From 1983: Radio Free Europe

I know, I know.  I'm on a major 1983 kick right now.
Hang in there with me; it'll pass.

I'm posting this clip simply because I can't stop watching it.
It's just that good.

p.s. This was one of the earliest examples of me falling madly in love with a gay man.  Man, Michael Stipe was such a cutie, with all of that angst and gorgeous curly hair.

Thirty Years Ago Today, Courtesy Of Casey Kasem

1983 was an unbelievable summer for music.

I remember it like it was yesterday...listening to WFBQ, Indianapolis' own Q95, for hours on end, laying out in Suzanne's back yard, drenched in Coppertone tanning lotion, drinking Tab (Diet Coke was still a very new product that summer).

I was twelve...going on twenty-seven.  Boy crazy and made up like a cocktail waitress most of the time.  Was there a better purple eyeshadow than Aziza, in those days?  I don't think so.  But yeah, most of the time, I was all dolled up like I belonged in Vegas, not in our humble home in Lafayette, Indiana.

Here's to thirty years ago, here's to great music, and here's to Casey Kasem: a voice every bit as cherished to our generation as the records we spun during that long, hot, distant summer.

From 1983: Margaret's Sweet 16 Birthday Party

"Taken with a Kodak Instamatic with flashcube."

I'm not sure which one is Margaret, but I love this picture: wood paneling; a dude with a mustache and tinted glasses; a guy who looks like either a used car dealer or the lead singer for Sparks in the back; the wonderfully random Rose Acre Farms crate ("the good egg people"); the LPs and some sort of makeshift DJ booth; the elegant choice of decorations for this fête galante, including a "sweet sixteen" banner.

I'm sure the dining choices for this gala included several buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken, several bags of Taco flavor Doritos, one of those sugary grocery store bakery cakes the size of Texas with pink rosettes in each corner and "Happy Birthday, Margaret!" written in loopy pink frosting script.   And five cases of Schlitz.

Who was this motley crew of boys, I wonder?  Well, I will venture a guess: the boy in the plaid shirt is Margaret's slightly older brother, and those knuckleheads are his friends.  They've known Margaret since she was a little girl, and they love her like a sister.  Honestly, they do.  It's just that...little Margaret is growing up to be hot.

And you just know that these awful boys took over poor Margaret's party, most likely forcing the DJ to play nothing but Rush, Van Halen, and KISS records all night while they drank Schlitz and talked about Atari and  Phoebe Cates' tits.  

"Hey, man!  Play Christine Sixteen again!  KISS Army rules! Happy birthday, Margaret!"

What This Blog Needs: More Jessica Savitch

And WOW.

This is an entirely intact NBC News Digest anchored by Jessica...something that is a rarity, even in these days of YouTube and the like. This beautiful clip not only features the entire "three-chime" opening with its super space-age graphics and the world turning in the wrong direction, but the entire commercial for American Airlines in the middle, complete with that gorgeous DC-10 making its ascension to Destinations Unknown.

What the clip does not have is the trademark "Savitch Smile" at the end. Savitch seems rather wan, worn, and tired. This clip is from the 22nd or 23rd of April, 1983; not only was Savitch deep into her cocaine abuse, she was in a great deal of trouble at NBC. Not because of her cocaine use, mind you; yet the brass used that as their official reason, which was, at that time, very hypocritical. No, Jessica Savitch was viewed as "difficult," too "mercurial" for the NBC brass, and they had themselves a new Golden Girl to replace her: a hotshot young reporter from KCBS in Los Angeles named Connie Chung.

In fact, a week or so after this broadcast, Jessica Savitch was ousted from her spot as the Saturday anchor for NBC Nightly News and replaced with Chung.

When I was a young girl, I idolized her. I was too young to know that hers was an unhappy, unfulfilled life, full of tragedy and disaster leading right up to that upside-down station wagon filled with muddy water in that little canal outside Chez Odette.

Rest in peace, Jessica.

Lazy Blogging: Have A Commercial Block From 1983

I've started a new job recently, and while I don't want that to cut into my blogging time too much, I *am* a little more tired than usual in the evenings.

I'll get back into the spirit of things shortly. Until then, have a hunk-a-chunk o' commercial goodness from WPIX in New York,
November 17, 1983.

Be sure to keep an eye out for Estelle Costanza.

From 1983: An Unsettling Portrait Of When Moms Wearing Reindeer Sweatshirts With Noses That Really Light Up Descend Upon Area Shopping Malls Today

"This is not a drill! She's got competitor's coupons, people!"

Oh, Eric Roberts. What On Earth Happened?

So last night I was flipping channels and I stumbled across some doggerel on VH-1 called Celebrity Rehab or some other such twaddle. You know, H-list "celebrities" check into a rehabilitation facility, have their every foible filmed, and then that awful Dr. Drew "helps" them.

Yuck.

Imagine my surprise, my ghastly surprise, to learn that one of the "celebrities" is none other than Eric Roberts, brother to Julia and the far better actor of the two. What is a talent of his caliber doing on a show like Celebrity Rehab? How dreadful.

Roberts seared his way into my memory in Bob Fosse's Star 80, with his electric portrayal of small-time pimp Paul Snider, the man who murdered 1980 Playboy Playmate of the Year Dorothy Stratten before turning the gun on himself. In this scene from Star 80, Snider demonstrates his meticulous, albeit creepy, preparations to meet those assembled at the Playboy Mansion.

From 1983: A Gem Starring The Brothers Gibb, A Magnificent Sex Bomb Named Cynthia Rhodes, And Barry Gibb's Luxurious Mane Of Hair

Lucky that there was a roving band of incredibly hot Mad Max-esque female dancers to back up the lovely Miss Rhodes!

This song suffers from the same ailment that so many others of its era did: Greg Ham Syndrome. So named for the saxophone player in Men at Work, Greg Ham Syndrome refers to the compulsion to stick a sax solo into your song because the Men did it so successfully.

From 1983: Bebe Buell

Buell says in her most excellent memoir Rebel Heart that her on-again, off-again paramour Elvis Costello was disgusted by this layout, so much so that it lead him to dump her for the eight millionth time (big deal; Costello's a putz). Liz Derringer, wife of rocker Rick, was one of Bebe's closest friends at the time.

I love whores.

From 1983: A Very Young Candace Cameron Is Finger-Lickin' Good! (Not In That Way, You Bunch Of Perverts.)