wacky tacky Icons: Pat McGee "The Blonde Skateboarding Goddess"

Nearly two decades ago, my grandfather* became something of a media darling.  At more than 70 years old, and after fourteen attempts, he was the most "age-advanced" man ever to pass the California State Bar Exam.  Much lauded by his family and his community, he became the oldest, newest practitioner of law in our Golden State.  As if our adulation wasn't enough, he was extremely gratified by the coverage he received on the Today Show, on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, and within the venerable pages of People Magazine.  Somehow, he even parlayed his story into a winning appearance on Wheel of Fortune!  Never one to shy away from the spotlight, Grandpa was able to really stretch his proverbial "fifteen minutes of fame."

Over the years, Andy Warhol's words, "In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes," have adopted a rather negative connotation.  Beyond Warhol's jaded view of our celebrity-driven culture, the contemporary subtextual implication is that any and all seekers-of-fame are inherently unworthy of our attention.  As fame is famously fleeting, it is my opinion that those who come by it honestly, deserve their fifteen golden minutes - or more - in the sun.  1965, in fact, was a particularly golden year for one sunny little honey from San Diego.

Pat McGee "The Blonde Skateboarding Goddess" on the iconic, May 14, 1965 cover of LIFE Magazine
(Source)

Like a real-life Gidget, Pat McGee, was one of the original 1950s-era surfer girls braving the waves amidst a sea of boys.  As surf culture evolved to include "the craze and the menace of skateboards," McGee was immediately onboard as an early adopter.  She was not only the first female skater to be sponsored (Hobie), but also the first national women's skateboarding champion.

I wonder if McGee felt like a groundbreaker or if she was just having fun.
Any way you slice it, she did both...with killer hair!!!
(Source)

McGee demonstrates her skill on a board manufactured by the Vita-Pakt Citrus 

Company of Covina, CA - no shoes required.  It appears that the patch on her 

sweater, worn for the Life Magazine story, features the Vita-Pakt logo as well.

(Source)

Described in 1965 by Life as "the most exhilarating and dangerous joyriding device this side of the hotrod," the skateboard now seems like such an innocuous, if still exhilarating, part of American life.  However, there was a time, as evidenced by a 1965 episode of What's My Line?, when the concept of a professional skateboarder was an entirely foreign one.

Pat McGee "Demonstrates Skateboards" on What's My Line? (May 16, 1965)

I get a particular kick out of it when eloquence personified, Arlene Francis, zeroed in on McGee's "line" by asking, "Is this this new board, skating board?"  Having grown up in the epicenter of skateboarding, it is hard to imagine a time when skateboards were such a novelty that the most sophisticated and worldly panel in show business would ask such sophomoric questions.  Never advancing beyond the kneel-on-the-nose technique myself, I am certainly the exception to Southern California's mandatory skateboarding rule.  Perhaps instead of watching both of my brothers skate, I should have studied with Mike Douglas under the tutelage of Ms. McGee. 

Pat McGee on The Mike Douglas Show (1965)

Groundbreaking not only in terms of bringing a dynamic female presence into male-dominated sports, McGee was also a forerunner in sponsorships and endorsements.  She easily translated her innate athleticism and all-American appeal into commercial success!

A television commercial for Bell Telephone Corp. (1965)

A real fixture in the Southern California beach life, McGee was a natural as a player in the films reflecting the teenage scene.  Although she has but one credit on her IMDb page (It's A Bikini World), we just happened to be watching another production by TransAmerican Films (American International's "frenemy" in films about California culture) and caught a glimpse of who we think to be an uncredited McGee getting groovy in a wild fringe dress.

Lil' Pat McGee (?) wiggling to "The Wigglers" in Beach Ball (1965)

After the raising a daughter and exploring life's many opportunities, McGee (now going by Patti McGee) rediscovered her love for skateboarding.  A skateboarding proponent both personally and professionally, McGee is universally recognized as one of the sport's most influential pioneers. In 2010, McGee was recognized as such when she was the first female ever inducted into the Skateboarding Hall of Fame.  We're just sorry that it took so long to induct her into the wacky tacky hall of fame.  Although, the honor is equal, I'm sure.

Pat McGee could not be any cooler, or more worthy of Hall of Fame status,
as the cover girl on the fourth issue of Skateboarder Magazine (1965).

(Source)

As I've grown from boy to man (and my head has consequently gotten further from the ground), I've become increasingly fearful of falling, further minimizing my chances of becoming a skateboarder, professional or otherwise.  Nevertheless, I can easily recognize the contributions to American culture and the advancement of women in sports made by Patti McGee.

If the options are "skate or die," I'm afraid for my future!!!
You can call me Fatty McGee.

(This ripping video was directed, produced, and edited by my
awesome brother who encourages and enables my crackpot behavior) 

So, do you skate?  Man or woman, amateur or professional, if you're a skater you owe quite a debt of gratitude to the "Original Betty."


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny



*About halfway through penning this post, I was informed that my grandfather had passed away at 92 years of age on January 1.  Born in 1922, I am sure he had little notion of ever seeing the year 2015, which he did, if only for a few hours.  Certainly grief is natural, but it is difficult to be too bereft when considering the decided richness of his extremely full life.  His army service (he retired as a Lieutenant Colonel) and civilian careers took him from Dust Bowl-era Oklahoma to Panama, Hawaii, Brazil, and across the United States.  He was the father to eight children, grandfather to more than thirty grandchildren, and great-grandfather to plenty more.  The deal he made with my uncle for them both to see law school through to its natural conclusion resulted in two attorneys in the family (a career for my uncle, a point of pride for my grandfather).  What inspires me most about his life is the 70-year marriage he shared with my grandmother!  SEVENTY YEARS!!!  While he and I shared little in terms of passions or points of view, I admired his joy for life, his love for my grandmother, and his penchant for storytelling.  I give him a lot of credit for eventually settling his family in the part of the country that allowed my parents to find each other.  Because of him, ground zero for surf/skate/kustom culture (intrinsic to the wacky tacky way of life) is the place that I call home.  To him, I dedicate this post about chasing California dreams.  Happy Trails, Grandpa, 'til we meet again!

Benjamin Roll
August 19. 1922 - January 1, 2015

wacky tacky Icons: The Kessler Twins

Is there anything better than a tall, cool, blonde of foreign extraction?  The answer is obviously yes, two tall, cool, blondes of foreign extraction - with bonus points for being twins....

...and having matching wolfhounds!!!

(Source)

Better known to their native-German following as "Die Kessler Zwillinge" and their adoptive-Italian audiences as "Le Gemelle Kessler," Alice and Ellen Kessler, "The Kessler Twins," were destined for stardom despite being born in the turbulence of pre-War Germany (although, being the epitome of the idealized-Aryan genotype was certainly no a hindrance in that particular climate).

Alice und Ellen
(in no particular order)
(Source)

Emerging relatively unscathed from the war years, Alice and Ellen put their vocal and dance training to use and quickly gained nationwide notoriety.  Their performance of "Heute Abend Wollen Wir Tanzen Geh'n (Tonight We Want to Go Dancing)," earned them placement in the top ten of the Eurovision Song Contest of 1959 and international acclaim.

"Heute Abend Wollen Wir Tanzen Geh'n" - The Kessler Twins

Like a long-legged, living embodiment of a Doublemint Gum ad, the Kessler's doubled their pleasure and
doubled their fun by finding fame in France (a residence at Paris' famed Lido night club) and super-stardom in Italy.
(Source: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15)

"Quando, Quando, Quando" - The Kessler Twins
(Many of the sisters' hits were sung in Italian or a German-Italian hybrid)

The poster children for post-War multiculturalism, I wondered if the twins ever became a star-attraction in the United States; Life Magazine of February 22, 1963 answered my question.

"Sensations from Germany: Kessler Twins"
(Source)

While never quite the hit they were in Italy,
The Kessler Twins appeared with Ed Sullivan,

Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Red Skelton,
and Danny Kaye while in America.

Apparently, they also made a lasting impression on a young,
US Army Sergeant on leave in Paris, namely Elvis Presley. 

(Source)

I think I love The Kessler Twins because they are the kind of novelty act that just doesn't exist anymore.  Besides Matthew & Gunnar, who was the last big sister twins act?  And when was the last time you heard of a long-standing nightclub engagement?  When was the last time you heard mini-dress-wearing German sisters sing a Lou Rawls' song in Italian?

"A Natural Man" - The Kessler Twins

I am definitely not the biggest fan of contemporary pop music but I will say that these kids nowadays are well-produced and expected to be polished within an inch of their lives; all the Kessler Twins had to do was be pretty and twirl.  It is their mere passing acquaintance with synchronization that warms the wacky tacky cockles of my heart (aren't twins supposed to have some intuitive connection???).

I also love their always-of-the-moment styling.
Hello, mermaid-hair helmets!!!
(Source)

Are you a fan of The Kessler Twins?  Even better, are you a twin yourself?  The Kesslers continued to perform well into the 1980's; I don't know if they are still performing but I for one would love to see a live Kessler spectacular, wouldn't you?  "Ciao-f Wiedersehen!"

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Tommy Tucker the Thanksgiving Squirrel

With only a couple days left for Americans to remember that for which they are truly grateful, I decided to join the thankful throngs and entertain the same thoughts myself.  As I ponder the many things for which I am ever appreciative, I can't help but reflect on my travels.  I am not especially well-traveled but with the opportunity to explore other countries and other cultures, I am reminded that wacky tacky knows no creed, color, geographic boundary...nor species.

I was overjoyed when, in Kyoto, we stumbled upon a
staged family of Tanuki (Japanese raccoon dogs) going
about the rigors of daily life in feudal Japan.

I imagine that dressing and staging a whole tanuki family is quite the undertaking, but obviously this taxidermied bunch wasn't putting up much of a fight.  Imagine dressing a real, live squirrel!

Little Tommy Tucker, the muse and ward of  Mrs. Mark Bullis of Washington D.C., was
orphaned at birth.  With a wardrobe of thirty, couture outfits of Bullis' own design, Tommy
(and his French Bulldog) became a mild sensation in wartime America after his feature
in Life Magazine.
(Source)

I'm assuming that Mrs. Bullis named Tommy after the old English nursery rhyme of the same name:

"Little Tommy Tucker 

Sings for his supper.

What shall he eat?

White bread and butter.

How shall he cut it without any knife?

How will he be married without a wife?"

Don't let a squirrel fool you; it is entirely possible to eat bread and butter without a knife (plenty can be accomplished with  dull spoon - plus, arming a squirrel is never a good idea).  On the other hand, it is probably no small task to woo a squirrel wife while sporting a tartan-plaid pinafore; you might be wondering why Tommy, a boy squirrel, is dressed in such a feminine frock.  Well, have you ever tried to get a live squirrel into a pair of Sunday britches??!!!  You also might be wondering how one distinguishes a boy squirrel from a girl squirrel, anyway?  The answer is easy; check his nuts.

Dressed in his marketing ensemble, it appears that Tommy indeed sang for his supper.
Although what supper he would be getting from the butcher shop remains a mystery.
Frankly, I would be afraid to take my pet squirrel to the sausage company
during WWII when food was rationed and meat was scarce.
(Source)

After marketing, Tommy becomes a model for the latest in trans-rodent fashion
including ric rac, stripes, gingham, prints, and "a pleated, silk dress for company."
His credits include "professional model" but he looks a little squirrelly to me...
(Source)

All play and no work makes Tommy a silly squirrel.
Tommy was sure to make time for entertaining hospital-bound children while wearing his Red Cross uniform.
(Source)

All tucker-ed out at the end of a productive day, Tommy makes sure to
wash behind his ears and say his prayers before drifting off to dreamland.
(Source)

Once we had a baby bird fall into our spa and, after rescuing it from drowning and trying our best to foster it, it quickly earned its figurative wings in glory land.  I'm not really an animal person; while I could imagine nurturing the baby bird, I certainly couldn't imagine making it a full costume collection and taking it to the grocery store - and I have a pretty darn good imagination!

Have you ever adopted a wild animal into your family?  We may or may not have a tiny, baby lizard currently occupying the spare bedroom but as we have yet to feed it or sew a single stitch, I'm not sure that counts.  Nevertheless, when I count my blessings this Thanksgiving, I will definitely include Mrs. Bullis, Tommy, and all the others who make wacky tacky a full-time job.

"Hi-Heel Sneakers" - Tommy Tucker (1964)

For the cross-dressing squirrel who has everything! 

Happy Thanksgiving!


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Magical Mystery Castle

"Stop."  "Beware of Dog."  "Danger, High Voltage."  There are many signs in our world that simply cannot, and should not, go unheeded.

"Mystery Castle."
This is definitely one of them.

And this one.

This one, not so much...
(Source)

There are physical signs that we see with our eyes and then there are signs of the more spiritual variety - signs that are less prohibitive and more a call to action.  What action would you take if you came down with tuberculosis?  Well, I guess the answer these days is relatively easy - seek prompt medical attention for an extensive course of antibiotics.  In the 1930's, the answer often involved a major change of scenery, especially for an arid, desert clime.  Diagnosed with TB in the early days of the Depression, Seattle-based Boyce Luther Gulley, saw a sign.  Leaving his wife and daughter behind in their secure, if all too humid, home town, Gulley set out for the breadth and breath offered by Phoenix, AZ.

Mystery Castle - Phoenix, AZ

Left with just his thoughts, a dearth of materials, and the inspiration of the mystical western winds, Gulley decided that his call to the desert was the opportunity to fulfill a promise he made to his daughter; he would build her a castle.  Gulley's castle, is essentially the sister castle to California's Nitt Witt Ridge.  Built of found objects, recycled materials, and a weird cement slurry that included a heaping helping of goat's milk, Gulley's dream castle took many years to build and ended up with eighteen rooms and thirteen fireplaces (a particular point of pride for the tour guides).  Upon its completion, and the owner's death, Gulley's wife and daughter were notified that the home was finally ready for them.

The Mystery Castle gained national fame when it was featured
on The January 26, 1948 cover of Life Magazine.  The article,
entitled "Life Visits a Mystery Castle" actually gave Boyce's
dream manse a name that stuck.  The young woman pictured,
is Mary Lou, the daughter for which Gulley built the home.

Shortly after the Life article's publication, the Mystery Castle was open for daily tours given by Mary Lou who continued the practice until her death in 2010.  The castle continues to operate tours as an official "Phoenix Point of Pride" under the auspices of a trust/non-profit that maintains the facility.

Many of the windows, transoms, and sidelights were
made of glass, refrigerator-storage dishes that Mr.
Gulley was able to buy by the truckload for pennies
 on the dollar.

The kitchen

Operating without modern utilities until the 70's, 80's, and 90's (they were added over time), living in the Mystery Castle required a distinct level of dedication and a strength of character uncommon among most people faced with soaring temperatures and terminal illness.

Filled with artifacts, the Mystery Castle is part tourist attraction, part museum.
Included in the collection is this original suffragette china.  According to our
 tour guide, this service belonged to the wife of Arizona's first governor; she made
 good on her threat to serve every meal on these dishes until women got the vote.

The Gulley's home and its contents are the very spirit of wacky tacky.  As I mentioned, it was the home of a single, "art" loving, desert dweller.  Subsequently no efforts to change, move, or restore have been made, leaving the home exactly the way it looked at the time of her death.  There is almost too much wacky tacky that it distracts from the original structure.

An abundance of life-size dolls inhabit
the rooms of the Mystery Castle.
How does one even accomplish something like this?
Wouldn't you be afraid that at some point it would come to life
 and switch places with you, making you the life-size doll?

A not-so-subtle nod to the provenance of some the castle's
more broken-in furnishings, the House of Joy brothel.

An installation by Mary Lou Gulley.
It is amazing the accomplishments than can be made with a soft-bodied
ballerina doll, a shaky hand, and a permanent marker.

The best times of the tour were those when we caught a glimpse of Boyce Luther Gulley's original concept.  Seeing past the four-foot, chocolate bunny statues and the cat decoupages to the stone mosaics, the Mexican tile, the skylights, the repurposed train tracks, the dumb waiter, the cantilevered, spiral staircase, was the chance to see through Gulley's visionary eyes.  All of these "trash castles" have to built by someone who is equal parts genius and madman; it is that delicate balance that fosters the perfect environment for the finest in wacky tacky. 

It really is a southwest castle!

Amazing tile

At the time of construction, this lookout point on the second floor's patio, was said
 to frame the entirety of the Phoenix skyline.  Today, it captures but a small portion.

A wonderful, wire-wheel window.
Gulley drove his Stutz Bearcat all the way from Seattle to Phoenix and
 used many of the deconstructed vehicle's parts in the castle's construction.

Taking a page from the world-famous Winchester Mystery House,
the Mystery Castle is a mini-labyrinth of staircases, archways,
meandering pathways, and columns.

The chapel contains a Victorian-era organ that is said to
have once belonged to Phoenix's black widow (known
for marrying miners, poisoning them, and then keeping their
fortunes).  The legend surrounding the organ was too much
 for Mary Lou Gulley to resist.  

This was my favorite room.  Traditional, Native American rugs,
primitive stained glass, stone/adobe walls, beamed ceilings,
antique chandelier, and the skeleton of a saguaro cactus (around
which the room was built).

A beautiful round window surrounded by native
stone - another use of the refrigerator dishes.

Mary in "purgatory," the area of the house between the chapel and the cantina.

The coolest part of the tour was the trap door - guarded by a menacing, metal alligator.
Following his instructions, Gulley's wife and daughter waited until exactly two years
 after his 1945 death to brave the alligator.  Upon opening the door, they found two $500
 bills, the deed to the property, gold, and a Valentine's Day card that Mary Lou
 had given to her father when she was a child.

Every door at the Mystery Castle is like the famed trap door; there is a surprise and a treasure behind each one.  If you're ever in Phoenix, be sure to follow the sign and pay your respects to this living example of folk/outsider art, vernacular architecture, and human ingenuity.  What began as one man's sickbed promise tuned into a wacky tacky wonder for all to enjoy.

Mystery Castle

800 E Mystery Castle

Phoenix, AZ

(602)268-1581

*Tours are offered Thursday through Sunday at a cost of $10 per person.

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Hoopin' It Up!

I have threatened to give up on learning.  Sometimes I think that there is only so much information that my brain is capable of retaining and I fear that I am near max capacity with the essentials - movie trivia, the schedule of my TV programs, and how many ounces are in a cup.  Before I discontinue the learning process entirely, I just need to know one more thing, just one more thing and I'm done.  Since when did hula hooping become performance art?  

Not so very long ago, we went to a local "art walk," you know the kind - open galleries, vendors peddling their wares, artists, food trucks, music, hula hoopers....Hula hoopers?!!!  Yep, the headlining act for the evening was a hula-hooper...45 solid minutes of nothing but hoopin'.  Don't get me wrong, I appreciate some fancy hoopin', but 45 minutes?  By minute seventeen, I was a little, shall we say, irritated.  

Show off!
(Source)

I could have walked away, but nothing gets me as committed to a one-sided standoff like my own irritation.  Was I irritated by the hooper's unbelievable stamina?  Was I irritated by the costume choice - vampire Rainbow Bright meets homeless, pirate/stripper/hippie/nurse?  Was I irritated by the inexplicable musical selections?  (My next project is a compilation album; the working title is, "Songs to Hoop By," but I'm actually leaning towards, "Hoop, There It Is").  Was I irritated by the fact that no matter how hard I try, I have NEVER been able to master the proper hula motion and therefore, in the last 30+ years have never successfully hooped?  Had I allowed the seething bitterness of jealousy to overcome the entirety of my being?

While it's never been in women's foundation garments, I have always
pictured myself being able to hula hoop for hours with the similar
carefree countenance  of these happy hoopers.
(Source)

In short, yes.  The fact is, I pride myself on moving with relative ease.  I love to dance and hula is in my family.  My mother's formative years were spent in Hawaii (hula lessons/performances were basically mandatory) and my brother-in-law, a native Hawaiian, has worked as a professional Polynesian dancer.  Okay, so the actual Hula and the Hula Hoop have very little in common, but come on, what gives?  Why can't I hoop it up?  My best guess has something to do with a pathetic combination of factors - the relative girth of my equator, damnable gravity, and the fact that for my entire life I have been plagued by nothing but an endless stream of faulty Hula Hoops (I am concurrently penning a strongly-worded letter to the higher-ups at Wham-O).

The girl on the right is my personal hero.  Hoopin' and eating?
Heaven must be missing an angel!!
(Source)

Yeah, I can swirl it on my arm and even around my neck.  Yeah, when I was much smaller, I could use it as a "jump rope," but I could never shake the feeling that I was my parents' biggest disappointment when they saw all of the other kids on the block - feet firmly planted, knees bent, moving in an otherworldly rhythm creating a deafening hum as the beans or rice or BB gun pellets (or whatever it is they put inside there) swirled in seemingly perpetual motion - and then saw me, probably picking my nose and pretending the hoop was a steering wheel on a giant car.

That would be me - the one looking for a hiding place in the armpit of a
girl and bracing myself for impact, afraid that the hoop would somehow
break free and hit me in the face.  "No, not my glasses!"
(Source)

Anyhow, all of this got me thinking about the Hula Hoop.  My tendency is to think of pop culture fads exclusively as historical relics. I am always operating under the mistaken notion of "simpler times, simpler minds."  But try telling yourself just how terribly-modern and sophisticated you are whilst performing "The Macarena."  The mere mention of "The Macarena" reminds us that we've all been unwitting participants in the pop culture paradigm at some point in history.  Sorry, sorry, to quickly get your mind off of "The Macarena," here are some fun facts about the Hula Hoop. 

* Based on an Australian design, Hula Hoops were trademarked by Wham-O, Inc. in 1958.

* In the first four months of production, over 25 million Hula Hoops were sold (more than 100 million 

   in the first year).

* The first Hula Hoop-themed song was recorded by Teresa Brewer in 1958.

"Hula Hoop" - Teresa Brewer (1958)

* The Hula Hoop was inducted into The National Toy Hall of Fame in 1999.

* Ball bearings were the original noisemakers added to the inside of the Hula Hoop after a drastic drop  

   in sales in the mid-1960's.

* The origins of a similar hoop being used for exercise/recreation date back to the 6th Century B.C.

* I am hopeless at hoopin'.

* Although it didn't really happen that way, The Hudsucker Proxy ingeniously used The Hula Hoop as   

   a device to tell the story of corporate greed.

The Hudsucker Proxy (1994)

* Some famous hoopers of yesteryear include Art Linkletter, Jane Russell, and Sue Lyon.

Art Linkletter showing kids that adults do the darnedest things.
(Source)

Jane Russell making it look easy.
(Source)

Sue Lyon's seduces James Mason in Lolita.
Not to get too deep (or too obvious, maybe?), but could they have chosen a more appropriate
 and effective tool than the Hula Hoop to communicate the danger of Lolita -
all the innocence of a child's toy and all the hip action of much more adult pastimes
(Source)

I guess I can stop learning now as my question appears to have been answered.  Judging by this vintage photograph taken from Life magazine, hoopin' has been a performance art from the Hula Hoop's earliest days.

A performer at a nightclub floor
show getting her hoop on!
Now that's my kind of art!!!
(Source)

Here's hopin' your hoopin' is a heapin' helpin' better than mine!!!

 

"Rock-A-Hula"

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny