Short Subjects

Lois Chokes

The staff art show that hung during the Biograph's second anniversary party on Feb. 11, 1974 -- which featured The Devil Prank -- included various works by several then-current employees and some former staff members, too. Most of those who worked there in the early days were artists of one stripe or another. The sign above (by yours truly) was made to hang in the space of the lobby’s gallery that usually featured the artists' statements.

I also had a couple of pieces in the show. One of them sold and that was fun. Another piece was stolen. That was a bummer and a weird kind of violation.

Although most of the art shows that hung in the gallery displayed the work of local/VCU-connected artists, that was not always the case. In the first three or four years, when the walls of the lobby regularly featured shows that changed every couple of months, or so, occasionally art by then-renown artists, usually printmakers, was on display. Among them were Ernest Trova, Robert Indiana and sculptor George Segal.

In the summer of 1978, the same time as the Rocky Horror Picture Show began its five-year run at midnight, we had a show up that was memorable for an odd reason. It was a group of silkscreen prints and paintings by Barry Fitzgerald, who drove a cab and sometimes played keyboard in a popular local band, Single Bullet Theory.

Fitzgerald’s work had a pop art, reaction-to-advertising look. His droll sense of humor showed in a series of a half-dozen similar paintings. Each had a large line drawing in black against a background of a flat field of a single color. The renderings were done in the sparse style of a government pamphlet. Each had the same girl, Lois, coughing as she faced the viewer. Each had a caption written across the bottom of the colored panel which explained that Lois was choking on something. I think Barry was asking about $100 apiece for them.

Let’s say the first one was blue. It might have said, “Lois chokes on a gumdrop.” I think one of them did say that. The next one could have been yellow, it would have said something like, “Lois chokes on a pocket watch,” and so forth. The only other caption I remember had Lois choking on an Egg McMuffin; that one I’m sure of.

One day a man claiming to be a lawyer called me to say I had to take the Egg McMuffin piece down, pronto. He told me he was a local guy, who’d been talking that day with an attorney for the McDonald's fast food empire. He asserted that if I didn’t take it down McDonald's was going to lay some legal action on the artist, the Biograph and me.

For my part, I said something like, “What!”

The caller explained that it wasn’t a matter of Fitzgerald saying anything against McDonald's signature breakfast sandwich, which was fairly new then. No. The problem was that McDonald's wanted to protect the use of the words “Egg McMuffin.” They didn’t want it to become a generic term for a sandwich made by anyone using the same ingredients, etc.

Then I must have said something like, “What!”

Anyway, the threat finished with how I better do what the caller said, because all the law was on McDonald's side.

Well, I called a friend who is a lawyer to ask him what he thought. He said I ought to buy the painting. Then I told Fitzgerald what had happened. He loved it. We decided to leave it up.

So, what happened? Never heard from the wannabe McDonald's lawyer again. For a long time I've wished I had bought the painting.

*

Flashback

Working in show business can be tough duty. Ask anybody who knows -- it’s not all laughs, but the best part of it always involves laughs. For instance, one evening a couple of traveling porn queens came by the theater. Naturally, they asked for the manager.

Theater manager reacts to Honey's friendly gesture

So I was fetched from my sanctuary office to talk with Annie Sprinkle and another woman who claimed she was from Richmond (Hermitage High). Sometimes, the X-rated touring performers from the live shows at the Lee Art Theater in the next block of Grace stopped by, so I figured that was the deal.

Like, maybe they were film buffs who wanted free passes?

They had a limo parked in front of the theater. Their driver was a dwarf. No joke. After what sounded to me like a lot of cocaine-driven nonsense about a glossy magazine spread, and how they'd been to other local landmarks, Annie asked me to pose in front of the theater with the other lady.

Those were simpler times. Why not?

As Annie told me to stand a little closer, what’s-her-name? -- I think it might have been Honey -- gave me a hug and flashed what I quickly suspected to be her left breast. My reaction was honest, spontaneous. The duo had what they wanted, so they giggled and piled back into the limo. My co-workers couldn't stop laughing, as they had seen the whole thing through the cinemascopic front windows.

Later the silly picture showed up in Partner, a forgettable low-rent rag . The feature displayed other shots of Honey in similar flash modes in front of various familiar local backdrops.

To change the subject, the very next year Grace Street was changed from a west-only one-way street to two-way. The change was probably toughest on the winos, but it wasn’t easy on anybody. That neighborhood hasn't been the same since. And, good night Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are...

*

Punishing Donald Cooper

The best snowball shot I ever made was in the early '80s on West Grace Street. Rebby Sharp and I were across the street from the Biograph Theatre, ducked down behind some parked cars. It was after dark but I can't say how late it was. There was a snowfall underway and it was sticking. Rebby and I were battling some friends, who were in front of Don's Hot Nuts, next door to the cinema, which I managed in those days.

Rebby and her band, the Orthotonics, used to practice sometimes in the theater's large auditorium during off hours. Some of Rebby's fans might not have known it, but she wasn't a bad athlete; Rebby had a decent throwing arm.

When some snowballs thumped off of Donald Cooper's peculiar bright green candy business storefront, he came out on his porch to tell the snowball fighters to scram. As everyone associated with the Biograph knew Cooper to be an utter pest and the worst neighbor in the world, there was no need for a plan.

Rebby threw first. My throw left with dispatch a split second later. Both were superbly well put shots. When Cooper extended his hand to block Rebby's incoming snowball it shattered to shower him, just as my throw hit him square in the forehead ... ba-da-bing!

Cooper quickly retired for the night.