Cultureshark Remembers...Ivan Koloff and George Steele

Two famous former professional wrestlers passed away last week within a day of each other, and while it may seem like I'm straining to connect the two, I see a resemblance here. Each to me represented the stereotypical "old guy" wrestler. There is a myth that Vince McMahon took rasslin' out of smoke-filled arenas and made it a family event--a myth propagated by...Vince McMahon!

Still, it is easy to think of pre-WWF expansion in the 1980s and post as distinct eras. George Steele and Ivan Koloff had great success in the early days and looked like the archetype of the old TV wrestler--middle-aged, kind of scary-looking, hairy everywhere except the tops of their heads, and most likely quite sweaty.

Yet the two reinvented themselves, in a sense, and thrived during the 1980s, when I happened to become a wrestling fan. Steele went from the savage heel to the beloved "mentally challenged" babyface (and had a memorable feud with RANDY Savage), a comedy character who made kids happy with his green tongue and his tearing of the turnbuckles. A lot of fans didn't like the character--hey, I have to admit I was annoyed that he was involved in Savage's feud with another of my favorites, Ricky Steamboat, as much as he was--but he was one of the more well known among the general public and the casual fans, and he certainly was an attention getter.

Koloff found a career rejuvenation years after winning the World Wide Wrestling Federation championship over Bruno Sammartino in a legendary upset. He slid into a mentor role as the manager/tag team partner of his "nephew" Nikita Koloff, and together the two were a significant act in Jim Crockett Promotions, the organization I always wanted to see more of even when it seemed WWF was all over the place. So years after his physical peak, Koloff changed roles and may have made the most money he ever did, even though he was no longer a main event singles wrestler.

The other thing that links the two in my mind is that both are great examples of the, "Wouldja believe he's really..." phenomenon. You know, it's that deal where you find out a pro wrestler is totally different than his on-screen persona. I think for years the go-to example of this was that George "The Animal" Steele was a schoolteacher in between wrestling gigs. I didn't know until well after I first saw him, but Koloff was not Russian at all. Well, that wasn't a huge surprise, but I didn't know he was a Canadian who was originally billed as an Irishman.

Of the two, I much preferred Ivan Koloff's act, but both were big parts of a misspent youth filled with way too much TV wrestling. R.I.P.

Cultureshark Remembers: Year-End Edition Part IV

Here's our final look at the notable deaths of 2016, with a recommendation or embedded video of something to check out from each individual. Note that we will have our SVOD power rankings tomorrow, and then we will see you in 2017!

OCTOBER

Zacherle:

Tammy Grimes:

NOVEMBER

Fritz Weaver: Twilight Zone, "Third from the Sun" A nice take on the paranoia of the times, and yeah, a twist ending! I could also pick the Mission Impossible episode I chose for Steven Hill because it starred Weaver as well.

Grant Tinker: This blog post by Ken Levine

Robert Vaughn: I am far from a Man from U.N.C.L.E. expert, but how about his performances on Columbo, particularly Season 4's "Troubled Waters." (Alternate: His spotlighted episodes on The Lieutenant, or as Ivan and I like to call it, The Marriage Counselor.

DECEMBER

Craig Sager:

This CNN studio clip from 1987 isn't representative of how he will best be remembered, but I think of Sager not even as a TNT guy, but a TBS guy back when the Superstation was a novelty in the 1980s.

Za Zsa Gabor:

Alan Thicke: Any Fernwood Tonight Forget Growing Pains, behind the scenes, Thicke was one of the driving creative forces behind this way-ahead-of-its-time talk show  parody.

Greg Lake: "I Believe in Father Christmas" Because we don't have to stop talking about Christmas as soon as December 26 arrives.

Florence Henderson: The Brady Bunch, "The Voice of Christmas" See above entry. This episode shows Carol Brady in her glory, almost more an ingénue than the corny mom she became on the show. Plus she shows off her singing chops at the end of the episode if that's your thing.

George Michael:

Carrie Fisher: I recommend the SNL she hosted in the fourth season, which is easily found on Hulu. It has one of the silliest sketches--the beach party movie--that is still compelling for some reason.

Debbie Reynolds: I love Singin' in the Rain, but just for variety, let me mention a movie with my boy Dick Powell: one with a vaguely disturbing premise:

Cultureshark Remembers: Year-End Edition (Part III)

Continuing our look at the notable deaths in 2016 with a recommendation/video for each one:

JULY

Michael Cimino: The Deer Hunter I never saw Heaven's Gate, so don't expect me to offer a revisionist defense of it.

Noel Neill: Instead of picking a single episode of Adventures of Superman, how about the movie serials? Easy to find, and unlike the series, she didn't share the role with Phyllis Coates.

Garry Marshall: I'm a big fan of Marshall's later-years renaissance as a character actor and raconteur, and I thought his role in Louie was a delight.

Dennis Green:

Gloria DeHaven: Step Lively Not a great movie, but I am a sucker for Room Service, and I enjoyed watching this remake of the play/Marx Brothers movie.

AUGUST

Mr. Fuji:

Gene Wilder: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory Still my favorite (and weirdest) Gene Wilder role.

Steven Hill: Mission Impossible, "Operation Rogosh" One of the best of the pre-Peter Graves episodes with Hill as Dan Briggs.

John McLaughlin:

Arthur Hiller:

Not at all his best film, but it gives me an excuse to post this kick-ass theme song.

John Saunders:

Kenny Baker: Star Wars Why try to be cute?

SEPTEMBER

Jon Polito: Homicide: Life on the Streets The first two seasons of Homicide. Unfortunately, he was unceremoniously dumped from the show after this.

Hugh O'Brian:

Agnes Nixon:

Arnold Palmer:

Bill Nunn: Spider-Man One of my favorite supporting characters in comic books was Joe "Robbie" Robertson, and the Sam Raimi movies featured Nunn doing him justice.

Cultureshark Remembers: Year-End Edition (Part II)

Continuing our look at the notable deaths of 2016, with a recommendation of something to check out, or maybe just an embedded video, to remember each one:

APRIL

Chyna:

Probably the best moment this troubled soul had: Her amazing WTF debut on Raw.

Prince: Raspberry Beret The Man won't let anyone upload the official music video. I understand wanting people to pay for the music, but it's not like you can buy the music video. Uh, at least I don't think you can. Anyway, this is my favorite thing he ever did.

Merle Haggard:

I confess I never really "got" Merle Haggard, but this is great.

MAY

Morley Safer:

Alan Young: Mickey's Christmas Carol He gave an excellent performance as Scrooge McDuck!

Mark Lane:

William Schallert: How do you pick just one thing when the guy was in everything? Let me stray from his looooong TV resume and offer his appearance in The Incredible Shrinking Man, which is representative of his scientist/doctor/authority roles...though he was pretty wrong about Scott's condition!

JUNE

Muhammad Ali: My favorite Ali is the one in Superman vs. Muhammad Ali from DC Comics, but here's something you can view:

Buddy Ryan:

The 30 for 30 on the '85 Bears shows how the coach was both divisive and beloved, but this clip reminds you of how he was often just hated. Now, THAT was a rivalry!

Cultureshark Remembers: Year-End Edition (Part 1)

It's been said over and over again how 2016 was a terrible year for prominent deaths, with seemingly one celebrity after another leaving. I didn't do a lot of Cultureshark Remembers posts in 2016, but this year I am going to do something different: I'll recommend one work, or maybe just embed a video, to remember the individual who passed. We'll do it in chronological order.

JANUARY

Pat Harrington:

There was much more to him than Schneider from One Day at a Time, but can you blame the guy for cashing in on it?

Alan Rickman: Die Hard "Do you really think you stand a chance against us, Mister Cowboy?"

Iron Mike Sharpe: Any of his 1980s WWF matches on syndicated television. You don't want to seek one of his 15-minute borefests with S.D. Jones from Prime Time Wrestling, but check out a shorter squash match to see him billed as "Canada's Greatest Athlete" and get his shtick.

David Bowie:

I don't care, this is my favorite thing of his ever.

Glenn Frey: The "Smuggler's Blues" video Unfortunately, you can't get the official video with sound on YouTube because the MAN will take it down, yet for some reason the label won't post it.

Abe Vigoda:

He was in one of THE movie classics, and he was great on Barney Miller, but I also appreciate his great second career as "that guy who everyone joked they thought was dead"

FEBRUARY

Harper Lee: The movie To Kill a Mockingbird I mean, you could read the book, but do people read books anymore?

George Kennedy: The Naked Gun movies His reactions to Drebin are priceless.

George Gaynes: Police Academy Tough not to recall the way he said, "Punky!" to Punky Brewster, but I think the best way to honor this classy actor is to picture him getting pleasured under that podium.

Bob Elliott: Get a Life, "Neptune 2000" Grumpy father Fred Peterson was one of the best things about the underrated Chris Elliott sitcom. This episode, in which Fred and Chris get stuck in a "submarine" they build from a kit, is a great showcase.

Maurice White:

'Nuff said!

MARCH

Garry Shandling: It's Garry Shandling's Show and The Larry Sanders Show Really, they're all brilliant, and you can't pick just one. It's all classic Shandling.

Patty Duke:

Joe Garagiola: The 1975 World Series It's all available on video, and Joe is in the booth.

Robert Horton: A Man Called Shenandoah, "The Onslaught" Wagon Train was a much more popular series, of course, but I dig this Western about an amnesiac wandering in search of his identity. Check it out from the beginning, and check out Horton's rendition of "Oh, Shenandoah!"

Bud Collins:

Kudos to this uploader for posting vintage Bud Collins post-match interviews. Like Sager, Bud Collins was a huge part of my sports on TV regimen back in the day. Check out this classy interview he conducts with Jana Novotna (she exhibits remarkable grace considering) after her horrible loss to Steffi Graf, double faulting on game point up 4-1 in the final set and losing the championship.

George Martin:

Sure, we think of Sir George in a tie, sitting behind the glass and supervising the lads, but I love this video in which we see him tickling the ivories in a band with Paul and Ringo. It's got to be one of the most outright FUN clips ever of the legendary producer.

Cultureshark Remembers...Florence Henderson

A lot of people are going to remember Florence Henderson, who died last week at 82, for her iconic role as mom Carol Brady. She was so much more than just The Brady Bunch, though. She was also in The Brady Brides, The Brady Bunch Variety Hour, The Bradys, A Very Brady Christmas...

OK, I'm joking. I really don't remember her from much more than Carol Brady and then for being the woman that played Carol Brady showing up on talk shows, game shows, commercials, and such. It felt like she showed up on Love Boat and Fantasy Island every year, but to me it was, hey, it's Florence Henderson of The Brady Bunch.

So what, though? I loved and hated the Bradys growing up. I don't recall ever enjoying it purely for itself on its merits. There was always some degree of, "Man, this is ridiculous," but I sure watched the heck out of The Brady Bunch as a kid, and Henderson was outstanding for what she was asked to do. She was totally corny but always likeable, sexy enough to be a sexy mom but always mom enough to not be too sexy.

I would never say that she was like a mom to me growing up (this is awkward after the way I ended that last paragraph) because I had a mom, and she watched Brady Bunch with me and mocked a lot of the same things I did. But what a TV mom Carol Brady was! I didn't watch TV for a real mom. I watched TV for a TV mom, and Florence Henderson delivered. She always said not to play ball in the house, but she was capable of putting on a silly costume and putting on a show with the best of them. I particularly liked her over-the-top concern, like when they got a trampoline and she spent the whole sequence fretting over the kids doing simple 8-inch jumps and falling on their butts.

All accounts suggest that Henderson was a delightful person off camera. She was a big part of my childhood for her work on camera, and this one does sting.  R.I.P.

Cultureshark Remembers Garry Shandling

This is long overdue, but I am not going to pass up the chance to talk about Shandling just because it's been a few weeks since he died. Of course, being a "Cultureshark Remembers" post, it's actually going to be about me, so let me say first of all that Garry Shandling was an all-time great, a hilarious comedian who helped bring us two of the best television programs ever made. My personal favorite Shandling trademark: The pained facial expression he would give, often to the camera, either in reaction to another performer or sometimes just to his own joke.

Of those two of the best television programs ever made, I think "It's Garry Shandling's Show" is somewhat neglected these days. "Larry Sanders" deserves its prominent role among those in the know, but Shandling's 1980s sitcom was just as good and possibly just as influential. There is a certain kind of self-referential comic sensibility that I think is often credited to "The Simpsons," among other places, but I remember watching Shandling as a kid and being blown away by it: the breaking the fourth wall, the constant send-ups of television conventions, the sense that anything could happen. All of it was within a format that allowed for a sitcom story of some kind to unfold.

"Burns and Allen" featured plenty of talking to the camera, but it was more than that on "It's Garry Shandling's Show." Not only did Garry acknowledge the viewer, but he also addressed the studio audience, even involving them in the story. The cameramen, people with cue cards, grips--all were part of the environment and liable to be part of the action. Combine this exciting landscape with Shandling's standup persona and sharp writing, and you got a classic. I loved it.

My dad loved it, too, and for a while, we actually had Showtime--I think for the "Honeymooners Lost Episodes" as well as for Shandling, but Garry was certainly a highlight.  And let's face it, there wasn't a whole lot going on in Showtimeland back then. At some point--my memory is hazy on this part--my dad must have figured, "Eh, you know, Showtime kind of bites. Let's get rid of it, and then in 25 years when 'Ray Donovan' is invented, we'll sign up again."

However, the young FOX network picked up the show in some kind of shared deal with Showtime and put it on late Sunday nights. It started at 9:00, but by the end of its run, it was airing at 10:30 PM, which is pretty damn late for a network sitcom.

This may be the reason why: It's ratings stunk. I don't have access to anything other than my fading memories of old Nielsen ratings layouts in "USA Today" (Remember how great the Life section was back then?), but my recollection is that I looked each week to see how Shandling was doing and always saw it languishing near the very bottom of the list. Sure, it was the fourth network, sure it had unenviable timeslots, but it was one of MY shows, and nobody was watching it.

It was one of my first lessons that quality television will not always be supported by the masses. Nowadays I can see why such an unconventional show might not be a massive hit, and I can even get that Shandling himself might not have been a long-term mainstream prime-time kind of star. But back then, it was a crushing blow. Didn't people like good stuff? How could they not be checking this out? Was it because everyone had already seen it on Showtime (I actually ruled that out immediately)?

Garry Shandling brought a lot of joy and laughter into my life over the years, but he also taught me the pain of advocating for quality underappreciated work. At least the series got an excellent, if extremely expensive, DVD set from Shout Factory a while ago. Still, it seems telling that though a new HBO deal for "Larry Sanders" was announced right after Garry's sudden passing, all is quiet on the "It's Garry Shandling's Show" front. I'd love to see Shout TV bring it back.

Cultureshark Remembers...Nick Bockwinkel

Former American Wrestling Association World Heavyweight champ Nick Bockwinkel passed away last week at the age of 80. If you'd like to learn more about him and see him in his prime, don't go to the WWE Network, which still hasn't uploaded much of its AWA footage.

I didn't see him in his prime, but I enjoyed him as a young wrestling fan even though he always seemed kind of "out there." His mannerisms, his look, his style--everything suggested a cocky prick who would more likely hire someone to mess you up--and brag about it at the country club--than to actually mess you  up.

And the name? BOCKWINKEL? I was just fascinated by that name. Bockwinkel. Go ahead, say it out loud. Bet you can't do it just once. You'll want to do it over and over again. It doesn't sound like an ass kicker, but somehow it kicks ass.

But the man could go in the ring. He was middle aged when I got AWA Wrestling on ESPN, and in one of his most memorable matches of the 1980s, he was already about 50 when he battled Curt Hennig to a 60-minute draw. I loved this match, not just for the work in the ring, but for the great overwrought announcing of Rod Trongard. He really worked to get across how momentous the match was, and it was funny, but it was appropriate, and it worked.

After saying they neared the 58-minute mark: I don't know if I have two minutes left.

Then: We're in the final minute. I will never forget it as long as I live, however this ends. With less than 60 seconds remaining, these two men have given everything that there IS to give--not only that they have to give, but there IS to give--to the sport of professional wrestling.  They have pounded, they have hammered, they have clawed, they have dug, they have  put on every hold that they know, every weapon at their command...as we're in the final 30 seconds of this match.

People like to mock the AWA, and it was well past its own prime at that point, but that remains one of my favorite wrestling calls ever, and what a show Bockwinkel and Hennig put on that night.

After Bockwinkel finally left the fading AWA, he had a short run as a color commentator on WWF house shows, with a lot of his work turning up on "Prime Time Wrestling." I loved Bock in this role because I hated what I considered cartoonish aspects of wrestling, and I liked how he treated it like an actual sport.

One thing that always bothered me was when a babyface covered a heel for pin when the referee was knocked out or indisposed, and by the time the ref crawled over to make a count, the crowd would already have reached 10. An announcer would invariably say, "He would have had him if only the referee had been in position!" Now I appreciate more the desire to give someone a "visual pin" to save face before he went on to lose the match, but then I thought it was hokey and took me out of the moment.

One time this happened, and Bockwinkel told his play-by-play partner he wasn't so sure. He explained that a wrestler, through training and instinct, responds to that sound of the referee's hand hitting the mat, and therefore you couldn't assume that he wouldn't have kicked out if the ref had been there earlier. I don't remember how the PBP man responded, but I was elated. Finally, someone says what I've been thinking for so long! That comment alone won me over. Of course, that kind of intelligent, reality-based commentary wasn't a great fit for 1980s WWF, and the gig didn't last long, but I always considered Nick one of the most underrated announcers in pro wrestling history.

Cultureshark Remembers...all those TV shows that have left Netflix

R.I.P., all the older high-profile TV series that left Netflix in the last two months. They include:

*Mission Impossible
*Amazing Stories
*Knight Rider
*Hawaii Five-0 (seasons 1-10 of the original series)
*Miami Vice
*Dragnet (1960s version)
*Quincy
*Leave It to Beaver
*Magnum P.I.
*MacMillan and Wife
*Adam-12

Leaving this month: Family Ties and Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends.

I complained about this a while ago, but I held out hope that Netflix would renew some of its agreements with CBS/Paramount and/or Universal to retain some of these shows. After all, we've had scares before that turned out to be temporary blips with some of the Netflix library programming. Plus many CBS/Paramount and Universal shows remain on Netflix streaming.

However, enough time has passed that I think it's safe to say these shows are gone, and if they come back it's not a renewal of existing agreements, but a new deal of some sort. That's a shame because to me a big part of  the service's value is this back catalog television selection. Netflix has not added much of this lately, which makes the deletion of so much of it all the more alarming.

It's possible that it's not Netflix's decision to remove these shows. CBS has a new (and really lacking) streaming service, and Universal may be funneling more shows to Hulu as exclusives. Plus "Mission Impossible" is now on Amazon Prime. The thing is, Netflix is so opaque about this kind of thing that there is no way of knowing if this is a conscious strategy to de-emphasize older programming.

Let's thing back on the good times we had cramming as much of these programs as we could into our routines before Netflix pulled them. There's a good kind of "binge watching," and then there's the desperation binge watching stemming from the knowledge that the whole damn thing is leaving in a few weeks.

I will fondly remember scrambling to watch Mission Impossible before it expired, then discovering Hawaii Five-0 was leaving. I will look back with a warm feeling as I recall the strange relief I felt when they did expire, immediately followed by the anxiety caused by the realization that even more series were disappearing the next month. Ah, the joys of streaming video. It's been a great summer, Netflix!

Cultureshark Remembers Dusty Rhodes

R.I.P. Dusty Rhodes, "The American Dream," one of pro wrestling's true immortals who somehow died today at only 69 years old. As a rabid wrestling fan growing up, I thought the Dream embodied everything that I loved and everything that I hated about the sport (Yeah, of course, I knew, but I called it a "sport," not "sports entertainment." As an adult I appreciated him so much more as a character, and now I think he just embodied wrestling, period.

Let me get this out of the way: When I first got the Jim Crockett Promotions/NWA programming in my area, I always rooted against him. Always. I was entertained by his interviews, but I resented his big shot status in the promotion and thought it killed my suspension of disbelief to see him cleaning house on so many superior athletes.

I was a Ric Flair guy, a Four Horsemen guy, and I couldn't stand seeing Flair get whipped by him. One of the most ridiculous things ever was his "Bionic Elbow," a simple elbow smash that usually showed little impact...or even effort. Worst of all was seeing the Horsemen or pretty much any other heel in the company lining up to take that Bionic Elbow.

Now, of course, I watch Dusty Rhodes footage and think that move kicks ass.  And the fact that I wanted him to lose every match doesn't mean he didn't give me a lot of great memories. Dusty was an integral part of many of the fun angles I enjoyed on SuperStation TBS back in the 1980s--the spike in the eye from the Road Warriors, his "Superpowers" team with Nikita Koloff after Magnum T.A.'s car accident, the Midnight Rider...

Yeah, the whole "wrestler loses a match and has to leave town, then comes back under a mask" gimmick is an old one, but I ate up Dusty's "Midnight Rider" shtick. Something as ridiculous as a fat guy with a big blotch on his belly wearing a mask and claiming to be someone else IS wrestling. So is the ability to address the camera without a script, start yakking, and make everyone in the audience want to see  your match. So is showing up on all the magazines at the grocery store with blood running through your blonde hair and down your forehead. And so is--let's face  it--using your power backstage to push yourself as the top babyface in the company, even if it means glomming off some of the shine from the rising stars. Hey, that's wrestling, too.

Dusty was one of those larger-than-life characters you just couldn't resist trying to imitate. Legend had it his ridiculous--there's that word again--gimmick he got in WWF, the polka-dot-wearing "Common Man" was a joke at his expense. Well, guess what? He was so entertaining that he got over even when saddled with that costume and a middle-aged valet named Sapphire. His massive charisma was clear even on a minor show like "WCW Classics" on the old Turner South. He introduced matches and just generally seemed to be having a good time. I sure as hell had a good time watching him.

Dusty Rhodes was one of the most ridiculous wrestlers ever but also one of the most awesome, because sometimes pro wrestling is best when it's a certain kind of ridiculous. That was Dusty, and that was a big part of my youth. Time to go watch some Dusty moments., and don't be offended if I come up behind you tomorrow and hit you with a Bionic Elbow.

Cultureshark Remembers...My TV set

R.I.P., good ol' 27" Panasonic. You brought me a quality picture and consistent, service-free operation for nearly 20 years. Oh, how happy I'll be in 20 years if anything I buy today is still running then...

...including the HD flat screen I got to replace the Panasonic. Unfortunately, for the time being, I am still mired in the world of Glorious Low-Def Television, due to a variety of factors I won't get into now (and, yes, me being cheap is one, though not the primary, factor). So I run the standard signal into the HD set, and the result is somewhat less than spectacular, but fine for Cultureshark Tower's secondary TV. Hey, as long as my daughter can enjoy Nick Jr. on it while the grownups are making dinner, it's all good.

Back to the soon-to-be departed Panasonic, though: It was a great buddy, accompanying me in college, experiencing the heady days of the DVD era, and coming along for the wonderful ride of home ownership. It will be missed.

And now how the hell do I get rid of it?

Seriously, nobody wants these old tube TVs anymore, even if they don't have intermittent picture problems. If it ain't digital, it ain't donate-able. I can't just set a TV set by the curb for the refuse collectors to pick up. Well, I probably could--those dudes take anything--but I'm not supposed to, so I have to wait for one of those electronic recycling days at the local dump (there's a great phrase to work into a blog post).

I guess for now I'll have plenty of opportunity to reflect on my longtime pal...because it'll be sitting right in my living room, practically in front of the door, until I can ditch it.

Amy Winehouse

Amy Winehouse is dead at 27, and the fact that no one is surprised maybe ought to be a message to all of us--not just the obvious "drugs are terrible" message, but perhaps something about the way we deal with celebrity.

I think that not everyone, maybe not a majority, maybe not even anywhere close to a majority, but a certain number of music fans, writers, and industry types enabled her to some extent. Did we take her problems seriously enough? The woman was an obvious train wreck, but did we do enough to help her instead of making winking comments about "going to Rehab" or laughing outright at her? Was continuing to pay for her music or especially paying to see her at a live performance sending a tacit message that her lifestyle was "OK"?

Was it anybody's business? Was it her job to make music and our job to listen to it no matter in what condition she was? Are we gonna take Lindsay Lohan's problems more seriously now?

I don't know. I'm just asking questions, and I don't pretend that it's helpful, either. But I can't help but feel that something could have been done differently when a woman everyone knew was on the road to an early death actually wound up fulfilling that horrible destiny when she was in the public eye the entire time.

Cultureshark Remembers Randy Savage

R.I.P. Randy "Macho Man" Savage, dead at 58 after reportedly suffering a fatal heart attack then crashing his car. Savage is one of the all-time biggies in pro wrestling, a massive star in both the heady days of 1980s WWF and a key player in the 1990s Monday Night Wars era, when the WWF and rival WCW were making tons of money while running their flagship programs head to head each week. He was a big enough mainstream star to merit a segment on "Sportscenter" yesterday and to star in ads such as his notable Slim Jims campaign.

Savage was not someone I considered my favorite wrestler at any given time, but because he was pitted against some of the performers I most detested watching--Hulk Hogan and Ultimate Warrior--in key feuds and matches, I did root for the guy a lot and get emotionally invested in his work. Plus I always appreciated his ability; in a WWF in which stars often coasted due to organizational pressures, ridiculous travel schedules, and the pressure to not upstage Hogan, Savage stood out for possessing both the tremendous charisma one looks for in a professional wrestling superstar AND the athletic ability and "workrate," as it's known, to deliver inside the ring.

On a personal level, I remember Savage for starring in two pivotal moments in my wrestling fandom. I first started watching in 1985, and the arrival of the Macho Man in the WWF was a big deal. He had cool moves and was an exciting guy to watch, but he was also involved in what I believe to be the first big "angle" (storyline) outside the ring that really captivated me. The WWF treated him as a big deal immediately, and the big question that played out over his initial weeks of television appearances was who would be his manager?

Established heel (villain) managers like Bobby Heenan and Mr. Fuji were shown vying for the right to guide the career of this new superstar, and when the announcement was made and an attractive but timid-looking woman, Miss Elizabeth, emerged as the "winner," it was a real stunner...but an intriguing one. The Beauty and the Beast act became one of the biggest things going in the WWF, and things took off from there.

I remember missing the show on which the news broke, but my aunt's then-boyfriend was over at our house, and we exchanged a little pro wrestling talk when I mentioned I watched it. I think I mentioned the ongoing saga about Savage's manager, and he said, "Oh, yeah, they showed that." "Who? Who was it?" I asked with youthful impatience. "Some CHICK," he replied. "Some hot chick."

I can remember puzzling over that one--who the heck was he talking about?--and also being a little amused, even as young as I was, at his terminology. But, hey, I was INTO that story, and that was the moment when I knew I really didn't want to miss the weekly TV. I had to keep up with this stuff!

The next key moment in my evolution as a pro wrestling fan was Savage's win of the Intercontinental title over Tito Santana. The heel Savage used a "foreign object" to injure and then pin Santana, and I was outraged that the decision stood. Oh, I understood that it was "fake," but even on the storyline level, I thought it was ridiculous that A) the referee missed it and that B) nothing could be done to correct the injustice because "the referee's decision was final." Even in those days before instant replay was so pervasive in professional sports, I thought that was an absurd policy, and I wasted way too much energy in frustration over how illogical pro wrestling was in its depiction of rules. I quickly realized I had to accept some of the conventions of the business--things like stupid referees being blind at convenient points in a match even though it strained credibility--or else I wouldn't be able to enjoy it at all.

As "smart" as I was to the business, though, I was still enough of a "mark" to get wrapped up in things and lose myself in the moment. One memorable moment, and as far as I can remember the last time I kind of had a vague doubt in the back of my head--is this stuff real sometimes?--was when Savage "ruptured the larynx" of Ricky "the Dragon" Steamboat as part of their televised Intercontinental match on syndicated TV in Fall 1986.

Fortunately for me, I can relive this, one of my all-time favorite angles, through the magic of Dailymotion. Click here to see the match and memorable post-match attack the Macho Man executed on Steamboat's throat with the timekeeper's bell. Nowadays, Steamboat's animated selling of the injury might seem a little over the top, but when I watched this, I was blown away by how intense the whole thing was. Yeah, part of me wondered, hey, maybe this time it IS real!

That's the last time I thought that. It's sad in a way that I lost my innocence so early, but I was able to enjoy the spectacle of pro wrestling in many varieties--not just the WWF product--for years. Many of the action I enjoyed included Randy "Macho Man" Savage, who thrived as a superstar in the industry well into the late 1990s. Savage was a complex guy, and there are a lot of fascinating threads of his life, not all of them positive, but my most vivid memories today are of these 3 moments, a trio of incidents that helped shape my progression as a professional wrestling fan.

Cultureshark Remembers/Brooks on Books: Sidney Lumet's "Making Movies"

Since it's Sunday and I often write about books on the blog to end the weekend, I decided to remember the great director Sidney Lumet, who passed away a few days ago, with a few words about his excellent "Making Movies." Incidentally, this book is not only in print, but it's snaggable for about 9 bones at Amazon, and it's well worth that minimal investment.

First let me say I loved the man's work, and while I still have some gaps in my Lumet-watching, I appreciate just about everything I've seen, and reading the book gave me some more appreciation of the ones I either hadn't seen or hadn't appreciated as much. "Making Movies" was released about 15 years ago, well before his final motion picture, "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead." Sidney still had it even then, and while I loved "Devil," I must confess that on some level I may have been awed simply that a guy well into his 80s was making crime movies so potent.

Now, the fact that I enjoyed Lumet's filmed output was no guarantee I would get into his prose; at about the same time I devoured "Making Movies," I read David Mamet's disappointing "Bambi vs. Godzilla: On the Nature, Purpose, and Practice of the Movie Business." One big difference between the two is that Lumet's book is a thorough look at how a director makes a movie from start to finish, while Mamet's volume is a collection of essays. Another big difference is that Lumet's book is a pleasure to read from cover to cover, wheras Mamet's is often a chore to get through.

Lumet may not have been as no-nonsense and accessible as he comes off in his text, but he sure seems like a guy for whom you'd want to work hard. He describes the routine of a director in vivid detail, from when he gets up and how he gets to the set to working in the editing room. Besides the account of the day-to-day job of shooting a film, he also describes both pre- and post-production phases and what a director's role is. There is a lot of practical info in here for anyone with an interest in the lifestyle, but Lumet's straightforward, entertaining account ensures this is never just a dull occupational primer.

In fact, Lumet uses specific examples and stories from throughout his accomplished career, ocassionally telling a blind item or two but never relying on gossip. All throughout, he is generous with his candor and his insight. Lumet's own shooting style is obviously not for everyone, nor will every aspiring filmmaker replicate his circumstances. Yet there is a lot of general info in here about approaching directing, about organizing a project, about dealing with actors, that should benefit film students of all types--even those of us who just enjoy learning about the process for its own sake.

In "Making Movies," one common thread is Lumet's essential professionalism, and his likability make the book an even more engaging read. If you're a Teamster, though, you might not think the guy is so likable. Lumet doesn't set out to trash vast numbers of industry types, but, boy, does he have some issues with the unions.

So I am not remembering Sidney Lumet today with a conventional account of his films (but let me put in a strong word for "Fail Safe," which doesn't get talked about as much as the others), but by recommending this great book, a work as much about the art form as about the man, but one which, I'd like to think, gives us a solid sense that he was a cool guy. It's a must-read for Lumet fans and probably movie fans, period.

Cultureshark remembers Gary Coleman

In the year 2010, it's tough to think of Gary Coleman without thinking of the health issues, the parental problems, the anger management thing, and the sundry embarrassments he's suffered over the years. When I came of age, though, the guy--well, the kid--was a superstar. I mean, he may not have been on the cover of every issue of "Bananas" that made its way to my school's book fair, but it seemed like it.

I watched way too many episodes of "Diff'rent Strokes" way too many times back in my misspent youth, even though for some reason--I swear I'm not making this up--even in my youth I had enough old man in me to think Conrad Bain was the coolest guy on the program. Years later, it was with great excitement that I learned the show was back on in reruns...and with great disappointment that I actually watched it. I think on 2 or 3 diff'rent occasions, I gave the show a shot and wound up thinking, "Did I really watch this so much as a kid?" (Conrad Bain was still cool, though.)

Gary Coleman's kidness, which was so appealing to other kids at the time, wasn't enough to compensate for the shameless mugging and sass that grated so much when I was an adult. Maybe that's why the show never seems to latch on in reruns nowadays, whether it's on TNN (remember that?), Nick at Nite, or BET. But Gary was just doing his job, and the show was huge at the time. Even now I find it hard to believe there isn't a place for it somewhere.

As for Gary, yeah, his Arnold Jackson is hard to take even in 22-minute doses, but in recent years, I've seen his guest shots on "Buck Rogers" and "America 2Night," as well as his starring role in the TV movie "The Kid with the 200 I.Q." You know what? He's pretty entertaining and appealing in those appearances, which makes me think we have to give him some slack for what he did on "Strokes," where after all he was a franchise, a meal ticket, and a catchphrase machine before he was old enough to drive.

As he aged, I never quite knew what to make of him. Sometimes, he came off like a pretty cool guy who had come to terms with his rise and fall as an A-list TV star. Other times, he came off like a bitter misanthrope who was too scarred by Hollywood/his folks/his own personal demons to live a healthy life even without his well-known physical difficulties. Sometimes he seemed both. Mark Evanier posts an amusing anecdote about TV animation legend Joseph Barbera's miserable pitch meeting with Coleman about a planned Saturday morning cartoon for NBC. Evanier writes:

Barbera got the deal. Barbera always got the deal. But first, he said, he had to listen to about an hour of little Gary Coleman telling him how they should rerun Space Ghost, how Gary didn't like the Godzilla cartoons, how Gary thought Scooby Doo was getting stale, etc. Then he had to sit there as Gary rejected pitch after pitch, lecturing J.B. on how to create a good cartoon show.

I don't know about you, but though the point of the story is what a pain in the rear the kid could be, I have to laugh and almost admire the chutzpah. I don't know what kind of animation ideas Coleman had for his own show (which wound up being no winner, but then, how many of Hanna-Barbera efforts from that era WERE?), but he sure had a point about Scooby being stale, Godzilla 'toons being weak, and Space Ghost being ripe for reruns.

So I want to remember all of Gary Coleman, the good, the bad, and the so cute it was almost ugly, and I hope an enterprising corporate TV channel does something besides show a "Diff'rent Strokes" marathon (although even that is looking doubtful right now). Run the TV movies. Run the cartoons. Heck, run "Space Ghost." But run something. Maybe it's just because I grew up at a certain point in time, but I think Coleman was a big enough star--even if for a short time--to merit some recognition as more than just a perpetual punchline.

Cultureshark remembers Dennis Hopper

When I saw Dennis Hopper in "Blue Velvet," I was too young to remember him as a youthful counterculture icon, but I was old enough to appreciate him as a middle-aged nut. Auteur this and "Cahiers du Cinema" that, but to me the highlight of the movie by far was when Hopper's Frank Booth asks, "What kind of beer do you drink?" and, when told "Heineken," thunders, "Heineken? F--- that s---. Pabst blue ribbon!"

Maybe it speaks to my own ignorance as a film scholar, but this moment stayed with me and my friends longer than any other element of David Lynch's joint. We went around saying that whenever possible, and sometimes when it shouldn't have been. Even before we were of legal age, we enjoyed prized opportunities to say the line when someone had or offered a Heineken. It was probably old by the time we did so, but who cared? It was funny stuff.

I feel like walking down to a seedy neighborhood bar, one established no later than 1959, and enjoying a PBR while munching stale peanuts and watching pro bowling on the 13" black and white TV on the wall. I won't do this, but I feel like it.

Cultureshark remembers Walter Cronkite

Walter Cronkite was a little bit before my time, but studying journalism and media back in my not-so-distant youth, I was well aware of his impact. He had a presence that loomed over the world of TV news even after his retirement from full-time anchoring duty (just ask Dan Rather, whose life Cronkite apparently tried to make miserable ever since he took "his" spot).

I don't have a lot of firsthand memories of seeing the man in action, but we've all seen the clips, and thinking about those and Cronkite's career makes me reflect on how there is this Golden Rule of Objectivity in journalism--that's supposedly the standard its practitioners are supposed to strive for--yet we remember Cronkite most for the moments when he was not objective.

Remember him getting emotional when JFK died or getting giddy during the moon landing? And what is the conventional wisdom about his success? He was "America's most trusted man." Legend has it that the powers that be knew they had "lost" the public on Vietnam when Cronkite started making it clear he wasn't on board. Just because his opinions were considered mainstream doesn't mean he didn't have them and get them across.

Kind of makes you wonder, do we really want objective newscasters and reporters? Journalism schools do, but I don't know if actual consumers of news do. We just want someone who is biased, but biased the same way we are. People have written a lot of words in recent years about this and whether it is actually a bad thing that people seek partisan news sources like Fox News. After all, that's how journalism got its start: good old-fashioned biased reporting and opinion.

Tonight CBS airs an hourlong tribute at 7:00 P.M. I'll wager most of the clips will show Cronkite getting those feelings across. Granted, "objective" is not a synonym for "emotionless," but I don't know if there'll be too many classic moments introduced as, "Check out how brilliantly impassive and objective Cronkite was as he introduced a report on the Suez," or "Watch the master in action as he registers no emotion when talking about school busing."

The obligatory Michael Jackson post

It's really tempting to make a reactionary post tearing the guy down, especially after seeing so many people come out of the woodwork this weekend and act like it was 1987 again, but I'm not happy to see him go, and it's never a good story when a parent leaves young children behind. But I can't join in the praise for Michael Jackson, either. The Jacko I knew and liked disappeared about 20 years ago.

Where have all these admirers been? Jackson hasn't been musically relevant for years--heck, he hasn't done anything of note in years. I'm sure questions are going to be asked along the lines of, "Why wasn't anyone looking out for him?" But his long-term drug abuse was no secret. Anyone who really cared about his or his kids well-being should have stepped in years ago.

And you know what? I'm sure people did, or at least tried to. But ultimately, Jackson himself bears responsibility for how his life turned out (though he sure seems to have gotten a lousy start thanks to his father). Jackson was a self-aggrandizer who was capable of being a lot colder and more calculating than the Neverland image he--yes, he himself--cultivated.

Even if I could separate the man from the child abuse allegations, there's all the other stuff, like his maneuvering to get the Beatles' catalog from Paul McCartney (I don't know if the true details of that will ever come out, but I'm backing the Beatle) and his ridiculous insistence on being called the King of Pop. Plus the anti-semitism, the tired martyr-like posturing, and the increasingly self-important videos. How can you root for a guy like that?

And even if I could separate the man from the music, well, how much music is there? His output as a recording superstar sure looks a lot smaller when you really look at it. Sure, everyone loved "Thriler" (my wife insists she never did, but I'm skeptical), and "Off the Wall" was a great album, but since then? I won't deny his huge post-"Thriller" success, but I moved on. And how much of "Thriller" and "Off the Wall" was Quincy Jones, anyway?

OK, so this is starting to sound like a big rip job. But I did like Michael Jackson's music, and I think I'll play some this week. But I liked his music in the Jackson 5, and I'll be playing it this week not because it offers the younger, simpler Jacko, but because I like it better.

I bought a Jackson 5 compilation CD a few years ago, finally replacing a 20-some year-old cassette tape, and listening to it made me feel good, but also sad. I was saddened because Michael Jackson sounded so vital on those early records, only to become...well, you know. It amazed me then, and still does, that a 12-year-old could sing a poignant love song like "Never Can Say Goodbye" so well. That song gets me every time, and even knowing what I do about what happened to Jackson, it never sounds less than authentic. That's the other amazing part of it: that Jackson was such an effective vocalist at 12, yet somehow devolved to the point where you couldn't take him seriously even when he sang about childhood.

So, yes, I'm sad about the death of Michael Jackson, but I've been sad about the loss of Michael Jackson for a long time.

Cultureshark remembers Farrah Fawcett...sort of

It may seem petty to complain about rerun selection after a celebrity's death, but, hey, it's kind of what we're about around here. So I ask, is TV Land really paying "tribute" to Farrah Fawcett by rerunning "Chasing Farrah" this weekend? That disaster did Fawcett's image no favors, and, to me, it was the tipping point in the sad decline of the once-great TV Land.

At least the channel is also showing an episode of "Charlie's Angels," and WGN America is stepping up by showing a marathon of the series that remained Fawcett's TV pinnacle. I guess it's too much to ask that someone show a few "Harry O" episodes.

I'm too young to really appreciate the Farrah phenomenon. When NBC showed its Farrah special a few weeks ago, my wife told me she just didn't get her appeal. Fawcett was not my kind of sex symbol--I'd take Lynda Carter as 70s icons go, thank you--but I recognize how big a deal she was at her peak, when everyone apparently had that poster on their wall.

I don't think she's a timeless icon, but a fantasy object of her time. My generation was more about, say, Pamela Anderson. Again, she's not my number one sex symbol. I was more a fan of Debbie Dunning as a Tool Time girl and Carmen Electra as a "Baywatch" Babe. Yet I understand her appeal and I was there to see the impact she had.

I think that's how it is with Farrah Fawcett: You kind of had to be there. I wasn't, but I realize that for a whole bunch of people (mostly men) who were, she was IT. I'm sure they feel this loss big-time, and I feel for 'em.

Cultureshark Remembers Ed McMahon

I admired Ed McMahon's "Ho ho ho'ing" as the ultimate sidekick on "The Tonight Show," but even at a young age I was intrigued by his other roles. It's not like Ed was choosy about what he did to pay the bills. The guy started out as a clown, so why would he get haughty about gigs like playing emcee on the godawful "Legends of the Superheroes" roast or taking a pie in the face in a "Masterjoke Theatre" segment on "The Captain and Tennille"?

I hope bloggers out there are covering those roles, as well as his fascinating work as a heel in "Slaughter's Big Rip-Off," but I want to talk a bit about what for me was the epitome of Ed McMahon in the 1980s: TV's Practical Jokes and Bloopers.

OK, I know it wasn't really equivalent to his "Tonight Show" work, but I was young, and when I was up late enough to watch Johnny Carson, I was watching Ralph Kramden instead on WPIX. But I did watch "Bloopers," and as to why, I can only repeat: I was young. It's one of those shows that seemed like it was always on, and on for years, but really wasn't, as opposed to "America's Funniest Videos," which seems like it has always been on and HAS.

The show was the epitome of inane, really, but it did give us one of the 1980s' unheralded comedy teams: Dick Clark and Ed McMahon. For once, Ed was the funnyman to Dick's straight man. Even then I recognized this as a novelty. The formula was simple: The guys would come out on stage and banter a little bit as they introduced a set of miscues, a short film, or one of the fabled practical jokes (that name was more appropriate in the kinder, gentler pre-"Punk'd" era). This banter consisted of Dick setting things up so that Ed could make a joke. All we had to do as viewers was sit back and watch the comedy unfold.

You won't get much argument if you claim McMahon had the best fake laugh in the business, but he left that in the holster on this show, instead delivering the punchlines so that Clark could let go with his own version, a patented wheeze/wince combo that often left him doubled over. Of course, Clark always recovered quickly enough to lead us into the segment when necessary.

It was one of the oddest pairings in eighties TV, a blend of old-school corniness and solid professionalism. It was amusing to see Ed as the irrepressible cut-up, with Dick as the one gently reigning him like a tipsy uncle who was funny at first but liable to embarrass everyone if he was allowed to continue. Ed usually stood with his hands together, not in a "You, sir, are correct," bow, but in a serene "I am master of this stage" pose. Meanwhile, Dick delivered endless variations of, "Oh, will you stop?" or "Aw, come on."

Yes, as a youth, the notion of Ed McMahon as an unpredictable comic who had to be reined in fascinated me. Maybe the show was crap--OK, the show was crap--but it deserves a special place in the history for television for presenting the immortal comedy team of Dick and Ed, a duo that should have done more and maybe could have if the members weren't so darned busy. So let's remember the "Here's Johnny" side of the late Ed McMahon, but let's also remember when he was the go-to laugh getter.