Slimed!: An Oral History of Nickelodeon's Golden Age (30 page)

DANNY COOKSEY:
It’s really strange: They had some
Salute Your Shorts
on around Thanksgiving or something on Nick and my daughter was watching it. And it was a weird, like, out-of-body experience. I had no recollection of the show. I was watching myself and I didn’t remember the plot at all. It was very strange.

JACOB TIERNEY:
It almost felt like it didn’t happen because it was so quick. It’s weird to see yourself in twenty-two episodes of TV you barely remember doing.

CONNIE SHULMAN:
I’ve watched episodes of
Doug
on these bad tapes that we have, and it brings to mind the actual shooting of that particular episode, and I end up remembering really stumbling on a particular line where they’ve cleaned it up. It’s like watching yourself and listening to yourself is a similar kind of experience. There’s a little bit of that “eww” factor.

JOHN KRICFALUSI:
I can’t watch anything I do. All I see is the mistakes.

CHUCK SWENSON:
I haven’t watched
anything
. It’s much better to go forward. Having done it, it’s like reliving a high school football game. Who gives a fuck?

GEOFFREY DARBY:
This happens every generation. People go back and find what they grew up on and they watch it again . . . and they usually find out that it wasn’t anywhere near as good as they thought it was. There were some pretty lame
You Can’t Do That on Television
’s mixed in there. But there were some genius ones, too.

JOE O’CONNOR:
Sometimes it doesn’t even have anything to do with the quality of it. It’s like your cereal at that age; it just makes you comfortable.

MITCHELL KRIEGMAN:
It wasn’t like people had some messianic idea that they were creating history. They just really cared a lot. That’s all I’m saying.

HERB SCANNELL:
About five years ago when I’d left MTV Networks, I’d been invited to Boston College to speak at some sort of seminar. And a young guy who’s gone on to do some brilliant stuff on the Internet was interviewing me about Nick. Afterward, he said, “You probably had more to do with me developing a sense of humor than anyone else.” It was the first time I realized there was a Nickelodeon generation of kids coming of age that were going to bring to whatever they were doing professionally a sense of humor or a look at the world that was shaped in part by Nick. That felt good because I think we did a lot of good stuff at Nick.

FRED SEIBERT:
Gerry was very tuned into the idea that, at ten years old, a kid could be in love with their parents one minute and run away from them the next. And she said, “Look, this is a natural thing that children do: They’re both closest to their parents
and
they want to reject their parents simultaneously. It’s part of the process of growing up.” One of the things that would happen when the audience would inevitably reject us and become adults was they would hopefully come back with kids of their own. As long as the brand stays true to its beliefs, a generation of people raised on Nickelodeon becoming parents will introduce
their
kids to Nickelodeon through their eyes.

GUS HAUSER:
Children’s programming is eternal. There’s always a new group of children. And you can always give the new age group the old programs. I would even bet they’re doing some of that today!

FRED SEIBERT:
During Gerry’s years, we were also really clear on the fact that at various development stages, we were just going to lose kids entirely . . . and that was built into the fabric of the business. They would lose interest the same way that at eleven years old I lost interest in cartoons because the Beatles came out.
You know, you gotta grow up, right?

DOMINIC LUCERO:
Reprise the theme song and roll the credits!

THE NINETIES? THE NINE TEES? NINE–GERK! NINETIES INDEED.

I remember them perfectly.

For I am Artie, the Strongest Man in the World.

A squirrelypop time of tinny musics and little Vikings!

Sansational pipe all around.

Pipe! Not a wasted moment.

Puny kids unbridled by book or job or stove, nuts-going, bomb-popping,

and stupidly perfectly messily of mouthy and shirt and brainbag,

flew around like magnificent hollerbirds through the wilds of everywhere:

slayers of the bored and dumb and the mad and the mortgaged and the adult.

Little pirates full of Plork and Fume! Fuuuume! Heavy syrup! Heavy!

A blessed time enpillowed. Much ravaging then of the jackcrackered

Americans for me and the Petes and handsome Ellen and the rest of them;

eating handfuls of sledsnow and sunburn by day

and moonwhiff and bugwink by night.

Concocting the most elaborate plans and then wrassling a forest!

Wonder chunks! Heart bleats!

Unstoppable Pipe! You were with us.

We all ran past them all and made life a huge, flopping thing

with our wits and our goof and each other.

It was quiet then. But tasty and large. A colossal carnival pie!

A lollipop hundred years ago.

It’s too kind and soft and fragile to sift through now,

lest it shatter like butterfly wings that blowfloat into a smiley girl’s smile

face like chalk dust. Ack stew.

But now there’s a book of it all?! How dare you? A book of time?

Of that time?!

Our time! Pewsus! I’ll book you, bookie! Befouler of kids’ memory holes!

That was our time!

Not a fan of this book.

Only a fan of you and me. Of our time. For it was US and THEM, and we were US.

And US was all that mattered.

Pipe on bookwormy, pipe on.

Pipily,

—ARTIE
,
The Strongest Man in the World (aka Toby Huss)

It has long been remarkable to me that someone with a mouth and mind like mine, born of a youthful diet of classic Nickelodeon and—at far too young an age—everything from Stanley Kubrick to Paul Verhoeven (thanks, Dad) as well as a nasty propensity for always telling the truth (thanks, Mom) has ended up with so many life-saving true-blue friends.

To put it simply, this book would not have been possible had the following individuals not selflessly donated food, lodgings, stimulants, entertainment/art, support, advice, and good cheer over the course of its quixotic development and production:

My family: Helene and Mike Shotwell, Mike and Suzi Klickstein, Sylvia Silbert, Dolores Klickstein, Glenn and Lori Siegel.

My nearest-dearest: Naomi Kriss (and family), Joseph Trinh, Mark Johnston, Ross Exler, Mike Restaino, Tore and Micah Knos, Mike Kenneally, Janet Rosen, Patrick Mallek, Howard Zaremba, Tim O’Shea, Pablo Kjolseth, Jerry Aronson, Glenn Webb, Dustin and Nicole Marquel, Michael Monagan, Jill Woodhouse, Jesse Cilio, Doug Gaddy, Jack Epps Jr., Jason Robert, Jeremy Elder, Aaron Sheley, David Isen, Aron Flasher, Richard Fleming, Alexia Anastasio, Jon Weinman, Howard Wishner, Sara Binkley, congressman David S. Chapman, Kathy Downey, Lloyd Kaufman, Alex Cox and Tod Davies, DJ Spooky, Doug Sakmann, Andrew Bujalski, and the Alba Family (including Papa Jim).

My put-upon roommates (at various times and locales): Jared Riesel, Scott Manelis, Ashley Bruscoe, and the 255 McKibbin Kids.

My Colorado folks: everyone at Mighty Fudge Studios, Kerry Johnson and Wolf, Carlos Pacheco, Brock DeShane, Jordan LaRousse and Samantha Sade/
Oysters & Chocolate
, everyone at International Film Series/Backyard Cinema, Shaun Oshman and Greg Koeka/iSupportU, Kathy and Robin Beeck/Boulder International Film Festival, Joel Haertling/Boulder Library Cinema Program, everyone at Boedecker Cinema/Dairy Center for the Arts, Stephanie Rudy, Jim Palmer, Albert Hand, Arthur Okner, Sharon Nehls, Rosh and Phil Norman/Blind Café, everyone at Absolute Vinyl, Andy Schneidkraut/Albums on the Hill, Tom Peters/beat bookshop, Brian Buckley/Innisfree Poetry Bookstore & Café, Heather Carp/Topo Ranch, everyone at Phamaly’s disLabled, Wayne Ewing, Anthony Musco, Morgan Fielding, Megan Bucholz/Local Table Tours, Bruce Borowsky/Boulder Digital Arts, Dr. Lisa Erickson, Alan, O’Hashi, Kevin McCarthy, Rich Florence, Bill Viehler, Bob Wells, Jim Nelson, Gary Stebick, Nick Reed and Glo, Peter Garrity, Dr. Eric Eisenbud, Nile Southern, George Peele and Patti Calhoun/
Westword
, Radio 1190, KGNU, Boulder Outdoor Cinema, DJ Cola, and Rob and Mary at Workout Studio.

My
Colorado Daily
/
Daily Camera
family: big brothers Jeanine Fritz and Dave Burdick; big sisters Jenn Fields and Christy Frantz; cousins Clay Evans, Pete Holm, Matt Sebastian, and Aaron Trujillo; little sisters Whitney Bryen and Ashley Dean; and the lovely neighbor next door, Aimee Heckel.

Refreshments provided by: Conor O’Neill’s (Boulder, CO), Espresso Roma (Boulder, CO), Unseen Bean (Boulder, CO), BSP Lounge (Kingston, NY), and Yucatan (Bronx, NY).

Inspiration provided by: Michael Azerrad, who picked up where
In the American Grain
left off in teaching me at a young age how to write creative nonfiction; Mark Yarm, who offered good advice and even better pie; Legs McNeil, who created the gold standard of oral histories and loves
Peter and Wendy
; Ondi Timoner, who taught us all how to make true documentaries (like this book) and who is even sexier in real life; Anthony Bourdain, who picked me up when the vicissitudes of the contemporary publishing world got me down; and Thurston Moore (RIP Sonic Youth) and Slavoj Žižek, who continue to lead the way (even though Žižek would probably hate to be credited “as such”).

Oh, and the world’s best rock band, the Kids of Widney High. If you love classic Nick, you’ll love the Kids: KidsofWidneyHigh.com.

This book would
definitely
not have been possible had it not been for the following people.

Janet Rosen (again), who is not only my friend (referring to me as the stepson she never wanted) but also a true literary agent. One part Jerry Maguire (meant as a compliment), one part Broadway Danny Rose (don’t know if
that
can be a compliment, but let’s try).

Brittney Ross (Nick Kid and editor extraordinaire), Kevin Doughten, Phil Budnick (no relation), and everyone at Plume/Penguin who did what Nickelodeon did back in the day by taking a chance on something in which they alone saw boundless potential. And thanks to the marvelous marketing department for doing the most important thing in selling a book (or anything) these days: promoting the hell out of it.

Adam Frucci and Splitsider, who granted me a little time and space to wax poetic on a bunch of old TV shows.

John Cierpial, someone I’d never met who contacted me at the very beginning of this strange and savage quest into nostalgia, and worked gratis in any way I saw fit. Please consider this note a recommendation for any job to which he may apply in the future.

Laurie Graff, who indirectly set me on course and has been a surrogate aunt over the years.

Mike Restaino (again), Jack Hellman, Naomi Kriss (again), and Mark Johnston (again), who offered assistance in transcribing interviews for almost no money and in record-breaking time. Joseph Trinh (again) lent extra support where needed as well.

Heather Hendershot and all the folks who contributed to her
Nickelodeon Nation
. Of particular import were the pieces by Heather herself, Linda Simensky, and Mark Langer. Heather has also been a longtime supporter of this project. Cy Schneider’s
Children’s Television
was of some help when I first began this journey, too.

Fellow Nick nostalgia nitwits David Dillehunt, Hadrian Belove, Devon Whitehead, Thad Komorowski, Emily Rosenthal, Patricia Miranda, Josh Lieberman, Bilaal Smith, and Josh Yawn, for their encouragement and support.

The many people in this book who gave me their time in order to do this right, despite zero remuneration. They all deserve to be listed here, but a few people really need some shout-outs, in no particular order: Marc Summers (of course), Toby Huss, Will McRobb, Fred Newman, Billy West, Katherine Dieckmann, Chris Viscardi, Alan Goodman, Fred Seibert, Jason Zimbler, Vanessa Coffey, Linda Simensky, Mary Harrington, Karim Miteff, James Bethea, Rita Hester, Steve Slavkin, Trevor Eyster, Heidi Lucas, Venus DeMilo, Michael Bower, Diz McNally, Bob Hughes, Bob Klein, Bob Mittenthal, Melanie Grisanti, Paul Germain, Craig Bartlett, Aron Tager, D.J. MacHale, Geoffrey Darby, Roger Price, Scott Webb, Andy Bamberger, Albie Hecht, Gus Hauser, Bob Pomann, Jim Jinkins (Patient Zero!), Wendy Litwack, Lisa Melamed, Ken Scarborough, Alan Silberberg, Byron Taylor, Judy Grafe, Rick Gomez, Tom Nikosey, Kenan Thompson, Larisa Oleynik, Melissa Joan Hart, Melanie Chartoff, Chris Reccardi, Michael Maronna, Danny Tamberelli, Dave Rhoden, Dave Coulier, Marty Schiff, Eddie Fitzgerald, Mark Osborne, Christine McGlade, Abby Hagyard, Jessica Gaynes, and especially Gerry Laybourne, for inviting me into her home, her life, and the world she made with Nickelodeon.

And—like him or lump him—I must give exceedingly large praise and thanks to Mitchell Kriegman for being the person without whom I
really
wouldn’t have been able to do
any
of this.

My thanks also to the many long-suffering managers, agents, publicists, and assistants who helped me get in touch with my interviewees, particularly Shirley Gooding and Sabrina Propper.

In delving deeply into this process, I discovered quickly that the provenance of Nickelodeon is far more complex than I originally anticipated. There are innumerable additional stories that could have been told, including those by interviewees represented in this book. However, the following people were either omitted for structural reasons or could not be interviewed through no fault of their own: Jeff Weber, Mike Reiss, Dustin Diamond, Mayim Bialik, Mark Osborne, Alison Maclean, Jack Shih, Cliff Johnson, Carole Hay, Doug Compton, Richard Edson, Ray Fabi, Merle Kessler, Raymie Muzquiz, Jack Riley, Jill Wakewood, Nancy Bay, Rand MacIvor, Kit and Sam Laybourne, Max Bond, Bill Prickett (big helper, sorry!), Ivan Dudynsky, Bill Plympton, Daniel DeSanto, Chris Graves, Patrick Mallek, Natalie Nucci, Alexa Junge, Mark David, Jim Smith, Tom Hill, Joseph Piasek, Kristian Truelsen, Duncan Gillis, John Dilworth, Brodie Osome, Del De Montreux, Woody Fraser, and Robert Dollwet. Hopefully, their stories will end up in later printings of this book or in ancillary publications.

And
finally
(thanks for humoring me here), I want to give the stage to the husky eleven-year-old who was jumping up and down inside of me every time I spoke with one of his many contributing heroes here. Objectivity be damned: Getting to speak with John Kricfalusi was one of the coolest fucking things I got to do on this project, and I want to thank him for making a frothing fanboy’s dream come true in that regard, as well as for supplying my favorite answer to the tens of thousands of questions I asked throughout the course of this maddening ballyhoo:

ME: Would you ever want to meet someone who grew up on
Ren & Stimpy
?

JOHN K.: Dumb question.

I’m sure I’ve left out tons of people here and probably made at least a few mistakes in the book itself. Send any such complaints—along with whiny remonstrations wondering why I didn’t talk to a particular person no one cares about from a show no one remembers except for you—to [email protected].

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