The National Mob Museum - Las Vegas

It was back in the middle 70's, coincidentally only a few days before my first appearance on "SOAP", when I flew with a very prestigious group to perform in Pennsylvania at a banquet honoring this man.  It was a weekend I will never forget.  I drop a name or two just because, well, they were there too. 

I was told by my manager at the time, who also handeled Andy Griffith and Frankie Avalon, that this was a banquet of "made men".  The manager told me to "shut up, keep my eyes open and don't ask any questions." We were honoring a man named, Russell Bufalino. So when I visited the National Mob Museum I wondered if they would have any information about Russ, so I went looking for his name.  I found it along with his picture. It reminded me of that interesting week-end in Pennsylvania. There are so many stories that came from that show weekend but one is shorter than the others. I feel the need to write about it.

The banquet was over and Andy Griffith and I stood in line to say thank you to the Honoree. Russ could not have been a nicer person.  He graciously invited Andy and I out for a night cap at a little pizza place at the edge of town.  It seems out of the group of performers doing the show that night, Andy and I were the only ones who had never met or worked for Russ.  

It was almost a scene out of a 1930's movie as we enjoyed a beer or two with "the guys". They loved the show, loved Andy, and if I was with him, I must be okay too.  They would give us big bear hugs and call us friendly names in Italian.  Once in a while the uncomfortable outline of a hand gun would press itself into my side as I was getting one of those hugs.  

It became obvious there was a pecking order in this group. The closer a person sat to Russell the higher up in the pecking order he was, with the exception of a few guys who were obviously drivers and body guards.  After a time Russell said he wanted to call it a night.  Andy and I got up thinking he party was over and Russell said, "No, No.  You guys don't have to leave. Stay. Enjoy." He turned to a big man who was one of the driver/bodyguards and said, "Stay with them and take them anywhere they want to go." It was more of an order than a request.  From that moment on this big guy was never more that an arms length away from us but never said a word.  

After a few more beers, Andy and I decided it was time to go back to the hotel.  The driver showed us to a standard black Limo parked in front of the "joint".  He  said,  "Gentlemen, where too."  Andy and I became two little kids.  Andy thickened his North Carolina accent and delivered the line as if it was straight out of Andy of Mayberry, "Well, let's see... I know this nice little place at 5th and 55th street in Manhattan, how about that, Jaaay".  I just giggled. We starting comparing notes on what we had experienced during the evening like we were the country mice in the big city, laughing and rolling our eyes.  

I'm not sure when we realized that the trip back to the Hotel seemed to be taking much longer than it should.  We were not seeing anything along the road  but Pennsylvanian country side.  There wasn't a city light to be seen for miles.   I think it crossed my mind that perhaps we had not done that good of a show and we were being taken out to a "special place" never to return.  Andy finally said to the driver, "Where is it that we are going?"  

The driver said "Fifth and fifty-fifth in Manhattan."  We both realized that the driver had taken Russell's admonition of  "take them anyplace they want to go" seriously.  We were off to New York City.  Andy finally said, "No I was just kidding we need to go back to the hotel."  Without a word the driver made a U turn on the highway and we headed back into town.  Had we not noticed, we would have been to New York around dawn.

We had chosen the wrong time and the wrong person to joke with. 

With my fascination for the "Mob" I would occationally see Russell's name came up.   I could not resolve the idea that the nice man who had been so gracious to me and Andy would also be so ruthless.  Russell is gone now.  I never saw him after that, but I will never forget him.  Some day when we are sitting around having a drink I will tell you the more juicy stories of that weekend. 

As you were, 

Jay

  

If you knew Sushi... like I know Sushi.....

 The drawing muse has come to visit for the last few days and this is the result. I titled it "Sushi". The meaning has a cautionary tale. "Becareful what you wish for."  Most of the time we go through life never realizing that we bait our own hook, which means we are mostly responsible for what we get.  I think a wiser philosopher than I said it better, "What you sow you reap." Duck hunters don't use a moose call to catch ducks.  The call you put out is the answer you will get back. But that has little to do with the rest of this blog.

Although I have not lived in Texas for the last 40 plus years, it is hard not to think of a thick juicy steak and baked potato as my favorited dinner.  However, an evening out for Sushi may be giving that traditional dinner some competition to my dining desires. This is quite a pivot for me, although I do miss going to Sushi the way it used to be.

I was introduced to Sushi by Ted Wass and Billy Crystal.  It was when we were doing SOAP on the ABC lot in Hollywood for a half season.  One day Ted and Billy decided to go to lunch "off Campus" and invited me to go along.  I did not know they planned to make a lunch of raw fish until we got to a small out of the way Sushi Bar 10 minutes from the studio.  It was located in Chinatown and at that time one of the few Sushi bars in the city.  It was only after my second time there that I was able to find my way back.  It was traditional in every way.  There was low hanging cloths on the door way, and traditional Japanese music playing.  The Sushi Chefs were all decked out in traditional white with scarves rolled and tied around their foreheads.  They were welding sharp knives with Ninja precision.   A very calm and inviting place that was like no other restaurant I had ever been too. There were no tables only the long bar with personalized wooden sake cups on wall shelves. As we walked in the entire staff yelled something in Japanese.  Since we were the only "non-Asian's" there I thought they were yelling at us to leave.  There were no menus just a glass counter in front of us with various kinds of raw fish.   I remember thinking it looked like a butcher shop more than a restaurant.  

Billy and Ted began to utter a different language to the chef. They ordered things like Magura,  Neghihama, Yellow Tail and sea ell.  When I found out that one of those items was tuna, I decided to give it a try.  I didn't jump off into the deep end, Ted, however, ordered Sea Urchin with a quail egg.  It looked like something that was ready to be prepared not yet ready to eat, but Teddy gulped it down.  After I got past the idea that a "hot" lunch was out of the question I settled in.  Every thing I ordered, most of the time not knowing what it really was, tasted great. It was a new adventure and an unrealized turn in my eating habits.  

Back then there were so few Sushi places that it became an event to have a Sushi dinner.  To introduce Sandi to my new passion we had to drive over to Hollywood, there were no Sushi places I knew of in the Valley.  But, before long Sushi places starting springing up like Starbucks.  It was not long before  LA had a glut of Sushi bars. We didn't have to travel to Hollywood any longer to get our fix.  TerraSushi opened on Ventura boulevard not far from the Radford CBS lot and it became the "in" place for the young Turks of Hollywood to hang.  If you wanted to see celebrities and be seen by those looking for celebrities TerraSushi became the place to be.  We used to joke that to get a good table or preferred place at the bar you needed to be wearing a satin production jacket from a hit show. Satin production jackets were also the rage at the time and I will admit to wearing my SOAP jacket there more than a few times.  In those evenings of just hanging out with friends, I learned that a fine compliment to any Sushi is Kirin beer and hot sake.  I salivate now just thinking of that combination. 

It was at a Sushi bar in New York during that time that I had an unforgettable "fan" experience.  I was in town doing some promo for ABC and had gone out to Sushi on Columbus Ave. with a friend.  

As we were ordering our second round a very nice asian woman came up to me.  In very broken English she explained she was a reporter/writer from Japan.  She knew that I was a "television man" and wondered if I would have time to do an interview with her.  In anticipation of just such an occurrence the publicist at ABC had given me a dozen of her business cards.  She told me that if someone wanted to set up an interview, give the person her card and they would set up something at a convenient time.  Being a good network employee, I said, "Sure we can do an interview" and I reached for one of the cards.  Before I could say, "Give ABC a call and they will set something up..." The woman retrieved a small tape recorder and a very large professional microphone from her bag and said, "Good... we do it now?"  It was a rhetorical question, she immediately launched into it tuning on the recorder, clearing her throat and checking the level. It went exactly like this:

She held the mic to her face and started speaking in Japanese.  It was very lyrical in sound but the only thing I understood was my name.  She sprinkled it into the monologue occasionally saying, Mr. Jay Johnson San.  After what seemed like a long time she paused looked me in th eye and said very seriously, "Mr. Johnson San..... what you eating?"  In all my years of being interviewed it was the first time and perhaps the only time that question had been asked.  I said, "I am eating Tuna sushi."  

She seemed delighted at that response and moved the microphone back to her face and said, "Ahhhhh, Mr. Johnson San, yadda yadda, yadda, Tuna Sushi.... yadda yadda." This Japanese monologue went on for some time until once again she paused, looked at me and said, "Mr. Johnson San..... what you order next?"  

I hadn't really decided until that moment but I boldly went out on a limb and said, "I think next I will have California Roll." 

Same reaction..... "Ahhhhhh,   Mr. Johnson San, yadda yadda yadda, California Roll.... yadda yadda yadda."  The yadda's continued in the same manner as I had become accustomed to.  Once again she paused getting ready to ask me another question.  I was prepared with all the answers about my career on SOAP, our new season, what happened at the end of last season, and what it was like to be on a show like SOAP.  So, she looked at me with all seriousness, took in a deep breath as if this is the question she had been waiting to ask.  It was a little slower and more deliberate in the delivery, she paused a longer time between my name and the question.  

"Mr. Johnson San...... what you order after that?"  

Now I am set on improv mode. One of the great things about eating at a Sushi bar ordering a selection at a time and waiting until you are ready for the next taste.  I was not sure at all what I would order after the California Roll, but I usually ended my Sushi dinners at the time with Sea Ell Sushi.  As if I was considering the question longer than the first two I finally said, "I guess I will have my favorite dessert, Sea Ell."  

"Ahhh.... Mr. Johnson San, yadda yadda, Sea Ell yadda yadda yadda.  She giggled as she yaddaed some more.  Finally it was back to me as she said, 

"Mr. Johnson San......... thank you very much."  

The interview was over. The mic and the recorder went back into the bag, she bowed and returned to her table.  Noting more needed to be said.  I have spent years reliving that interview wondering what was really said.  I decided she was probably a food critic rather than an entertainment writer but I will never know.  To date it is still one of the strangest interviews I have ever done.  

As you were,

Jay

Left Coast Easter

This is Bruce. He sits guard on the brick column by the pool.  He scares evil spirits away from coming near our orange tree.  He seems to be very effective except in the case of squirrels. I have seen those furry tailed rats standing on Bruce's head to get the advantage on a particular orange.    I think it was my oldest son who named the gargoyle Bruce when he was young, my son, not Bruce. This gargoyle has been around a long time and has refused to state his actual age. He is the old friend, always looking out, always guarding my back.

Today Bruce is my secretary, my receptionist and my collaborator.  I have moved the main office of Jaysons Imagination, Inc. out doors today.  It's one of those perfect California days, Spring has sprung.  From the few rain showers everything brown has turned green.  Unfortunately my collaborator does not seem to be inspired at the moment and has assumed his "thinking" position.  I totally understand because the perfumed air, the gentle breeze and song of the wind chimes makes it impossible to think clearly enough to write. At my desk the smell is of orange blossoms.  If you walk around the neighborhood you find the orange blossom scent mixed with some sort of jazmine.  It is a distinctively California Spring smell unlike any other place except perhaps Hawaii.   

So Easter is this weekend.  Funny that Easter always lands on a Sunday.  Unfortunately no little kids to hide eggs for and no old people to attend a sunrise ceremony with this year.  We will have a brunch for the extended California family but no Easter egg hunts.  

I remember one Easter when the boys were 8 and 5 years old and their Asbury Grandparents were here to celebrate with them.  My mother-in-Law, Grammy, found some plastic Easter eggs at the store and meticulously spend the night before Easter Sunday stuffing dozen's of them with candies and small change.  She placed them carefully around the dwarf peach tree in the back yard..  

The next day after Church the boys were very excited to start their egg hunting.  We gave them their baskets and set them to the task.  Grammy was particularly interested in their hunt and "steered" them to the peach tree.

Excitedly the boys ran to the tree and gathered the plastic eggs.  My oldest son quickly opened the first egg, and to everyone's surprise it was empty.  His little brother did the same thing and his plastic Easter Egg was empty as well.  We watched as they progressively got more excited that the next egg would not be empty only to be disappointed by more empty eggs.

Grammy was totally baffled. We all watched her prepare the plastic eggs but we were not seeing the results.  Grammy wondered if squirrels had eaten the candy.  I was not sure that was the reason.  First squirrels don't eat chocolate and I was certain they would not cover their theft by re-assembling the egg halves.  

The boys were filled with such hope for the next egg they opened to be anything but empty.  They seemed so very disappointed when there was, once again, nothing inside.  It was a panic for grandparents and new parents who wanted Easter to be a perfect memory for the kids. Grammy replaced all the candy in every egg that was opened and empty.   The grown ups were all baffled.

I am not sure exactly how we solved the mystery, perhaps it was the five year old who cracked.  Turns out, that while the "grown ups" were getting ready for the big hunt, the boys covertly invaded the backyard.  They took all the candy and coins out of the plastic eggs, reassembled them and placed them back in their spot.  The whole disappointment and bewilderment at the missing candy, was only a completely realized scam.  They were able to get double the candy treats with this ploy.  

I realized then that the apples do not fall from the tree.  I was secretly proud of the guys for coming up with that plan on their own.  However it was a harbinger of things to come as they later approached puberty.  Knowing what they were capable of as kids helped me stay only half a step behind them as they grew up.

Easter is a time to renew, recommit and remember that the future is beautifully unfolding after a long gloomy winter.  I understand the symbolism that has been co-opted by the Christian Religion to renew faith and love.  I have no trouble in seeing how both the secular and the religious come together in one celebration of renewal and rebirth at Easter.  Enjoy every aspect of this season.

As you were,

Jay

My Day in Court

 California statute requires one day or one trial every 12 months as far as jury duty goes. So on Sunday night I call in to see if I am needed... No... Yea.. Monday I make the same evening call... Not needed on Tuesday. I repeat this process the next two nights. Thursday I call in.... I am told to report at 7:45 am on Friday. Damn. One more day and I would have served my time without leaving my phone.

So Friday... frikin' FRIDAY at 8:00 am, in the jury assembly room at the Van Nuys Superior Court building in Van Nuys, we unfortunate participants, have jury duty orientation. This consists of a video telling me what a wonderful service I am about to perform for the State of California.  I am not swayed.

At the end of the video, a nice young Woman comes to a podium with a  wireless microphone.  She repeats this same speech every morning, 5 days a week as a career. It is a pleasant "reading" but the freshness of the script has run its course. She will say the words, "Any questions" every few seconds for the rest of the orientation. 

She starts repeating most of the information we just had to sit through.  I am thinking that if we have to be reminded of what we just heard moments before, maybe we do not have the brain capacity to serve on a jury.  None the less we listen to her "sort of".  I see several people texting covertly, and one old man continues to glance at his LA Times, or he was nodding off it was hard to tell.  

The nice woman gets to the part about "postponements and excuses not to serve". I was not listening very closely. None of this section applies to me, because if I could come up with an excuse that worked I wouldn't be sitting here this time of the morning. 

The woman says, "If you are over 70 and have a medical condition, you must state the condition on line 7 of the form...".  At that moment some man  in the middle of the room almost shrieks, "Wow. Unbelievable"

This stops the process in its tracks.  The lady turns to the man as if she had not understood the questions.  

He says, "Possum"

She repeats, "Possum"

Now the jury room of the Van Nuys Superior court house is located on the ground floor with plenty of windows. It is not a bad view of old trees and official buildings. It is not however, a place that seems to inspire creativity.  I guess I would call it an institutional environment.  It is easy to get distracted by the people walking on the sidewalk through the trees. No one is just enjoying the stroll. Everyone on this property has some legal reason to be there.  As I watched people make their way past the window I played a game in my mind.  The game is called "Lawyer, Planiff, Defendant".  As quickly as the people passed by was all the time I had to cast them (the movie in my head) as a lawyer, planiff or defendant in some Superior Court drama to come. 

I am sure that is exactly what the man was doing when he said, "Possum." For indeed now everyone in the jury room is looking at a very large possum peering into our window.  As an indicator of the boredom factor people began to act like they had never seen an animal off -leash and ungroomed.

No one is listening to the jury Woman, everyone is giggling at a possum like it was a giraffe giving birth.  In fact the jury woman herself has moved closer to the window to see the possum. She is able to continue repeating the speech while clearly expressing more interest in the possum. Just as everyone in the room had taken their seats convinced the possum show was over, the jury woman says, "I think that is security trying to get the possum."

Indeed the cops had shown up to arrest the possum. Perhaps for trespassing, I suppose. Or maybe for being out after possum curfew.  Whatever the charge it became difficult to subdue the possum. The possum refused to obey verbal commands, and was already down on the ground.  I am sure their Smith and Wesson handcuffs do not ratchet down to possum size.  

Before too long the possum decided to take it on the lam and took off to parts unknown. It was back to the boredom of civic duty.

Soon we were called to various courts and the process began.  Since we were admonished not to talk about the case, and we were not allowed to take any photos, you'll have to take my word for all of this.  However, I can tell you with complete candor that the Possum was the highlight of my day in court.

As you were,

Jay

The Swarms of Spring

The Orange Beetle - genis -Trumperius Irritateus 

With Spring comes an infestation of a rare and destructive beetle. The Trumperius Irritateus Beetle is swarming the country and seems out of anyone's control. Like killer bees the Trumperius Irritateus is an experiment gone bad, a genetically engineered bug was released to do a specific job.  The DNA of two bugs was mixed to creat a more aggressive insect breed. The Trumperius is a cross between a New York cock roach (Slimis Bagus) and a Russian louse (Putinus Dic). 

In an attempt to stem the pestilence of the common DC stink bug (Politicus Ignoramus), the Trumperius was introduced to the insect hives of Washington hoping create a new line of beetles.  Unfortunately too much of the Russian louse was reproduced in the hybrid. The engineered insect had more problems than the breeders thought.  Rather than mixing well with its new environment  the Trumperius was angry and provocative to other bugs, ineffective at leadership, and very destructive to the environment.  The Trumperius surrounds itself with other cockroaches and shows  affection for all kinds of Russian louses. Most alarming, however, the Trumperius Beetle has spread up and down the east coast.  Rather than staying in one spot it has established nests from New York to Florida.  

The Trumperius is irritating in actions and expressions.  It attempts to dominate females of all kinds but prefers to stay close to it's own off spring, especially the oldest female Irritateus.  It seems to disdain all other non-native species except itself.  The species is obsessively self aware  puffing up its orange antenna in an opulent manner for attention. The Trumperius is know by its "Tweeting" sounds often trying to imitate fox howls or the shrieks of the alternative white jackal. The tweets are loudest in the early morning hours and annoy most every other species on the planet.  

Exterminators disagree about how best to rid the country of this infestation. It would appear that the mutant bug is immune to most normal forms of elimination. It is not known how much damage the Trumperius will do before it can be neutralized.  In fact there is not a consensus on who should be in charge of the beetle problem. The governmental agency which looks after the environment has been eliminated by the current administration. However, everyone agrees that it will cost a lot of money, time and resistance to keep this infestation from spreading.  

As you were,

Jay

You Stole my cart...

As I was walking Boo, or rather as Boo was walking me, we got to the corner of Ventura and Woodley this afternoon.   As we passed by Encino Plaza a mini mall at the corner, a lady almost ran into me and Boo and  said, "Where is my cart?"  She seemed a little panicked and concerned. I said, "I haven't seen any carts, Ma'm" and continued my journey. That did not seem to be the correct response on my part. She ran across the street to the entrance of an office building garage and started yelling at the attendants... "YOU Stole my cart." I could still hear her screaming as I got to the traffic signal to cross a busy Ventura Blvd.  

I happen to be standing next to a very well dressed man who obviously worked in one of the buildings near.  I was just waiting for the light to change as he was also doing when the lady made her way to the corner where we were standing.  She stepped off the curb and faced the two of us.  She backed into traffic as she confronted us. 

She looked at the man next to me and said, "YOU, you stole my cart."  He had the good sense not to answer. She looked at me and screamed "YOU, you also stole my cart where is it." I followed the business man's lead and remainded silent.  She continued,

"You both stole my cart where is it? Where is it you thieving bastards? You murdering sumbags what did you do with my cart." A car has to swerve to avoid hitting her and honks. She throws the car a finger and continues to berate the both of us.  "I know who you are.... both of you... you kill you cheat you steal... you bastards are all alike. You stole my cart." 

The signal finally says walk and we cross the busy boulevard.  I am afraid she will follow us but she stays on her side of the street continuing to yell obscenities our way.  

"You thieving bastards.. They stole my cart.  Those two guys stole my cart. Murderers.. Murderers... cart stealing  bastards both of them." She ran back into one of the business of Encino Place as if to make a full report.

We safely got across the street and continued in different directions. Before we parted we make eye contact and I said, "Okay. What did you do with the cart." 

He didn't miss a beat

He said, "Behind the Coffee Bean. We'll meet up later and split up the goods."  Then he brushed his nose with his finger in a very deliberate way.  I immediately knew this as the "con-man's signal" from the movie "The Sting".  I laughed and returned the nose signal.  He laughed and we parted ways.  I love someone who will go with the situation and Improv an ending.  I will probably never see that guy again, and hopefully I will never encounter the cart lady again either.  Just one more scene in the continuous drama of life proving that "The World is a Stage". 

As you were,

Jay

How I found time for Happiness in Trumpland...

From the Jay Johnson Mickey Mouse Watch Collection

I remember it was an ad in the Houston Chronicle in the late 1960's. I was living in Houston at the time working at Astroworld. The Advertisement was from Neiman-Marcus located in the Galleria and it was a full page.  They announced sale of "Imported" Mickey Mouse Wrist Watches ... imported from Disneyland for a limited time.  The only place you could get this watch was Disneyland, and now for a short time Neiman- Marcus.

I wasn't looking for a new watch.  I wasn't a customer of Neiman-Marcus, I have never seen an ad like that before or since. But, I had to have one of those watches before they were all gone.  The ad said limited time. I assumed a limited number of watches.

I drove to Galleria immediately, and made my way to the watch counter.  Neiman -Marcus hires only top notch salespeople and this guy tried to interest me in a more "mature" watch, but my mind was set.  It was the first watch I ever bought for myself and it replaced a Christmas gift watch my parents gave me 10 years earlier.

I loved this new Mickey Mouse watch. I wore it out after replacing three crystals, and having several major repairs.  Each jeweler who repaired it over the years said the same thing, "The repair will probably cost more than a new watch..." I didn't care.  The minute by minute show that Mickey performed on my wrist daily was worth any price to me.

Wrist watches in the 70's and 80's were fashion statements, and status symbols.  While my television friends displayed new Cartier's or Rolexes, I continued to sport Mickey.  I was known for wearing that watch; it was my personal statement.  I even wrote a ventriloquist act around a "talking Mickey Mouse watch" and performed it on stage over the years. When asked why I wore a Mickey Mouse watch I would always say.. "It puts my daily life in perspective... running late for an important meeting.... you glance a Mickey and when he tells you the time... nothing seems to be so serious." Years later I was completely vindicated when Dan Brown wrote his best selling novel, the Da Vinci Code. His hero Robert Langdon the Harvard professor, wore a Mickey Mouse wrist watch.  I was way ahead of that fashion curve.

After Sandi and I settled in Southern California I discovered that the Clock Shop at Disneyland always had the latest model of Mickey Mouse Watch for sale. It was easy to find a cheap kids version of the Mickey Watch, but the Clock Shop at Disneyland had good watches that happened to have a Mickey on the Face.  Visiting the park over the years I gathered a big collection of Mickey Mouse wrist watches and I still have them.

Sandi would often gift me with more "age appropriate watches", as she put it, in keeping with the style and level of my showbiz career at the time.  Once while on tour with Julie Andrews, she gave me an expensive watch engraved with "Love Julie" on the back. I would wear it to "functions" on occasion when we had to dress formally, but I was never as comfortable nor happy if I wasn't relying on Mickey to tell me the time of day.  Eventually I bought a very expensive 14k gold Mickey Mouse watch from the Clock Shop at Disneyland. It was a  themed out "gold watch" they used to give retiring executives of the Disney corporation.  As a regular customer at the Disneyland Clock shop, I was able to talk the shop keeper into selling me the display model.  As the price of gold began to sore through the years I could only wear the watch to extra special occasions.

So eventually cell phones began to dominate our culture.  No need for a wrist watch you had to manually change for each time zone, and replace a battery at the worst possible time.  The cell phone kept perfect time.  Eventually the battery ran down on my Mickey and by the time I got around to replacing it, I was used to digging in my pocket for my phone to get the current time of day. A wrist watch was one less thing to put on in the morning so... eventually I quit wearing a watch at all. This would be a horrible decision looking back on it.

So now here we are in March of 2017.  We have a complete idiot for President who daily makes news with one statement after the next which turns my blood to acid.  His mere presence in the oval office offends my Patriotism and depresses my entire countenance of good feelings.  Unfortunately he is not going away soon enough for me. He is not getting better, and since I can only be responsible for myself, I have to ignore the orange faced fascist.  This becomes harder to do than I thought.

I have given up watching the news.  I have purged my Facebook friends of those who might be inclined to normalize him or god forbid like him.  I try to avoid speaking his name or engaging in any discussions of his existence.  Unfortunately his kind of "stupid" seems to be epidemic and is infecting everything.

Here is how it happens.  I think to myself "What time is it anyway?" I am currently not wearing a watch, so,  I reach for my iPhone and hit the button. At the same moment I see the time, there, on the same screen, is a push notice, or flash announcement of some ignorant Tweet or other news worthy obnoxious action by the President. My blood boils, my eyes narrow, my teeth begin to sharpen and I'm livid that he is still alive in the White house.  It is not healthy, and all because I wondered what time it was.

Recently I saw one of my favorite Mickey's in a drawer.  I wondered if it still worked so I took it to my watch repair guy at the Fashion Square.  All it needed was a battery.  I placed Mickey back on my wrist and have had a much better attitude toward life in Trumpland since.  Now if I want to know what time it is I look to where Mickey is pointing;  no hint of POS 45 nor any of his lunacy.  Mickey, who four times a day spreads his arms out wide to say, "I love you this much"  Four more times a day, At ten minutes till 2:00 and ten minutes after 10:00 he shrugs a WTF pose and at 6:30 he plays with himself.  I feel like a kid again.  I am not reminded of any election PTSD that pollutes the news these days.  I can pretend that life is caricature of itself and the orange President is just so much ink on a page.  It keeps everything in perspective.... why... because we like you.
As you were,
Jay

Right, this way... see the Orange-Haired ape....

 A carnival is a very interesting group.  Oh it may look like a band of performers and tricksters who are just traveling together, but they aren't.  They are one mechanism bound together all for one and one for all and everyone against the Rubes.  The Rubes are the unsuspecting audience of this traveling carnival. It is a carefully orchestrated experience  to "take" the Rubes for as much money as you can get without getting caught.  The moto is, "you can shear a sheep a lot of times, but you can only skin it once."  As you go down the midway you see all kinds of games of chance and skill.  It would be easy to cheat the Rube out of all his money at one booth,  that would be skinning the Rube.  You let the Rube win a little, lose a little and send him on his way to the next game. By the end of the evening the Rube has lost more than he has gained in prizes but feels like he had a good time.

If you have any money left by the end of your carnival visit you would come upon the Big Tent. 

Outside is a pitchman.  He was usually surrounded by beautiful women, dressed in flashy clothes and promises an experience inside the tent that will be, Amazing, Great, Stupendous.  The canvas banners are vague promises of what is inside.  Most of what the Pitchman is saying is a lie.  All they want is to get the Rubes into the tent.  

Of course there will be Rubes who won't foolishly spend their money on games you can't win. The pitchman wants some of that fresh money so he employs a trick that has been used by every con man who ever gathered a crowd.  It is so simple so effective and is based on the idea that the Pitchman has your best interest at heart.  Here is the scam.... 

Once the crowd is gathered inside the tent the Pitchman starts his pitch.  He is very good at telling tales.  But at one point the Pitch will stop and the Pitchman will say,

"Ladies and Gentlemen. You know the world has turned into a dangerous place. I have been told that there might be a band of pick-pockets in the area.  They could be in this very crowd tonight, so please make sure you still have your valuables on your person in a safe place." 

Sounds like an honest man just looking out for the crowds interests.   

It is more devious than you can ever imagine.  The human instinct when one hears a phrase like that is to check your valuables, to make sure they are there. I do it almost every time I walk out of the house. I pat the wallet in my back pocket to make sure I have it and then check the other pocket for my phone. Professional pickpockets call that the touch. I have just made a gesture that tells someone who is watching two things:  1) what I think is most valuable and 2) exactly where those valuables are.  

As the Rubes in the crowd check their wallets... they have actually told the Pickpockets where the goods are.  Oh and by the way there are pickpockets in the area, and they are in the crowd and most importantly... they work for the Carnival.  The Pitchman shares in the loot they steal. 

I have heard people say we have a Pitchman in the White house. Pitchmen and con-men usually travel with a carnival. With that metaphor in mind remember that the Carnival does not exist for the good of the community, a carnival is there to grab every cent it can before it moves on to the next unsuspecting community.  

I think  the present administration's involvement with Russia is alarming for our National security.  And is does seem that even statements under oath can't be assumed true when it comes to this Russian connection.  I am concerned that while we are trying to figure out just how far up the chain of command the corruption goes our pockets are being picked by the rest of the carnival.

Case in point, while all of this stuff about wiretaps and purgery is being talked about 24/7 here are some of the bills that have been introduced. 

1. HR 861 Terminate the Environmental Protection Agency
2. HR 610 Vouchers for Public Education
3. HR 899 Terminate the Department of Education
4. HJR 69 Repeal Rule Protecting Wildlife
5. HR 370 Repeal Affordable Care Act
6. HR 354 Defund Planned Parenthood
7. HR 785 National Right to Work (this one ends unions)
8. HR 83 Mobilizing Against Sanctuary Cities Bill
9. HR 147 Criminalizing Abortion (“Prenatal Nondiscrimination Act”)
10. HR 808 Sanctions against Iranmental Protection Agency

2. HR 610 Vouchers for Public Education
3. HR 899 Terminate the Department of Education
4. HJR 69 Repeal Rule Protecting Wildlife
5. HR 370 Repeal Affordable Care Act
6. HR 354 Defund Planned Parenthood
7. HR 785 National Right to Work (this one ends unions)
8. HR 83 Mobilizing Against Sanctuary Cities Bill
9. HR 147 Criminalizing Abortion (“Prenatal Nondiscrimination Act”)
10. HR 808 Sanctions against Iran
If you have not exercised your right to express your opinion to your representative you are being played.  If you don't know who your reps. are,  text your zip code to 520-200-2223. You'll get a text back with every one's contact info, both Federal and State.

As you were,

Jay

The Final Chain Reaction

Chain Reaction- June 20, 1980 (NBC finale) by michael-pannoni

If you do not remember how the NBC show "Chain Reaction" was played here is an example. 

 

I worked with  Bob Stewart and Sandy Stewart on several of their game shows.  I was a semi-regular on the various versions of  "Pryamid" and they considered me a good player.  "Chain Reaction" was also their show and I enjoyed doing that one too. I remember the game very well, and  this particular episode specifically. Here is what I remember about that very day in the summer of 1980. 

 "Chain Reation" was only on for a cycle of 13 weeks but I got to do several weeks  during that short time.  We knew before we started taping this would be the last one. As you will see the "end game" was played by the "civilian" player in the middle with the two "stars" on either side of a desk.  The stars could see a word on a screen that was hidden to the civilian.  The idea was this: the stars would construct a question one word at a time that would be answered by the civilian with the word that was hidden from them.  It is more complicated to explain that it is to comprehend when you see it.  But back to the story.

So, it is the last show.  I say to Sandy Stewart it would be funny if we put my puppet partner Bob in the hot seat for the final end game between Betty White and me and he would get every word wrong.  We would give the money made to charity.  He loved the idea and even improved on it.  Sandy suggested that Bob miss the correct answer because of his interpretations.  For example if the word on the screen was "chair", Betty and I would construct a question one word at a time like: "What do you sit on?" And Bob would answer "A ventriloquists knee".  The other one I remember was for the word "scalpel": Queston: "What does a doctor use to cut you open?"  Bob would answer "A saw".  We wrote enough of these gag answers to fill the end game. It was going to be great fun and a great way to end the run of the show.

The time comes for Sandy Stewart to explain to the network what we were planning.  He had to run it by "Practices and Standards" which is the office that makes sure game shows are legitimate and there is no cheating.  Sandy made his way into the office of the "suit" who was in charge of  "Chain Reaction". He explained that Jay and Betty would be the clue givers and puppet Bob would be the contestant in the middle.  Before Sandy could even get to the jokes we wrote the suit said, "You mean Bob... Jay Johnson's dummy."

Sandy said yes and started explaining how the jokes would work from Bob's wooden point of view. It would be funny and the money made will go to charity. 

 The suit said, "Wait a minute if Jay is seeing the clue won't Bob know the answer?"

"Of course", said Sandy, "And he will get them all wrong as a joke."  

"If Bob knows the answer then that would be cheating."  Says the suit. 

"It is the last show... you cancelled us... there will be no more so this is just a gag as a going away bit."

"Well, cheating is cheating, Sandy, even for charity... you can't do it." Said the suit.

What we eventually did was lampoon the ruling by writing a bit about Bob trying to cheat.  You can see how that worked in the final round. The end game was played round robin style with all the celebrities.  I think Bob in the Hot seat would have been much funnier, but hey....there will be no ventriloquist cheating on NBC. 

As you were,

Jay 

 

Here's Johnny......

 Some where in my stash of "things important" I have saved all the name plates (all 8 of them) that were attached to my dressing room door each time I did the Tonight Show.  Seven one them were with Johnny Carson the eighth was with Mr. Leno. Assuming that they will play all seven of my show eventually I will make $165.69 dollars.  Woo hoo! I just received this check in the mail for the show that aired on April 16, 1985. I will have to look up in my own personal journal to determine which character it was that co-stared with me that day so I can give them $11.85. 

This represents my residual for a replay on antenna TV, an online streaming service of "classic shows".  That is the same as a basic cable rate.  I remember well going on strike in 1979 for a new AFTRA contract.  The despute was over a commercial residual contract increase and we actors were on strike for a couple of months. The new contract included perpetual royalties for repeated shows.  To this day I get money, and always will, every time SOAP is played on the air. At the end of the negotiation just as every one had agreed the union brought up the idea of cable residuals. 

In 1979 cable consisted of a thing called HBO which was only in New York.  The producers stood firm on the idea that the market for such repeats was so minimal they would only give a minimum residual.  AFTRA agreed and the contract included only a token rate not the usual rate.. As we know cable, Internet, and streaming content is now a very lucrative secondary market. Although the producers are free to negotiate their fees on a show by show basis the performers have been stuck with the same old cable/Internet rate since the1979 contract.  That said,  if the cable rate had been negotiated to be the same as broadcast network residuals that check from Mr. Carson would be 10 times greater.  It still would not be the kind of royalty that one can retire on but it would be a little more commiserate with what the producers are making from the same repeated show.  

Here is why I bring this fact up in a blog today.  I got a new keyboard for my iPad and I needed something to write about so I could test it out.  I wanted to see if my investment was a good one.  Keyboards have always been very important to me.  I am a good typist so the speed and construction of the keyboard is fundamental to having a good typing experience.  I have gone through every kind of keyboard in my experience.  

In college I used a portable Underwood typewriter to type all of my assignment papers.  Pushing a key on a manual typewriter required not just a touch on the key. It required pressing the mechanical key down about a 1/4 inch with enough force to make a nice bold letter through the black ribbon of ink.  Then came the electric typewriter. The machine itself would deliver the proper force necessary to strike a perfect letter on the page.  This made typing faster with the touch lighter.  

My Mom worked for my Dad's investment firm and became such a fast and accurate typist she could "out run" the speed of the iconic IBM Selectric.  She had to slow her fingers down enough so that the machine could keep up with her.  She retired before the computer revolution in keyboarding got to the point it is today.  I can't imagine how fast she could type given the keyboard I just bought.  

I am not a good thumb typist and the virtual keyboard on the iPad screen is like trying to make words by tapping your fingers on a table.  So to do any kind of thoughtful work I need a real qwerty keyboard that is really fast and comfortable. 

To give it a plug this is the new Magic Keyboard from Apple.*  I have been using the Apple wireless keyboard for some time and like it for the touch, but the battery housing, weight and awkward shape was not pleasant to travel with. Besides I had to keep double AA batteries in my briefcase cause it seemed to always run out of power.  The final straw was when the on/off switch became damaged. To use it I had to take out the batteries  every time I wanted to turn it off.  Reinserting the batteries before I could type made it difficult to capture a spontaneous thought in a timely manner.  The Magic Keyboard is recharable with a lightning cable and has a much more durable on off switch. The touch is even improved over the older generation wireless Keyboard.  

So I hope you enjoyed this test drive of my new keyboard. 

As you were,

Jay

*This evaluation of the Magic Keyboard is based on the experiences of one iterate writer. No warranty, endorsement, recommendation nor specific technical opinion is implied or given. Do not use a keyboard if you are allergic to any of its parts or if you have ever suffered from finger fatigue.  Side effects of using this keyboard may include, typos, incorrect auto-correct, sentence fragments and content of questionable veracity.  If content coming from this keyboard is posted and rampant trolling of that post occurs, Apple nor any of its associates will be responsible.  If you have a text that lasts  more than four hours immediately contact your eighth-grade English teacher.  This and all visceral devices should not be used while driving or operating heavy machinery or when trying to communicate a concept of importance. Carson Productions, NBC, The Tonight Show, EPS Payroll services have nothing to do with the keyboard blog recommendation and any references to them in the writing above was simply a misdirection for marketing sake.  If after using the Magic Keyboard to write you experience a drop in the number of friends you have or an increase in frowning emojis in you feed or any of its threads stop using it immediately and consult with a friend face to face.  Studies show that if this keyboard is given to a thousand monkeys for a thousand years they would eventually write the classics.  

A Question of Reality

This is a rarely seen picture of Charlie McCarthy in  Black Face. It is from a scene in a 1939 movie called "You Can't Cheat An Honest Man"  staring WC Fields. Fields also wrote the story of the film under the name Charles Bogle.

Although part of the original film the scene was edited out when it played on television, for obvious racial reasons. 

But the story behind this photo and that scene is not a story about changing political correctness, but a story about the definition of an actor. 

The story goes like this.  The movie is about a traveling carnival. Fields character Larson E. Whipsnade is the owner and main barker of the troupe.  It was a Universal Production filmed on the Universal Lot in Hollywood. In 1939 Universal like all movie studios were big factories turning out several films daily.   

 The time came to film Bergen and Charlie in a minstrel show scene. This meant Charlie McCarthy needed to be "made up" in Black face. A controversy broke out between unions as to which one was responsible for actually applying the black face to Charlie.  The make up union said that since Charlie was an actor, they would apply the proper make up.  The prop union argued that Charlie was in reality a prop and they would apply the proper paint. They began to argue about it. Neither union would bow to the other and both claimed jurisdiction. Make up held firm and said that either they would be the one to do it or they would walk out on strike.  The property Union made the same argument, threatening the same action.  The director could not determine the actual status of Charlie and deferred to the Producers.  The producers were not in solidarity and they also began to fight.  

The issue became so contentious that it went to the head of the studio to make a final decision.  His decision was to shut the production down for the day to have more time to resolve the matter to everyone's satisfaction.   But by the end of the day neither side had budged and threatened a work stoppage "studio wide" if it was not determined who was the responsible union.  

Edgar Bergen was called to the office of the head of Universal. They said to Edgar, "What would you do if this were just a bit in your act.  Who would you use to get it done."

Bergen replied that he would simply take some burnt cork and apply it himself. Since that avoided any union disputes, head of Universal said, "Do it.. Have that black on Charlie's face by tomorrow morning so we can continue the scene". That was indeed the solution to the problem.  

To this day if you look in the archives of Universal Studio you will find a 1939 production report stating that Production on Fields picture number #693072 was shut down for the day to determine if Charlie McCarthy was actually an actor or prop. The question was never resolved, not even to this day.

Editors note:  60 + years later it was still an issue.  On Broadway we had to have a discussion and clarification for "Jay Johnson: The Two and Only"  to set some parameters regarding my vent figures and Broadway union stage rules.  My characters were actors while on stage during the show, but they became props the minute the show was over.  I was allowed to pack them up and set them on the edge of the stage, but the prop master carried them to and from their own "dressing room" located next to mine.  For a one person show this was our compromise.  

As you were,

Jay 

Time Out of Mind

It started out as just a joke.  A clever little "what-not" to sit on my shelf with other items of memorabilia.  It is a bogus prescription bottle I forged for my own amusement. The prescription reads: "If you forget what these pills are for... take all of them at once." The bottle contains ten 500mg capsules of Arsenic trioxide.  I call it my time out of mind cure.
There is only one thing worse than having your mind trapped in a body which can not respond to mind's desires. Much worse, to me, is being trapped in a body when your mind no longer functions to control that body.
My philosophy of existence is totally wrapped around the idea of a universal consciousness that expresses itself individually.  I believe life is the manifestation of this unique and individual concept of identity.  To over simplify: life on Earth is actually a concept of consciousness created to teach us abstract concepts that do not involve the physical senses.  What we think is reality is only a complex dream of symbols that should ideally teach us how eternity is experienced... in the abstract.
Take LOVE for an example.  Love is not a thing we can hold and touch.  It is not a scientific experiment that can be measured. It is just a feeling in our Earthly dream but a law in the cosmic consciousness of spiritual reality.
So how do we understand the law of love, and how do we learn what  that law is and experience it?  The abstract can not be taught with abstract examples.  So, Consciousness creates a dream reality that gives us seemingly solid examples of the abstract. Again to over simplify, if you ever want to have an earthly example of "unconditional love" open your heart and raise a dog.  By experiencing the feeling for a dog which becomes part of your life you can come to understand the abstract concept of "unconditional love".  When we can understand love from the physical there is a better chance for us to "know it" in the abstract. Learning how to exist in the eternity of abstract is the goal of this earthly experience.

Holding to that believe I find a conundrum.  To learn how to exist the conscious moment of the eternal now requires acute awareness of this symbolic dream reality.  How can we lean these abstracts when our mind can not understand the physical parables all around us? What happens when you are facing Alzheimer's disease or just plain dementia? That is the conundrum.  To learn,  you must be able to understand.  How do you graduate into eternity when you have a learning disability?

So, this little bottle of pills sits on my shelf above the computer I am typing on right now. The older I get the less of a joke it becomes.  It is not a perfect plan because it assumes I can understand the directions for taking the pills after having forgotten what they are for.  Perhaps the joke will ultimately be on me.
I have seen the mental decline of close members of my family.  One from Alzheimer's, one from a stroke and another with just age related dementia.  On the other hand I have friends and relatives in their mid 90's who are as sharp and aware as ever they were.  I know which direction I would like to go in my life.  What will I have to learn to keep being able to learn?  Another conundrum.

As you were,
Jay

God is NOT.....

Digital Airbrush - by Jay Johnson

There is an old parable that goes something like this.

A garden of tomatoes has grown wild with weeds. The gardener asks a young man to weed the tomatoes while he is gone.  It is a simple task, pull all the weeds out of the tomato patch so the tomatoes can grow bigger.
After several hours the gardener returns to find the young man has barely started the job.
"Why haven't you finished?" Said the man.
The boy says, "There are so many kinds of plants here. I am not an authority on plants like you.  I don't know what to pull up and what to leave."
The gardener said pointing out a plant, "This is a tomato plant.  That's all you need to know.... pull up everything that's not like it.  You don't have to know what the 100's of kinds of weeds look like, you just need to know what a tomato looks like. "

In trying to make right ideas grow we get completely overwhelmed by all the wrong ideas that surround the right ones. Wrong comes in so many different forms and grows in so many different ways we get stuck trying to figure out which ones should be tossed away.  It is easy when you stop looking at the form of wrong and look only to save the right.

God is not Christian nor Muslim nor Buddhist nor Jewish nor Hindu nor Scientologist nor Frisbeetarian nor Republican nor Democrat, Independent, Fascist nor Socialist.  God is just God, Omnipotence, omnipresence and omniscient.   To put a label on God diminishes his universal Love.

There are so many wrong ideas invading my life right now.  I try to exorcise them but like Hydra's head two more grow back in its place.  What I really should be doing it just mucking the shit from my mental stall and holding only to the horse.  It requires listening to that small voice inside my own identity.  I don't have to wait for a Christian to tell me what is God, nor a Muslim to explain the concept of infidel, I have my own direct channel to the Almighty. When I am listening to my own spiritual GPS I am going via my own route. When I am holding to what I conceive as the highest source of Good then I am only looking for tomatoes and not becoming an expert on weeds.  What ever you feed on or feed into will grow stronger.

If we really do believe in a universe that is above selfish human failings and a country NOT of conditional love but equal Liberty and Justice for all, then why do we entertain other ideas of what we are?  In the paraphrased words of George Carlin... "Humans are not as powerful as the Universe. The earth will shuffle off humans from its surface like so many fleas off a dog."

We need not be concerned with the short term stupidity of those who think they are "in charge".

Ralph Waldo Emmerson said: "There is always some leveling circumstance that puts down the overbearing...... the dice of God are always loaded."

As you were,
Jay

The Duck Call Experiment

Annimation Cel on Mirror - Jay Johnson

I remember the excitement I had starting this blog.  My desire was to document my first hand,  first time experience living in New York City and doing a Broadway show.  It became a nightly ritual for unwinding after the theatre. The blog was an outlet to tell the stories I saw every day. Most observations were funny because when you are in a state of happiness laughter comes easier. *

If nothing unusual happened at the theatre  my walk home through the streets of Time Square would offer ample material to write about. Of course doing my show in that theatre nightly was always special enough to write about.   I hope one day to read those posts again to perhaps relive the experience.

However, as I was looking back on a recent few posts my blog has taken a bluer-darker turn.

How did  "The World is a Stage" become a political dossier.  I have never been political in my life. In my career I've never done edgy political humor so I was never looking for the political scandal to make jokes about. I wanted to fit into any situation.  When I arrived in California Richard O. Linke told me that the definition of Class: "Being Comfortably at ease in any group".  I don't know if that is textbook but I thought it was something to strive for.  I have spent years as a corporate show entertainer avoiding the conversation of politics.

But, Politics seems unavoidable right now.  It dominates every aspect of social intercourse. It is nearly impossible to avoid, even in a show biz blog.

In hopes of  personal growth beyond the steady drone of politics; I will use this post as a test.

I named it the "Duck Call Experiment".
Theory is: you do not expect turkeys to show up if you are blowing a duck call.
Existentially stated: What you put out into the universe comes back to you.
Millennial explanation: I mean,  when you order something online you, like, get a bunch of other offers to buy something like it. Right?

*Here is my "Duck Call" :
I will start with the story of an actual duck. I find that magicians have the best stories.  
Mike Caveney works with a live chicken on stage and told me this one involving livestock productions. (Magical term ofr pulling an animal out of some impossible place) 

It seems that a friend of his was going to do the "duck bucket" trick at the Castle.  As you might expect that trick involves producing a live duck from an empty bucket.  (No I can't tell you how it works because of the Magicians code of secrecy). It doesn't matter since the story does not involve the production method anyway. 

The magician didn't want to travel with a real duck so he decided to get one when he got to Los Angeles.  The place to get a live duck is Chinatown, so that is where he ended up.  He was directed to a shop keeper with a pen of ducks for sale.  The magician wanted just the right one as far as size and color.  He looked at all of them and found a white one that was just right.  Although the merchant did not understand his reasons for wanting a specific duck, he finally isolated the one the magician wanted.

In one well perfected move he grabbed the duck threw it down on the chopping block quickly cutting off its head saying, "You like me to take off feathers." 

Little did the duck know that he was just moments away from going into Show business.

As you were,

Jay

Whose Ethics shall rule?

Art by Jay Johnson

America was founded as a Nation of Law. Law exists because we have a desire to be ethical human beings, but disagree on whoes ethics should be the standard.
The short definition of ethics is: acting in the highest sense for the goodness for all.  In school I pledged allegiance  every morning to a Country that supported "liberty and justice for all".  I still believe that is what America was founded on.
Universally all humans are held to the same ethical standards.   They have been spelled out in many philosophical writings, social mores and decrees. The most simple rule of universal ethics is: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." But short term and egotistical thinking gets in the way of that simple rule. Ego says, my existence is so much more important than someone else's existence: I must take from another for my own good.  

Short term thinking agrees and says we need it right NOW.  So when humans decide they can disobey a natural law of ethics, we pass a law that says, "Do not Steal".  Unfortunately law is still not enough to keep people ethical. The ego and short term thinking will try to parse the words of the law to still have it MY way.  That's when we get legal dilemmas.

"Am I allowed to steal back something that was taken from me in the first place?"

To adjudicate such an interpretation of law we have the court system.  The problem is, the court is composed of humans who try to impose their own interpretation of their ethics on the law and we are back at square one.
Unless you are a sociopath you know deep in the center of your being what is right and what is wrong. In a perfect society we would need no laws because every one would behave to the highest standards of the "do unto others" ethics. But we don't live in a perfect society and some have lost touch with the center of their being, so laws become the imperfect spearhead for ethics.  But because of this we can have a situation which is Legal but not at all ethical. Justice is sometimes Unjust.

Justice should be blind. Justice should be ethical. Justice should know only what is the highest interpretation of the good for all humans involved and rule accordingly. So wouldn't we want to hold a Judge to the highest standard of universal ethics? Unless you are a sociopath the answer has to be yes. But that is not the case.

Congress and the President are now trying to find a Supreme Court justice.  But they are not looking for someone who is fair and will rule in favor of ethics when future lawyers try to parse the wording of a law; They are looking for a candidate who will bend the words of the law in the direction of their own personal interpretation of ethics.  They want a judge who will always rule in favor of individual ethics not the universal.  We are back to square one... whoes ethics should be the standard.

In my highest desire I would like the highest justices in the land to be fair, not political.  I want the Supreme Court justices to be independently constitutional and not "beholding" to any ideology. Unfortunately, that is not the way the political game is played. Congress will approve someone who is already in lock step with those currently in power.
Law should be the like gravity, affecting all to the same degree.  If law ultimately can be bent to benefit some and not all it is no longer law nor ethics but a dictatorial edict.
By eliminating the phrase "engaged in a great civil war" Lincoln's words are as true today as they were scores of years later.

"Our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are...(omitted) testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure." 

Lets make it the country it should be, not a country forced upon us.  
As you were,
Jay

Ground Hog Day 2017

I had lunch with my friend Bob Mandan today at his house along with two of Bob's other friends.  It is his 85th birthday. Bob doesn't get out and about like he used to but he is still his charming self and still the perfect Chester Tate.  

I repost this article I wrote about my friend from his birthday in 2012, preceded by this editors note written today.

There are friends, there are people you have worked with and then there is a person like Bob who is both. I recall so many fun times together when we roamed with a group of actor/publicists/writers called the "Terrible 10".  We got that name because we were a terrible table of ten if you were sitting next to us at a restaurant.  We laughed the entire time and were not quiet about it.  If you were looking for a quiet evening's meal we were not the table you wanted to sit close to.
Happy Birthday Mr. Mandan. I cherish your friendship.
Nothing has changed in the way I feel about you since I wrote the blog below.

It's GroundHog Day

On my top ten list of movies "GroundHog" day is near the top.   And here it is in real life, Groundhog day 2012.  But I think the Punxsutawney rodent gets too much attention today.  It is a special day for other reasons.

Robert Mandan, Bob Campbell, Jay Johnson, Jay Sandrich
Opening night of "Jay Johnson: The Two and Only"

It is also the birthday of my friend Robert Mandan: "Better Dressed!" 

Only a true SOAPY will get that reference, but it is how I know my friend Mandan. He is better known to some as Chester Tate on SOAP. 

Robert Mandan

I remember when I moved to Los Angeles I was with my  vacationing folks having dinner at the  Toulca Lake Marie Callendars. Although I didn't know his name at the time Robert Mandan was also waiting for a table.  Mandan is one of those actors I had seen in many staring roles. Bob was my first "celebrity siting" in my new home town.  Bob received the ultimate compliment my Father had for working actors when he whispered to me, "That guy has been in a gillion films." Indeed my friend has been in a "gillion" things. Take a look at his IMDB - Robert Mandan. That impressive list is only the film and television roles. There is an even more impressive list of stage productions that Bob has done, including an Ovation Award for "The CareTaker" and a critically acclaimed portrail of "King Lear", not to mention three Broadway shows. 

 I had no clue that soon I would be working with that "guy who has done a gillion films". We became friends almost immediately.  For a time we had the same personal manager, the same publicist and hung out with the same group of television actors.  We were known as the "terrible ten" because of fun we used to have at various Los Angeles restaurants. The members of the social group changed but Bob and I have remained friends all this time. 

Bob and his wife Sherry have been impromptu godparents to both my sons.  My oldest son will say, "How is Mandan?" even today.

Robert Mandan in "Barney Miller"

Chester Tate and Benson

Bob is an actors actor.  He never stops studying and learning how to better deliver his gift. He is funny and smart and yes, as piss elegant as Chester Tate sometimes. If you're lucky a working relationship turns into a real friendship in this town of huge openings and quiet closings. I am grateful to have friends like Bob and Sherry in my life. On a day like GroundHogs day when the talk is about the weather, I will be thinking about my friend Bob Mandan, certainly not a "fair weather friend".  

Note to Mandan: You are not getting older, like wine you are getting more valuable.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Mandan. We shall celebrate with a bottle of "HOOP DE HAH".

As you were,

Jay

Bob Mandan on "Three's a Crowd"

Bob Mandan on "Star Trek,The Next Generation"