Happy "Anniversary"

This has to be one of the least prolific months at The Underworld and for that I am sorry. With a play reading at the start of August, a pleasure trip last week, a work-related convention over the last couple of days and then the stacks of work that have accrued while I've been away, I just haven't been able to post as much as I would like to. And I'm off to another convention, this one theatre-related, over Labor Day weekend! So life is hectic down here at present. Then there's the sad story of how I prepared 5/6ths of a profile spotlighting yet another favorite hunk only to have the entire thing disappear with the click of a (wrong) button! Nevertheless, I've still got plenty to say, show and share. I'll be back in the swim of things soon and will have more frequent postings.



Wednesday of this week was something of an occasion here as August 24th is the two-year anniversary of the inception of this website! It's been a source of great fun for me and, I hope, for my readers as well. My goal in creating Poseidon's Underworld was to a) give myself an outlet for all the tidbits, opinions, information, pictures and so on that I have accumulated since I was bitten by the nostalgia bug, b) shine a light on some of the lesser known people and product that I have enjoyed during my journey through vintage movies and TV and c) build the type of blog that I would want to visit myself. This last one is interesting because, in all honesty, I never thought anyone out there would give the things I happen to care about a second glance (I've often remarked here about how my “real” friends couldn't care less about the many topics and personalities I've covered!), yet I have swiftly learned that I was wrong. There are folks out there who enjoy it as well and for that I am grateful.



I make no money off of Poseidon's Underworld and have no plans to ever “monetize” it, though I am frequently approached about or alerted to the feasibility and profitability of it. It's just not about that for me and I prefer not to have the pages littered with ads if I can help it. I am consistently amazed at not only the keywords that draw people to this site, but also the jaw-dropping variety of countries who are represented in the statistics. My sense of geography has improved greatly since I've taken a look at where some people are located who delve into The Underworld! I have yet to conquer Antarctica or the better part of Africa, but most other places have been represented, hence the new tongue-in-cheek blurb at the top of the page. I also, as you surely noticed, have made a little switch to the logo to give the place a quick coat of paint.



Onward to today's subject. I thought that since this is being written on and shortly after the two-year anniversary of this site, I should profile something with an appropriate title. Thus, today I will look at 1968's The Anniverary, a Hammer Studios black comedy film starring Bette Davis and quintet of snacks for her to gnaw on (this referring, of course, to her fellow cast members who were acting against her in one of her most formidable and fire-breathing parts!) Even the press book for the film had her huge, looming visage, with mouth agape, behind all the other cast members standing there like toothpicked appetizers.



The Anniversary first saw the light of day as a 1966 play, staged in London and starring Mona Washbourne and (as her character's youngest son, Michael Crawford.) It concerned a domineering matriarch whose three sons are endlessly tied to her, even though one is married with children and another has been engaged several times. The family ritualistically celebrates the parents' anniversary each year, though the father has died a decade prior. The sons (two, in particular) make haphazard plans to escape their mother's stranglehold, but cannot ever seem to win in the end. Meanwhile, the mother makes no attempt at civility, especially when it comes to the wife of one son or the fiance of another!



Strangely enough, one of the early names bandied about for the hard, demanding mama of the film version was Miss Greer Garson, an actress known throughout her career for playing demure, thoughtful characters. She passed on the project and the writer-producer Jimmy Sangster (who had written 1965's The Nanny, starring Bette Davis) went to Miss Davis with an offer. She initially turned the part down, but reconsidered once Sangster made some script revisions that tailored the role more to her persona.



The title credits roll as the vintage Al Jolson/Saul Chaplin composition “The Anniversary Song” is prominently sung by a male vocalist with The New Vaudeville Band (Alan Klein, I do believe, though no one is credited.)



As the film opens, we meet Elaine Taylor, an attractive blonde girl who has come to the workplace of her fiance Christian Roberts. Roberts, the youngest son of Davis, works in the construction business with his brothers, none of them being particularly skilled, dedicated or filled with integrity when it comes to their work. Amazed that Roberts has brought yet another girlfriend home for the title celebration, his brothers Jack Hedley and James Cossins abandon their projects and head home for the big night.



Hedley is married to Sheila Hancock, a strong-willed redhead with whom he has five children and another one on the way. He's lived under the thumb of his mother for all of his life and harbors the secret desire to flee to Canada and start life anew there with his wife and their brood.



Cossins is single, most likely due to the fact that he is a major league fan of women's lingerie, stealing panties, bras, slips and so on from peoples' clotheslines while thoughtfully leaving money pinned to the line in their place. (We are spared the sight of the husky cross-dresser actually donning any of this stuff.) An early scene has him stopping off at a florists, where he spies the lacy lingerie of the clerk (who has some fun, flippy hair.)

Roberts, of all the sons, makes the least attempt to cover up his feelings toward his dragon lady of a mama. He gives her plenty of back talk and flippancy, though there often seems to be a humorous tinge to it. On this anniversary, though, he is determined to make a go of his relationship with Taylor and finally break out of the stranglehold Davis has on him.



The five attendees of the anniversary party mingle together until it's time for Miss Davis to make her grand entrance. For this, a record is played while she sashays out of her room and makes her way flouncily down the considerable set of stairs. We see that she is missing her left eye and that it's covered with a patch in the same color as her vibrant, sleeveless dress.



She's barely down the steps and into the living room before the barbs begin. There's little or no pretense of civility to speak of as she flits across the room and starts tearing open her presents (taking time out to scoff at the sizeable flower arrangement she's been given.) The presents are either taken with a modicum of appreciation or else pointed out for their faults, though she does get a kick out of Roberts'. It's a statuette of a small boy who pees water out of his winky. The demonstration of the novelty gift causes Davis to let out one of her trademark loud, cackly, bellowing laughs.



During the course of the action in the living room, some positively gargantuan anniversary cards can be spotted on a mantle, situated within some curved alcoves. This is quite clearly a very special occasion for Davis and it seems that everyone had better be ready to pay tribute! One of Bette's most quoted lines comes when she turns to Taylor and asks if she will sit elsewhere because “Body odor offends me!”



Next, she heads into the (massive) kitchen where she makes an attempt to interact with her bratty grandchildren, tossing them coins as treats, even the baby! One of them sticks his tongue out at Taylor when she attempts to greet him and, though I can't place him, I know I've seen this kid before. (He isn't credited....) Anyone??



What's most interesting here is that the children are drinking bottle of PEPSI-COLA!! I should think that after her early-'60s tussles with Miss Joan Crawford, longtime board member of the Pepsi-Cola Company, Bette would have thrown every last drop of the stuff out into the street and replaced it with Coca-Cola (or practically ANY other soda!) The labels are never very clearly shown (as Joan would have insisted they be), but it is definitely Pepsi.



After a very short period of time the children are sent packing, with Cossins in charge of driving them home, leaving Davis free rein to taunt and antagonize the remaining foursome. As the evening unfolds, we learn little bits about how Hedley has both allowed himself to be controlled by his mother while simultaneously exploiting her for extra money, all with the blessing of his exasperated wife Hancock. Cossins is revealed to have gone upstairs and tried on some of Taylor's unmentionables, much to her horror. We also see the kinky side of Roberts, who wants to bed down with Taylor in his mother's own bed, purely to disgust and upset her!



Davis schemes to get Hancock out of the way for the night, though that only works temporarily. The unhappy gathering of “celebrants” dine at a local restaurant and are presented with a massive, pink, candle-lit cake. Unfortunately, one of their disappointed homeowners shows up to complain about the lack of workmanship in his newly purchased house (there's no kitchen floor installed!) Here, Davis shows a rare display of consideration -- until the man walks away! Then Cossins is dispatched to take care of his floor.



Back at the mansion, Davis and Co. are preparing to shoot off a fireworks display to honor the marriage of her and her deceased husband (who, in a painting, seems to resemble Grover Cleveland or William Howard Taft.) Before this can take place, though, Davis feels the need to rat out Taylor's Achilles Heel and finally does so in an eye-poppingly hysterical scene.

Not content to humiliate Taylor in front of everyone, she has peered into the future with her one good eye and determined that Roberts might be planning something untoward in her bedroom. When Taylor strips to her skimpy underthings and pulls back the sheets, she gets quite a surprise (though we don't actually see it and her reaction to it does seem just a tad over the top all things considered.)

The parade of spite, hatefulness, revenge and deception continues on into the night. There are little surprises here and there along with the exposure of an untruth or two. Davis is running on all four cylinders, her one unobstructed eye darting feverishly all over the place as she spits out her lines from between two rows of chartreuse teeth (which are set off by some vivid red lipstick.) The sons can conspire all they want, but there's never any doubt as to who is in charge within the movie (and apparently behind the scenes, too!) The venom grinds to a halt in time for Davis, cackling mightily, to try out her gift from Roberts again, effectively telling everyone that they can “piss off” for all she cares.

Mothers-in-law from hell on film were certainly nothing new. Both Helen Hayes and Irene Dunne had grappled with their in 1933 in Another Language and The Silver Cord, respectively, and there were surely others before that. By 1968, though, there was no Production Code to ensure that monstrous behavior on screen was punished in the end, so Davis could do whatever she wanted to and possibly get away with it. Davis herself was rather inimitable to begin with, though she wasn't above borrowing an aspect or two from others if it suited the role. Here, she has an overstuffed greenhouse that harkens back to that of Katharine Hepburn's controlling mama in Suddenly, Last Summer.



Within the six years prior to The Anniversary, Davis had done five films that presented her in a light that ranged from intimidating (Where Love Has Gone and The Nanny) to dangerous (Dead Ringer) to batshit crazy (What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? and Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte.) Thus, she was firmly entrenched in the battle axe phase of her career and was able to portray a gorgon like this with ease.



The striking eyepatch, similar to one her old pal Olivia de Havilland once wore in That Lady (and which allegedly led to some balance and skin irritant issues) aside, it would be tough to concoct a more severe, immobile hairstyle for Bette. With those sawed-off bangs and the shellacked wings on the sides of her face, she is quite a sight, though she was never afraid to dive off into the deep end when coming up with a look for her character.



She was also still enough of a star, too, to be able to put her foot down about things. For one, the director, Alvin Rakoff, was deemed unsuitable due to his heavy television background and perceived lack of artistry, so he was canned within one week of the start of filming. Veteran director Roy Ward Baker, who had been keeping busy with a lot of television himself in recent years, was brought in to take over. He scrapped all the Rakoff footage and even redid some of the costuming and décor in order to make the film his own. (Note how this lobby card photo - taken during Rakoff's time on the film - depicts Hancock in a suit, rather than the floral print dress she wound up wearing in the finished film and with less elaborate hair.)



Hancock, a stage actress who had played her role previously opposite Mona Washbourne in London, couldn't believe the star treatment she was witnessing during her time on the set. Then again, let's face it, the primary draw for tickets to this movie, then and now, was the visage of Bette Davis looming on the posters with her eyepatch and unforgettable facial features. Davis apparently wasn't all that fond of Hancock either and tried unsuccessfully to have her replaced with Jill Bennett, an actress she'd worked with in The Nanny three years earlier.



Hancock, like most of the supporting cast, is not known much at all in the U.S., but she has had a distinguished theatre career in the U. K. A stage actress from the late '50s on, she eventually portrayed Miss Hannigan in Annie and Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd when those productions were mounted in London. Later, she won a Laurence Olivier Award for her work as Fraulein Schneider in Cabaret. A breast cancer survivor, she ironically lost both of her husbands to esophageal cancer, one in 1971 and one in 2002. Still working, she played the grandma in the film The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, a take on concentration camps as seen through the eyes of a young boy living near one.



Hedley, who played Hancock's husband, was another original member of the stage cast and had done quite a bit of TV and film work prior to this, though often in small roles (at least in the films.) The year after The Anniversary, he had a small part in the flop musical adaptation of Goodbye, Mr. Chips with Peter O'Toole. In 1976, he again played the father of a brood of children, married to a strong-willed wife, and angling for his parent's inheritance when he played Gooper to Laurence Olivier's Big Daddy in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. This is the one that starred Robert Wagner and Natalie Wood as Brick and Maggie! Now eighty-one, he hasn't done any movie or TV work since about the year 2000.

Cossins was still another actor from the stage production. He gives a welcome understated performance that doesn't attempt to sensationalize the fact that he's a closet transvestite. (In a refreshing twist, Davis' character is remarkably non-judgmental about the fact as well, even remarking on his good taste in garments! It's sort of a precursor to the way Sophia regarded her unseen son Phil on The Golden Girls.) He'd been a busy character actor before this and would continue to do so, sometimes appearing in hit films like The Man with the Golden Gun and Ghandi, but mostly flying under the radar on television. He died in 1997.

Roberts (who took over Michael Crawford's part) was a relative newcomer compared to most of the rest of the cast. He'd just had a hit the previous year with To Sir, with Love, in which he was one of several rowdy students under the tutelage of new teacher Sidney Poitier. His subsequent films tended to land on the hooty side. The Desperados was a vulgar western with Vince Edwards and an impossibly hammy Jack Palance. Then he was one of The Adventurers (a bloated, loony mess that is profiled elsewhere on this site.) The Last Valley, an adventure film with Michael Caine and Omar Sharif, was not a success. He soon was out of feature films and by 1979 his screen career had petered out entirely, though he did occasionally return to the stage. Still with us, he runs a restaurant/hotel in Barbados.

Taylor, a newcomer as well, had played a small role in the garish 1967 version of Casino Royale and had a featured part in Half a Sixpence before The Anniversary. The year after this, she worked in Lock Up Your Daughters! with Christopher Plummer and the two fell for each other. They were soon married and she only appeared on TV and in movies sporadically after that, concentrating more on her marriage and their mutual love of renovating and designing homes together. In a happy bit of news, they are still going strong after more than 40 years of marriage and I think she looks terrific!



The Anniversary is not really a pleasant film. The spitefulness and overall sense of doom can become oppressive if one doesn't appreciate the black comedy form. It also suffers from staginess, despite a couple of attempts to open up the action and the presence of a truly cavernous and elaborate set. It's chief appeal is to see Bette in dragon lady form, tossing off insults and manipulating those around her. It might not be an accident that she has Joan Crawford-like lips and eyebrows and sometimes puts on a falsely polite act. These were things she allegedly disliked about her old nemesis. (She'd already lampooned these Crawford qualities earlier in The Star.) She outlived Crawford by about a dozen years, passing on in 1989 (and working longer than she should have at that. The Whales of August in 1987 should have been her last movie and would have been if she hadn't entered into the dreadful The Wicked Stepmother.)



Anyway, it's surprising that Bette Davis isn't better represented here in The Underworld because I love her work and find her fascinating. Thus, I'm proud to share my own anniversary with hers!

Fun Finds: Early '60s Fan Mags

The dog days of summer and I have been nowhere in sight for a little while now. So sorry to be remiss in posting, but I was out of town, relaxing and recreating in the restful resort known as Oglebay Park in West Virginia. I just couldn't bring myself to break away from the balcony with its mountain view, nor the company of my best friend who was there with me, in order to work on The Underworld. And then, sure enough, there was a different sort of mountain (of work!) waiting for me when I returned to the office.



Anyway, I haven't completely forgotten my loyal friends and true who visit here looking for the fun and the freakish. Before I left, I was on yet another of my never-ending scrounges through a dusty antique store and came upon two potential “finds” lying in a battered copper double-boiler. There were two old fan magazines, one in decent condition and one that looked like someone had rolled it up and beat his wife, child or dog with it repeatedly. Both featured Annette Funicello on the cover, who I have nothing against, but is hardly a favorite. If you like her, you may really enjoy some of the pictures here today. After asking the clerk, I was told that the mags were $2.00 apiece, so I snatched them up, eager to see what else was inside.



In what is a perfectly bizarre occurrence considering my adoration of the era, the majority of the celebrities featured in these two magazines are ones that I really don't have a strong connection to. The ones I do have an affinity for (such as John Gavin and James Franciscus) had negligible photos and articles inside. Nonetheless, I scanned in quite a few pages just in case the stars matter to you. Different strokes for different folks!



First up is Teen Screen from around November of 1963. The front cover was shown above and this is the back (a wraparound.) It's interesting in that the cover doubled as a lipstick advertisement when it was turned to the back. Her nails are also featured prominently and the Cutex color (Whisper Pink) is noted right on the front of the cover.



One of the first featured stars is singing sensation Bobby Rydell, who had not only served up the hit song “Wild One” a few years before, but was also enjoying a featured role in the hit movie Bye Bye Birdie, playing Ann-Margret's befuddled boyfriend Hugo. His acting career was minimal as he was primarily a singer (and still sings today with Frankie Avalon and Fabian.) His presence amidst the late '50s/early '60s pop culture was important enough to warrant the authors of the stage musical (and later movie) Grease to name the school of the primary characters Rydell High. Not my type at all, but a friend of mine's mother was cuckoo over him.



Then there's the Q & A section in which dizzy fans, primarily teenage girls, write in with their questions. A couple of things struck me here. One is that, for no apparent reason (not my cropping!), the response to the question about Elvis's first hit song and movie is partially missing. The rest of “Heartbreak Hotel” and the fact that Jailhouse Rock was his film debut were left hanging in the air for poor Gail Washington of Bridgeport, Connecticut to wonder about ever after... Then there's the girl who was asking what Gardner McKay's religion was! (Couldn't she tell from his tight white pants during Adventures in Paradise? Ha!) Most shocking to me was the knowledge (and I guess it's true??) that Connie Stevens lengthy ponytail of the early '60s was REAL. I'm still not sure about that one, but maybe so.



Next is a chit-chat section about Hollywood. The columnist (or headline writer) actually misspells Burl Ives' name at the top, referring to him as Burl Ive. For some reason, Burl was featured significantly in these magazines!! A less teen-worthy attraction would be hard to imagine to my mind. In this and countless other articles, Richard Chamberlain's love life is speculated on madly. There's a shot of a Go-Kart race that features Jim Mitchum, Jody McCrea, Don Grady and others (including, if my eyes don't deceive me, ubiquitous TV and movie character actor Royal Dano!)



Speculation about Richard Chamberlain's love life continues with a photo of him with Imitation of Life's Susan Kohner. The caption reads “Something between Dick and Susan Kohner?” I'd say dick is what came between Richard and any woman! The bottom right photo has actress Jenny Maxwell and her “escort.” These days, I'd say more people know who Bill Bixby was than who Ms. Maxwell, though she certainly led a captivating life in a way. Married at sixteen (to a twenty-four year-old assistant director), she was the divorced mother of a young son by the time of this snap. Sadly, in 1981 at the age of thirty-nine, she and her estranged second husband were shot dead in a botched robbery attempt at their home.



In the readers' letters section, there's an amusing debate about the manners and habits of Hayley Mills. This is followed by another picture and one pro and one con letter each about 'Dick' Chamberlain, as he was then referred to quite often. It is impossible to overestimate the pressure that was placed on him at this point in his career, as the star of Dr. Kildare and of several movies, to conform to the heterosexual ideal. No wonder he remained in the closet for such a long time. It is amazing to see and read about his popularity and witness the way he was adored and scrutinized then.



Here we have a photo featurette about young Disney actor Tommy Kirk and his preparations for a date. An utterly complete fabrication in every conceivable way, the piece takes us through each step of his afternoon, from calling the lucky girl on the phone to showering and selecting an outfit to the “surprise” appearance of a pal to the setting of mood music as HE waits for HER to come over! What ever happened to a guy going to a girl's house to pick her up for a date?!



Incidentally, Kirk's friend Clive Clerk was a dancer who made his debut as Rock Hudson and Doris Day's dry cleaning delivery boy in Send Me No Flowers and proceeded to eke out a career as a young male TV and movie performer (including the 1965 Patty Duke opus Billie) until about 1970. He apparently had a hit song out at the time of this article called “Just a Boy.” Really? In 1975, he originated the role of Larry in Broadway's A Chorus Line, the proceeded to change his name to Clive Wilson and concentrate on life as an artist. He died in 2005 at the age of fifty-nine.



Considering the way Tommy Kirk later opened up to Movieline magazine, he more than likely would have rather had his date with Clive Clerk! Born in Louisville, Kentucky, but raised in California, he struggled to come to grips with his homosexuality. Being under contract to Walt Disney only made things doubly difficult and shortly after this staged photo shoot, he was dropped by Disney Studios because of his sexual orientation even though he was still able to turn out hits like The Monkey's Uncle, his final film there. (Well, actually the firing had more to do with the twenty-two year-old's interlude at a swimming pool with a fifteen year-old boy, whose mother went straight to Walt with the news!) He almost caught a break with the 1965 John Wayne film The Sons of Katie Elder, but he was part of a much-publicized marijuana party bust and the job was squelched before he even started it. Michael Anderson Jr. inherited the role. What followed was a lengthy period of rotten movies and drugs. Thankfully, he later pulled it together and got out of the business, running his own carpet and upholstery cleaning company.



Now I'm posting the list of available fan clubs that were presented in the issue. I'm posting these primarily for two reasons. One is to show you what you got for your $0.25 to $1.50 or so and the other is to show you some of the names of the stars who had fan clubs who you may not recall or ever even have heard of!



I admit that when it comes to music, I am far less knowledgeable than I tend to be with TV and movies, but I like to think that someone prominent enough to deserve space in a national magazine and attract enough fans for a club would at least ring a bell. Not so for such legendary performers as Timi Yuro, Joey Dee, Elsie Tillman, Mike Clifford, The Tokens, Cathy Arnoldy, Linda Scott, Garry Miles, Johnny Maestro or Ailyene Silverman... Bobby Vee, who I have heard of, but no nothing about, had two competing fan clubs listed!



Knowing that Annette Funicello probably has a fair amount of fans out there who would find the aforementioned wraparound cover interesting, I went to the trouble of fusing it together into one jpg file. It's imperfect because of wear to the magazine and due to my own lack of skill at anything even remotely associated with photo-shopping. I will mention, though, that the actual magazine I posted from above, was wrinkled and darkly yellowed, so I did at least try to use the computer to bring the pages back to their original black and white splendor as close as I was able to accomplish!



Moving on, we cut to about six months later and the issue of TV Star Parade, again featuring Miss Annette on the cover in a buxom pose. Walt Disney had implored her never to be shown in a bikini, he was so fond of her wholesome image and disapproved of the two-piece suits. This was a considerably more polished and diverse magazine than the teen one, though it covered a lot of the same ground (and was still only $0.25!)



The first feature concerned Bonanza star Michael Landon (who, like several stars of his day, is referred to by a short nickname, in this case “Mike.”) Landon was profiled here in The Underworld not long ago, so if you click on his name in the column to the right there is much more to be found about him there. At this point in his life, he was on wife number two, the former model Lynn and their blended family was growing.



The article, surprisingly, doesn't shy away from the couple's prior divorces and even mentions his first wife, Dodie, by name, including the information that she lived nearby and that he was on good terms with her. It does, however, neglect to mention that his and Lynn's baby Leslie, shown with them here, was actually conceived and born in 1962 while they were both still married to their prior spouses!! Also, I'm ever-so-slightly confused by the fact that this magazine was the July issue and, thus, was sold in May or June and it mentions their upcoming baby, expected to be born in June, yet Lynn is svelte as ever and shows no sign of pregnancy at all! The baby would be Michael Landon Jr., born June 20th, 1964. Landon, of course, would eventually dump Lynn for his third wife Cindy, something Lynn would never completely come to terms with.



In this magazine's readers' questions section, we see queries about Rory Calhoun, Petticoat Junction's Jeannine Riley and Auntie Mame and 77 Sunset Strip actor Roger Smith. In a vivid example of the unreliability of showbiz rags, the question about Smith concern's his marriage to Victoria Shaw (who doesn't even rate being mentioned by name, though she was a working actress herself!) is answered with the news that they are happily married and plan no divorce. In fact, the couple was divorced the following year and two years after that, Smith married Ann-Margret, to whom he is still wed to this day!



There's also a question about Underworld fave Betty White (pictured with a couple of simian friends, a demonstration of her longstanding love for both domesticated and undomesticated animals.) Amazingly, someone wanted more of Ray Walson, too! Then there's an inquiry about Randy Boone, the nephew of Pat and cousin to Debby, who was appearing on The Virginian and would later work on Cimmaron Strip with Stuart Whitman. He later had a seminude photo published in a ladies magazine, though I don't know what Uncle Pat thought about that. (Then again, ol' Pat once had a full frontal snap taken of him while young as part of a comedic “dick in a box” prank, so maybe there was no judgement? Hustler magazine got a hold of it and published it in order to shame him during his ongoing born-again Christian campaign.)



Not that you could miss them, but don't forget to spot the advertisements here either. There's the amusing waterproof lash and brow stain Dark-Eyes (there's no better way to get a chiseled man in a swimsuit to wave at you, trust me!) Then for the burgeoning artist, there's the sketch of a scantily-clad young lady who's ready for the dress shown nearby to be applied to her frame. Man... when I was a kid, the Art Instruction School test asked you to draw a pirate or a turtle or maybe a house. This is so much more fun.



Interestingly, there's an article on Paul McCartney's “bride” Jane Asher. They refer to her as his “secret bride,” but the two were never actually married. After meeting with The Beatles in 1963, she did proceed to have a romance with Paul, one that eventually led to a 1967 engagement, but the passive-aggressive relationship was all said and done by 1968, punctuated with a boldface period when she came home one day to find him in bed with another woman. To her credit and unlike so many other hangers on, she never once exploited the failed relationship by penning a book or even giving further interviews. She hasn't to this day! She was most recently seen (looking quite chic) in the hysterical British comedy Death at a Funeral. As for Sir Paul, he just performed in concert for four hours at a stadium here, still going strong.



Speaking of McCartney and The Beatles, this next chick I had never heard of at all, but, like I said, music is not my expertise, if I even have one. The headline for the story says that she was bigger than The Beatles, but we know that wasn't true! Rita Pavone was an Italian singer who had a few hits here and there outside her country, mostly hitting it big in Spain. Her U.S. record career lasted just over a year, though she did make appearances on The Ed Sullivan Show from 1965 through 1970. Her androgynous style is highlighted in the profile and the photos.



This being half a year after the first magazine in which the authenticity of her lengthy, dishwater-blonde hair was called into question, we now find that Connie Stevens has cut and bleached it. Freshly married (since October of 1963) to actor James Stacy, she and Jim pose for a series of fluffy shots around their backyard deck and barbecue grill. One of Connie's big secrets, by the way, for grilling chicken is to baste it with Kitchen Bouquet! No thanks...



They both had been in the business for about six or seven years by this time. Some of Connie's most lasting work was already behind her, though she was hardly through. Jim was still making a name for himself, though within a decade he would be dealt a devastating blow. After his divorce from Connie in 1966, he was married to True Grit's Kim Darby for just over a year, fathering one girl with her. Then in 1973, he and a girlfriend were riding his motorcycle when a drunk driver struck them, killing her and causing him to lose his left arm and left leg. Though he did continue to work for a time, often in specialized roles or projects, he eventually unraveled into a mess of drinking, a suicide attempt, charges of molestation and even a jail term. These happy photos give no indication of what was to come for him.



Another performer who I have nothing against, but who also never lit my fire, was Donna Douglas of The Beverly Hillbillies. Here, we have a photo spread featuring her walking around Los Angeles (out of her hillbilly jeans and flannel shirts for once) reflecting on life without her young son who was back home in Louisiana while she was out in California earning a living.



Married at sixteen, she was a divorced mother of a son by the age of twenty-one in 1954 (though this was not a shotgun wedding. The baby was born in 1954!) She went off to New York to fashion a career and did find work on stage, on TV and in films until she hit it big in 1962 with Hillbillies, which kept her employed steadily through 1971. Hopelessly typecast (and bound by some strict religious scruples), her career floundered afterwards, so she turned to singing and writing as well as real estate. Now at seventy-seven, she makes it to nostalgia conventions and other events. Same basic hair, just framing an older face.



An obligatory article about Richard Chamberlain tells about his visit to an Easter Egg Hunt for the blind. Yes, you read that correctly!! The eggs had special decals applied to them which stood out from the shell, helping the children to determine what they were once they were lucky enough to find them. Yet another in the endless string of faux dates is Allyson Ames, an aspiring TV actress who wasn't able to forge a lasting career.



If you think Allyson Ames is obscure, try on Sandy Millar, the date of Paul Peterson in this profile. She performed on one episode of My Three Sons and that is IT! (There's a mention here of Mr. Novak, but that must have been as an extra or tiny bit.) She later had a son in 1972 who grew up to be Chris Morrissey, a writer and director of low-budget, experimental types of films in the Roger Corman vein with a sometimes comic edge (sample title: Superstar Female Serial Killer.) Peterson, who'd grown up before viewers' eyes as the son on The Donna Reed Show, found his career sliding off the radar after that series' cancellation in 1966. At age eighteen here, he'd already lost his virginity five years prior and had been boinking costar Shelley Fabares' stand-in. After career trauma and some dabbling in drugs, was able to turn it around. He later became one of the chief advocates for the rights and protection of child stars in show business based on his own sometimes horrific experiences as a youth (such as losing his virginity at thirteen to a hot coworker – Just kidding!)



If Rita Pavone unseating The Beatles wasn't enough, how about someone taking over Elvis' spot in the music business hierarchy? This article places London-raised singer Cliff Richard as the successor to The King's crown. While it's true that Cliff Richard enjoyed incredible success in the U.K. and in many other nations, for some reason he never truly caught on in America. Richard was a twenty-one year-old with three younger sisters who had to bring home the bacon for them and his mother when his father died in 1961. At the time this article saw print, he was right on the cusp of becoming an active Christian (eventually touring with Billy Graham!), something that was at deep odds with the rock 'n roll career he had been pursuing. (Born Harry Webb, his stage name Cliff had even been chosen because it was similar to the word “rock!”)



More significantly, his last name of Richard was selected because of his adoration of Little Richard. This dichotomy between the potentially exploitive rock world and the more inspiring music he enjoyed as well as his image as a teen idol and a sexy male singer versus the speculation that he might be homosexual caused no small amount of angst for him. Richard has never come out as gay, though he called upon the Church of England to affirm same-sex marriage and has lived with a priest for a decade.



After many years of inactivity on the U.S. charts, he scored a top ten hit in 1979 called “We Don't Talk Anymore.” This was followed the next year by the duet “Suddenly” with his close friend Olivia Newton-John, from the soundtrack of Xanadu. Shortly thereafter, his U.S. career was over again, but he has remained popular, especially in concert, in much of the rest of the world. He was knighted in 1995, the first British subject who was a rock star to have this honor bestowed on them.



I'll wrap up the article examination with this full-page photo of Miss Annette. Like I said, if she is your bag, this post should be something of a goldmine for you! I didn't scan in the article about her, which had to do with her going horseback-riding while continuing to maintain that immaculately-coiffed, impossibly thick hairdo!



One of the things I found fascinating, and which I touched on briefly above, was the advertisements sprinkled throughout the magazine. In many cases, the ads are more fascinating than the articles! It was a big trend at this time to send away for photos of the stars. Oh to be able to still be able to do this at the prices shown. This one, for example, allows one to receive a dozen 4” x 5” photos of the stars of his choice for only $1.00. You just circled the names of the ones you wanted. That would have been like Sophie's Choice for me.



Taking that into consideration, I think there's something amiss about this other ad. It purports to send the customer 2000 photos, in all shapes and sizes, for just $1.00. I just really cannot see this being legitimate and it wouldn't surprise me to find out that these envelopes, with a dollar bill inside each one, went straight into the hands of someone who swiftly closed up shop after securing a certain amount of money and fled! How could this be real?! (Especially when other ads are charging so much more?)



On the clothing front, we have this fun concoction. It's a dress-cum-playsuit, available in four color combinations, that serves almost every conceivable recreational or household chore need. The sizes listed confuse the hell out of me, but, then again, a lot of things do! It even includes the belt, though it's advertised as only a two-piece get-up. I think there's something so wondrous about these sleek, well-groomed, old-fashioned models, too...



From the same company – Riviera Originals, but far more unusual (and distinctive!) is this newsprint shirt/jacket. Finally, the men will have an excuse when they stare at her tits. They can say they're reading the stock market updates or the sports page and ask her to please hold still (or maybe even crouch up close to read the fine print!) My question is, when she gets dressed in the morning, are her fingertips black from the ink? Ha!



This feminine protection ad is fun not only because of the model's makeup and expression, but also because it does uninformed men like me a favor in helping to explain (in fair detail) all the differences between the many various types of sanitary napkins. As a kid, I had no clue what in the world super or maxi referred to. I do have to admit to being a little taken aback by the new “Miss Deb” that suggests use for nine year-old girls! No kidding?? Maybe I'm still in the dark (and happily so!)



Have you ever seen a more perfect eye than the one in this Maybelline ad? I used to draw eyes in school all the time until some girl begged me to stop because her friend drew eyes everywhere and then killed himself. This eye reminds me so much of the ones I used to doodle and draw constantly. If I'm not mistaken, Ultra Lash mascara is still sold by that company, but not for $1.00 anymore! (Nor is there a $0.69 “refill” available. Can you imagine?! The brushes are always being accused of containing bacteria after a while. How many ladies just kept using theirs over and over and over?!)



Apart from Miss Funicello, the other chief star featured in these magazines is Richard Chamberlain. Here we have an ad that allows you to send away for a life-size 6' x 2' poster of him! For the total cost of $1.25, Dr. Kildare himself could be stationed in your dorm room or hung on the closet door. He was truly, truly popular.



I've told you before that I always try to make some sort of attempt to save the best for last. This time, there was nothing really that spectacular to wind the post up with, but I did manage to cough up something rather amusing. Earlier in the post, I mentioned Randy Boone and his TV career that eventually sputtered out in the mid-'70s. (He then segued full time into country music, something that he pursues to this day.) Like many celebs in the free-wheeling '70s, he allowed himself to flirt with nude photos in an effort to increase interest in his career. I don't know HOW anyone expected these particular ones to ignite any job offers, though. It's not that his body was bad. Far from it. It's just that they are goofy, awkward and extremely uncomfortable. The distracted expressions and bizarre poses may rate as some of the least effective handling of the camera towards a scantily clad male that I have ever seen, at least when meant for use as publicity photography. Is it really that hard to take a flattering picture of a semi-nude man? Oh, and do take note that, unless Randy had six fingers - like Anne Boleyn, the very tip of his penis is saying hello in that first shot!



'Til next time, my friends. Today is my birthday, so I will be embroiled in a variety of activities with that over the weekend. The old oak tree has one more ring around it today. Ugh!