Radio Days and Radio Nights

Hi, my name is Mar and I am a radio junkie.  It is an inherited trait.  Grandpa Mac always rushed home from the bank to listen to the 5 o’clock news on the big console radio in the living room.   Mom and I listened to George “Hound Dog” Lorenz on the kitchen radio and danced around on the linoleum floor to early rock and roll hits of the fifties as “Rock Around the Clock” and “Shake, Rattle and Roll” by Bill Haley and the Comets.

When I was about fifteen I received a radio of my own.   It was a turquoise Sears Silvertone transistor model, about the size and weight of a brick.  It even came equipped with a spiffy brown leather case.  I listened in the evenings when I was supposed to be doing homework and after dark when I was supposed to be sleeping.  That radio pulled in the 50,000 watts of WKBW 1520AM from Buffalo, but also WBZ in Boston and WLS in Chicago.  I was a fan of Danny Neaverth and Joey Reynolds and Tommy Shannon on KB as well as former Buffalonean Dick Biondi on WLS, and Dick Summer on WBZ who spun amazing tales about Irving the Second, also known as Super Plant (maybe an ancestor of Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors?).  I wrote them letters and joined their fan clubs.  I discovered my first folk music:  Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Peter, Paul, and Mary.  I listened to comedy:  The Smothers Brothers, The Chad Mitchell Trio, Tom Lehrer.

It wasn’t until I moved to Canada in 1968 that I discovered the CBC.  Their CBL 740AM powerhouse could be heard for miles.  I devoured every minute of this aural feast (music, talk, drama, and news) and I learned a lot about my new country in the process.  I fell in love with Max Ferguson, Don Harron, Vicki Gabereau, Bill Richardson, Arthur Black (Basic Black), Stuart McLean (Vinyl Café), and most of all, the inimitable Peter Gzowski first on This Country in the Morning and then my beloved Morningside.  I wrote letters, sent in suggestions for stories, and received letters and pictures back in the mail.  Peter read a few of my letters on the air and even interviewed me at the old Ministry of Truth (CBC) building on Jarvis Street in Toronto.  Bill and Vicki made my mouse story famous.  I bought everyone’s books and still have precious signed copies.  I listened on the radios I had in every room of my house, I listened in the car, and I listened at work.

I was listening in the back room at work one day and my boss came by and yelled at me for “using his electricity.”  He most definitely did not want anyone to be in a happy work environment.  My radio was audible only to me, and most of the time I was alone back there.  I was crushed when he forbade me to have my radio plugged in.  So what did I do?  I bought a battery-powered radio and he didn’t have a leg to stand on; I was no longer stealing his precious electricity.

During the seventies and the eighties I listened to a couple of Buffalo area alternative stations, when long-format songs were perfect for those wild and crazy days of FM before it was captured and neutered.   Of WPHD, WZIR (Wizard), WUWU, and WBNY, only the latter (Buff State college radio station), is alive and well.  In those days the music was more important than the DJs but I have fond remembrances of Jim Santella and Gary Storm (Oil of Dog) and several friends who worked at BNY when they were in college.

About the only shows that did not interest me on the radio were sports, opera, most classical music and jazz.  In a fateful turn of events both CBC and NPR were going on and on about sports late one night back in 2000 when I stumbled upon an interesting discussion on my radio dial.  It was Mike Siegel on Coast to Coast AM, talking about some paranormal subject.  I was immediately hooked on this program, and listened every single night for many months.  But one night Siegel announced that he would be moving on because some guy named Art Bell was making a huge comeback to the show.  The callers were apoplectic with excitement at this news.  Harrumph, I thought.  Who the hell is Art Bell and why is everyone so damned excited about his impending return?  I never heard of him.

Well, I decided to give this much-ballyhooed and alleged paragon of the airwaves a chance (mind you, just one chance) and I tuned in with a huge load of skepticism to keep me company. 

 

At midnight this buttery baritone oozed out of my speaker, introduced himself as Art Bell, and he proceeded to hold me spellbound for the next twenty minutes or so by telling the story of his cat Abbey who had fallen ill the night before.  Art and his wife Ramona lived in the high desert an hour outside of Las Vegas and it was to the emergency vet in Vegas that they had rushed poor Abbey Chapel Bell (rescued as a stray in the streets outside the wedding chapel the night Art and Ramona were married).  They had spent the whole night in the waiting room, wringing their hands and praying and pacing.   Morning finally came and Abbey had been miraculously saved from the brink of death and the relieved Bell family returned home so Art could catch some sleep and prepare for his radio return.

Well, between the voice and the cat story, I was hooked.  Mike Siegel was forgotten (sorry, guy!) and I have been a fan of Art Bell ever since.

One aspect that I enjoyed about shows like Morningside and Coast was the music that they played.  Although not music shows per se, Canadian radio had rules in which they were “mandated” to play an increasing percentage of Canadian music (makes sense, eh?) and this eventually spawned a massive Canadian music industry (and gave the world Celine Dion and Justin Beiber – sorry!).  Morningside, Basic Black, and The Vinyl Café introduced me to many new songs and artists.  And Art played little clips of songs known as “bumper music” at the beginning and end of talk segments and to my great delight his taste was very close to my taste; he played many old favorites of mine and introduced me to a few that soon became new favorites.

Art’s interviews were mesmerizing and his fascinating array of guests ranged from astronauts to abductees, astronomers to astrologers, physicists to psychics, animal communicators to actors, and famous musicians to the average folks down the road.  Frequent topics of discussion were the so-called Quickening, Florida’s Coral Castle, the pyramids, out-of-body experiences, reincarnation, Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster, chupacabras, remote viewing,  the Philadelphia Experiment, chemtrails, crop circles, time travel, life after death, the lost continent of Atlantis, and of course conspiracy theories concerning UFOs, Area 51, and alien abductions and visitations.  And then there were the one-of-a-kind individuals such as Richard C. Hoagland talking about The Face on Mars, Mel Waters of the infamous “Mel’s Hole” fame and the totally whacked out “J.C.” who simply defies description.

  

From the sublime to the ridiculous, the shows were riveting.   Art was not one to suffer fools, but for the most part he seemed to take everyone at face value and exuded a tremendous sense of enjoyment at the plying of his craft.  His calls were unscreened and he mentioned this frequently but every so often someone would call in and start talking about Art in the third person and he would let them go on for a while and then completely flabbergast them when he’d chuckle and announce that they were talking to Art Bell.  I never had the nerve to phone in because I was afraid I’d not recognize his voice and sound like an idiot (although after laughing at them, Art always endeavored to make these callers feel better).  (I might add that I did email him several times and he always wrote back to me.)

 

Art also kept listeners on the edge of their seats by retiring and then returning from retirement a number of times.  It was like a soap opera.   When his beloved wife Ramona died, he bared his soul to his audience, (something I had never heard from any radio personality) and he was such an amazing combination of powerful and vulnerable that people seemed to either adore him or loathe him.  With that voice of his he could have been reading the telephone book and he would have had an audience.

In the last couple of years we have lost Stuart McLean,  Arthur Black, and then Art Bell.  Fortunately for all of us late night listeners, upon his last unexpectedly abrupt retirement, Art passed along the reins for his latest show, Midnight in the Desert, to his startled producer and hand-picked radio heir Heather Wade.  She had huge shoes to fill but she was able to do an admirable job in a challenging and ever-changing radio/livestream climate.  She was also a cat person with a deep buttery voice, she held her own with guests and callers, and she continued to play Art’s beloved bumper music.  Unfortunately, after Art died, Heather was too grief-stricken at the loss and also hounded ceaselessly by Internet trolls and although she tried her best to continue, she was eventually unable to do so and has subsequently disappeared completely.  

 

One of Art’s favorite pieces of bumper music was “The Highwayman” by The Highwaymen (Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Johnny Cash, and Waylon Jennings).  I figured Art deserved his own verse and this popped into my head.

I sure hope there will be radio in the afterlife.  I don’t know what I would do without it.   

When Worlds Collide

A funny thing about framing – while there may be many thousands of approaches to the framing of the unending variety of two-dimensional “stuff” people bring in to a frame shop, folks always seem to want the same style of framing that they have always seen.  Maybe it’s just me, but after almost fifty years as a framer, I have found that birds and botanicals generally end up in traditional gold or dark wood frames with cream colored or deep green matting; watercolors find themselves in simple white mats and plain black or natural wood frames (especially if the artist is framing for a show); larger paintings (realistic or abstract, prints or canvas) seem to go home matching the sofa or woodwork.  I could go on, but I won't.  (You're welcome.)

 

But when it comes to the framing of posters, photos, tickets, autographs, and the like from any area of Fandom (movies, TV shows, bands, and even sports) – framing is usually chosen to match the items themselves.  For instance, team colors always go on various sports memorabilia (bores me to tears . . .).

Bands have been selling merch for years – I have framed   posters, photographs, guitar picks, drum sticks, set lists, serigraphs, tee shirts, album covers, ticket stubs, wrist bands, and backstage passes from classics such as Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead to current performers who produce high quality limited edition posters.  Fans pay a premium for tickets to these concerts, sometimes traveling great distances to attend events, and they want to remember every detail.  So fabulous framing is a must.

Of course I have been framing my own stuff for all these years and my collection has fallen into five primary categories: relatives, cats, horses, pop culture, and art.    Some framed pieces have been on my walls since I was a child.  Oh, and I have some of my own artwork as well.  I am running out of wall space and therefore my latest additions have shrunk from poster size to postcard size (and even smaller).

My pop culture heroes have come and gone over the years; I have a couple of little pictures of Indiana Jones and Han Solo (Harrison Ford), and my favorite image of Ross and Demelza (Robin Ellis and Angharad Rees) from the original Poldark that I stuck into simple frames and which have been on my wall for decades.

Then, a few years back, full blown Robin of Sherwood Fandom arose in my brain and I bought a nice little painting of Herne the Hunter from a fellow member of the show’s Facebook fan group.  Nice prints of drawings of Robin and Marion (Michael Praed and Judi Trott) followed, and then on ebay I found the lovely promotional postcards from the series.  I framed all of these images in shades of cool greens with rustic/Ren Faire frames to hint at Sherwood Forest.

Robin and Marion by Carmen Modde

Herne the Hunter by Iain Chinn

Michael Praed as Robin of Loxley

After a decent interval, I fell in love with the TV series Haven and framed a little print of Duke Crocker (actor Eric Balfour) plus a temporary tattoo (adhered to clear Mylar) of the Guard symbol/Haven logo in a driftwood frame (to match the weather-beaten seaside landscape where the series was filmed and Duke's bar, The Gull).

Eric Balfour as Duke Crocker on Haven

And then along came Doctor Who with its bonus attraction, Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood, and the beginnings of which I described here, in my last typically verbose post: https://tiltingatwoodpeckers.blogspot.com/2018/10/help-ive-fallen-into-tardis-again-and.html

Tom Baker had always been my favorite Doctor – and he was my “First Doctor.”  I spent a lot of time searching images of Tom to make a little print to frame.  I needed two very important aspects of Tom to be in the photo – his smile and his scarf.  The curly hair was a plus.  I rummaged through my personal private frame collection, and I cannot remember where it had come from originally, but the wood frame with the colored stripe inlaid at the bottom struck me as perfect.  All I had to do is sand off the glossy finish on the inlay, add the proper colors here and there, and then cut a narrow TARDIS blue mat (Bainbridge Indigo #8526).

Tom Baker as the Fourth Doctor

By the time I completed the Fourth Doctor frame I had finished watching David Tennant's Tenth Doctor’s series with his third companion, Donna Noble (Catherine Tate).  The CD of Series Four, which could be blamed for starting my entire episode of Whovian madness, included a lovely photo of Donna from the “Planet of the Ood”.  I printed up a copy of it and, wow – I found the perfect golden wood frame (The color matches the highlights in Donna’s fabulous red mane), cut a TARDIS blue mat – and it looks amazing.

Catherine Tate as Donna Noble (DoctorDonna)

Then I discovered little trading-card size magnets in one of the DVDs.  I found a frame in my stash that was the perfect size, so I painted it TARDIS blue and added a two-opening mat so both Ten and the TARDIS cards could be seen.

David Tennant as the Tenth Doctor and his TARDIS

My next prize was the Alice X. Zhang drawing that I found on the cover of a Doctor Who comic for David Tennant’s Tenth Doctor.  I had planned on framing the entire cover, but discovered to my delight that there was a full page reproduction of the cover drawing included in the comic – but with no writing on it!

I ordered a frame for it that should have been absolutely perfect – it had seemingly random squiggles carved into the frame and the color was a perfect combination of warm cream, gold, and red.  Unfortunately the frame company had changed manufacturers and, alas, the frame no longer matched my sample.  It was too pale, too regular.  Not wibbly wobbly at all!

See how awful this frame is compared to my sample?

I went to work on the frame, determined to somehow make it match the artwork.  I painted it blue.  I scraped some of the blue off.  I went over the blue with dark green, red, cad yellow, and blue again.  I sanded it, I scratched it up, I added paint – I subtracted paint.  Finally with a TARDIS blue mat, I installed the print and it was good.  A perfect wibbly wobbly timey wimey frame!

Ten by Alice X. Zhang

I kept thinking my grouping was finished but then the first Torchwood sound track arrived and within was the best photograph of Captain Jack I had ever seen.  It had all my favorite Captain Jack elements – penetrating blue eyes, hint of a smile, and, of course, the greatcoat.  The only thing I found myself annoyed with was his hair which was far too neat. So I printed a copy of the photo, and worked at tousling up his hair with some Prismacolors.  Made the eyes a bit bluer, and colored the coat a bit closer to gray-blue.  Then I got the brilliant idea to add a TARDIS blue hexagonal mat, to echo the Torchwood logo.  For the frame I found another in my stash, flat, wide, grainy stone kind of finish, with crumbling edges.  I repainted this a steely silvery gray, so it gives an appearance of strength with a sense of timelessness (not unlike Jack!). (“IN THESE STONES HORIZONS SING.”)

John Barrowman as Captain Jack Harkness in Torchwood

By this time I had finished watching the Peter Capaldi run as the Twelfth Doctor.  As his song was ending I realized I had grown quite fond of his take on the role.  I went hunting and found the perfect photo of him from the last episode, when he appeared weary yet still strong, and his hair was out of control.  Of course I found another perfect frame in my collection, and I painted it to pick up the silvery blues in the photo (hair and eyes).  The style of the frame itself is a nod to the first role Capaldi played in the Who reboots (and the Twelfth Doctor’s answer to “Why did I choose this face?”) – in Ten’s “Fires of Pompeii”.  It has the appearance of ancient Roman architecture.

Peter Capaldi as the Twelfth Doctor

So this is what happens when a passionate and slightly crazy picture framer frames her own collection from various fandoms. God help me if I ever make it to a Con and meet any of these icons of mine in person - I will need a bigger house with even more wall space!

Help! I've Fallen into the TARDIS Again (and I'm Blaming Murray Gold)

I have never had any kind of cable or pay TV so I have always relied on a large antenna, pulling in nearby broadcast channels and our local PBS station to catch up with Doctor Who over the years.  Tom Baker, the Fourth Doctor, was my first, back in the late seventies, and along with Leela,  K-9, and the silly, low-budget monsters (like the actors covered in bubble wrap in "The Ark in Space") - I loved him and his long scarf that he was always tripping over and his readily proffered bag of jelly babies.  I later ended up naming one of my cats Leela.

The years rolled on and I was able to catch most of Four, some of Five (Tristan Farnon!), and a glimpse of Six .  I never saw Seven and never even heard of Eight until recently.  My allegiance remained with Four.  (As they say, you never forget your first Doctor.)  I have also seen most of the first three Doctors’ episodes, here and there along the way.  I love each of them in their own way.  The early episodes are constantly on the retro stations.

Then few years back, out of the blue (so to speak), CBC began airing the Third Series of the reboot - you know, the one with David Tennant as Ten.  Oh my!  What a cutie and my oh my how everything had changed in the world of Doctor Who!  I was instantly hooked and watched as many episodes as I could.   Which turned out to be most of the 3^rd and 4th Series.  The fearless and brilliant Martha Jones and the endearing and madcap Donna Noble were his companions.  But this strange blonde kept showing up . . .

One particularly moving episode was Planet of the Ood, which planted two seeds:  the DoctorDonna plotline into the series, and the haunting songs of the Ood into my brain.   It finally occurred to me to search out this music online and of course I found a treasure trove on YouTube.  So, a few months back, I went hunting on ebay and found the soundtrack to Doctor Who, Series 4, with the Ood songs on it.  After it arrived I spent a month listening to this one CD over and over and over.  Good grief, Murray Gold - what have you done to me?  I could not stop listening to it.  At first, I had the Ood “Songs of Captivity and Freedom” on repeat for a few hours each day, but gradually I found myself being drawn more deeply into the rest of the album. How to describe such music?  Words like haunting, soul-stirring, rousing, lush, brash, funny - a little bit of everything wrapped up in one glorious package.

I decided to do some searching to find out the lyrics to the Ood songs and discovered a website that not only had them (in Latin and English) but also the lyrics to Vale Decem (Goodbye Ten) so I had to track down the CD with that on it.  Thus began my Whovian saga.

Ood Song of Freedom

With silence, we shout

With silence, we shout

Without salvation

He provides our salvation

He provides out salvation

As long as we are

Among humans

Let us be humane

With silence, we shout

As long as we are

Among humans,

Let us be humane

With silence, we shout

I ordered the DVDs for Series 4, Part 1.  Watched them - got hooked, ordered Series 4, Part 2 a month later.  By then I needed all of the Tenth Doctor’s episodes so I bought Series 2 and Series 3, with companions  Rose Tyler and Martha.  And I bought the DVD with the Specials, and more CDs of each series’ music.  Damn you, Murray Gold! 

Then I figured I needed to go back to the beginning of the reboot, to find out where Rose came from and the background of the Bad Wolf storyline, and so I bought the Christopher Eccleston Series 1. That was gonna be it.  I swear.  But by then was becoming confused, so I found an episode guide, from the First Doctor through the Eleventh. 

Of course then Series 1 introduced me to the delightfully drool-worthy Captain Jack Harkness.  Lordy, lordy! 

After watching Series 1 through 4, I decided I had to give Matt Smith’s Eleventh Doctor a chance, so I bought Series 5 through 7.  By this time Jodie Whitaker had broken the glass ceiling and debuted as the Thirteenth Doctor, (I have seen a few clips but no episodes yet).  What the heck.   I purchased the Peter Capaldi Series.

Mama Lucy always says "Allons-Y!"

I realized my obsession was getting out of hand when I purchased a David Tennant t-shirt with “Allons-Y” (my spell check thinks this should read “Alonso,” hee hee hee) on it, River Song’s journal, a couple more Doctor Who books, a comic book with a great drawing of Ten on the cover, more music, a few more specials, and then . . .  then I started in on Torchwood.  While awaiting the arrival of the first two seasons of Torchwood in the mail, I occupied myself watching John Barrowman panels at various Cons over the last few years on YouTube.  It takes a pretty secure man to prance onstage in red high heels and a TARDIS onesie, let me tell you.  I am old enough to be his mother, but good grief - what a doll!  And such a talent - plus the good example he is providing for the LGBT kids in the fandom.

Of course, now I have on order Barrowman’s (first) autobiography, plus both the Doctor Who and Torchwood Encyclopedias.  And the music from Torchwood.  Of course!

When I bought the Capaldi series, it came with a free vinyl mystery figure.  Looking back on the number of Doctors, and the number of companions, and the number of foes, I was almost afraid to open the little silver Mylar bag.  But guess what?  Out fell Tom Baker, complete with his famous scarf!  I was so chuffed!

One day's ebay deliveries - this is getting out of control!  (But in my defense, I ordered them from all over the world over a period of several weeks - they just all arrived the same time.)

Speaking of the famous scarf, in 1979 I had a friend knit one for my wasband, and he paired it with a long brown suede double-breasted coat and a brown fedora.  Unfortunately the friend who did the knitting used polyester yarn and knitted it so it rolled into a tube.  But - what the heck - it worked for a Halloween costume!  (Wishing I had a photo...)

That scarf was long lost so a few years back I found an “officially licensed Doctor Who scarf” online and bought it for him for his birthday.  Close but no cigar:  polyester.

Now I have a friend who is both a Whovian and a knitter and she is finishing a proper wool scarf for me - eleven inches wide, and eleven feet long plus fringe!  I am so excited!

Four, DoctorDonna, Ten, and TARDIS

Ten by talented artist Alice X. Zhang (wibbly wobbly timey wimey frame by me)

I have framed a few little pictures of my favorite Doctors for my Doctor Who wall (a work in progress) and I am searching for the perfect Captain Jack image.  I am halfway through watching Torchwood and, thanks to the Internet I know what is coming.  Dammit.  It was hard enough watching Owen and Tosh die - I am not sure I can bear the death of Ianto Jones. I cry every time I watch Season 1’s Captain Jack Harkness episode (which in my mind is right up there  alongside Ten’s regeneration “I don’t want to go” scene).

Back to the man who began my most recent bout of crazed fandom.  Murray Gold:  the mastermind composer behind the incredible soundtrack of the Doctor Who reboot from Series 1 to 10.  Thank you Murray Gold, and as Executive Producer Julie Gardner wrote in the liner notes on the first CD, “I will play this album for the rest of my life.”  So will I, sir, so will I - all of them!  Thank you!

P.S.  I am also thanking Ben Foster, conductor of the BBC National Orchestra of Wales, David Temple, conductor of the Crouch End Festival Chorus, Jake Jackson (a man of many areas of expertise), and various soloists including Mark Chambers, Neil Hannon, Yamit Mamo, and Melanie Pappenheim.  What a talented bunch of folks!  Thanks to all! 

Me and my fabulous new scarf, posing with knitter Arlene and her hubby Alan.