"The Streets of San Francisco"

Although yesterday marked my fifth trip to The City by the Bay, I couldn't help but to think about films, television shows and commercials that have touched me in some way, and how some had a San Francisco connection, more substantial now that I've been doing background work in Los Angeles.

There are quite a few films either made or set in San Francisco, according to the IMDB data base, so I won't even attempt to open up any "intellectual" discussion on this topic. I'm just touching on some of MY impressions. If you want to check out what the experts are saying, you may click this link:

http://www.imdb.com/list/RGbC7vhcmho/

And back to my story.

The other night, or rather early morning, I was flipping through the channels on TV and saw that "Crazy in Alabama" was about to start. The film stars Melanie Griffith who plays an abused Southern mother of seven children and housewife. She poisons and decapitates her husband then travels from Alabama to Hollywood to become a movie star. Along the way, she looks for a bridge that is tall enough from which to dispose of her husband's head, which she has been carrying in a Tupperware container inside a high-end hatbox. She comes upon the Golden Gate Bridge, where she decides to do the deed. I chuckled to myself yesterday, thinking about Griffith's scene on the reel Golden Gate Bridge as I walked across the real one and into Sausalito.

"Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco treat ..." –- not far from Fisherman's Wharf (and, in my opinion, where the best fish sandwich ever conceived can be enjoyed) is the beginning of the city's famous cable car line. Not that Rice-A-Roni is or has ever been the official "San Francisco treat" to my knowledge, but each time I see the cable cars, I think of that commercial. And I can't remember eating a plate of Rice-A-Roni in ... years.

Growing in up in Gary, Ind., each time I mention my hometown, MOST people ask me or say something about Michael Jackson, The Jackson Five or any of the other members of the Jackson family which –- to many non-Hoosiers –- may be Gary's only claim to fame. I end up, in some cases, taking them to school: Frank Borman, NASA astronaut, is from Gary, Ind. Grammy Award-winning singer Deniece Williams is from Gary. Author Donna Britt is from Gary. Alex Karras, the former NFL star who played for the Detroit Lions and later played the role of "Mongo" in the Mel Brooks classic "Blazing Saddles," grew up in Gary. Karras also played the role of the father on the hit TV show "Webster" back in the day. Casting director Jeff Olan was born in Gary, Ind. William Marshall, who starred in the film "Blackula," is from Gary. Fred Williamson, who played in the NFL for the Oakland Raiders and the Kansas City Chiefs and starred in "Hammer" and "From Dusk Till Dawn" ... and has a long list of IMDB credits, is from Gary. And then there's Karl Malden. Malden, who grew up in Gary and even worked in the steel mills (as did many of Gary's residents, including yours truly), won an Academy Award for his role in the classic "A Streetcar Named Desire." The film is No. 42 on IMDB's "Top 100 Movies of All Time" (The Ultimate List). Malden also played "Lt. Mike Stone" in the hit TV show "The Streets of San Francisco."

My all-time favorite cinematic connection to San Francisco, however, is "Bullitt" ... the car chase.

Make that THE car chase! What are you talking about?

I mean, Steve McQueen (who, was not from Gary, but was born and raised in Indiana and the epitome of "cool") drove his you-know-what off in that movie, at least his character did –- but McQueen DID do a good deal of the driving. I will NEVER forget it. I believe I stayed to watch that movie at the State theater on Broadway in downtown Gary like two or three times in a row (on the price of one ticket ... you could do that back before the days of the multiplex) just to see the car chase, which has been deemed by people much more informed than I "one of the screen's all-time best." Actually, the editing of the car chase in "Bullitt" garnered the film an Academy Award for editing in 1968.

http://youtu.be/-Lbs_nYW3-o

For a long time after watching that movie, whenever there was a hint of a hill back home and I was driving, I would "gun it" and my younger brother and I would would say "Bullitt"!!! Now, THAT was some piece of driving -- in the movie, not my youthful attempt to take my Pontiac Tempest airborne -- back when seatbelts were optional, when cars were cars and it took real skill to drive them. No computer assists, no GPS, no power windows. Just driving. REAL driving.

Watching McQueen navigate the hilly streets of the City by the Bay was one of the reasons I wanted to visit San Francisco, and now my "Hollywood" connection –- with its perception of reality –- makes me feel even more connected.

Stay tuned ...

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"Time ... Out!

Hey, "sistah," let's keep this situation real, OK? And I'm not referring to all of you (If the shoe fits, though ... ). 

Just because I'm being cordial and speaking to you (basically, because we are passing by each other on the street or we are both waiting for the same crosslight to change and we happen to be standing near each other), there is no reason to look at me as if I have three eyes on my face – or two heads on my shoulders – when I say something to the effect of "Nice day" or "It sure gets hot in the Valley, doesn't it?" or even a simple and innocuous "Good morning."

I am not attempting to "push up" on, "step to" or "come on to" you. Trust me.

Not that I've done any kind of a scientific experiment, but the majority of the time that I get, or witness someone else getting, the on-the-street cold shoulder, the person giving it is a "sistah," a black woman, an African-American woman ... however you want to dice it; it is what it is, but I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around it.

And I do understand if you don't want to have a conversation with a complete stranger. I get it. No worries. But I'm from the Midwest, where when someone speaks to you – as in a friendly "Good afternoon," or "How's it going?" – you speak back.

I consider myself open-minded. And I've been told that I am not a bad-looking guy, and my "dating history" would reveal members of humanity who represent a rainbow coalition. I speak to just about everyone. That's the way I was cut. Also, I don't usually look to be homeless – unless I am playing a role on the set of a TV show, movie, commercial or music video.

And before you come up with a "rationale" to this, something that suggests I should get used to "the big city," know that before I made Los Angeles my home, I grew up not terribly far from Chicago and I've lived in New York City (during 9/11, even), and Baltimore and Japan – among other places – so I know it's not me. As a matter of fact, I'm certain of it.

A kind word here and there goes a long way.

Something to think about.

I'm just saying ...

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"Mystery Man"

T he guy sitting across the aisle from me in church looked quite familiar. He had one of those "I know I've seen you somewhere, but I can't place it" faces. I'd seen seen him several times before, sitting on the left side of the church, near the back. I normally sit on the right side of the church, near the back. On occasion, we'd nod at each other. But I couldn't place where I knew this man from. Yesterday, it hit me: I'd seen him on TV. He reminded me of Jim Brown ...

Sherman Oaks is full of people like him. You know their faces, but you can't remember where from right away. Then, there are some who you know immediately. Like the time I passed Michael Chiklis from "Vegas" near my neighborhood Cold Stone Creamery ice cream store on Ventura Boulevard, or coming up behind Lawrence Gilliard Jr. (DeAngelo Barksdale from "The Wire") in the pasta aisle at the Pavilions supermarket, or passing Robert Blake ("Baretta") at the corner of my block as he walked his dog. I was even sitting at a table in my neighborhood Starbucks when Paul Schulze ("Nurse Jackie," "The Sopranos") asked if he could sit in the empty seat across from me and eat his oatmeal. In Los Angeles, you often see celebrities doing everyday, noncelebrity things like walking the dog or strolling and eating ice cream or grocery shopping or eating oatmeal or sitting in church.

After yesterday's service, I went into the fellowship room for a cup of coffee and to chat with some of the people there. The "mystery man" was there, so I went up to him and introduced myself. He was gracious and I saw a smile come across his face as he nodded when I asked if he was an actor. I delicately danced around the issue that I recognized his face, but I didn't know his name. 

"Scarber," he said. "Sam Scarber."

We chatted for a minute about my being new to the church and that I lived nearby and had been doing background work of late. He chuckled again when I mentioned something to the effect that doing background work is a different ballgame. 

"Hang in there, though," he said. 

When I got home, sometime later, I did a Google search for Sam Scarber: drafted by the Dallas Cowboys as a running back in the third round in the 1971 NFL Draft. After his football career ended, he started doing TV work and Scarber has a long list of credits: "CHiPs," "Hill Street Blues," "The A-Team," "90210,” "Southland," "Criminal Minds" ... the last two on this list are shows that I've worked on. 

Maybe I'll get a chance to speak to Sam Scarber some more, about football (I played a little in junior high back in Gary, Ind.) or about "the business." Or life in general. 

"Hang in there," he told me. 

I think I will …

Back to one!

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