Category: Movies, TV, Etc.

How ‘Flipper’ curbed my smartass behavior in school

L.T. HanlonLeave a comment
Combination graphic of a summer reader award, the cover of Arthur C. Clarke's "Dolphin Island," the cover of Patricia Lauber's "The Friendly Dolphins," and a one-sheet poster for the movie "Flipper."

Stumbled on a relic from 1963, a Vacation Reading Program award from the Denver Public Library. Brought back a flood of memories faster than a DeLorean gunning to 88 mph.

In the summer of ’63, I was all about dolphins. I had my mom take me to “Flipper” at the Federal Theater, and man, I was hooked. I went on a reading spree that included “The Friendly Dolphins” by Patricia Lauber and “Dolphin Island” by Arthur C. Clarke.

Lauber’s was a breeze, but Clarke? Damn, that was like trying to make sense of “2001: A Space Odyssey” without CliffNotes.

Lauber taught me something solid: dolphins and porpoises? Different dental plans. Dolphins have cone-shaped teeth, while porpoise chompers are spade-shaped.

So, come fall, I was back in school, and some teacher started yapping about dolphins and porpoises being the same critters. I corrected her and got an earful. She sent a note to my parents complaining that I shouldn’t undermine a teacher’s authority.

Fast forward to 1976, and I’m sitting in a film class at Metropolitan State College. Professor’s rambling about “Lifeboat,” says Hitchcock cameoed as a floating corpse.

Wrong again, Teach, but I kept my trap shut. No need for another lesson in humility.

The award? I tucked it back in its box and shoved it into a corner of my closet.

The lesson stuck: Sometimes, it’s not about being right. It’s about knowing when to talk and when to listen. So I shut my Doritos chute, even when they got it wrong, because nobody likes a smartass.

I learned an even more valuable lesson from the Vacation Reading Program: There’s always another page to turn.

How I blew my chance to co-star in ‘Hazel’

L.T. HanlonLeave a comment
Insufferably cute photo young boy.
My uncle, a professional photographer who later worked at NCAR and NOAA, shot this photo of me. (Photo copyright © Charles Semmer)

I described the above photo to ChatGPT-4 and asked it to fabricate a funny story about it. Here’s the result. . .

So, my dad and I walked into Columbia Pictures’ Sunset Gower Studios, all coolness and swagger. “Hazel,” the TV show, was gonna be a big deal in 1961 — and somehow, a friend of a friend where Dad worked at First National Bank of Denver knew someone in the casting business.

Me? Dad figured he could exploit my stutter. “You’ve got more of a speech impediment than Marlon Brando, and look how well he’s doing,” he explained.

Shirley Booth sized me up. She smiled. This might all work out.

Lights on. Camera rolling. We started the scene. And man, I was nailing it.

Then, I began stuttering like a motorboat, and instead of saying, “I think you’d better look up the flue,” out came the F-bomb.

Shirley’s eyes widened, but she kept her cool — and started laughing.

“Let’s keep that one in the pilot!” she said.

The director? His face turned a shade I’d call “furious tomato.”

“The hell with this kid, we’re going with Bobby,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

The other freckled, blond little darling, Bobby Buntrock, stood in the wings — and then sashayed on set like he owned the place.

And just like that, I became a trivia question: What would-be child actor F-bombed his way out of a TV gig?

Why Katey Sagal is the Michael Jordan of acting

L.T. HanlonLeave a comment

While writing my recent Sturgis Fiction microfiction series, I reflected on and took inspiration from “Sons of Anarchy” for creator Kurt Sutter’s saga of bikes, the brotherhood, and his damn good story.

But it was Katey Sagal as Gemma Teller Morrow who grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and wouldn’t let go. Hollywood’s got its stars, sure. People rave about Anthony Hopkins, can’t stop talking about Meryl Streep.

Now, I’m no Roger Ebert, but Katey Sagal? Right up there. No bullshit.

You see Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter, it’s chills down your spine, no two ways about it.

Meryl Streep? She could make reading the phonebook Oscar material.

Then you got Katey Sagal, the rock ’n’ roll backbone of “Sons of Anarchy,” the thread stitching together this sprawling saga of an outlaw motorcycle club into a tsunami of women’s viewpoints worthy of Douglas Sirk.

Every time Sagal steps into a scene, you can’t take your eyes off her. She doesn’t act; she lives Gemma. She’s the fuel, the fire, the smoke, and the ash.

Here’s the kicker: It took me a solid 15 minutes to realize this is the same woman who played Peg Bundy in “Married… With Children.”

Talk about range. From a ditzy, shopaholic housewife to the queen bee of an MC? That’s like Michael Jordan nailing baseball after dominating basketball. Gemma’s tough as nails but vulnerable, calculating but human.

Don’t hear what I’m not saying. Hopkins and Streep? Icons. But Katey Sagal, she’s like that scene in Steven Spielberg’s “The Adventures of Tintin” in which the camera pulls back to show Herge as a street artist sketching the film’s CGI Tintin as his 2-D character.

So, here’s the deal. Next time you’re listing the greats, carve out a space for Katey Sagal. She’s the real deal, no question.

If acting were a bar brawl, she’d be the last one standing, wiping the blood off her knuckles, ready for the next round.