Perhaps I've no particular reason for this Hiatal indulgence. Maybe I just want a week off, eh? Huh? Ever think of that, bub?
On YouTube old game shows abound. The questions can be quite difficult, but of course they were rigged, so it wasn't too surprising for some of these folks got the answers.
We break for an ad, and this is interesting: it’s the Peignoir typeface, which we usually associate with the Mary Tyler Moore show, a decade later.
Then some test patterns, which look like an Art Moderne abstract skyscape:
Then a Crisco ad. We’re at a modern supermarket:
Then a modern kitchen. It's a world of style, abundance, and convenience.
And rooster-festooned containers.
Then the next contestant, who, like the other men, is a vet. He’s an advertising man from Weston, CN. I think it’s “John Bray.” Or Brae.
A fellow by that name pops up in social and business pages.
Another fellow by that name pops up a lot on the police blotter as a young man on a bad course.
Then it's Carol . . . Saynor? Time magazine photo department.
The closing credits have some craaazy noodling from the organist and vibe player.
Go, man, go!
Do we know who he is? We do.
And . . .
Veteran New York City organist who provided background music for some of the most popular quiz shows of the 1950s and early 1960s, including "Tic Tac Dough," "Dough-Re-Me." and "Concentration." He also served as the music director for "Twenty-One," the prime time quiz show whose demise over fixing was replayed in the 1995 Oscar winner, Quiz Show. Taubman also played on the long-running soap opera, "The Edge of Night.”
This really is a high-80s piece of work.
Also from the Bio:
Taubman owned a club overlooking Central Park called the Penthouse Club where he appeared nightly playing his organ and piano stylings. All four of his albums that were recorded at the club in the early 1960s.
Penthouse indeed.
By the way, I ran several AI prompts for the game show banner. Hello everyone, it's time to play Nore, with your host, Happy Host!
This seems like fun, until . . .
Until you zoom in.
This week we'll follow another case that filled the papers in the Twenties. This time it's . . .
It's 1928. The story was announced to New Yorkers in the Daily News, thus:
The story hit the paper on the 16th, and got front-page headline in the Daily News. (Which meant a refer to Page 2.)
The first story was scant.
She disappeared on Friday the 13th, 1928. The school said she was doing fine in her studies and led a quiet life at school. This would soon be disproved.
The next day, more. Now they had a picture.
Had she carried herself off because of melancholy? Or what the papers might call an attachment?
Dragging the Pond was not a Tommy James song:
Highly specific descriptions:
What would the next day bring?
We'll find out - tomorrow.
Now two ways to chip in!
Hah! And you thought I forgot!
Well if you say so
That'll do. More tomorrow, and don't go trying to find it. All in good time!
