The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 86: Francisco's Flakes

Episode Date: December 5, 2017

A tale of award-winning flakes and delayed gratification.

The ocean moves us, surfing a wave or savoring the view. The ocean delights us as playful otters restore coastal cow porous. The ocean connects us. Visit Monterey Bay Aquarium.org slash connects. This is the way I heard it. On a hot July night in Southern California, long after the cast and crew had wrapped another 12-hour day, Francisco lingered in the shadows of his imaginary town,

watching the deer wander along his. make-believe streets foraging for cereal. It's not as weird as it sounds. In those days, Hollywood snow was made of corn flakes. Special effects artists would bleach them white, crush them into little pieces, and sprinkle them onto famous actors. On screen, the toasted flakes look plausible,

especially in old black and white movies. But in real life, they were also delicious, a fact well-known to the local vermin. Anyway, on this particular July evening, the amount of fake snow in Francisco's imaginary town was copious, coaxing the deer down from the hills for a late-night snack. But this time, a mouthful of flurries didn't result in a satisfying crunch, but rather a chorus of gagging and hacking, not unlike the sound of a housecat determined to dislodge a hairball. Because on this day, Francisco's imagination,

town was not blanketed in bleached corn flakes. It was covered in foamade. Francisco smiled from the shadows as the disappointed deer trotted away from his snow-covered town and back to their proper home in the woods. The new and improved snowflakes were a technical marvel and the brainchild of Russell Sherman, a special effects genius who figured out that the stuff inside fire extinguishers could be crystallized into the most realistic but unappetizing fake snow imaginable. But Russell Sherman wasn't hired to solve a vermin problem. He was hired to solve an audio problem. In those days, it was simply impossible to record usable dialogue over the constant crunching of falling breakfast cereal.

Consequently, all of the conversations in movies with falling snow needed to be re-recorded after the fact. So Francisco demanded a better snowflake. And thanks to Russell Sherman, he got one. From that day forward, winter in Hollywood would never be the same. From Dr. Chavago to White Christmas, from Scrooge to Groundhogs Day, Edward Cisorhands to Fargo. Russell Sherman's crystallized foamade added a whole new level of realism to winter on the big screen. In fact, his revolutionary snow. snowflakes were one of the few things about Francisco's big-budget film that the critics seem to like.

As one reviewer opined, Sherman's faux flurries are the only believable thing in a completely improbable fantasy that trades on little more than pabulum and tripe. And so, at that year's Academy Awards, the star-studded flop that generated less than half the money it cost to make, received just one award, not for best picture or best director, not for best actor or best screenplay. Francisco's opus earned a technical achievement award for special effects, and the award went to Russell Sherman, the man who made a better snowflake. Obviously, this was not the recognition Francisco hoped his movie would garner, because Francisco truly believed his film was a was nothing less than a message of divine hope inspired by God and destined to reach the masses. Well, it didn't, but it sure did open the door for Russell Sherman.

The year after his work on Francisco's movie, Russell won an Oscar for a film called Portrait of Jenny. After that, he spent 10 years working on major motion pictures with top Hollywood talent, including Danny Kay, Bert Lancaster, Gary Cooper, Tony Curtis, Walter Mathau, too many to list. It was a wonderful career, right up until 1954. That's the year Russell Sherman signed on to a film called The Shark Fighters and got himself eaten by a great white. When Francisco heard about Russell's terrible death, he was stunned and saddened. He grieved for the man who had covered his imaginary town with so much realistic fake snow. He grieved for the friends and family he left behind. And truth be told, Francisco still grieved for the box office flop they'd worked on together.

Maybe if Carrie Grant hadn't dropped out of the starring role, things would have turned out differently. Maybe if the headwriters hadn't quit halfway through and the FBI hadn't condemned his script as communistic, maybe then Francisco's flop might have found a broader audience. On the other hand, maybe if Francisco hadn't demanded a better snowflake, Russell Sherman would still be alive. Strange, isn't it? How one man's life can impact so many others? Three decades after Francisco's film flopped at the box office and two decades after Russell Sherman was eaten. by a shark, something equally curious happened in the vast corridors of a soulless office building deep in the heart of Tinseltown. A clerk whose name is lost to history, neglected to renew

the copyright on Francisco's long-forgotten film. Consequently, a two-hour rumination on broken dreams forest gumped its way into the public domain. There was little enthusiasm for the subject matter but programmers around the country, eager to fill time on local stations with content that cost them nothing to license, began to air the 30-year-old film, usually late at night, usually around the holidays. And over the years, the completely improbable fantasy that traded on little more than pabulum and tripe finally found an audience. You've seen the movie, and in spite of all the melodrama, I bet you cried at the end. I know I get a little misty every time I see Russell Sherman's foamed falling gently from the heavens

as the main character preys and sobs on the bridge from which he leapt. All that fake snow reminds me that we live in a world where everything is connected, a world with bleached corn flakes and hungry deer, killer sharks, and contemptuous critics. In a world like that, it's hard to know if you're making a difference, but still, you've got to try. That's the message Francisco tried to deliver to the world way back in 1946, with the help of Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed and Lionel Barrymore and a truly brilliant script. But of course, none of that was enough to get the job done, because Frank Capra also needed a better snowflake. 30 years of patience and the accidental assistance of an anonymous clerk who let the copyright lapse on a film that nobody really cared about, proving once again that one man's life really can touch the lives of so many others,

which is perhaps why most people, especially around the holidays, are still inclined to admit. It's a wonderful life. Anyway, that's the way I heard it. you manage procurement for multiple facilities, every order matters. But when it's for a hospital system, they matter even more. Granger gets it and knows there's no time for managing multiple suppliers and no room for shipping delays. That's why Granger offers millions of products in fast dependable delivery, so you can keep your facility stocked, safe, and running smoothly. Call 1-800-Grangeer, clickgranger.com or just stop by. Granger, for the ones who get it done.

The ocean delights us as playful otters restore coastal kelp forests. The ocean teaches us how our choices impact even the deepest places. The ocean connects us. Visit Monterey Bay Aquarium.org slash connects.