Music Discoveries
Last night Movies!, channel 5–2 on over the air antennas in NYC, ran The Phenix City Story (1955), a crime drama set in a small Alabama town. Early on, a big breasted woman performs Phenix City Blues in a smoky gambling den. I was enthralled and made a note to research her on the web. Born in 1934, still among the living, Meg Myles’ career spanned 1951-’95. Although she has only 21 titles listed under her name at IMDb, four are soaps on which she had at least a ten-episode run. She was the star of Satan in High Heels (1962). She was also a popular men’s magazine model and pinup girl in the ’50s, and recorded two albums: At the Living Room, liner notes by Johnny Carson; and Just Meg and Me with jazzman Jimmie Rowles, liner notes by Steve Allen. She also did a post-apocalyptic 45, 13 Men, in which she is the only female survivor. Here’s a quote attributed to her: “How many actresses with a 40-inch bust have ever won an Oscar?” Sounds like she was the life of the party, as this magazine cover will further attest:
And here’s the aforementioned clip from the film:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ELJRjfQMEA
I learned a little more music trivia today. Babyboomers know Suspicion, written by Doc Pomus and Mort Shumanand, recorded by Terry Stafford, a vocal that sounds eerily similar to Elvis Presley. It peaked at #3 on the Billboard chart in 1964, squeezing in amongst Beatles’ songs. Elvis had recorded it and, strangely, it peaked at only #103. It’s B side, Kiss Me Quick was preferred by his fans, although it paled in comparison to his biggest hits, rising to only #34. I thought that was Stafford’s only moment in the sun. Wrong. In 1973 he wrote and recorded Amarillo by Morning, which went to #31 on the country chart but did not make it to the pop chart. It was a big hit for country legend George Strait in 1983, rising to #4, a huge boost for his career. It is ranked #12 on a youtube list of the all-time greatest country songs. Tragically, Stafford died of liver failure at 54 in 1996.
There comes a time when the consumer must decide if a product is worth its price. It’s been decades since I attended a pro sporting event. Hundreds of dollars for a ticket — I don’t think so. True, I paid only for cheap seats in the past, sat in better ones only when someone treated me. At this stage of my life, I don’t even watch more than a few minutes of games on TV. I’ll go to a Broadway play only if friends are in town. When pizza recently went to three bucks a slice, I shifted to the frozen variety. I buy whichever brand is on sale, choosing the supreme, the toppings making up for the lack of genuineness. Sadly, yesterday the price of the NY Post jumped to two bucks, a mark up of 100%. I’ve done without it the past two mornings, using its website and that of other news outlets. So far so good, although I don’t like spending even more time online. It will be interesting to see if its circulation drops.
The scaffold enabled the floating book shop to operate for a couple of hours before the rain became too intense. Business was slow, but a books donation from Shelley via Robert, a local porter, made the session well worth it. My thanks to both, and to the woman who bought a book in Russian in only fair condition.
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