Years ago, I had a gf (zookeeper; biologist) who was a big EO Wilson fan, before I knew who Wilson was. I've always regretted not going to that lecture with her.

On the other hand, Gunther Stent, bought me dinner once, and actually condescended to talk biology with me, putting up with the callosal ignorance of I-am-so-not-worthy me.

(Incidentally, Stent knows everybody, and was introduced to his late wife by Jim Watson (yes, that James Watson).

Stent's past 80 and still intimidatingly intelligent. As in, you're afraid to open your mouth because he knows everything intelligent. Thank god I had an "in".

Wow. I'm really, really jealous. Canemaker is one of the most lucid, thoughtful animation historians out there, and I'd love to hear one of his lectures. What were your favorite moments?

Very Cool!!

Yes, details, please!

In the nineteenth century, lectures were such a common form of entertainment. Hearing a knowledgeable person expound upon something interesting remains, for me, one of life's great pleasures. I often walk away from a great lecture in wonderment that just sitting and listening to a person talk can be so intensely enjoyable.

ONe of the great perks of a museum career is the number of research scholars and writers with whom you cross paths. My line of work has brought me a lot of moments like that with people my puny brain didn't deserve to be talking to. Topping the list is the brilliant ethnomusicologist John Schwed; marine environmental historian Jeff Bolzster is sometimes a collaborator, and I'll never forget meeting the kind, brilliant, and highly ethical Al Crosby.

One of the best things about hanging out with really smart people is that there is absolutely zero conversational dross. Even over drinks or sitting around after dinner, these people don't make useless small talk to fill the air. They have something to say - I love the way that within a few seconds of your greeting them, you're deep into a conversation with some chunkiness to it.

Thanks, psho. I really need to spend time looking through McCay's work - it's come up a lot lately and I wasn't familiar with it before.

Very, very cool! Years ago while in college I went to a lecture by Mel Blanc. Not an animator but close enough - the voice piece was great! I had no idea what I was going to - a suitemate in the dorm said hey I have a coupleof tickets, want to go? so we said sure. I still have the stub.

I also got to meet Bill Plympton at the HiMom! Film Festival a couple of years ago. I said, "YOU'RE Bill?! I thought you were some OLD guy!!!" He said, "I AM some old guy!!!" and happily signed all my swag. :D His lecture was really interesting - about how he struggled for years and uses traditional techniques and makes all his own films himself. He's one of my favorites. I ran down to the stage right after he was done and asked him for his drawing of Cherri from Hair High. It's hanging in the bedroom.

Canemaker showed a few of McCay's shorts (films! not underwears!) -- apparently McCay had a vaudeville act, and would show "Gertie the Dinosaur" and interact with Gertie ("Gertie -- raise you left leg! C'mon, girl! Raise it! Good girl"). He'd throw a (paper) apple at Gertie who'd eat it on screen. At the end McCay would scoot offstage and appear on screen riding Gertie.

This must have been mindblowing to 1914 audiences.

McCay also made a film about the sinking of the Luisitania, which was very evocative and starkly beautiful.

And the Little Nemo in Slumberland comics are just superb.

McKay! You've foreshadowed!
(You'll understand that remark later.)

*Gawd! Vaudeville!*

/longs to spend untold days researching and perhaps reviving Vaudeville

so cool!