Googling Bygone Beaneries, Tough Guys and Rich Gals

We love old movies on their own merits, but we watch them in a way that’s very different from the way we watch modern films. For us (and we’re confident we’re not alone in this), old movies are like time travel. We listen closely to the dialogue for slang we might not have heard before, we examine all the actors from head to toe to take in their vintage clothing, we watch for period billboards and advertisements to discover long-forgotten products and businesses, and when we do uncover something new, we quickly turn to our good friend Ms. Google to see what knowledge she has to share.

Recently, we were watching Undertow, a film noir from 1949. It stars Scott Brady (he was Lawrence Tierney‘s brother, you know) and an actress we weren’t sure we recognized named Peggy Dow.

We looked up Dow on IMDb.com and learned that, after just a handful of pictures, she gave up Hollywood to marry a guy named Walter Helmerich, who was just getting started in the family business, which just happened to be oil drilling. The Helmeriches resided in Tulsa, Oklahoma (our native state), raised five sons and must have done pretty well for themselves, because the theatre department at the University of Oklahoma is now named the Peggy Dow Helmerich School of Drama (we figure they must have kicked in with a pretty sizable donation to earn that honor).

We graduated from that very school (though it hadn’t yet been named after Ms. Helmerich at the time) with a BFA in Theatre, so we feel a certain connection to her now. If we hadn’t watched Undertow and been inspired to do a little digging, we’d have never known.

By the way, as of this writing, Ms. Helmerich is still with us. And not only is OU’s drama school named after her, so is the auditorium at Northwestern’s Annie May Swift Hall (her alma mater). And since 1985, the Tulsa Library Trust has annually presented the Peggy V. Helmerich Distinguished Author Award to a deserving writer.

Now, back to the movie: At one point in the picture, Brady returns to his hometown of Chicago and there are some nice shots of South Wabash Avenue as he tries to ditch a cop who’s tailing him. How do we know it’s Wabash Avenue? Well, a restaurant called Lander’s caught our eye as Brady strolled past it (In Chicago, It’s Lander’s was the eatery’s slogan).

It had an appealing vintage look to it, glass bricks and all, so we turned again to Ms. Google with fingers crossed to see if it had somehow managed to survive to the present day.Read More »

An Impressive Display of Vintage Baggage

The Game Show Network is one of our go-to television channels when we just want something on in the background. We’ll watch Match Game, Family Feud, Deal or No Deal, you name it. We do wish GSN would show more classic game shows of the 1950s and ’60s, as they used to, but still the network makes it easy to pass a half-hour or two in pleasant enough fashion.

Now, here’s the guilty pleasure part: We occasionally even watch Baggage, the dating show hosted by (cringe) Jerry Springer. On this show, a trio of hopefuls vying to be selected for a date reveal their quirks and peccadilloes, and at the end of the show, the person who has chosen one of the three for a date reveals his or her own baggage, and is either accepted or rejected by the person they’ve chosen.

Like we said, a guilty pleasure. If ever you want to feel that you’re perfectly sane and in fact a great catch, this is the (freak) show for you.

We’ve idly wondered in the past whether, if ever we were a contestant on a game show, we would go full vintage with our attire (the answer is probably yes, as we own little else but vintage clothing), but we’d never before seen a contestant sporting a vintage look—until last night.

It was Nerd Night on Baggage, and a lovely young woman with an avowed appreciation for brainiacs with pop culture obsessions had three ComicCon regulars to choose between. We were surprised one member of that trio was dressed in vintage attire (we don’t know if his garb was original or repro, but by Baggage standards, he looked pretty sharp). Generally, the contestants on the show sport untucked shirts (even under a blazer or sweater—what is it with the untucking in Southern California?) and a very carefully tended “two day’s growth” of beard, a grooming trend we are eager to see ride off into sunset.

And what do you know, the contestant clad in vintage garb was selected by the young woman, only to reject her at show’s end when she revealed her own baggage: She refuses to drive a car and expects her boyfriend to do the same (it’s a green thing).

Call it Revenge of the Vintage Nerds.

Life Without Lapels

We love us some vintage clothing; easily 80% of the clothes we wear on a daily basis are older than we are (we made our debut in 1958, in case you’re wondering).

So whenever we watch old movies (which, as longtime readers know, we do often), we spend as much time and energy focusing on the garments the actors are sporting as on the plot, performances and photography.

We especially like it when we encounter a garment, an accessory, a look unlike any we’ve seen before, and we came across an example of just that recently when we watched the Cold War noir, The Woman On Pier 13 (1949), starring Robert Ryan, Laraine Day, and John Agar.

William Talman, perhaps best remembered as Hamilton Burger, the DA Raymond Burr mopped the floor with week after week on “Perry Mason,” also appears in a supporting role as a bad guy (it was his motion picture debut). And in one scene that finds him squiring Day around from one seedy nightspot to the next, he wears a plaid jacket like none we’d ever seen.

And while we can’t honestly say we liked the look, it was at least interesting.

We are familiar, as perhaps you are, too, with several varieties of lapels on men’s sports, suit and formal jackets—notch, peak, shawl—but outside of the Nehru jackets that enjoyed their brief moment in the sun in the 1960s, we’d never before seen a man, on the silver screen or on the street, sporting a plaid sportscoat that had no lapels at all.

We turned to Marc Chevalier, easily the most knowledgeable person we’re acquainted with when it comes to vintage menswear. Here’s what he had to offer:

“Jackets like this one were briefly popular in the early to mid-1940s. The style originated in California, and was probably first designed by Clinton Stoner. Frank Sinatra was the most famous wearer of this type of jacket, back in the early ’40s.

“I seem to recall that it was called a “cardigan sportcoat” or some such thing.”

There you have it. A Google search yielded no mention of the term “cardigan jacket,” but Marc’s word is certainly good enough for us. However, we also couldn’t find any info about Clinton Stoner, and our curiosity got the better of us. Thankfully, Marc, bless his heart, had the full scoop (we knew he would):

A label from a Clinton Stoner garment“Clinton Stoner was a freelance men’s suit and sportswear designer whose merchant clients included Macintosh Studio Clothes and Saks Fifth Avenue. In the late 1940s, he opened his own custom sportswear shop—named “Clinton Stoner”—on the east end of the Sunset Strip. Stoner’s shop was a favorite of gangster Mickey Cohen, actor Robert Mitchum, etc. Stoner’s daughter, Beverly, achieved some notoriety of her own as a much-married, much abused nightclub singer.”

You won’t see us adopting Stoner’s (and Sinatra’s) lapel-free style anytime soon, but we are intrigued by the look.

A weekend getaway

Michael ArenellaHe’s likely not aware of it, but Michael Arenella is Cladrite all the way.

The orchestra leader, singer, and fashion plate has that same thing for days gone by that we (and, let’s face it, you) do.

Arenella plays the music of the 1920s and the ’30s and wears clothes and drives cars that match. Like we said, he’s Cladrite all the way.

A poster for the Jazz Age Lawn PartyThis weekend, he and his Dreamland Orchestra will again be featured at the annual Jazz Age Lawn Party on Governors Island, an event he founded some years ago. It takes place on both Saturday and Sunday; you’ll find us, in the company of Ms. Cladrite, there on Sunday.

If you’re within striking distance of New York City, you should it make it a point to be in attendance. The forecast calls for lovely weather, relatively speaking, the music will have you tapping your toes, at the very least, and you’ll be surrounded by hundreds of folks in vintage finery. (If you own no vintage finery, you might be advised to ask yourself why not, but don’t let that prevent you from attending the lawn party. Why, there will even been vintage clothing dealers on the premises, so you can kill two birds with one stone.)

This video was directed and edited by our friend Andrew Yamato (he’s Cladrite, too).