Keeping a promise I made in 1982 to my mother, who left us on the 20th of November at the age of 70. #georgelucas #oldiesbutgoodies

This may be the most important show I will ever produce, children of the revolution. This is what is called an “open letter”: a message intended for an individual, but that is nonetheless widely distributed intentionally. The individual in question is George Lucas, and in always keeping my promises to my mother, I told her back in 1982 that I would thank him for something, at her request.

Mr. Lucas, this story begins a little earlier, in 1977. Momma took me to see that Wizard of Oz thing you did with the robots at the Hawthorne Mall, which I loved, and then that better Shakespeare flick with the man from Lady Sings The Blues in 1980 at the Vermont Twin Vue drive-in. At the latter, Momma kept saying things like, “BILLY D! BILLY D!” and “Ooh baby, I love his threads.” You have to admit, Mr. Williams was pretty soave bolla in that one.

Mrs. Anna Brown, December 2011. Photo by yours truly.

So, in 1982 at the age of 13, it was my turn to take Momma to “the show”, as we used to call it. I had a little extra money from homework I would do for other students, and in Redondo Beach, where we were living at the time, there was a budget theatre near the pier called The Strand. They had these $1 matinees on the weekends, and the film they were showing on the day I took her was American Graffiti.

All I knew Mr. Lucas was that you were the creator of this film, and really knew nothing about the plot, but I totally recognized all the actors: Ron Howard from Happy Days, Harrison Ford from that robot movie with Billy D., Cindy Williams from Laverne and Shirley, Suzanne Sommers from Three’s Company, MacKenzie Phillips from One Day at a Time, Richard Dreyfuss from Close Encounter of the Third Kind and of course, Wolfman Jack from hearing him on the radio. I thought to myself: is this like that Poseidon Adventure movie we saw on TV at grandma’s where you cram a whole bunch of big name stars into it? I eventually found out it wasn’t, with my not knowing you helped launch all of their careers.

The poster for American Graffiti by Mort Drucker, best known for his five decades of work at Mad Magazine.

My mother was often alone in raising the three of us, and most of the time, she worked as a cleaning lady, as Dad was often in jail or just plain nowhere to be found. She was over-the-top excited that I was going to take her to see the film. She never got the chance to see the Graffiti during it’s initial run in 1973 or it’s re-release in 1978. She always gave to us first, and she couldn’t stop telling her friends how proud she was that a man was going “treat her right for a change”.

Well, before we went out that Saturday morning, Momma got a little “litty-titty”. (Right now I can hear my brother and sister in the back of my head, who told me they would be listening to this program, saying out loud: “No, not our mother. Never.” And then busting out laughing and falling on the floor. Telling the T baby, because as Momma once told me, “the Devil is a LIE!”)

Gene Chandler, 1962, from a Vee Jay Records promotional photo.

As soon as the film started with the opening number, “Rock Around The Clock” by Bill Haley and the Comets, it…was…ON. She sang. She laughed. She sometimes yelled back at the screen, as if the characters could hear her and she was was RIGHT THERE with them. She even actually got up several times, grabbing me by the hand and we danced in the aisle.