There have been a few Tiny Tim bios on the market o'er the years, read this review if you want my impressions of an earlier Tim tome that just happens to grace my bookshelf. But as far as deep down get into the nitty gritty no holds barred tell everything you can biographies go this relatively recent effort's got the rest of 'em beat all hollow! And like, after you're done with this 'un you either feel like you've known the guy ever since he was born, or want to take a bath in pure Pinesol. Most likely both.
ETERNAL TROUBADOUR doesn't have the jambus-packtus pix that I would have liked in a Tim book, but it'll still send you for a loop what with author Martell leaving nada in the way of juicy and extremely scandalous information regarding Our Hero out. And I do mean nada whether it be about the Tim that we not only saw on tee-vee and heard on the radio but the guy behind the scenes when the cameras weren't on and his handlers might have been busy doin' something else. Not that any of us had our doubts that maybe there was something a bit screw-loosey about the guy, but as far as psychological dysfunctions and general inter-cranial craziness goes Mr. Khaury himself must've been the all time celebrity crackup champeen what with all of the uncontrollable spurting and hygiene fixations that Martell oh-so boldly details throughout this read.
Lots of historical background pops up here not to mention heretofore unknown facts that seem to clash with previous Tim efforts, especially regarding those early days of "bitter struggle" when the shaggy-haired one wasn't exactly gettin' pelted with tulip petals by the neighborhood kids. The Khaury family household sitchy-ayshion come into view giving us insight into a place and time when Tiny's folks didn't even have a bedroom door and the Boho-esque Mr. and Missus would respectively flaunt their sausage and lunchmeat in front of young Herbert which really must've done something to affect (or is it addle?) the young kid's brain. The entire (and before this book alluded to) Bobby Gonzales affair with all of those massage sessions that probably led to bigger things is also tossed at us, as are the various postmarks on that road to DA BIG TIME that could only happen to a star-crossed guy such as Tim. The ups and downfalls, LAUGH IN, the Miss Vicky tee-vee marriage on THE TONIGHT SHOW, those bigtime temptations and that struggle to keep in the spotlight despite an ever-flagging career are all detailed rather swell-like, and with a whole lotta minutiae missing from all those SCREEN LIFE articles added in for good measure. It all goes down in your head so easily to the point where, unless you're a member of that Older Generation that loathed Tim or a plain ol' turd, ya gotta be rootin' for Tim all the way no matter what bad business move or pratfall may befall him! Calling this 'un hefty reading throughout is, to be trite 'n all about it, an understatement.
Somehow I can osmose to that rather well---after all, he was perhaps one of the more (relatively) stable and talented figures of the day especially when compared with all those decadent carousers and talent-less hacks passing themselves off as spokesmen for that rather putrid generation that deserves to die off at an accelerated rate if only for being so self-conscious!
There's just too much in here for me to relate without even becoming more long-winded'n usual! If you still think that Tiny Tim was yet another late-sixties campy sideshow freak after reading this well, you'll still be right. But along with the Legendary Stardust Cowboy, Yoko Ono and Wild Man Fisher he was a freak you could really sink yer clams into. Check the remaindered rack at one of those cheap flea market bookshops and who knows, maybe you can find at a price cheaper'n it woulda cost you to buy a Tiny Tim album at the local record shop 'round 1974 way!
2 comments:
Sure you've heard, Smog Veil just dropped the Laughner set info.
Mrs Miller is what, boychik? Chopped liv-uh?
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