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Broderick

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  1. It's no telling what horrible writer they've actually got their eyes on. Whoever it is, I'm sure he or she is wretched. But it does seem mighty coincidental that an actual GOOD writer suddenly and inexplicably leaves a Bell soap, and publicly announces that he's not retiring, just when another Bell soap is in dire need of a good writer and the current headwriter's contract is about to expire. But I ain't getting my hopes up.
  2. I've been assuming it's Patrick Mulcahey. Seems like Mal Young was terminated in December of last year, so I figured Josh Griffith would get his walking papers this December. If there's a three-month extension on Griffith's contract, perhaps it's so that Mulcahey will have an opportunity to better research the show and its characters before diving in.
  3. Yes, and the way "Robert Tyrone" walked around looking and sounding exactly like Tyrone Jackson (but dipped in all-purpose flour and wearing Groucho Marx glasses & mustache), but no one in the Syndicate noticed any similarity.
  4. It was as dreadful as Y&R's other "I'm-in-disguise" storylines. She basically put on a pair of eyeglasses and draped a mop head over her hair, and that fooled them.
  5. Yeah, I think Jill loved Phillip (in her own selfish way), but as Phillip pointed out in his testimony ("she abandoned me YEARS ago!"), he was often merely an inconvenience to her, and she was more than happy to ship him away -- out-of-sight, out-of-mind. It was only Kay's interest in Phillip that re-energized Jill's own interest in him, as she didn't want to lose her son to Kay Chancellor in the same manner as she lost her husband to Kay Chancellor. And Jill was definitely smug in this episode, knowing that Kay was about to be exposed as the wicked old witch who stripped him of his name and his inheritance when he was an infant. I think that's the fundamental key to Jill's behavior --- her love for her son always took a backseat to her hatred for Kay Chancellor. Somebody mentioned Joe Blair, and how long he was around. I believe these were some of his last scenes. "Capitol" went off the air in March of 1987, and soon afterwards, Todd Curtis(?) who'd played Jordy Clegg on "Capitol" was moved to Y&R as photographer Skip Evans.
  6. Thanks for the clip! Phillip's court hearing was one of my favorite stories of that time period, because it brought back all the animosity between Kay and Jill, plus involved having lawyers "distort" the facts of their misdeeds, to make them both sound even worse than they really were. And say what you will about Thom Bierdz, but he had the Little Lost Boy role down to a science. Cricket, though --- good Lord, it's even worse than I remembered.
  7. I guess Lorie and Leslie just had a THING for boys with holes in their chins who were tied to a mean old lady's apron strings lol. Seriously, I guess it's what Lance did for them when they were vulnerable. He helped Leslie get over Brad, and he helped Lorie get over Brother Mark. But he'd accomplished that in what -- 1976? -- and they were still collectively swooning over him five years later. As was his wretched old mother.
  8. Yeah, it seemed that Lorie was REALLY shafting Goat Daddy, and I thought that was wonderful, but then Victor kept laying it on so thick and throwing jewelry at her and so forth that you could tell she was melting for his Goat Charms. And then that stomach-turning letter: "we've loved, we've fought -- the circle is complete." I about vomited. That whole harangue about the Four L's seemed to be Bill Bell's attempt to rewrite "King Arthur". Sir Lancelot was played by Lance Prentiss. King Arthur was played by Lucas Prentiss. Lady Elaine was played by Leslie Brooks. Guinevere was portrayed by Lorie Brooks. (I was reading "King Arthur" while that storyline was going on, and you couldn't help noticing the similarities.) The dialogue even referenced it. There was a tearful scene about 1980 when Lorie passionately cried out to Lance, shortly before John McCook left the show, "My God, Lance! We've had our Camelot! Let it be over!" I remember telling my sister that I was about ready to pull out my Excalibur and chop-off Lorie's head. Right before Lady Elaine dyed her hair blonde and started calling herself "Pris", I'd about reached the point where LUCAS was the only one of them I could tolerate. All Leslie did was sit around making goo-goo eyes at Lance. And all Lorie did was pout because she noticed Leslie was making goo-goo eyes at Lance. And both of the girls were dying to be the official guardian of Little Brooks, because he'd sprung from the loins of the wonderful Sir Lancelot. Leslie went around crying all the time, and Lorie went around making her cry. "You're in love with Lance, aren't you, Leslie? You're in love with MY husband! Admit it, Leslie. You WANT Lance for yourself. Well, you can't have him. I'll make sure of that." They were all just so OVERWROUGHT and SELF-ABSORBED that when Lucas came ignorantly breezing through, he was a breath of fresh air. But then when Vanessa took her swan dive off the balcony, he got just as annoying and self-centered as the other three of them were. When that kid nearly drowned, I was watching in horror thinking that Brooks was about to bond with Lance, because all we'd heard since 1978 was that Lance was the Real Father of Brooks. And both of those dingbat girls seemed to think that if they could just get custody of Brooks and then spring the news on him ("Surprise! Uncle Lance is your Real Father! Now, let's be a Real Family!"), then life would be complete. I was plumb terrified that was actually gonna happen. But no, the little kid rose to the occasion and said, "Get away from me, Uncle Lance. I want my daddy. I want Lucas. He's my daddy! NOT you!" That was the proudest I'd ever been of Bill Bell in my whole life. That whole entire saga seemed to have been geared from 1978 to 1982 toward the moment when Brooks would realize Uncle Lance was his daddy, and then he would melt into Uncle Lance's arms, and either Lady Elaine or Guinevere would come gliding in and form a "real family". But when the moment of truth finally came, that little kid practically knocked Lance down getting away from him and running back to Lucas. I loved it.
  9. Ha! I'm just glad you brought it up, because I've never even wondered about it before. I guess they left in this order: (1) Lance, whose exit then inspired Lorie to write the expose' about Victor Newman and reject Victor's marriage proposal; (2) Lorie, amid a bunch of overdramatized tears with Lucas and Stuart waving good-bye; (3) Lucas, very quietly; and finally (4) Leslie, telling her dad that she was catching a plane for a never-ending concert tour that starts three minutes from now. The kid for sure didn't go ANYWHERE with Lance, because he'd have rather drowned himself. He didn't go with Lorie because she needed a solo good-bye to maximize her emoting. And then he "evaporated", which means he either (a) went with Lucas, and Leslie simply didn't give a damn or (b) he turned into a deaf/mute and never said another solitary word after Lucas left. From a real-life standpoint, it would've made sense for him to go with Lucas, because the main attraction that both Leslie & Lorie HAD for Brooks was that he was Lance's son, and Brooks made it clear that he didn't plan to associate himself with Lance period. I guess after the kid put the kabosh on building a relationship with Lance, the two women washed their hands of him. lol.
  10. Well, the one constant "parent" in Brooks Lucas Prentiss's life was Lucas. The little boy had an endless parade of "mothers". First his mother was Leslie, but then Leslie turned into Pris and ran away, and Lorie snatched him up. But then "Aunt Leslie" came back and played the piano for him and usurped Lorie again. lol. And there at the end of Lance's run, as you pointed out, everyone just kinda said, "Surprise, kid, LANCE is your father!" To which Brooks responded, "Go jump in the lake!" (literally, lol) My recollection is that Lorie's final tear-jerking good-bye occurred in her penthouse, with Lucas and Stuart as the witnesses to her celebrated departure. Pretty sure that she didn't have the kid with her, because a child actor would've put a damper on her emoting, and she went ALL OUT with the "smiling through my tears" routine. "I'll be back one day, as God is my witness, with Lance at my side!" Lance had a weird good-bye. Lorie threw herself at him (as usual), and he said, "I have to lay something heavy on you, Lorie. We can never be together again, now that you've given Victor Newman your proxies. It's over between us, Lorie." Then he went running and proposed to Leslie, and she would've accepted but about that time Brooks fell in the lake. I seriously think Lance's final good-bye was with Robert Laurence of all people (lol), who was renting the lakehouse from Lance. The scene was basically just, "Here are the keys to the Lake Geneva house. Tell everyone I left!" Lucas didn't get much of a good-bye. I think he just told Lorie and Leslie (separately) that he might be leaving town soon. (It's possible that he took Brooks with him. But you'd think Leslie would've been heavily impacted by Lucas leaving town with her son, but she just kinda said, "It's time for a commercial break! See ya!") And you've seen part of Leslie's good-bye, which was all about Maestro and Stuart and the concert tour. Not much concern about Brooks, which makes me think he could've gone with Lucas, but if he did, Leslie clearly didn't give two figs. That's why I think he went with Leslie.
  11. Those Stevens people --- they literally made the decision to leave town, bought the plane tickets, packed, and left for good in ONE episode, lol. About Brooks Prentiss --- gosh, good question. I always assumed that he left with Leslie. But he must've been packed in the suitcase with her sheet music. Lorie Brooks got a big, grandiose, tear-jerking good-bye scene, complete with "Nadia's Theme" swelling to a climax as the Elevator Doors of Death (her penthouse doors) closed behind her at the conclusion of an episode. But the other three --- Lance, Lucas, and Leslie --- all had to shout "BYE!" two seconds before the next Tide or Bounty-the-Quicker-Picker-Upper commercial came on. There just wasn't much discussion about Brooks during the Leslie and Robert Laurence storyline, as the emphasis was always on Robert's daughter Angela, who had perky breasts and could jiggle them in her Giorgio's of Beverly Hills tee-shirt as she fled from lecherous creeps who were trying to pop her cherry. Some old fat man would try to molest Angela, and she'd cry, "Help! Help!" (jiggle-jiggle), and Paul or Andy or someone would come along in a TransAm and save her. But that's hilarious that Leslie and Lorie spent their whole adult lives fighting over Brooks, and both of them forgot his ass when they left town lol. (I'm almost sure he went with Leslie.)
  12. Yes sir, I think Meg Bennett (Julia) and Nick Benedict (Michael) had to be "sacrificed" -- in her case, temporarily; in his case, permanently -- in order to make Victor more palatable. Victor didn't turn "good" by any means; he was still a sinister and formidable character, but he was a WHOLE lot easier to swallow without the Cellar Boy and the Victimized Wife hanging around to remind us of the dungeon. But that was the way things went during that period --- a storyline would wrap-up (sometimes logically and strategically, and other times very haphazardly and abruptly), and all of the characters who'd populated that orbit would be swept off the canvas with scarcely a good-bye. The most glaring and humorous example were those Stevens people (April Stevens, Barbara Ann Harting, Wayne Stevens and Dorothy Stevens.) April Stevens spent I-don't-know-how-many- MONTHS searching for her long-lost twin sister, Barbara, in one of the dullest storylines in Y&R's history. Of course Barbara was right in front of our eyes, and Paul was frantically trying to bang her. It just dragged on & on. Then suddenly one day out of the clear blue sky Barbara said, "Oh, by the way, I just discovered that I'm a zillionaire, and I've decided to move to New York City tonight. Plane leaves in an hour! Who'd like to move there with me?" Wayne and Dorothy immediately popped-up their hands for a free ticket, and April squealed, "Let me run and get little Heather, and I'll go too. How exciting!!" And the next day, every single one of those dull people were gone for good. If you missed that episode, you probably wondered what the hell had happened to the Stevens family, because the next day it was as though they'd never even existed. One day, Robert Laurence, his wife Claire, and their daughter Angela were all central characters. Then suddenly --- POOF!! --- they all just moved away and were never heard from again. Mr. & Mrs. Bancroft (Kevin's parents) --- POOF! --- gone. Leslie Brooks: "Maestro has arranged a worldwide concert tour for me! My plane leaves in an hour! Good-bye, Dad!" POOF! gone. Sally McGuire, Chuckie, and Stan: "We're leaving for Michigan in 4 and 1/2 minutes! Good-bye, Snapper! Bless the beasts and the children! Sniffle-sniffle, bye!" Chris Brooks: "I've just signed an exclusive contract with Jabot. How exciting! What's that? Oh, my plane for London leaves in fifteen minutes. Looks like I'm leaving forever! Please tear-up my contract, Mr. Abbott! Bye!" Suzanne Lynch announced that she was taking a job in the Chancellor Industries employee cafeteria. Guess she fell in the deep fat fryer, because we never heard from her again. Sometimes things seemed to limp to a logical conclusion, and other times it seemed that Bill Bell just woke-up and told Lee Philip, "Geez, I'm bored with this gaggle of fools. I'll see if Kay Alden can either kill all of them off today, or else just send them all out of town so that I won't ever have to look at 'em again!" That just wasn't the Y&R we'd known before February of 1980, and it wasn't the Y&R that we came to know again after the summer of 1982.
  13. The fundamental problem that I detected between February 1980 and the summer of 1982 was the lack of cohesion. There was just absolutely NO cohesion to be seen. The show had its good points of course, but by and large, it was just a big, sprawling mess of disjointed, unrelated storylines that didn't seem to share any common threads or purposes. Sure, it was still populated by pretty people, in pretty sets, in various stages of undress, with suggestive Hollywood lighting, but there seemed to be no underlying theme or reason for Y&R to exist. With the casting of Jerry Douglas, Eileen Davidson, and Beth Maitland, and the positioning of Terry Lester in a very prominent role, everything started to click almost immediately. Gone were the messy, disjointed storylines that just started, then faltered, then stopped for no apparent reason. The show was now built about three major "camps" of activity: (1) the interworkings of Jabot Cosmetics, driven by the personal lives of John, Jill, Jack, Patty, Ashley, and Traci; (2) the Victor/Nikki/Kevin saga concerning the paternity of Baby Victoria; and (3) the adventures of the "young detectives" -- Paul and Andy -- and their fight against organized crime. Each of these "camps" moved in their own separate orbits, just like in the 1973-1979 version of Y&R, but they also interlocked daily, with Kay Chancellor acting as the "mother figure" to Nikki Bancroft in the Tier 2 story and also as the arch-nemesis to Jill Foster Abbott in the Tier I story. Victor Newman, who was one of the centerpieces of the Tier II story, regularly utilitized Paul, Andy, or Carl from the Tier III storyline to help with Tony DiSalvo or Rick Daros or whoever. Amy Lewis, who began working with Paul and Andy in the Tier III storyline was best friends with Traci Abbott in the Tier I story. Patty Williams, who was the beautiful, naive, little stay-at-home wife in the Tier I story was the baby sister of Paul Williams in the Tier III story. Everything just suddenly made SENSE again, and the identity of the show seemed to be restored. No, it didn't have the comraderie of "small-town community", like the P&G soaps or "All My Children", but it was back to being Classic Y&R --- a series of cleverly interlocking stories that existed in the same basic "universe" but in separate, distinct daily "orbits". Also, it made sense from a socio-economic standpoint, just as it had in its early years --- there was the noeveau riche zillionaire (Victor Newman), the jaded old-money millionaire (Kay Chancellor), the comfortably upper-class country club family (the Abbotts), and the working-class group who had to think twice before making a large purchase (Paul, Andy, Mary and Carl, Jazz). For the first time ever, there were Black people on contract. A variety of different unique characters bounced across the screen --- prostitutes who inhabited Sleazy's Bar, preppy boys and girls who dropped by the Abbott house to pick-up Ashley for a tennis match, drug dealers who offered to sell Traci Abbott some diet pills. It became visually APPEALING again, and was infused with more feeling and warmth. It seemed to be the ABBOTTS who became the designated center of the show, completing the vision and made everything "work" again from a cohesion standpoint. It was now like the old thirty-minute Y&R -- but much bigger, much broader, much brighter, much more humorous, and with a far more "epic" scope. In 1982, everything really began to *click* again, and by June of 1983, Y&R was picking up a well-deserved Emmy award for best daytime serial again, against some VERY stiff competition.
  14. Believe me, I wouldn't know anything about the structuring of their contracts -- (half-hour format versus the hour-format) --- except it came to my attention when Doug Davidson was complaining on Twitter last year that Mal Young stopped utilizing him entirely after he was bumped to recurring. There was a scene last year where Lily Winters had to give a statement to the police department about a traffic accident in which Hilary Curtis was injured. Instead of using Doug Davidson, they used Random Policewoman #1 to take Lily's statement. Some viewers were asking why Paul Williams wasn't used instead of Random Policewoman #1. So I looked on the Screen Actors Guild website to see how much Random Policewoman #1 was paid for taking Lily's statement. There was a wealth of information: an "under-five" (person who delivers fewer than 5 lines of dialogue) is guaranteed X-amount on a half-hour show, and a different amount on an hour-long show. A "dayplayer" (person who delivers more than 5 lines but isn't under contract) is guaranteed X-amount on a half-hour show, and a different amount on an hour-long show. A "contract cast member" is guaranteed X-amount on a half-hour show, and a different amount on an hour-long show. Everyone in the 1979 Y&R cast had negotiated their contracts using the half-hour Screen Actors Guild payscale, and when the change was made to the hour-format, everyone's contract went out the window. John Conboy may have taken credit for that (due to his ego), but I believe that's just the way contracts negotiated under union rules work in television and film. Bell said in his interview with Archives of American Television that CBS had leaned on Screen Gems to expand Y&R to an hour, and that he fought the decision for a long time. He basically said, "They eventually told me that the show was expanding to an hour, and it would be expanding with or without me." That pretty much says that while he might've had creative control of the show, his ownership decision-making was sometimes trumped by Screen Gems/SONY.
  15. I assume that's probably the case, Will81. It really sounds as though most of Brenda's castmates had gotten sick of her, the producers were about sick of her, and ultimately Bell himself was about sick of her. There's no denying that she brought a certain something to the show, but I expect the consensus was reached that her certain "something" wasn't worth the headache of dealing with her on a daily basis. I don't wanna dwell on it much, because she's obviously still a fairly divisive figure, with some people thinking she's a victim and others thinking she's the devil incarnate. I found a copy of her "tell-all book" in a bargain bin and toyed with the idea of purchasing it, but after flipping through it for a few seconds and seeing all the boasting and self-importance, and noticing the lack of facts to substantiate her claims, and noticing that she even changed her year of birth from chapter to chapter, I just threw it back on the heap and said, "Well, that's Brenda for you!" lol. Her book came across much like her performances did in those final years --- just a strange, bizarre mish-mash of haughtiness and weirdness.
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