Music, 80's, WLIR

1982 had it's ups and downs. The following bands broke up: Adam and the Ants, Blondie and The Jam. The Who announced their farewell tour seemingly moments after I discovered them. On the bright side, it was the year I discovered U2. Sadly, I went to the record store Sam Goody and asked for the song "Gloria" and came home with Laura Branigan's "smash" hit of 1982.

This pain and disgust led to adventure, I searched for a record store that carried import records. This quest led me to Mad Platter's in Yonkers on Central Avenue. I spent many teenage years there buying as many records as I could. Mad Platters is where I discovered The Clash. One day I bought "Combat Rock," which led to a follow-up visit the next day to purchase "Sandinista".

1982 was also the year that "Thriller" was released.
Shortly after Thanksgiving, I remember vividly the day when my friends rushed to my house after school. It may seem hard to believe, but I was the only kid that had the new Michael Jackson album. Having two older siblings gave me insight into what was new and exciting in the world of music. This and my frequent trips to Mad Platters made me the music expert amongst my friends. When the long-form video for Thriller came out, we would all sit in the den under blankets and watch my betamax tape of it, over and over. We loved it, but it scared the crap out of us. We would sit around and chat about the Michael's dance moves, the choreographed zombies and how John Landis was a genius.

All of that said, Thriller wasn't really my kind of music. Don't get me wrong, I loved it (who didn't?). But as soon as I discovered WLIR, everything changed. WLIR was free-form radio station out of Long Island. I soon became a devot fan of "Dare to be Different" with Malibu Sue and Larry the Duck. These two angels from music heaven changed my life. It wasn't much later that every one of my friends (preppy and guido) was listening to the station.

My parents always asked me how I could remember the lyrics to every song but could not apply that same ability to my studies. I just shrugged my shoulders and said ..."I dunno".

Bel Air California- August 1982

California 1982 - I remember it like it was yesterday. As we got closer to our destination, the pilot announced that we would land in Los Angeles shortly. I was excited to hit the west coast, so I decided to eat a gigantic Hershey bar. Then, to continue the celebration, I had a Reggie Bar (my favorite candy as a kid).

As you might have guessed, it didn't sit well in my stomach. I recall telling my older sister "I'm gonna throw up," only to have her scream "noooooooooooo" and make a scene. Sadly, dear sister, I did throw up. Three times. I managed to deposit most of it into the airline-provided barf bags. The vomiting was over as the plane touched down at LAX. Below is my first diary entry after landing in CA.

As you read above in my diary entry " I smelt so bad" which was completely true. I tried to change my outfit at the airport, but I couldn't find the key to my suitcase. My family was greeted by Mr. Leslie (who I mentioned in a previous post), the butler/driver for the owners of the house we were staying at. He arrived to pick us up in a limo with black windows. I remember his look of horror when I met him for the first time. I think it was the visible vomit on my green & pink Izod Lacoste shirt. He took my suitcase and said "Welcome to California". I was understandably embarrassed and I recall being a shade of red for the next hour. While driving back to the house in Bel Air, Mr. Leslie pointed out places of interest. I'm sure that he was hoping that we would rent a car so he wouldn't have to drive us for our entire visit. Smart man. And we did. He would say "Ahhh yes, Mr and Mrs, this is Hughes supermarket...for food shopping. They have everything you need." I'm pretty sure it was called Hughes and it was on the corner of Santa Monica and Beverly Glen. I LOVED going food shopping with my Mom. It was our thing.

Shortly after we got to the house, I changed and we went to lunch in Santa Monica. I wish I could remember where we went. I do recall my mother saying she knew it was a sign of a good restaurant because the bread was so good. And then it happened. I had my first celebrity sighting. In walked "Mr. Roarke" from Fantasy, Island, Ricardo Montalbán. But even better, soon after that LARRY from Three's Company also arrived. I was thrilled.

Mr. Leslie ended up taking my Mom food shopping later that day. She asked me if I wanted to go and I said no. I was a mess, it was my first case of jet-lag and I was just too tired. I would live to regret not going to Hughes -- probably the biggest regret in my 13 years of living. When she and Mr. Leslie returned from the market, she was glowing. It was probably the giddiest I had ever seen her. "What's with you?" I asked as I snagged the Chips Ahoy out of the grocery bag. She gathered us all to announce that she saw Stephanie Powers from "Hart to Hart" (one of my favorite shows), "Isaac Your Bartender" (Ted Lange) from the "Love Boat"(who later in my life I met and had him direct a movie I wrote...) AND Adrienne Barbeau from "Maude", "The Fog" and "Cannonball Run." I curse you jet lag!

Please note how I end my diary entry. "Until tomorrow baby." It hadn't even been twenty four hours and I was saying things like "until tomorrow and baby". The next night we went to Chasen's in Beverly Hills. I remember hearing it was pretty fancy. So I put on my favorite skirt, red and white striped shirt and my brand new never worn white capezios. I was a sight!

Who Is This Man I call Dad?

My father worked in politics. For several years he was part of Nelson Rockefeller's staff. As a result, I enjoyed many visits to Kykuit, (the Rockefeller Estate in Westchester County, New York) in my youth.

That's my Mom with Governor Rockefeller. I played with Nelson and Happy's young sons and all the other children of the Rockefeller cabinet. In the hot summer months at Kykuit, we all swam in the beautiful, enormous pool and jumped on the trampoline all day long. We dined on peanut butter and jelly, cookies, soda, and anything else our hearts desired. I didn’t have a care in the world. We were treated like little mini-royalty. Turns out that it’s not the best way to begin your life when you are NOT a Rockefeller. But, I digress, more to come on this later.

It was a year of amusement and bliss. E.T: The Extra Terrestrial was released and that beautiful little alien changed my life forever. Aliens? Outer space? Space ships? Reese's pieces!? This guy knew how to live it up on Earth. The funny thing is, my father (the busiest father on the block) insisted on taking the entire family to see this movie in Manhattan. There were plenty of good local movie theaters in Westchester, but no, he dragged us to a matinee of ET in NYC. This was the last weekend in July. It was hot, humid and I was experiencing lady pains for the third time in my life.

At dinner the night before, my family sat down to eat as my father opened up the discussion. "Here we go again... politics" I thought to myself. Friday night was Pizza night and my Mom got the night off from cooking. As Dad revealed the dinner discussion topic: Steven Spielberg, I rolled my eyes. I just assumed that Steven Spielberg was the Vice President or Speaker of the House. BORING! Just then, in mid eye roll my father caught me and said; "listen you, one day you will appreciate this conversation, so just listen if you don't have anything to say." I was taken aback and rather aggravated that he called me out in front of my older brother and sister.

After a few minutes, and out of 100% spite, I refused to contribute to a semi-interesting conversation. Strangely, it was NOT a conversation about politics. While my family discussed "Close Encounters of the Third Kind", "Jaws", and "Raiders of the Lost Ark," I mumbled "stupid idiots" under my breath, still fuming from being rebuked earlier. As a result of that show of defiance, I was sent to my room (with my pizza. HA!). I obnoxiously grabbed dessert (a hostess apple pie in crinkle paper wrap)

and I stomped my feet as hard as I could all the way up the stairs to my room. I entered my room, slammed the door and blasted Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger" over and over again.

The next day I threw a full on thirteen year old bitch fit. I didn't want to go to the city to see some movie. “Everyone is stupid!” “I'm staying home!” Thirty minutes later we parked in a lot next to the theater. Two hours later, I was the happiest kid on earth. E.T. changed my life. He opened up my mind to things besides wearing "I love Ziggy" sweatshirts & pins, and painting Holly Hobbie statues.

I had never cried at a movie before, let alone shown any emotion to my family members. Suddenly I was filled with e... ee... emotions? I was a 13 year old girl feeling something inside for a little wrinkled spastic alien. I was in love. This is a picture of my ET doll. For some reason I thought he needed a babushka.

The "I just LOVE Ziggy" sweatshirt would be retired and intelligent conversations about aliens, while sipping ovaltine, was what my parents were dealing with now. It would be the next month that changed me forever. There was no turning back, and it was completely my parents fault. I had no control. We took a family vacation to California. This was no ordinary vacation. We stayed in an enormous, beautiful house in Bel Air. It seems like it was yesterday that Leslie the housekeeper/butler would make me a snack, fold my clothes or announce that "dinner is served". He was my housekeeper, my cook, he drove me around, he picked up after me, he told me to go swimming when I asked him too many questions, and he was... my pal. He was also the one that suggested I use hair products made for black women. It was during this trip that I asked Leslie to take me to the ABC offices. I had something to discuss with the people that made the shows. I asked him if he knew Steven Speilberg and that he should take me to his house immediately. More on this trip later on, including diary entries.

Wild N Crazy

Wild 'n Crazy: "Summer madness, Autumn fun, Winter cozies, Springtime sun! I write the memories of my year to keep them fresh and ever near"! These are the words on the inside cover of my first diary. I lived by these words.

On May 22nd, 1982, I received my first diary as a present for my 13th birthday. It had a chubby, smiling raccoon on it’s cover wearing a happy, bright yellow T-shirt that said "Wild 'N Crazy" in multi-colored letters. It was so empowering to be 13 and to own something with a lock and key. That key was to be hidden in my shiny red "lock box" safe that I got for Christmas the year before. That lock box was also the home of the copy of the letter I wrote to the ABC Network in Los Angeles in the previous year. I guess if we looked in the history books, my obsession with fame and power started in utero. My ear must have been up to my Mom's belly at all times, struggling to hear anything. “Give me something in here!”

On that same monumental day of glory in 1982 when I entered my teenage years, I got my first period. Yes, that is correct. "Happy Birthday Jane! xoxo Mother Nature". Oh Mother Nature, you are a quirky one.

1982 was a year of change (mostly with my hair, a result of the onset of puberty) and a year of awakening and exposure. My safe, sheltered bubble where I resided for my entire life was being poked at with a proverbial pin. After my first year of all-girls catholic school, boys were not an every day distraction and I wasn't interested in what the nuns (Sister Eileen most of all) were teaching. Don't let the smile fool you.

As I entered my teen years, I turned to MTV, movies and music as my escape. Conversations at the dinner table about my fathers work bored me to tears. Politics were not my cup of tea at 13. When he told me that he and my mother were to spend a weekend in Washington DC as guests in the White House, I was more interested in what this man really did for a living. Who is this guy I call Dad?