerted Interpol, who assures me they will be investigating the incident under various international statutes. More stuff from Paris soon!
Ah, Spring; when a man's fancy turns to thoughts of... rocket-powered muscle cars.
It was that primordial biological urge that drove me to Indianapolis last weekend for the Mecum Muscle Cars & More Auction. Over 800 drool-inducing classics went up on the auction block, but only one really mattered -- the immortal Zach Reynolds "Tobacco King" 1964 Galaxie 500. You might say this is the ultimate hybrid car: up front, 427 cubic inches of Latham-supercharged Side Oiler. In back, 900 screaming horses of Thermolene-fueled Turbonique Rocket drag axle power. In the pantheon of automotive crazy this car is Zeus, Thor, Leviathan, and Shiva, a hydra-headed Destroyer of Worlds clad in Detroit sheet metal.
As some of you know, I set out with the confused intention of bringing it home with me. Alas, it was not to be. But the good news: I got to drive it across the auction stage. Come along with me for a little ride.
Those of you watching the proceedings on the High Definition Theater cable TV network this weekend might have caught a quick glimpse of Yours Truly struggling to keep the Tobacco King's drum brakes engaged against the irresistible force of the 427. Current Tobacco King owner Eddie Krusch unwisely invited me to pilot the car across the red carpet, and, without a doubt, it was the most awe-inspiring 5 mph ride I've ever had. As they say in North Carolina, day-um.
Here's how this bizarre turn of events went down. Friday I bombed downed to Indy with a quick stop for provisions at Krazy Kaplan's Fireworks in Gary. Oy vey, such kabooms!
Then a quick stop at the Brownsburg, IN shop of my ol' buddy and upholstery guru Dave Martinez.
Dave's shop is in an area lousy with race teams. A couple of the neighbors - John Force and Don "The Snake" Prudhomme.
After dinner at Steak N Shake, headed over to the Indiana State Fairgrounds to check out the auction action. Some amazing iron (like the ZL1 Camaro below that fetched $800,000) and equally amazing neon.
But nothing like the Tobacco King. Owner Eddie Krusch and I have been trading emails and phone calls for a while, so I thought I'd be prepared before I saw the car. My 30 minutes of uncontrolled mouthular frothing said different. Complete and unrestored, the car has only 3166 miles on the clock.
After catching 80 winks at Days Inn I headed back to the fair pavillion Saturday for the big auction doings. More great cars, more great neon.
As the designated hour, Eddie and his mechanic Ken cranked the Tobacco King's 427 to life, eased it out of its display area and back through to the auction staging lanes. Even among the jaded crowd of muscle car pros, jaws were dropping like anvils.
As the line of cars moved forward into the building, Eddie says: "can you do me a favor? I'm sort of conflicted about selling it, and don't want to be in the car during the bidding."
Hokay, says I, trying to control my bladder. I slide in the seat carefully, turn the key, and the side oiler blap blaps to life. I stomp my right boot down on the brake, careful not to hit the rocket button with my knee (the fuel tank is empty but I ain't taking chances) and pull it down into drive.
30 yards later I'm on the red carpet and the bidding starts: $200,000. $300,000. $325,000. $350,000. $360,000. $375,000. Gavel bangs. Roll 'er off.
Driving it away, I struggled mightily with the urge to peel out of the building and head down 38th Street. While I was conconcting my getaway plan, Eddie sticks his head in the car. "Hey man, look who's here!"
I glance sideways, and it's "H.W."
H.W. is a former Turbonique engineer and machinist, a current mad-genius-farmer, and a key source for much of my research on the Turbonique story. This is the first time I've met him face-to-face; Eddie and he have just met for the first time despite living in the same area of North Carolina. Cooler still, HW was one of the small team that built the Tobacco King in Florida back in 1966, and this is the first time he has seen the car in over 40 years. He's brought along some spare impeller parts for the rocket motor. And, maybe coolest of all, he's driven all the way here in his crazy, crude-oil powered, air-cooled diesel 1970 Ford F-250 pickup. After parking the Tobacco King back in its display space, I go out to the parking lot for a gander.
Forget bio-diesel and recycled fryer fat, HW's pickemup actually runs on from-the-well crude oil (tho it's happy to burn sunflower or other vegetable oil as well). Power is from an experimental air-cooled diesel that he obtained from GM in the early 70s, with modified injectors of his own design. It is to economy what the Tobacco King is to power; HW criss crosses the country in the truck, and whenever he needs fuel simply stops at an oil well, and, with the permission of the well owner, adds a few gallons of crude to the big 330 gallon tank in the bed. It's an astonishingly cheap way to go; HW once made a NC-to-California round trip spending $3.50(!) Yesterday he returned to North Carolina with the same $1.66 in his pocket he left with Saturday. After 500,000 miles on the engine, no major mechanical problems.
After the truck tour, HW and I got back together with Eddie for final goodbyes. Long (happy) story short, the Tobacco King is going back home to North Carolina, and Eddie still owns it. With luck I'll be going there before long to see it again. The legend of Turbonique continues!
Over the years the music industry has provided the listening public a treasure trove of musical excrescence, but only an elite few deserve recognition as instruments of torture. I humbly offer a few examples of these Olympian earwigs. Please feel free to offer your own suggestions in comments.
Caution: not safe for work. Not safe for home. Not safe for anywhere.
Click if you dare.
UPDATE CAUTION: NOW CONTAINS 27% RUPERT HOLMES ADDITIVES
White Plains -- My Baby Loves Lovin'
Terry Jacks -- Seasons in the Sun
Bo Donaldson & the Heywoods -- Billy Don't Be a Hero
Captain & Tenille -- Muskrat Love
Tony DiFranco & the DiFranco Family -- Heartbeat (It's a Love Beat)
Bobby Goldsboro -- Honey
Sammy Johns -- Chevy Van
Debbie Boone -- You Light Up My Life
RUPERT HOLMES UPDATE
For whatever reason (I blame trauma), I neglected to include the astonishing cannibalism-stalking-alcoholism soft perv rock oeuvre of Rupert Holmes in the initial posting. Consider it fixed, and you're welcome.
The Buoys -- Timothy
Written by Rupert Holmes and performed by the Buoys, the soft rock pride of Wilkes-Barre PA. Perhaps the finest cannibalism ballad ever to reach the top 20.
Sunday before the Super Bowl I met up with a few other Chicago area jokers to participate in the Bare Bones Car Club's annual Polar Bear cruise. This year's edition wended from the Felony Hot Rods shop in Itasca to the Suicide Axle Hot Rods shop of my pal Drew Didio in Sycamore. It was a balmy 28 degrees Farenheit, a good 20 degrees warmer than last year's run.
Fun had, extremities frozen, memory of Buddy Holly toasted (it being the 49th anniversary of The Day the Music Died and all). Here are some moving pictures to illustrate. Cheesy department store Musak from the vaults of K-Mart progenitor S.S. Kresge!
Yesterday my friend Cal Spitzer electrogrammed this snazzy 8x10 publicity shot of the delightfully named (and delightfully shod) Stark Naked and the Car Thieves. Research reveals that this combo had its beginnings as a conglomeration of several Indianapolis area garage and doo-wop groups, finally relocating to Los Angeles where they had several minor hits, and rotating list of members. Despite the wild name (and a reportedly crazy Vegas stage show), their surviving recordings are decidedly tame. Further research reveals that their name was eventually stolen by a New Zealand band who went on to record a minor hit cover of another name-thieving band: the Monks' (UK) "Nice Legs, Shame About the Face."
The thing that really struck me, though, is the small print: SN&CT's booking agency is listed as "Jimmy O'Neill Management." I believe this would be the very same DJ Jimmy O'Neill whom I listened to on WOW Radio 590 Omaha during the '70s. Before his days of spinning hot Top 40 wax in Omaha, Jimmy managed several L.A. bands; before that he was a Los Angeles DJ, but best known as the host of ABC's mid-60's teen music program Shindig. The program was created by O'Neill and then-wife Sharon Sheeley, an accomplished songwriter who penned the #1 hit "Poor Little Fool" for Ricky Nelson and co-wrote the Eddie Cochran classic "Come on Everybody."
Sheeley and Cochran later became boyfriend and girlfriend, and she (along with Gene Vincent) survived the car accident that killed Cochran in England in 1960. Their ill-fated romance later became the subject of a 1980's Levis 501 commercial. Following the wreck, Cochran's car and its contents were impounded at the local
police station. A police cadet at the station named David Harman borrowed Cochran's impounded Gretsch guitar and taught himself how to play. As "Dave Dee" he later led the 60's British pop chart-toppers Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich, who had a mini-revival last year when their nugget "Hold Tight" was featured in an ironically bloody car wreck scene in Quentin Tarantino's "Death Proof":
Where was I? Oh yeah, Shindig. It was a brief but big TV hit with Jimmy introducing many of the big acts of the day. Despite solid ratings it was canceled in 1966 to make room on the ABC schedule for a second weekly episode the red-hot Batman series (delighting a young Batman fanatic named Quentin Tarantino who would pay homage to Adam West's Bat-dance in Pulp Fiction). Shindig performers included TheBeatles and this rival quartet of English Invaders:
The Who, as fate would have it, would later score a US Top 20 chart hit with a cover of Eddie Cochran's "Summertime Blues." Jimmy's O'Neill's spotlight on Shindig also brought him immortality in 1965 as a Flintstone character -- here's "Jimmy O'Neillstone" introducing "The Beau Brummelstones" on "Shinrock."
My favorite nugget from the real Shindig is this Halloween '65 bit with Jimmy introducing Boris Karloff for a cover of Bobby "Boris" Pickett's Monster Mash:
In the background, those cute go-go girls included Terri Garr, who would go on to have a starring role in "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" and earn an Oscar nomination for "Tootsie." Another was Toni Basil, the 80's one-hit wonder of "Mickey" fame. Between her Shindig go-go gig and MTV mall rat celebrity, Basil was a bit player in films, including Mary the prostitute in 1969's "Easy Rider" with Jack Nicholson, who received an Oscar nomination for best supporting actor. Basil teamed up with Nicholson again the next year as Terry the hitchhiker girl in "Five Easy Pieces," which earned Nicholson his first Oscar nomination for best actor. Here you can see her sitting in the diner booth during the film's famous sandwich scene:
Nicholson, of course, went on to star in dozens of films, including Batman and a cameo appearance in Tommy, the rock opera written by The Who a few years after their Shindig appearance. As noted here previously, that film also spawned a totally bitchin' pinball machine -- the model I frequently played while listening to Jimmy O'Neill on WOW.
Along the way Nicholson earn a boatload of Oscar nominations, most recently for the Omaha-based "About Schmidt." In that film, Nicholson's character works as an actuary at the downtown HQ of the Woodmen of the World insurance company, once Omaha's tallest building. Woodmen of the World insurace, incidentally, owned WOW Radio and gave it its call letters. When Jimmy O'Neill was a DJ there, his studio was in the same building.
But my personal favorite Nicholson screen moment occured a few years earlier, as Marine Colonel Nathan Jessup in 1992's "A Few Good Men." Another Oscar nomination, likely clinched by this memorable scene:
Recognize Nicholson's Marine lawyer in the scene? Yep, inevitably, KEVIN BACON. But that's another story.
I don't think anything permanently warped me as much as exposure to the work of Jay Ward, the animator who created "The Bullwinkle and Rocky Show" and "George of the Jungle" (not to mention cereal superstar Captain Crunch). That signature combination of flat, planar UPA art with Tom Lehrer -style intellectual gags made us preteen viewers feel we were part of a subversive, sophisticated club. Even if we didn't get all the jokes about Norman Mailer and Everett Dirksen.
My favorite Ward efforts were some of his lesser known. Obvious top of the list is Tom Slick, who ran third banana to George of the Jungle and Super Chicken.
Speaking of Super Chicken: The Case of the Missing Rhode Island!
