Aaron Spelling; South Dallas Street Cred?

Far too often, rich Hollywood types make too much of their so-called tough, humble beginnings. Worse, they'll lay claim to some street cred they never earned, like so much Robert Van "Vanilla Ice" Winkle who famously lied that he'd been raised tough on the streets of Miami when he really grew up in white bread Carrollton, Texas.

So I was curious when reading the obit for Aaron Spelling, the television mogul who used to say he grew up poor in a very tough section of Dallas. He told the Dallas Morning News in an old interview that he took his third wife Candy on a tour of his old neighborhood shortly after they were married in 1968. His family lived at 1905 Browder Street, where he was born in 1923.

"I took her to where I used to live. And she finally believed all the horror stories I told her," Spelling said. "The thing I remember most about Browder Street is my mother and a humpbacked whore named Bessie. She lived next door to me."

Spelling lived in an area just south of downtown Dallas called "The Cedars" which is being redeveloped as we speak. It's where the new Dallas Police Station is --- a convenient location as The Cedars is still considered by some to be a crime-infested hell hole. But it's now seeing a resurgence in night life and redevelopment as Poor David's Pub, The Southside Lofts and Billy Bob's have all opened their doors there within the last five years. My favorite bar Lee Harvey's is in an old house in The Cedars, about three blocks from where Spelling's house used to be. The Spelling residence at 1905 Browder was torn down in the 1960's to make way for a super shady, cinder block low rent hotel that's still there the last time I checked. While the Cedars is coming back, there are still tons of homeless people in that area as several shelters are located there. So even today, the scenery in The Cedars is more than most suburbanites can stomach.

For those who are obsessed with Dallas history, here's a little primer on Spellings old neighborhood.

Around the turn of the century, the Cedars was largely a residential area which was populated mostly by working class Jewish families. There were some really nice elaborate Victorian houses in The Cedars --- a few of them are still standing --- but most of the homes in the Cedars were small two bedroom homes like the one Spelling grew up in.

By the 1920's, many of the families who had the means fled The Cedars because it becoming an industrial area. Dallas didn't have strong zoning laws back then, so warehouses began crowding their way into the neighborhood. Lots of the homes were torn down to make way for bottling factories, metal shops and the like. And because the place became a less than desirable place to raise a family, it became a great place to do crime.

In the early 1930's, the Cedars went into a crime statistic free fall. For example, in 1933, a street a few blocks north of the Spelling residence was the best place in Dallas to score heroin. Dallas police conducted numerous heroin raids on Powhattan Street back then. They even investigated a capital murder on the corner of Powhattan and Akard in the mid-1930's. I believe a game warden, or some other low level law enforcement official, was shot and killed during a holdup at a corner shop. Spelling would have been a school age kid then. So while in knee pants, the young Spelling likely dodged needles and bullets on his way to elementary school over on Corinth Street.

So Spelling wasn't just positioning himself when he claimed the tough neighborhood pedigree. Take that Robert Van Winkle.

Original Gangsta

Anyone who's watched one episode of MTV's Cribs knows that all rap stars are obsessed with the film "Scarface".

It's almost a requirement: Gold records on the walls, Benz in the garage, stripper pole in the living room and a copy of "Scarface" on DVD.

I've never understood why this is so popular with the rap crowd. There's hardly a black character in the film and most of it centers on Pacino doing a bad Cuban accent.

Today I watched the excellent and underrated "Deep Cover" for the 126th time. Few people regard this movie as great and they're all wrong. And if the rap stars have any taste (few of them do, look at their houses on cribs) they'd all worship this film.

This film flows like poetry. LL Cool J wishes he was a smooth as this movie.

Larry Fishburne plays a cop who gets drafted, against his better judgment, into infiltrating a drug operation by going undercover as a dealer. Since his psychological profile pegs him as having criminal tendencies, Fishburne finds that playing a drug dealer is easy --- he just does it. But his conscience tortures him the whole time and he ends up concluding that the government agency that employs him to bust drug dealers is no better than the criminals who he seeks to arrest.

It's a big F-you to the man --- the kind of film any anti-authority hip hop artist should endorse. I've seen this movie 126 times and it never gets old. Fishburne owns this movie. Unfortunately Larry (he goes by Lawrence now, but his momma calls him Larry, so I'm calling him Larry) has never done a role as good as this one since.

So I urge all up and coming rap stars to turn in their copies of Scarface and replace them with copies of "Deep Cover." If nothing else, this film will allow you a lot more time to staff the stripper pole because it's an hour and 15 minutes shorter than the Tony Montana epic.

Krunk Juice

I'm trying to figure out the controversy between an executive for Louis Roederer, the company that makes Cristal and the champagne's biggest unofficial promoter, rap impresario Jay-Z.

The Economist magazine asked the executive whether the cache that Cristal has with the hip-hop crowd will hurt the wines brand name. The executive replied: "That's a good question, but what can we do? We can't forbid people from buying it. I'm sure Dom Perignon or Krug would be delighted to have their business."

Jay-Z felt dissed by the comments, so he's pulling the $200 a bottle wine from his clubs and promises to erase references to "cris" from his lyrics.

I'm not sure exactly what is offensive about what the executive said. He's saying, look, this is not the audience we were shooting for, but we love the business.

Maybe the executive should have kept his trap shut though.

Upscale Cadillac didn't try to corner the rap market when it introduced the Escalade SUV several years ago. But once the vehicle became the vehicle of choice for both rappers and NBA stars, they embraced the market by making the SUV available with an array of options that young black men favor.

Adidas didn't have hip hop on their mind in the late 1980's when Run DMC sang about "My Adidas". But why would they care? Their product was getting crushed by Nike's Air Jordans back then. So there wasn't a word from executives about their image when their product got a free advertisement on the hit album "Raising Hell." Even better, all of the boys from Hollis Queens were wearing untied Adidas in one of the most popular MTV videos ever "Walk This Way". Aerosmith's career was revived and Adidas enjoyed a renewal because of Run DMC.

It'll be interesting to see what happens to Cristal sales in the upcoming quarter. I bet they'll get dinged.

The company should make amends. The Ghetto doesn't ask for much. Give it some love because they've given you plenty back. Or at least know when to shut the hell up.

Screw what Whitey thinks about your image. Kenny Chesney will never make your product cool.

Ode to The Arcadia

As I write this, what once was the best place in Dallas to see a loud performance by a rock band on their way up the charts is now burning down to the ground. Apparently, a fire started either in or next door to the theater and it got way out of control. By the time the blaze reached 6 alarms, there wasn't much the 125 responding Dallas firefighters could do but keep the fire contained and watch the flames burn out.

The Arcadia Theater first opened in 1926 as the premier Vaudeville/Movie theater in Dallas. It was a destination spot for entertainment starved Dallasites for more reason than one --- it was the only air conditioned theater in a famously hot city.

My mom, who lived on Martel Street in the mid-50's, used to see movies at the Arcadia. In the late 60's and early 70's, I believe the Arcadia had been reduced to showing porn movies. I'm pretty sure my Mom was no longer an Arcadia patron by then.

By the time I entered Mom's favorite movie palace in 1985, it had entered into it's third phase as a rock and roll venue. The Arcadia was perfect for musical performances --- even better than the nearby Granada Theater which is now used for this purpose --- because it had gradually elevated seating which is now called "stadium seating". You could lounge on the seats with your friends on the seats and smoke Marlboroughs or walk to a fairly large open area near the Arcadia's stage and scare the band.

The first show I saw at the Arcadia was a fantastic double bill of Guadalcanal Diary and The Dream Syndicate. In 1987, I saw Love & Rockets play the Arcadia with some weird opening band that screamed a bunch of nonsense and gathered around a log on stage and beat it. They were called Jane's Addiction.

The theater hosted tons of metal shows during the hair metal days in the late 1980s and early 1990s. My friend Tara, a new mother, loves to tell anyone who will listen that she once saw Saxxon and Armored Saint at the Arcadia. New mother or not, attendance at that Arcadia show gives her metal credibility for life.

In the mid-1990's, I'd long stopped going to the Arcadia. It had became a Tejano dance club. But the place was still a source of entertainment. I used to sit outside at the now closed London Tavern next door to the Arcadia and drink a pint or four with my friends as we watched short Hispanic guys in pressed jeans and high-heeled cowboy boots escort their finely appointed ladies in and out of the theater. It was a collision of cultures for sure, but one I thought made Dallas a great place to be. Both the Hispanic cowboy and the North Dallas suburban punk had both laid claim to the Arcadia Theater. That made me proud.

The Arcadia, as the flames were licking it's roof, was some sort of bar. I believe it's the Milk Bar and I'm not sure it was even open anymore.

What made The Arcadia great was it was just big enough to hold an audience who would want to see a touring act, but small enough that anyone could move up close enough to the stage smell what the guitarist had on his breath. I'd always hoped that someone would return the Arcadia to a music venue because Dallas is sorely in need of more medium-sized venues for performances. Denver, for example, has at least three old movies houses (four if you count the Fox Theater in Boulder) that have been renovated into concert venues and every single one of them stays busy.

Sadly, because the Arcadia was currently underutilized, it's unlikely that it will be restored. It'll probably be torn down and a bank will be built over its ashes, just like what happened to the beloved John's Cafe down the street from the Arcadia.

Sweet dreams Arcadia Theater. Thanks for the great rock shows and the porn.

Fuzzy Solace

In the pantheon of the Britpop music era, not much compares to The Stone Roses self-titled album which was released in 1989 and has become the equivalent to The White Album to my generation of music snobs. They released a long awaited and far inferior album called "Second Coming" a few years later before the band imploded under the heavy weight of giant egos. Since then, there's The Seahorses who are made up of two former members of the band who've released some third rate efforts. And then there's Ian Brown, who's released about 4 albums since leaving his post as The Stone Roses lead singer. Ian's work is quite good. But there's a really weird problem with all of his CDs --- the engineering quality on them is atrocious. I know Ian shoots for a sonic quality in his work. But for some reason either he or the sound engineer thinks that quest should include turning the bass levels up to gansta rap levels. What you're left with --- for example on the very solemn and lovely "Corpses in Their Mouths" on the Unfinished Monkey Business CD --- is a deep, muddled, buzzing sound in the bass line that obscures the vocals. I just thought I had to share that after that Corpses popped up on my Ipod --- you know, in case Ian or his engineer happens to read this.

Instant Refund

In 1991, I saw one of the last rock shows ever as a resident of Austin.

I'd hung around town a good year an a half after graduating from UT, working three days a week as a newspaper reporter and slacking the remaining four days of the week. And I couldn't have picked a better band if I tried as my final Austin show. It was Too Much Joy at the Back Room.

Too Much Joy were irreverent and silly. They once got arrested in Cincinnati on obscenity charges because they played a cover of 2 Live Crew's "The Fuck Shop." But their own work product was funny, genius and stupid --- in other words, right up the alley for the 1991 version of john_clarke. Their 1991 album was called "Cereal Killers" and I to this day I can still sing all of the words to "Reno on Thanksgiving Day" which was my favorite tune on that LP.

The show lived up to all expectations and more --- mainly because it contains my favorite memory of interaction between myself and a band member.

After the show, lead singer Tim Quirk made his way to the bar to get a beer. I decided to talk to Quirk. I asked him: "Hey. My copy of Cereal Killers is stuck in the cassette deck of my Mustang. Can I get a refund?"

Without hesitation, Quirk pulled out his wallet and gave me three bucks.

I'm Tired of Making Lots of Money

News comes that Artic Monkey bassist Andy Nicholson is just too tired to keep touring the United States and has left the band to return to mother England. What 20 year old ever gets tired?

By the time monkey bassist realises at age 29 that he forfieted 7 minutes of his 15 minutes of very lucrative fame, it'll be too late. Have fun stocking shelves at the Sheffield Home Depot.

Train Station Blues

It's hard to tell if it's 1936 or 2006 inside Union Station in downtown Denver.

Boulder Streets

If you like British rap music done by white guys, I highly recommend Mike Skinner and The Streets. He played in Boulder last week, and I made his show part of my Colorado visit. It was a good choice seeing as it was the first rap oriented show I've ever seen, minus the time I saw the Beastie Boys in 1985.

Mike mastered the microphone at the Fox Theater, a very cool old movie theater in downtown Boulder very close to the University of Colorado campus. But between songs, Mike was passing out back stage passes to college girls who struck his fancy. I probably would have done the same thing if I was 27, single and needed, um, a college girl to visit me backstage.

Low Weekly Rates

There's a little-known law in Texas mandating that if a motel room is abandoned, you can stay in it for free.

Echo and Most of the Bunnymen

There's always a nagging feeling at the pit of my stomach whenever I attend a show by a band that has proven to be unseeable for years. Is it just too late? Will the songs the stirred my soul at age 20 seem stupid 19 years later? Has the band had it?

Luckly, the answer was a resounding no for all three questions when Echo and the Bunnymen played Dallas for the first time in forever at the Gypsy Tea Room on June 16.

Echo is one of those bands that really never went away for most of us. Much like their post-punk compatriots The Psychedelic Furs, Echo's songs regularly get played on 80's oriented radio stations (well, mostly on the satellite radio stations, and then usually it's only the band's surprise hit "Lips Like Sugar" that gets any attention). Just hearing them prompts regret that I never saw the band that got me wearing black clothes for the first time. By the time the Liverpool quartet hit it big in the U.S. in 1987 with their outstanding self-titled album, the band didn't tour near anywhere close to where I lived. Then singer Ian McCulloch leaves for a solo career in 1988 and drummer Pete De Freitas dies in a motorcycle wreck in 1989. And my Echo fix looked like it would be permanently unsated.

But the band is back, mostly, with McCulloch and lead guitarist Will Sergeant heading up the group as two surviving members of the four-piece group which has now expanded to six members. Their current release Siberia is easily their best effort since 1984's Ocean Rain.

McCulloch and Sergeant took the stage at Gypsy sporting their original 80's haircuts. And despite suffering from a cold, McCulloch still sounded strong as he ran through the highlights of the band's 25 years worth of songs. For a solid hour and forty minutes, the band gave the audience "The Cutter" "Rescue" "The Killing Moon" "Seven Seas" an especially exciting and raw version of "Do It Clean." And, yes, they played "Lips Like Sugar" which got the biggest reaction out of the audience. Because Echo has a permanent place in the hearts of suburban dwellers who long for their college days, they're almost forced to stick to an 80's-heavy set list. That's unfortunate when their new release is so good. They did play a new song "Stormy Weather" which hopefully encourages the audience to buy the band's very mature new release. Even so, I found myself rooting for them to play "Bedbugs and Ballyhoo". I thought I was going to be rewarded as the band had to stop for about five minutes as the drummer's snare was replaced --- you can't play Bedbugs and Ballyhoo without a proper snare. But the song wasn't played. And I resisted calling the song out (Note to audience members, if the song isn't on the setlist, there's maybe a only a 3 percent chance that the band will play it if you scream for it. And even then, the band will only play it if you're nice about it.)

The set ended with "Ocean Rain". Some genius in the audience decided to toss the remains of his Bud Light into the air at the end of the song for dramatic effect and to create his own beer rain. Classy.

Coors Field Walkway

There's lots more to see in baseball parks than just baseball.

Day Off

If I lived in Colorado --- I promise --- I would never, ever take the mountains for granted.

Factory Recall

There's a good reason why the Hasbro Company took their game "Lawn Darts" off the market.

Scorched

I'm in Colorado for one of my four yearly trips to my favorite state in the union. Besides nonstop idiocy and hilarity provided by Will and now his new wife Adrienne, one of Denver's primary attractions is it usually provides an escape from the skin- boiling June temperatures in Dallas. Or so I thought. The
Earth must be moving closer to the sun because it's supposed to be 99 in Denver today --- and it's only the middle of June. I'm heading up into the Rockies to escape the heat. Either that, or I'm going to drown myself in Thunderbird.

Patience. Tested.

For a number of reasons, it should a felony offense to hold a wedding in June in Texas. It's usually hitting 100 degrees by week one of June so nobody gets excited about putting on a tie and pantyhose to see you get hitched.

I just went to a wedding in Dallas where the couple had not only set the wedding date in June, they made the really unfortunate choice of June 8 at 7 p.m. as their appointed time --- the same date as Game 1 of the NBA finals. This very nice couple certainly didn't have any idea the Dallas Mavericks were going to be a part of this historic series when they set the date. Alas, I'm at the wedding looking at my watch the whole ceremony, praying that we can get to the reception started before tipoff at 8 p.m. I'm also saying a couple of hail Marys that the reception --- which is at a high-toned wine bar --- has a television. We roll up right to the reception at 7:50 p.m. and get some wine. During the small talk with the Good Karen's friends I scan the place for a T.V. None are seen. I walk into the different rooms. No luck. I suck it up, continue the small talk and get another glass of red to dull the pain and frustration.

Finally, after a plate of wedding food is consumed and just before the cake is cut, the Good Karen asks if I've heard what the score is. I tell her it's probably about halftime and I bet it's tied (close, Mavs were up by 2 at the half). If we head home now, we can catch the second half. The very cool Good Karen agrees, we hit the road and john_clarke sees the second half victory by the Mavs with a very pleasant wine buzz in the comfort of his own home. I think this was my reward for not blowing a gasket during the reception.

Naughty

Sex makes me giggle.

Devil Movie

In 1987, I lived with a family in London, England while I went to college at a third-tier British university for a semester. The family consisted of a single mom (not hot), her 19-year-old daughter (hotish, but hated me), and her 15-year-old son Toby.

Toby --- who worshiped Jimi Hendrix and the Velvet Underground --- and I got along great.

One Sunday, Toby, myself and his pet gerbil sat in the family room and watched the entire Omen trilogy which was being shown on England's ITV network. I don't remember much about the movies, except that they were over-the-top and kind of sucked. But Toby and I both could not contain ourselves during the dramatic crescendos of the films. When the story was building up to something particularly evil, the music would get really dark and there would be some background chanting in which some back-up singers from hell were repeating the words: "Damien. Son of the devil. Damien. Son of the devil." So Toby and I joined in with the chanting, which took a turn for the stupid each time we did it. In our version, it went: "Damien. Son of the gerbil."

Homeless Paul Revere

Walking anywhere in downtown Dallas during the day can be depressing because no matter where you are, you're likely to get panhandled by a crackhead. It happened to me twice today.

But there is an upside to having lots of vagrants downtown. I like to refer to it as homeless entertainment. I was walking behind a mentally ill guy who I just knew was going to feel the need to scream something really weird as he strolled along a crowded Main Street at lunch time. And this guy delivered when he started screaming: "The Red Coats Are Coming!"

Big style points for this weirdness.

Law Schooled

Lisa has a law degree. But that didn't help her on this evening in which john_clarke proceeded to beat her four times at billiards.

The Flowbee

I used to make relentless fun of a made-for-cable commercial for a product know as "The Flowbee." The Flowbee is an electric razor that's hooked up to a vacuum cleaner. It sucks the hair up, chops it, and the hair clippings go into a bag. By using this marvel of technology, you can become your own barber. "A perfect haircut every time!" What a stupid idea.

I haven't thought about The Flowbee in quite some time until this April when it was already hitting 98 degrees in Dallas. The heat made me have a Pedro moment, like in so much Napoleon Dynamite. My head was hot. So, I pulled out my electric razor and took matters, or hair, into my own hands. And with nothing but a #1 razor guard, I had a perfect haircut. Well, perfect may be a little strong for what my head looked like after I was done with it. I have a perfect haircut for a white supremacist. But my head was cool and I was happy, although my bathroom floor was covered in brown john_clarke hair.

Then I wondered, is The Flowbee still available for purchase? On second thought, that vacuum attachment idea is nothing short of a genius idea.

Murder At My House

From 1970 until 1993, my house on Gaston Avenue was hippy commune. Really. At one time 45 people lived in the house. It's all documented in a 1987 Dallas Morning News feature article about the commune. That article gave me a glimpse into all kinds of chanting and chacra finding that went on inside my house. I've also asked my 86-year-old next door neighbor George, who's lived next door since 1948, about the doings of the hippies.

George said that he remembers --- oh it must have been around 1979 or 1980 --- that he woke up early one weekend morning and there were all kinds of Dallas Police squad cars outside my house. He says the owners of the house were gone that weekend. And one guy had apparently overdosed on something and died in the garage apartment behind the house.

I decided to check that story out. George is partly right. Somebody did die in the garage apartment. But it happened in 1986 according to the Dallas Morning News. And the guy didn't OD. He was strangled.

"Homicide investigator P.E. Jones said police were called to the XX block of Gaston Avenue about 11:22 a.m. Sunday after a tenant (more precisely, "a hippy") reported a broken window inside a garage apartment," according to an article in the Morning News. "Police said the apartment was used by the owner of the property, who had been away since 5:30 p.m. Saturday and is not considered a suspect."

"Police said the victim, who did yard work for the property owner, was last seen about 8:30 p.m. Saturday in the 4600 block of Ross Avenue."

"Police would not disclose details of the strangulation pending further investigation."

I don't know if the police ever solved the crime or what the victim's name is.

But the garage apartment was torn down long before we moved into the house three years ago. I used to wish the garage was still there so I'd have a place to put my car. Now I feel differently.

Dizzy and Spinning

I just bought a 14-year-old CD for --- and is there really any other reason --- purely nostalgic reasons. It is a compilation of mostly Dallas bands that a local radio station had released. Yes, back before radio stations were all owned by one company, they would actually play and promote bands that their local listeners might enjoy. I doubt these days that many people except me would buy "Tales From the Edge - Volume 2 - Flying Squirrels Ripped My Flesh." That must have been the reason the CD was only 3 bucks.

One of the bands on the CD was the Dizzy Spinning Poets. Back in the late 80's and early 90's, lots of Dallas bands were trying to replicate the radio friendly pop success of (Edie Brickell &) The New Bohemians. The Dizzy Spinning Poets were no different. In fact, I think one of the guys in the band was an ex-New Bohemian.

So in 1989, I was back in Dallas on Christmas break from UT Austin. Dave, a college friend, invited me to go out with some dork he knew from SMU. The SMU guy's name was Quillton. I think his name was really Steve, but he changed it to Quillton --- reason enough to want to punch him in the face. Quillton had long hair --- not because he wanted to be cool or an iconoclast at preppie SMU, but because he was pretentious. He wore oversized wingtips and he'd read you the poetry he'd written, even if you didn't ask to hear it. Vomit.

Quillton wants to go to Poor David's Pub, then on Greenville Avenue, to see The Dizzy Spinning Poets. I don't know if he'd ever heard them before, or his just liked that they had the word "poets" in their name.

We go and I prepare myself for the band to suck. They get on stage and start to play some very acceptable pop music. Nothing earth shattering, but pleasant enough to go along with my beer buzz. The drummer was a guy who grew up on the same street as me in Richardson, so, even better.

Quillton sits in the back by himself, even though there were only about 15 people at the show. He leans forward and seriously studies the band, like there's something to get. It's a pop band dude, lighten up. Man, I wanted to punch him --- hard.

Because of a recent $3 purchase, the long defunct Dizzy Spinning Poets, and Quillton by default, live on.