Lobo on the WB 2

Since the WB was equally chilly to all shows pitched, Jean figured she had nothing to lose and selected Duck Dodgers and Lobo for the next stage: focus group testing.

Change was definitely in the air. Nickelodeon focus tested shows. Warner TV Animation flew by the seat of their pants ... or used to. I had zero faith in focus groups and felt at that point that neither show would ever see daylight.

Back into editing with Al and Boyd. Using some Steven E. Gordon art and Boyd's characters, we put together a Lobo focus group reel for whoever did focus groups. Al and I did likewise for Daffy.  (I seem to recall Jeff Bennett providing the voice overs.) By now, it's late October, early November. If the network wanted a series in Sept. '99, we needed to start production soon.

On focus group day, I stayed in my office.

Gonway

LISTEN TO THE CHILDREN

Jean gave me the results: boys and girls really liked Duck Dodgers. But boys had gone stratospheric over Lobo. (Lobo broke things and didn't take any lip. What's not to love?) Pre-production began for twelve half-hour Lobo episodes. (Once a production number is assigned, you know it's serious. ) Jean told me to start writing the first script. With marketing in our pocket, the Main Main looked solid. But Duck Dodgers was still in the hunt.

Mike packed up our pitch materials and we took the Duck Dodgers show on the road. Specifically from Sherman Oaks to Burbank and the executive building on the Warner lot. We'd be pitching to studio head Bob Daley. This was more of Jean playing three-dimensional chess. If she couldn't green light a show, she could still ensure that powerful players liked what she liked.

Bob Daley didn't laugh, or really smile at all. But he paid attention. You could see his mind working, following along with the story and characters. At the end, he pointed to one character model and said, "That guy doesn't look like any of the other characters. But other than that, it's Okay."

People started asking me which show I'd pick to run. But Lobo had the hot hand.

As I wrote the first script, there were pre-production meetings. Composer Richard Stone was fired up to do music. (We aimed at creating some kind of cool outer space theme blended with Metallica and Nine Inch Nails.) Andrea Romano would be voice directing. But Boyd Kirkland was suddenly being tugged in another direction. It looked like we'd need a new producer.

Keane Eyes Gallery

LOBO SCRIPT

By early January, I'd finished the script. Basically, Lobo was a bounty hunter, hung out in Al's Diner with Al and Darlene, and had been summoned by Vril Dox. Dox hires Lobo to retrieve a witness who has information harmful to interplanetary super creep Ernest Mann. Mann wanted to help everyone by conquering all life and placing it under his loving care. He had created a force of eerie minions: children with big Margaret Keane eyes who morphed into horrid velociraptor-like monsters. Mann was defended aboard his huge space craft by massive robots, each with more firepower than a drug cartel.

He also carried the largest bounty in the universe.

Lobo disobeys orders and decides to dangle his witness as bait to draw out Mann. Traveling to a seedy dive on a depressed planet, Lobo and his nervous witness wait for someone to rat them out to Mann. It doesn't take long. Lobo ends up in a shoot-out with one of Mann's iron-packing robots and loses his witness, who is captured and transported to Mann's vessel. Lobo follows, sneaks aboard, rescues the guy, battles Keane children, more robots, and confronts Mann, but fails to capture him,  barely escaping in a running fight that eats up most of Act III.

Finally, having delivered the witness, he relaxes back at Al's. But Lobo vows to eventually collect the bounty on Mann.

And that would be our season arc: first, middle, and last episode involving Lobo and Mann. I figured I'd write those and hired  Mitch Watson and Ken Segall to tackle several of the other scripts. They would include villains like Sunny Jim and Cosmic Bob. Bob's character description billed him as "one of the deadliest men in the universe because he can shoot rays from his nose."

Basil's Films

AND WILLIAM H. MACY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

By now, it was early January 1999. Boyd Kirkland was gone, returned to Batman for, I think, a Mr. Freeze direct-to-video. Scott Jeralds replaced him as co-producer. As Jean had approved the script, Scott's crew jumped in and did a fantastic job boarding. Scott put his own spin on the character design, reducing Lobo's bulkiness even more while keeping the muscles and menace. Darlene became more wholesome, less jaded. Another crew was hired and artists started reporting in.

Meanwhile, Andrea Romano assembled a great cast. She'd once again lined up Brad Garrett as Lobo, and cast William H. Macy and Linda Hamilton for voice roles. (Macy would've been the witness, while I don't recall who Linda Hamilton would've played.) Paul Rugg had a part as Vril Dox assistant.

Duck Dodgers was backburnered. Lobo barreled on toward it's production start date.

Tomorrow: A meeting with Jean. Phone calls and reality. What came next.

Lobo on the WB1

Lobo on the WB 3

Lobo on the WB

Here's more on what happened with D.C. Comics Lobo and the WB back in the day.

DAWN OF THE MAIN MAN

In early 1998, Jean MacCurdy asked me to write up a short premise for a possible Lobo animated TV series. Created by the late Roger Silfer and Keith Giffen, Lobo was a tricky character for the Kids' WB. Designed as an over-the-top biker-intergalactic bounty hunter, Lobo's legend included murdering everyone on his own planet as well as regenerative powers that made him pretty much impossible to kill. My suggestions were to keep the contempt for authority, make him more vulnerable to counter-violence, and direct his mayhem toward appropriate targets such as space villains and lawyers.

Lobo from Superman episodes

Jean liked the take and ordered a one minute pitch video. Voiced by Brad Garrett, Lobo had appeared in a pair of Superman episodes. So editor Al Brietenbach and I culled the material and crafted our sixty-second saga with me voicing over the Superman material on top of instrumental cuts from "Bad to the Bone." Catchy. But nothing came of it. Soon after, I was drafted on to Pinky, Elmyra and The Brain, forgetting all about the Main Man.

PITCHING KIDS' WB

That fall, the studio was gripped with pitch fever. By then, Jean had lost the authority to green light afternoon and Saturday shows to Jamie Kellner and his growing phalanx of WB execs. For the TV animation division to get something on the air, we had to pitch the WB in addition to Warner Bros. marketing. Artists and writers were in a frenzy pulling material together—a show meant job security. My hands were full preparing pitches for three different projects: 21C, Duck Dodgers and Lobo. 21C was the dark horse, an idea of mine—an homage to anime—about a Buffy-like high school girl in the twenty-first century battling lobster men and strangely pathetic robots while shopping for cute tops. Rhoydon Shishido drew some hilarious artwork, but the pitch dance card was full and the show eventually dropped from consideration.

DUCK DODGERS

Duck Dodgers makes an interesting point.

Duck Dodgers was based on the 1953 Chuck Jones cartoon. In this version, there was a human chick teamed up with Daffy and Porky. Jean asked if I could swap her out with Lola Bunny—keep things in the Warner family, as it were—while toning down the ogle aspect and emphasizing her competence. Spike Brandt and Tony Cervone, who worked on Space Jam, supplied the art. (And went on to run the show a few years later when it eventually aired on Cartoon Network.)

With Lobo, the late Boyd Kirkland and I began with my premise, the one-minute video, plus artwork, I believe, from Steven E. Gordon. Boyd standardized the characters, making Lobo less massive, while I worked on a quick, snappy presentation based on showing the video first, then introducing two-dimensional models of characters from the comics like Al and Darlene. (Plus one Steven E. Gordon creation—a human villain with a round, yellow, have-a-nice-day happy face. We called him "Sunny Jim," and made him exceptionally nasty.)

A TALE OF TWO PITCHES

The TV animation division pitch room featured a huge marble-topped table in the shape of the Warner Bros. shield logo. Gathered around this ornate table would be marketing execs. on one day and the WB execs. on the other. I would deliver the pitches for Duck Dodgers and Lobo. My assistant, Mike Miscio, and I had practiced like a magic act. He'd cue up videos and tapes, set down and take away character stand-ups, and generally keep things moving. However, he wouldn't wear tights. I was wrong to ask. 

First up were the marketing guys. Duck Dodgers went fine. They laughed and were very receptive. But they went nuts for Lobo. They were howling after the one-minute video, engorged with toy madness. They could sell this show in a micro second. It was basketball with a hoop three feet off the ground. We were fired up, humming with energy, preparing our Emmy acceptance speeches. 

Then came the execs. 

Buzzfeed

I don't remember how Duck Dodgers went, but I'm guessing badly. In any case, it couldn't have been worse than Lobo. The one-minute video was met with dead silence. The pitch: dead silence. Some coughs. It was as if smiling, let alone laughter, constituted an implicit agreement to buy the show. My confidence fled like air from a slashed tire. Having done stand-up, I knew the only thing to do was amp up the energy and finish with a smile. Finally, like gum surgery minus Novocaine, it ended. As Mike collected our gear, I wished only to leave behind a fragmentation grenade.

Recapping the pitches, no one knew what to make of things. Were both shows dead?  

Tomorrow: Jean weighs in. Focus group? A surprising outcome.

Lobo on the WB 2

Lobo on the WB 3

Solemn Easter 2015

Image: Great Wallpapers

As I attend services today, I will be grateful my church is in Los Angeles and not Kenya or Nigeria or Iraq, or Egypt where Muslim fanatics cull out the Christians for slaughter. In certain places, Christianity carries a heavy price tag. What does my faith cost me on this warm sunny day in Southern California? My prayers go out for the repose of the souls of the dead in those lands, and their families. It's the least I can do, which seems to be my default religious position. That's probably why Barabbas is my favorite Easter film.

I'm exhausted from the last six weeks of multiple projects. However, a fine soft cover version of Fifty Shades of Zane Grey will be available by the end of this week on Amazon. Those of you who don't cotton to Kindle devices will be able to grasp a fine paper version—a real book, if you will—filled with English words in pleasing arrangements.

Ruegger, Minton Others Salute Liz Holtzman

Artist Liz Holtzman, who passed away last August from cancer, was honored yesterday for her life and work. I knew Liz from Warner Bros. back in the day. She was a talented artist with a sly sense of humor. As attested by family and friends, her presence, as well as her contributions to art, animation and music, will be missed.

Tom Minton and I. (Photo: Tom Ruegger)

R. to L.: Grant Moran, Bob Goodman, Audu Paden (standing), Tom Ruegger, Bob Goodman's wife, myself.   (Photo: A Nice Man,)

Speaking of contributions, here is one of my favorite Liz Holtzman directing efforts from Animaniacs.

h/t: wakkofrankie's channel

TVIT with Mindy Sterling

Powerful podcasting signals fill the air.

That Voice Over Improv Thing is back again with actress Mindy Sterling, Austin Powers film regular. What form of improvisational comedy mayhem will be unleashed? Ah, but that is up to you—the audience—for upon your suggestions will the players play. A chat window will be open on the TVIT website for you to engage.

Paul Rugg Will Be Present

Of course he will, along with regulars such as Roger Eschbacher, man and author, and the rest of the cast working under the able direction of Deanna Oliver. Podcasting tonight March 25 at 8:00 PM Pacific Time. Listen and absorb mirth.

Image: Ideabank Marketing

TV Animation Blues

The Grindstone

And softcover book blues and marketing copy blues. After months of underemployment, I've been barraged with assignments from multiple sources for the last forty days. Seven day work weeks, deadline after deadline. Marketing pays quickly. TV Animation pays on geological time. eBooks don't pay much after you cycle through family and friends.

50ZG softcover books were ordered by a client who fronted money to cover costs. But the deadline from zero to a one-hundred and seventy-four page manuscript is razor thin with no room for error.

My wife sits in our living room now cursing up a storm as she attempts to check the design on the book. We decided to tack on the first chapter of The Dunwich Diversity Seminar, my next tome coming out in eBook and softcover in time for Halloween. It's the Lovecraftian story of a monstrous cult seeking to unleash horrid creatures from another dimension and the only one who can save the Earth is a grad student party girl.

Now I've wasted time writing a complaining blog post. Back in.

Prices Slashed for 50ZG

Snag a copy of Fifty Shades of Zane Grey this Friday, Saturday and Sunday morning and save 76%. Yes, it's March Mayhem here and I must use or lose my Kindle Countdown, so why not now? I'm giving away this arch satire of 'Fifty Shades' for ninety-nine cents. That's under a buck for an eye-brow quirking eBook parody of E.L. James set in the wild west. You don't need to know the original story and you don't need a Kindle. Clever Amazon offers a simple downloadable app that'll allow you to read the romantic frontier tales of innocent bumbling Anna Ironhead on your laptop, phone or tablet.

Kindle Countdown Savings

This Kindle Countdown discount continues all week through March 27. Here's the breakdown:

Fri. March 20 8:00 AM Pacific Time to Sun. March 21 1:00 PM 

Save 76% as you pay only .99. That's less than a dollar for a parody powerhouse guaranteed to put a smile on your unbitten lips.

Sun. March 22 1:00 PM to Wed. March 24 6:00 PM

You still save 51% and pay only $1.99. That's two bucks for an eBook taking the lumber to head-cocking, and bag out tea. 

Wed. March 24 6:00 PM to Fri. March 27 midnight 

You're still in line for a bargain. Save 26%, paying a mere $2.99. That's three bucks for a tale proving that love can be painful, especially if wearing a mule harness.

Softcover Book Coming Soon

Old school books are still king. If you prefer the feel of durable paper in your hands as you read of the romance between a railroad tycoon and a hapless dishwasher, then stand by for the softcover book release coming Friday, April 3. For more information, keep an eye on this blog, the 50ZG page, or drop me a line at jpmac@hushmail.com

Thank you and enjoy yourself this weekend in such manner as you find suitable. 

Image: Baraboo Public Library

The Noble Artist

Jamie Noble will grace the cover of your book with artwork. Fine decent 2D art. Most people do judge a book by it's cover and that's why it's vital to have the right image. Give his website a look.

Artist: Jamie Noble

St. Patrick's Day Salute

In honor of my Irish family, I present a cut from a 33 rpm album—an old thing played on a machine producing music—that must've been worn down to 45 rpm single—a smaller old thing—from all the times it was played in my house. Happy St. Patrick's Day and here are Carmel Quinn and Arthur Godfrey with a jaunty tune from way back in the day:


h/t: #CarmelQuinn

King Bach Captures Denzel

If you think Denzel Washington is an 'ok' 'all right' actor, then you're at the right spot as comic King Bach satirizes Washington in Flight. Just when you think the video has peaked, they up the ante. Very funny.

h/t: BatcherlorsPadTv 

Smokin' Hot Chicago Marathon 2007

In honor of tomorrow's LA Marathon and the record temperatures slated to vex runners, I repost once more my account of a hot, humid marathon where the water stations ran dry and the course was closed. Let's hope such a doom does not befall the City of Angels. All the best to participants, especially the San Gabriel Valley Marathon Team in Training. You guys are champions of a most noble variety.

First reposted October 8, 2013 as Chicago Marathon 2007 where I said that six years earlier, I had run  my third marathon in Chicago. Or, at least, I had attempted such a feat.

Here's my  initial 2007 race report originally posted under the heading Sweat Home Chicago.

All three entries are pretty much the same. Note: "TNT" stands for Team in Training.

Marathon number three continued my tradition of only running marathons with temperature extremes. At dawn it was an overcast, humid 75 degrees and climbing. My niece dropped me off near the lake-front start line around 7:00 AM. I checked my gear, loosened up with T'ai Chi, then stood in a tightly-packed brick of humanity waiting for the 8:00 gun. As the overcast dissolved into popcorn-shaped clouds, the sun rose above Lake Michigan. It felt like a furnace door opening.

Because of crowd size, it took me 20 minutes to cross the mat.

Interesting Stat:

The Chicago Marathon sold out all 45,000 spots back in April.

But only 35,867 passed the start line Sunday morning. That means 9,133 people figured out it was too stinking hot to run.

Lots of TNT runners from Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, New York City and even Louisiana.

The field was so packed it was tough to interval. Those who intervaled clashed with those who viewed the far right of the course as a passing lane. My goal was a 4 hour and 40 minute marathon. I aimed to interval four minutes running/ and one walking up to the half-marathon mark, then see how I felt.

Leaving Grant Park, the course turned onto LaSalle Street just past Mile 2 and headed north. No water at the first stop — they'd run out. There was a mob around the folding tables, shaking gallon water jugs to get the last drops. The surrounding street was littered with flattened Gatorade and Hinkley water cups from the preceding runners. (Wet, flat plastic cups are like ice. You had to watch your footing.) People were highly pissed — especially those without water belts. (I'd brought mine.) One runner had a bottle of Gatorade. He took a sip, passed it back to me. I took a sip and passed it on to another runner. This no-water business boded ill.

Running for several miles on LaSalle, you'd get an occasional breeze through the tall buildings. I'd take off my visor and savor the cool air. Then out into Lincoln Park where the water stations remained a problem. Runners were surging across the street to the first one they saw. Sometimes there was only Gatorade. Other times, volunteers couldn't keep up with demand and runners served themsevles. Whenever possible, I grabbed two cups, drinking one and dumping the other over my head. (In today's Chicago Tribune, the race director blamed runners for the water shortages, citing those who took two cups.)

Around mile eight, I saw an old white-haired runner drift off course and ask a spectator if he could sit in his lawn chair. (The guy helped him down.) By now, sirens whooped all over the city as ambulances rushed the first heat casualties to the hospital.

The heat was getting to me. For the moment, I slowed but kept the same interval. But as we turned west onto Adams, the shade disappeared. No tall buildings, no leafy tree-lined streets with brick apartments. I passed a medical tent and it was full: runners on cots and others holding ice bags to their heads. Past the half-way point, I started tossing out goals like a passenger on a sinking boat dumping freight. Dropping to a 3:1 run/walk, I slowed pace even more. After frying my brain in Honolulu two years ago, I listened to my body and if it said walk more, I did.

We doubled-back east on Jackson and finally found a little shade. Turning south on Halsted to mile 17, I was mostly walking. I'd pick a point and run to it, or run half a mile, or choose a runner going about my speed and tag along. I took another salt tablet, but skipped goo as it made me retch.

Somewhere around mile 18, the cops bull-horned that the race had been cancelled. No finishing times would be official. Please walk. There was a great deal of confusion. By now, the city had opened up fire hydrants and fire trucks stood at certain intersections hosing down the crowd. (Not to mention ordinary Chicago citizens with garden hoses doing the same.) Finally, in the Mexican neighborhood of Pilsen, around mile 19 it sunk into the vast majority of runners that the 2007 Chicago Marathon was toast — just like them. Some runners dropped out at the nearest medical tent where they'd be bussed back to the start line. Some ran on. A nasty rumor surfaced that we wouldn't get medals. This put me into a black mood.

Come what may, I was determined to finish. Because my legs hurt, I ran 1:1 off and on to around mile 22, then walked to mile 26. Along with many others, I ran the final .02 because there were cameras present. 24,933 runners crossed the finish line.

And they did give out medals.

I finished in 5 hours, 48 minutes and 23 seconds. Check the Comments of my previous post where Jeff Carroll has listed my unofficial splits.

One man died and over 300 were hospitalized for heat injuries.

The people lining the route were great. Many offered water or ice cubes, staying on to cheer in the heat long after the race was called.

As for the "other" race — the front end of the marathon where people actually had a chance to win — Kenyan Patrick Ivuti beat Moroccan Jaouad Gharib by .05 of a second. (2:11:11) The top woman's finisher, Ethiopian Berhane Adere edged Roumanian Adriana Pertea in the homstretch. Pertea thought she had the race knocked, and eased off, waving to the crowd as she neared the finish. Adere poured on the coal to catch and pass Pertea for the win. (2:33:49.)

Given my injuries since April, I couldn't think of a better race to cancel. But if I'd been a TNTer who'd fund-raised and trained for this moment, or a runner eager to pr, I'd be supremely miffed at Sunday's outcome. For over a week, I'd been tracking the temperature. I knew it would be hot and humid. Hence, the race organizers did also. I find it hard to believe they couldn't increase the amount of water stations, change the start time to earlier, or better prepare for the heat onslaught they knew was coming. The Honolulu Marathon faces these conditions every year. No one could pick up a phone?

In any case: mission accomplished. After 30 years, I finally finished the Chicago Marathon.

Thanks to Ryan, Raul, Jeff and K for the emails. I'm walking around fine after sleeping eleven hours last night.

As for now, I'm not looking at any marathons before next fall in Pasadena. But don't tell anyone I'm entering.

They'll kick me out to avoid extreme weather.

(All photos courtesy of the Chicago Tribune.)