Your Most Disturbing Realizations

[LizzieMaine]

It's hard for people today to understand how huge Jolson was in the 1910s and 1920s, almost entirely due to his live shows. He *owned* Broadway, when Broadway actually meant something culturally, and even people who never got within two thousand miles of New York in their lives knew who he was. His movies at the turn of the talkie era were absolute juggernauts at the box office -- not for their strength as movies but simply because it was a chance for people everywhere to actually see Jolson in action. "The Singing Fool," a piece of emotionally manipulative, part-talkie drek, became the highest grossing film of the early-talkie era on the sole strength of Jolson's personal charisma. And if he could do that with in such a saggy, patchwork setting, we can only imagine what he was able to do in person, in his prime, on the stage of the Winter Garden.

There are very few performers who have ever had that kind of electric stage presence. Elvis would certainly have to be one. Michael Jackson would be another. Judy Garland, Eddie Cantor, Harry Richman. But Jolson at the peak of his powers could have run any of them off the stage.

 

[2jakes]

It's hard for people today to understand how huge Jolson was in the 1910s and 1920s, almost entirely due to his live shows. He *owned* Broadway, when Broadway actually meant something culturally, and even people who never got within two thousand miles of New York in their lives knew who he was. His movies at the turn of the talkie era were absolute juggernauts at the box office -- not for their strength as movies but simply because it was a chance for people everywhere to actually see Jolson in action. "The Singing Fool," a piece of emotionally manipulative, part-talkie drek, became the highest grossing film of the early-talkie era on the sole strength of Jolson's personal charisma. And if he could do that with in such a saggy, patchwork setting, we can only imagine what he was able to do in person, in his prime, on the stage of the Winter Garden.

There are very few performers who have ever had that kind of electric stage presence. Elvis would certainly have to be one. Michael Jackson would be another. Judy Garland, Eddie Cantor, Harry Richman. But Jolson at the peak of his powers could have run any of them off the stage.

While I agree overall with your views.
I don't think you can compare a Jolson to a Presley as far as Jolson
running the rest off the stage.
Each one in their own right captivated the people as no one else
before.
Jolson did it first then the others that you've mention. True.
After Presley, there was the Beatles.
Each in their own time period were the best.

Tomorrow, there'll be someone else.
Each generation will say they were the best.
Who knows...who cares!

 

[LizzieMaine]

The best Jolson story supposedly happened during his run on Broadway in "Big Boy," which was a typical book musical at the time with a sappy romance plot, kickline choruses, comedy relief, big production numbers, etc. It is claimed that one night Jolson got bored with his regular part, and with the play itself, and stopped mid-speech, turned to the audience and said something like "Do you really want to sit thru the rest of this? I'll tell you it comes out, the boy gets the girl and they live happily ever after. Now do you want yo go on with the play or do you want to hear me sing?" The audience, it is said, gave the answer, and Jolson put on an impromptu concert for the next hour and a half that pulled out all possible stops.

Now, I've never seen any documentation that this actually happened -- if it did, none of the trades mentioned it. But the story was widely told and widely believed during Jolson's lifetime, and he never did anything to dispel it. And the fact that so many people seem to have taken it for granted as a true story suggests that his reputation was so formidable that such an act would not be beyond him.

He had an ego so big it had its own gravitational field. But those who saw him live insist he could live up to it. To quote another great egotist-showman of the Era, "It ain't braggin' if you can do it."

 

[Trenchfriend]

The end of "King of Queens" is now 10 years ago.

 

[vitanola]

The end of "King of Queens" is now 10 years ago.

???

Is that anything like "Myrt and Marge"?

 

[LizzieMaine]

???

Is that anything like "Myrt and Marge"?

Whatever happened to Clarence Tiffingtuffer, anyway?

 

[Inkstainedwretch]

Most of us eventually reach a time when we ponder our lives and realize that we have a whole lot more past than future.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Most of us eventually reach a time when we ponder our lives and realize that we have a whole lot more past than future.

Every damn day.

 

[Fading Fast]

Every damn day.

Seconded.

 

[vitanola]

I have always lived in the past.

It's much cheaper.

 

[ChiTownScion]

Most of my friends now (even the responsible ones who held off getting married right out of high school and never bought into that Work Young/ Marry Young/ Die Young crap) are grandparents, and I never will be.

 

[tonyb]

Most of my friends now (even the responsible ones who held off getting married right out of high school and never bought into that Work Young/ Marry Young/ Die Young crap) are grandparents, and I never will be.

Some of my generation and almost all of those a generation ahead of us didn't so much buy into that model as they were born into it. Vestiges of it remain in some members of subsequent generations.

I was pushed into "gainful" (hah!) employment at an age when those hours would have been much better spent in educational pursuits or recreation or idleness, even. Washing dishes in a restaurant on the night shift at age 13 isn't the most proven path to academic success.

However, at age 16 I altered a birth certificate to make myself two years older and got myself a job on the ramp at SeaTac airport, loading and unloading DC9 freighters. It was hard work, and it cost me hours I might have devoted to school work, but the pay was better than any other job a kid could secure, and my maturation was hurried along by working alongside grown men and outperforming most of them.

But a whole lotta changes happened to this young fellow over those thousand days or so between by early dishwashing days and the start of my ramp rat career.

 

[2jakes]

The various scars on my body are like a diary.
Each one has a time, place
and story that is etched in
my memory.

Earliest scar is my first vacination
on my shoulder prior to entering first grade elementary.
Although the spot has changed locations as I grew.
The lead pencil stab mark on
my right hand is still in the
same location since I first
got it when I was 7.
There are more as the years
went by.
I can smile now of the scars
of a broken heart when the
"love of my life" had another
boyfriend when I was a pimpled
skinny lad of 15.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Left upper arm, 1/2" diameter pock mark, vaccination scar, Fall 1968.

Right knee, 1/2" gash, fell off roller skates after buying an ice cream cone. Summer 1969.

Left big toe, 1/4" gash, got toe jammed in door at "Family Night" at town gym, Spring 1970.

Middle of back, 3/4" diameter pock mark, scratched a chicken pox pustule before I knew what it was, Spring 1974.

Left elbow, 3/4" round abrasion scar, fell off bicycle in a gravel parking lot, Summer 1974.

Left thigh, 1 inch knife gash, blade slipped when opening a package, Fall 1977.

Right palm, base of thumb, 1/2" gash from neck of broken Coke bottle, Spring 1978

Left index finger, 1/2" razor blade gash from splicing audiotape, Winter 1993.

Abdomen, 2" surgical scar, Summer 2004

Left forearm, 3" gash, arm laid open by sharp edge of popcorn popper, Summer 2008.

Right wrist, 1 1/2" burn from hot oven pan, Summer 2009

Right forearm, 1 inch burn from popcorn kettle, Fall 2012.

Abdomen, 2 1/4" laproscopic surgical scars, Spring 2016.

If they ever find me floating face down in the Penobscot River, use this list to identify me.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Some of my generation and almost all of those a generation ahead of us didn't so much buy into that model as they were born into it. Vestiges of it remain in some members of subsequent generations.

I was pushed into "gainful" (hah!) employment at an age when those hours would have been much better spent in educational pursuits or recreation or idleness, even. Washing dishes in a restaurant on the night shift at age 13 isn't the most proven path to academic success.

However, at age 16 I altered a birth certificate to make myself two years older and got myself a job on the ramp at SeaTac airport, loading and unloading DC9 freighters. It was hard work, and it cost me hours I might have devoted to school work, but the pay was better than any other job a kid could secure, and my maturation was hurried along by working alongside grown men and outperforming most of them.

But a whole lotta changes happened to this young fellow over those thousand days or so between by early dishwashing days and the start of my ramp rat career.

Pretty much my situation, only I wasn't so much pushed as there wasn't any choice: the work had to be done and somebody had to do it. I started working in the office at the gas station when I was 14, and by my senior year in high school I was working 40 hours a week. (Child labor laws, what are those? In Maine, at that time, family members were exempted. I also earned "student wage," which was 2/3 of minimum. But hey, the work had to be done and somebody had to do it.)

 

[2jakes]

Left upper arm, 1/2" diameter pock mark, vaccination scar, Fall 1968.

Right knee, 1/2" gash, fell off roller skates after buying an ice cream cone. Summer 1969.

Left big toe, 1/4" gash, got toe jammed in door at "Family Night" at town gym, Spring 1970.

Middle of back, 3/4" diameter pock mark, scratched a chicken pox pustule before I knew what it was, Spring 1974.

Left elbow, 3/4" round abrasion scar, fell off bicycle in a gravel parking lot, Summer 1974.

Left thigh, 1 inch knife gash, blade slipped when opening a package, Fall 1977.

Right palm, base of thumb, 1/2" gash from neck of broken Coke bottle, Spring 1978

Left index finger, 1/2" razor blade gash from splicing audiotape, Winter 1993.

Abdomen, 2" surgical scar, Summer 2004

Left forearm, 3" gash, arm laid open by sharp edge of popcorn popper, Summer 2008.

Right wrist, 1 1/2" burn from hot oven pan, Summer 2009

Right forearm, 1 inch burn from popcorn kettle, Fall 2012.

Abdomen, 2 1/4" laproscopic surgical scars, Spring 2016.

If they ever find me floating face down in the Penobscot River, use this list to identify me.

Won't have to.
The hair and look with the
one finger salute will suffice.
You are one of kind. Unique.

But let's not speak of floating
down the river just yet my
dear Lizzie.

 

[Zombie_61]

Left upper arm, 1/2" diameter pock mark, vaccination scar, Fall 1968. *snip* Abdomen, 2 1/4" laproscopic surgical scars, Spring 2016.

If they ever find me floating face down in the Penobscot River, use this list to identify me.

This list is impressive to me not because you know how you got each of them, but because you know approximately when you got them. For most of my visible scars the closest I could get would be a best guess at the year(s) I got them.

 

[Inkstainedwretch]

I have a number of scars, one or two of them fairly spectacular. Since I was in the Army and served in Vietnam, I have many fairly credible lies that I tell people about how I got those scars.

 

[Stearmen]

I think it will be faster to name what part of my body doesn't have a scar on it! Let's see, hm, no wait, wait, there's got's to be some patch of meat without one.

 

[2jakes]

My most disturbing realization
was in an apt. when I was in
LA.


Waking up but not quite alert.
Hearing scraping noises at the front door being made by something plastic the size of a credit card as it slid up and down the edge of the door.

Disturbing was that it didn't register right away that they were trying to break in.

When it did dawn on me, I pounded on the door & said,

"shut the f**k up!"

They ran away and I went back to sleep.