Adventurers Club Poetry by Fletcher Hodges

I keep meaning to post one well-considered essay or another on a topic of some depth—The Devil in a Atheistic World; Pervasive Tastelessness; Facebook Bacon—but my muse has been beaten up yet again by that schoolyard bully procrastination.

Instead, I offer a handful of poems I composed in the Adventurers Club character of Fletcher Hodges about himself and other club denizens. I enjoyed doing these, and one should hold more firmly to the good memories than the rest, yes? Hey, there’s another blog topic. For some other time.

•Me

Which is richer? Bunch of butchers,

Lots of lechers, or a kvetcher?

Neither!

Clutch of creatures and a touch of teacher—

Such is Fletcher

•Otis T. Wren’s Limerick

If you’re searching a detailed anthology

For achievements in great ichthyology

You’ll find Otis Wren

Mentioned time and again

And with footnotes of heartfelt apology

•Our Club President

Can someone make your blood congeal? Ya

Think your skin’s about to peel? Ya

Worry ‘bout your geneteelia?

Betcha you have met Pamelia!

•A Dissertation on the Eponymous Aspects of the 1937 Adventurer of the Year

A person with a common name’ll

Seldom have the name of Emil

•Samantha’s Salute

Ev‘rybody’s flag’s unfurling

In salute to Samantha Sterling

Like a dervish madly twirling

Like a hurricane a-whirling

Like a malted milkshake swirling

Setting all your hair a-curling

Till you’re heaving and you’re hurling.

More than knitting, more than purling

More than boying, more than girling

More exciting than a panther—

Sterling! Or first name, Samanther.

•Anthem of Tuneful Delights

Oh say can you see

It’s Fingers Zambee-

-zie, the spirit who lives in the organ!

Oh see can you say

He’s going to play

A musical smorgasborgan!

•Our Butler

Though

So

Many duties

Graves

Saves

Our patooties

•Our Maid

With feathers stuck

Upon a stick

Our maid she does her dusting,

And how she cussed

That dratted dust

When breezes blew a-gusting.

“My job went just

From bad to wust!”

She says, her duster thrusting,

And members must

Conceal their lust

While she’s dust-bunnies busting.

•The Epic Poem of Handsome Hathaway Browne

Of all death-defying and brave aviators,

The truest is Hathaway Browne.

He may be out flying to volcanic craters

Or dancing and painting the town.

He’s up for the chase—find a woman and date her

If she is in rags or a crown.

They will go to a place like the Palace The-ay-ter

Or fly through the air upside-down.

He’ll fight a gorilla or wrestle with gators

Or put on an evening gown

And then eat his filla of burgers and taters

Or champagne and filet mignown.

So if you would know of a real aviator,

A hero of fame and renown,

Don’t look here below at a mere roller-skater,

The cook in the kitchen, or even the waiter,

The bartender, manager, doorman or Maitre

D’, or to the patriot or to the traitor,

The bureaucrat, clerk, or the administrator,

A lowly submissive or a dominator,

A slave owner or the Great Emancipator,

Your brother or sister or mater or pater—

Put all of them down in your calendar later—

For each in comparison is a spectator

To he who doth soar like a wing’d gladiator

With passions as hot as a steam radiator

And loaded with love like a big ol’ pink freighter.

Could anyone do what he does any greater

Than what’s-his-name?

Hathaway Browne!

•A Plea to Guests on the Mezzanine

Oh, people on the mezzanine

We fear that you don’t love us

Please come downstairs and don’t be mean

Don’t act like you’re above us

If you come down we’ll share a cup

If not, what I confess is

We’ll have no choice but just look up

Your noses and your dresses

And one more poem, written by ladies’ man Hathaway Browne:

•St. Valentine’s Day Invitation

Oh, won’t you be my Valentine

The 14th of February?

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine

And thou, à la Missionary.

Stop fighting me! (Happy New Year)

 

In the movie Bedazzled (the demented Peter Cook/Dudley Moore original, not the disappointing Brendan Fraser remake) the devil is portrayed as one who spends less time causing wars, plagues, and disasters than simple aggravations. He puts scratches in record albums (remember those?) and causes a pigeon to poop on a clergyman, resulting in a blasphemy. 

This concept seems to me a remarkably true one. Day-to-day annoyances are more than enough with which to do battle. I am often heard to cry, “Stop fighting me!”

A sock that insolently falls behind the dryer. A key that requires interminable fidgeting. A garden hose that refuses to relinquish its kink. A drawer that somehow entangles its contents so that the one item you need brings unwanted friends along. All the trash that when tossed at a wastebasket bounces off the rim and onto the floor.  A zipper or a button or a snap that simply will not close, dammit. Plastic wrap! Stop fighting me!!

The world becomes an obstacle. One’s mood sours, which leads to snapping at others which leads to hurt feelings as well as guilt and shame, and on downward we go until we’re doing the devil’s work for him.

It’s almost a relief to have governments, banks and overpaid executives to blame for things. Most people I know have said that 2008 was a bad year. For me, it wasn’t a catastrophe but it certainly was not much fun.

I’ve noticed something interesting as we approach 2009. Experts predict a difficult year ahead, but the general public seems surprisingly optimistic. I believe this is for two reasons. First, Obama. More than just a man anymore, he is a symbol of hope for many of us. Good luck, Barack. You’ll need it.

Second, because ‘08 was unpleasant or worse, there is a compelling need for it to be over. It may be wishful thinking that the change of a digit will also mean the change of our fortunes, especially since New Year’s is such an arbitrary date anyway. Still, people see the change of the calendar as a new beginning that could finally bring blessed relief.

Despite the odds, I truly wish us all well. 

Present Imperfect

 

Time was, if you heard some news or a suggestion you liked, you might respond, “Good.” What with language being a casualty of inflation, what once was a thoroughly appropriate word was often supplanted by “Great!” Lately I’ve been hearing a ridiculous overuse of “Perfect.”

Really? Perfect? I doubt it. Unable to be improved upon? Unlikely.

I lament how the meanings of words become diluted. One such victim is “awesome.” The next time you hear someone use the word, consider if what they are referring to actually might fill anyone with awe.

I cringe at word misuse. “Unique” does not simply mean unusual, but rather “one of a kind.” One, only one! Something cannot be “very unique.” It might be mighty rare, or quite uncommon, or even “nearly unique,” but once it is unique, that’s it. Otherwise, it’s like saying that the light switch was turned “very off.” Or that something is “very perfect.” Can’t be.

Absurd abbreviations, in a deluded attempt to be hip, are another matter. Is anyone actually so hopeless as to follow an advertiser’s campaign and say “SoCo” instead of “Southern Comfort?” A local TV channel, in their onscreen graphic promoting upcoming programming, has inexplicably replaced the word “Tonight” with “Ton.” How does that help? And recently I heard that, in place of the aforementioned “perfect,” someone actually uttered, “Perf!”

Weakening words and their meanings results in our being less able to say precisely what we intend. Because both god and the devil are in the details, I decry the pervasive, lazy sloppiness that cuts our vocabulary off at the knees. Like littering, the discarding of clarity demonstrates humanity’s appalling apathy.

Alas, I realize it will only get worse. There’s no stopping the dumbing down of language. Hey, everyone’s doing it. Because after all, no one’s perf.

Ontari-ari-ari-o, look!

 

In honour of Fall, I am falling behind again on blogging. What else is new?

Two weeks ago I treated myself (for my birthday) and Katharine (for my birthday) to an overnight trip out of the city and into Ontario’s scenic countryside. Driving about three hours north of Toronto, we were greeted by ever more colourful signs of autumn. I can recommend Route 118 between Rtes. 11 and 35! Even the off-and-on rain wasn’t enough to keep the beauty from shining through.

Our weather luck improved, and by the time we visited Haliburton Skyline Park, the sun was putting in more of an appearance, illuminating the leaves in a variety of stunning hues. 

Then to our charming, not-a-chain-or-brand-name motel.

A short walk took us to bewitchingly tranquil Twelve Mile Lake for a brief visit before the rain returned. 

After dinner and sundown, the clouds remained—thick, low and dark. So I was unable to enjoy starry skies and once again missed the Milky Way, which I have really seen only once since I was in college. (We have yet to see a moose, either, so future trips to the country are required!)

The following day brought clear skies and magnificent views, as we crossed from the Haliburton Highlands into the Muskokas and to the Dorset Scenic Lookout Tower, the high point of my birthday (rimshot).

On the way home, we stopped for a second time at Weber’s Hamburgers (a tradition! a must! we were told—and now I’m telling you). And back to the commonplace reality of day-to-day existence, plus one year of deterioration. And since then the somewhat subdued yet ever so welcome colours have reached the trees of Toronto. I love autumn.

Sub-Basement 3 continued

Door host (Chet?) who played Marcel, and "guest" Miroslav Grabornik

I’ve just added over three dozen more photos from my Adventurers Club archives to http://flickr.com/photos/truekkris including a few from the last night of original cast members Paula Pell, who played Pamelia Perkins, and Kerry Long as Millie the Maid.  

I had that evening off and, with management’s shrugging approval, visited the Club as an original character from Eastern Europe (Latvia or Lithuania or Estonia or some other -ia) named Miroslav Grabornik, who through the course of the evening fell in love with Pamelia.

At the end of Millie’s Sing-Along, I got up on the Library stage and proposed marriage in broken English, to which Pamelia exclaimed, “This is so sudden! I had no idea!” And then she whipped out a bridal veil from behind Fingers and stuck it on her head.

Pamelia asked Millie to be her personal maid, and Millie said okay, as long as she could bring along an old friend. At that point Marcel appeared. He had not been present at the Club for some time, if I recall correctly, but one of the door hosts who had played him previously—and whose name I shamefully admit to have forgotten (Chet?)—re-enacted the role.

We all exited through the Main Salon, up the stairs, and out onto the porch. Marcel and I gave piggyback rides to Millie and Pamelia, and down the street we went, all the way around Mannequins to disappear into the night. I missed Paula, Kerry and Marcel for the rest of my term at the Club.

Probably got a hundred more various pics still to be scanned and edited and uploaded. Don’t hold your breath.

From the Club Archives, Sub-Basement 3

 

The number of hits this blog has received since posting about the Adventurers Club is both encouraging and a bit frightening. Before now my highest number was a couple dozen; the “Bear Eats You” post is nearing a thousand hits. My emotional response falls somewhere between “Wow, cool” and “Get a life.”

So I’ve scanned a few more silly photos from my pre-digital camera days. You’ll just have to forgive how often I appear in them! Eventually I’ll add more if I can dig them out. Thanks to the sundry photographers who generously gave me copies of their work. And thanks for the kind words in comments left here and on Flickr.

Find my Adventurers Club pictures here.

Some Days the Bear Eats You

EDIT: dozens of Adventurers Club photos now up on a new Flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kazookris/

Tonight marks the end of Pleasure Island. The night club complex that opened in 1989 at Walt Disney World was why I moved from California to Florida, having been offered a one-year contract to perform at the Adventurers Club. I stayed seventeen years. I could write a book about the place, my time there, my dear friends, my thoughts and feelings, and my warm memories and bitter resentments. It would all spill over from the Adventurers Club to the other night clubs (especially the Comedy Warehouse) to Pleasure Island to Downtown Disney to Walt Disney World to Orlando to Florida to The Disney Company and to the United States of America.

But that’s for another time, or for my biographer to figure out.

Much attention is being paid to the end of the club. Some people, pictures and pieces of trivia that reflect the club’s beginning and longevity deserve mention and attention.

The original cast, every one of which contributed something that turned the club from a concept into a creative entertainment:

Terry Mike Acord, Phil Card, Donna Charles, Andy Clark, Phran Gauci, Tim Goodwin, Phil Johnson, Mike Leopard, Kerry Long, Frank O’Brian, Paula Pell, Mary Schickling, Kristian Truelsen.

None of these actors worked full-time from beginning to end. I left 2-1/2 years ago, having been an Adventurer from 1989 to 2006. Tim Goodwin left Disney for a year in the nineties but returned and has otherwise survived the entire run. Andy Clark was still subbing in as Graves the butler up to the end. The amazing Sheila (Smith) Ward, who opened Pleasure Island as an entertainer at XZFR’s Rock ‘n’ Rollerdrome (later the Rock ‘n’ Roll Beach Club) and who joined the Adventurers Club within its first year, can probably claim the most overall hours logged in as an Adventurer.

The maid’s original name was Doreen (“specializing in light dusting and high heels”). Other names used since then include: Millie, Flo, Trixie, Annelle, Fanny, Ginger Vitus, Dusty Cabinets, Marion, Sunny Knight, Inga, Gabby, Dottie Lama, Yvette Lemieux, Mona, Prudence, La Rue de Lamour, Tish Myash, Sugar Snap, Beulah Belle, Talullah Buttertart, Molly McLean, and Kiki.

Tim Goodwin invented the word “Kungaloosh.” Talk about leaving a legacy.

Three original cast members (two of whom were Mike Acord and I) invented the Club salute.

Phil Card invented the New Member Ceremony.

Before Samantha Sterling, there was a different character—a nightclub singer/adventurer named Mandora. (My memory is unclear as to when the switch occurred.) And before Mandora there were only two women characters, Pamelia and Doreen (the maid). But back at the beginning there was an ape-like, silent character called Marcel who would water the plants, deliver mail, and provide a step ladder for the maid so she could climb up to sit next to the Colonel where she would sing Smile, Darn Ya, Smile to him.

How to spell correctly:

• There is no apostrophe in “Adventurers Club.”

• Colonel Critchlow Suchbench’s name is misspelled on the brass plaque in the Main Salon listing members. Yes, Imagineers don’t always think things through and The Disney Company makes mistakes. Like closing certain entertainment venues oh don’t get me started.

• Hathaway Browne’s last name is spelled with an e. The writers originally named him Hamilton Beach, but I guess trademark lawyers nixed that. He was renamed after a girl’s school near Cleveland, Ohio.

Before rock music (live or DJ’d) took over, there was once a walk-around combo dubbed the Pleasure Island Philharmonic that would stroll the island. In those days the street felt more like traditional Disney: small town Americana, family-friendly, Dixieland music. Art Levitt injected adrenalin into the place and it came to life. But I always missed the PI Philharmonic, who became regular visitors to our club.

There was once no stage in the Main Salon. Phil Card and I suggested it, and in the Fall of 1992 a very nice Ganesha statue was moved to the Zebra Mezzanine near the service bar to make way for the ceremonial stage to the left of the Colonel.

The Library originally had long tables running between the bar and the stage, with stools on either side of each table. Getting to and from seats was difficult, and one’s neck became tired from having to keep one’s head turned to see the stage. Other club improvements: adding the revolving door to help keep out amplified sounds from outdoors (actors used to have to shout to be heard in the Main Salon) and making the club non-smoking (thank you thank you thank you)!

The two library shows that ran for as long as the club was open were the Balderdash Cup and the Radio Broadcast (Tales of the Adventurers Club). The original version of the latter was a somewhat different script and all done by Pamelia and Otis with no audience volunteers. In fact, Otis had to read the role of Hathaway Browne, who neglected to show up for the broadcast!

Library shows that came and went:

• Pamelia’s Welcome Party – Three songs by Pamelia, Hathaway and Graves.

• The Brew Fest – The less said the better.

• The Gypsy Show – Madame Zarkov sings and Fletcher gets into a mess.

• Fletcher’s New Discovery – Fletcher opens an ancient spirit box and Emil gets possessed by a demon. (And yes, I played Emil for years.)

• Fingers Takes Requests – Fingers would try to play tunes suggested by the crowd. After nightly renditions of Gilligan’s Island and other anachronisms (don’t get me started), the end of the night farewell party was created and was christened the Hoopla (HOOPLA).

Library shows that existed but were never performed publicly:

• The Fingers Zambeezi Show – Pamelia, Otis and Hathaway wrestle with a spirit released from the same box recycled years later for Fletcher’s New Discovery. The spirit finds a home in the club organ.

• Hathaway Browne’s Hour of Love (in Twenty Minutes) – a radio program offering advice to the lovelorn from the master. Why did this show not happen? Don’t get me started.

Celebrities that have visited the club include some I got to meet: MacLean Stevenson, John Davidson, Meat Loaf, Lyle Alzedo, Leslie Nielson, George Lucas, Robin Williams, Bobcat Goldthwait, John Lithgow, Woody Harrelson, Barry Gordon, David Odgen Stiers, John Scully, Raul Julia, Bozo the Clown, Robert Klein, Pauly Shore, Gilbert Gottfried, Gary Sinise, and Neil Patrick Harris; those I only saw: Norman Fell, Curtis Armstrong, Molly Ringwald, Stephen Sondheim, Howie Mandell, Nichelle Nichols, and David Copperfield; and others I missed (but they were there): Bob Hope, Jim Henson, Alan Alda, Liza Minelli, Gary Coleman, Larry “Bud” Melman, Mark Wilson, Johnny Unitas, George Blanda, Y.A. Tittle, Susan St. James, Gloria Estefan, Andrew Lloyd Weber, John Stamos, and Bob Saget. And more.

There are photos and videos aplenty to be found on the internet, and since I do not mean to slight anyone whose picture or name is not included in this post I encourage you to go look! It will be easiest to find the amazing talents that have been brilliantly entertaining guests since I left, which is why I have focused on the early days.

I wish I could name all those who have been part of the cast over the years. (I wish I’d kept track!)

I wish those who only knew the club over the last few years could have seen the original cast, as well as the talents of Darin DePaul, Jennifer Goodwin, Art Dohany, Doug Mackey, Ken Thiboult, Sue Peahl, Cullen Douglas, Bob Dutton, Jim Howard, and more. (Forgive me for not listing everyone, please!) Former Adventurers have gone on to many achievements. Paula Pell became a writer on Saturday Night Live. Mike Speller had the lead for three seasons on the Nickelodeon sitcom, Welcome Freshmen. Darin DePaul and Kurt Von Schmittou have appeared on Broadway. Leslie Carrara is a Muppeteer. Anne Hering is Director of Training with Orlando Shakespeare Theater. Philip Nolen is, perhaps, the most highly respected wooberhead in North America.

And I haven’t even mentioned the musicians (Steve and Jim and Al) and technicians (Mike and Jim) bar and wait staff, door hosts, managers, show directors, supporters, regulars, fans and crazies. And Comedy Warehousians, and DJs, and dancers, and bands. And custodians and security and everyone else whose lives have been affected for better or worse by the Disney After Dark experiment that lasted for nineteen years. I regret I cannot be with my Pleasure Island pals on this, the final night.

I toast you all.

Buffalo Shufflin’

 

Stayed overnight with our friends and most excellent hosts Steve & Martha Thomas, who gave us their hospitality so that we could get an early start at the Canadian Consulate General in Buffalo, NY. With the request for Katharine’s passport in hand, we arrived shortly after 8:00 AM to find a short line in the lobby. After ten minutes we were all taken upstairs to the consulate, where there were maybe ten others already in the waiting room off to one side.

We handed over the passport and paperwork and were given a card with a number and told to wait. We hadn’t eaten because, based on reports of others who had been through the procedure, we thought we’d be killing five hours in Buffalo while waiting for Katharine’s immigration visa to be processed. After two hungry hours our number was called and within minutes, visa attached to passport, we were eager to finalize Katharine’s immigration at the border. Except that getting the file electronically transferred to ports-of-entry isn’t quite that fast. 

So three hours, brunch, and almost but not quite meeting up with another friend in the area later, we crossed the Peace Bridge back into Canada. No wait at all at the guard booth. Pulled into Customs & Immigration and walked inside. No wait at all at Immigration. The official went clickety-clack at his terminal for a few minutes, had Katharine initial and sign a few places, and told her she was now a permanent resident. (No complimentary pin, flag or flask of maple syrup given as a welcome. What the hell, Canada.) Then across the narrow room to Customs—no wait at all—to provide a list of Katharine’s belongings we hope to move up here… someday. Then to the cashier: no wait there, either, nor fee to be paid, just a stapling together of documents. And we were done.

Except that we figured: let’s face all the bureaucracies in one day! So we went to the Service Canada Centre in Niagara Falls, Ontario for Katharine’s Social Insurance Number (like the Social Security card in the US) and then to to a Ministry of Health location in Toronto to register her for health care, which will become effective on Christmas. No more than a two minute wait at either of these places, either. For once the government was working as it’s supposed to! Everything went smoothly and easily. Still, it was eight hours all told from the consulate to the ministry of health; eight months since we started Katharine’s immigration; close to two years since I immigrated; and going on four years since we decided to attempt the move and change our lives.

Celebration dinner and home. Yes, home: Canada. A long day but a good day. (Except now we have TWO federal elections to angst about…)

We won!

 

Much to the shock—and probable dismay—of the competing teams, the hosts, and Canadians everywhere, the “Americans in Canada” scored highest in knowledge of Canadiana on Test the Nation – Canada, Eh?  Hey, we were surprised, too.

Confession: call me a cheater. That’s right, I studied. Thanks Canadian History for Dummies and assorted helpful websites. (But I still couldn’t tell you about Canadian hip-hop.)

Will Quiz Show Spank the Yanks?

 

I posted earlier about our participating in a Canadian TV trivia quiz called Test the Nation. Promotions for our episode, “Canada, Eh?” are now online at http://www.cbc.ca/testthenation/

Katharine was one of a few on our team (Americans in Canada) who got asked to answer a few questions. Look here.

We appear briefly in the video found on the home page. Find us at about 4 minutes in. The teams were all being encouraged to cheer for themselves, but I had little desire to perpetuate the stereotype of arrogant, chest-pounding Americans. Something of a quandary when, after all, it was a competition!

The show airs September 7 and we’re not allowed to tell you who won. I’ll post again after the broadcast for those unable to see the finest in Canadian television.