The young Costello doppelgänger is, yes, your humble correspondent, somewhere between years 1960 and 1962 I reckon. I suppose I am so cheerful because the photographer is dangling a raw steak out of frame or something.
Here's the Christmas 1970 Polaroid I alluded to in the post about my mom, below. From left to right, brother Michael, classic rocker me, sister Kathleen, and a pleased Santa Mom in the background. Santa Dad took the shot. I've completely blocked out all memory of the drum kit and I don't even know to whom it was gifted. Seriously, what were my parents thinking?
For aficionados of early 1970s corporate brochure portraiture: Here's my mom with her colleague Yvonne Rivera, posed for a shot in the "Who We Are" section of the glossy handout for Yegen Associates, the small finance firm (I think) where my mom took the job that turned my sibs and I into quasi-latchkey kids, with dicey but not entirely catastrophic results.
"The young Costello doppelgänger is, yes, your humble correspondent, somewhere between years 1960 and 1962 I reckon. I suppose I am so cheerful because the photographer is dangling a raw steak out of frame or something."
Raw steak? Or early an Russ Meyer film?
Posted by: Petey | March 20, 2015 at 06:26 PM
I see you got a Skittle Pool game for Christmas 1970. I had one of those, too.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5HHehkcI_A
Posted by: george | March 20, 2015 at 11:04 PM
Glenn Kenny was born the year Lou Costello died. Coincidence?
Posted by: Oliver_C | March 21, 2015 at 11:49 AM
Yikes, 10-key data entry. *shudder*
In late 1968, I became obsessed with Cream's "Wheels of Fire" album, specifically Ginger Baker's drumming. I begged and begged my parents to get me a drumkit. My sister was dating a drummer in a band, I just wanted a kit so. damn. bad. They agreed, with one condition: that I take some basic percussion lessons. Once a week for a few months I went and learned my rudiments on a practice pad from my sisters boyfriend. Finally, I went to my parents and proudly showed them my skills.
Me: I think I'm ready for you to buy me a kit, I want a Ludwig drum kit
Dad: We're not buying you a drum kit, we're not putting up with the noise
Me: Waaaaaaaaah! YOU PROMISED IF I TOOK LESSONS!
Mom: No we didn't
Me: Waaaaaaah! Yes you did!
Dad: Well, no drum kit, that's final.
I told my parents years later that it's the only time I ever truly hated them and they both laughed. Dad: "If it was only that one time, I think we did OK then!". Of course, I realize now that I would have been 21 (i.e. to legally play clubs) in 1980, when drum machines came in, it would have been bad timing on my part.
Posted by: Henry Holland | March 23, 2015 at 12:09 AM
So sorry for your loss, Glenn. Wonderful memories conveyed in this and the other posting - thanks for sharing.
Posted by: Pete Apruzzese | March 23, 2015 at 08:30 PM
Absolutely CRACKING photos, Mr Kenny. Especially the Christmas morning one.
Posted by: Owain | April 08, 2015 at 07:23 AM