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 "One Man's Dreams": The Tale of the Soft Core Porno Corner by Stephen Cody The name of the movie I saw was Joy, Chapter Two. It's still one of my favorites to this day; truly a classic marvel of 1970's soft core. I knew from then on that I had a calling in life. I started taping every Friday night. I shunned the idea of copying over old VHS tapes, as I wanted to preserve the highest quality possible. I grew depressed when they occasionally wouldn't show soft core on a given Friday, and I would also worry. I was always concerned that they would do away with it; the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like some giant programming director's mistake. A drunken concept brought to fruition in the heat of the moment and forgotten the next morning, yet repeating every Friday because no one had caught on. My fear of the cancellation of these wonderful television moments only further encouraged my taping fervor. All of my allowance money was quickly spent on new VHS tapes, and soon I had amassed an impressive library. Like a baseball card collector, my goals quickly grew out of rampant accumulation to one of specified collection; Joy, Chapter Two, in it's entirety, became my toughest find. Finally, after months of re-runs of movies I had already acquired, Joy, Chapter Two was rebroadcast and I had it in it's entirety. The crown jewel of my collection was complete. I spent all of my free time carefully critiquing and "analyzing" the various movies. I had carefully created a journal outlining which scenes were ideal to fast forward to on a given tape, complete with the tape counter numbers. But beyond the purposes of aiding my self-love, I really felt I had found a lost art. I tried sharing my collection with my friends, but they didn't get it; they said it looked way too fake and wasn't as good as the movies their older brothers had. But I was put off by their occasional viewing of a hard core movie; I much preferred the soft lighting and vague nature of soft core. No one really understood the brilliance except for me. A medium of expression that had gone ignored and misunderstood for far too long. I realized that my role here went beyond simple fandom: It was up to me to bring this to the masses. Once I got into high school, my interest in soft core never ceased. I actually grew more determined to share what I had discovered with the world. I finally realized how to do it one afternoon, when I was flipping channels. On the local public access channel, a classmate's show was on. He called it "The Jimmy Besag Variety Hour" even though it was only a half hour long. He used it mainly for comedy skits, as well as interviewing awful local bands. Many of the bands had "forbidden haircuts", also known as the "metal mohawk". These haircuts consisted of hair that was grown out long on top, and shaved around the sides and back. Typically, it was pulled back in a pony-tail. All of these bands played "thrash-funk", which may explain how they were able to choose such a poor haircut. But looking beyond their errors in hair styling, I realized that if my classmate could get a public access show, I probably could as well. And I could show-case my collection and offer my critiques in a public forum. I had found the answer. At least, I thought I had. The people at the station said I had to work there for free for three to six months before they could promise me a show. Answering phones and getting coffee got old, but the promise of the show kept me driven. Finally, after four months, I sat down with the manager of programming to work out the times to do the show. I told him that I had a great idea for a show, and that it would essentially be showing parts of movies and providing commentary. He gave me three two hour blocks for filming per week, and an assurance that the show would run at least once every day of the week, and probably a few times every day. The station really didn't have much else to put on except Jimmy Besag's show and some boring text about taking community college classes in front of the television, and I was convinced that I would quickly become the top show on the network. I brought in a few films to tape scenes from and actually finished the show in the first two sessions; we devoted the Friday session to editing the credits, wipes, and graphics. The junior editor helped me with all the technical stuff, but mainly he just shook his head and rolled his eyes a lot. He really couldn't believe that I wanted to base a show around my critiques of soft core Cinemax movies, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to convert everyone with the first show. Not knowing how people would react to the show, I thought it would be a good idea to add my phone number to the closing credits. We came up with a great graphic for the intro, finished the main copy, and then I sat back and became the very first person to watch Stephen Cody's Soft Core Porno Corner. When the show finally aired, I got about twenty calls, seventeen of which were from irate soccer moms who couldn't believe the show was being shown at the same time as children's cartoons. Two were crank calls from 8th graders. And the third call was from Lionel Simpkins. Lionel spoke with slow, affected drawls, sort of like a more gentlemanly and less creepy Vincent Price. He also used mmms and hmmmms to preclude and finish just about every sentence he said. "Mmmm... Loved the show, reallllllllly loved the show... hmm...", and that sort of thing. It turned out the Lionel and I were kindred spirits. He, too, had amassed a nice collection of soft core over the years but found my presentation and selections for the show to be rather questionable. "Mmmm.... I really think you should dress up more, the whole shorts and t-shirt thing is so tacky... hmm.... And also, you shouldnąt show the "Passion Cove" type of thing, it just doesnąt represent the best that soft core has to offer... hmmmmm?" I met Lionel for coffee and was surprised to find that not only was he around forty, but he looked a lot like John Waters. The more we talked the more I noticed how astute and in depth his analysis of soft core was. I invited him to be my guest host on the next show, and possibly all future shows - and he gladly accepted. After two or three shows, the Soft Core Porno Corner had really hit it's stride. We were smoothly leading in from one clip to another, and Lionel's rich voice would really capture the right feeling at the end of each clip: "Mmm... That was mildly titillating... hmm..." "Hmmm.... That was... subtly erotic...". Our banter was natural and interesting. We were both dressing up in black suits for each show, and Lionel would puff Sherman's cigarettes as we would discuss the lighting, direction, and sensuality of the various scenes. We had even acquired faux leather chairs for our set. The look of the show was better than I dreamed. I was getting more and more phone calls after every airing, and even the 8th graders who were crank calling me now simply called to thank me for sharing the world of soft core pornography with them. I had fortunately convinced the soccer moms that my home number was the number to the station, and they were stupid enough to believe me. Growing tired of their incessant complaints, I had actually bought an answering machine and put on a message that no one was at the station, but to please leave a comment or complaint and we would get back to them "whenever possible". The show had achieved wide-spread fame in the general community, and people were walking up to me on the street and asking for copies of various movies. The city of Orinda, CA was finally learning the beauty of soft core pornography. Unfortunately, after our seventh show, the manager of programming actually watched one of our shows. One of the assistants in the office said he almost had a heart attack and screamed at Milo the junior editor for almost 40 minutes. He called my house, and when he heard my answering machine message, he got so angry that all I heard was breathing for about 10 seconds. Then he screamed about how I could have had the whole station shut down, my show would never air again, and that if he ever saw me again he would probably kill me. Lionel Simpkins and I still meet for coffee every now and again. The old manager of programming ended up quitting due to ulcers and Milo actually got promoted to his position at the station. Milo always promised he'd put the show back on the air, but ended up getting a job with a real network before he got around to it. I wish the show could have been around for longer, but I don't mind. I have original copies of all the shows, and the people of Orinda still have an affinity for soft core pornography un-matched by any other city that I know of. And really, that's all I ever wanted. Freelancer Stephen Cody lives in Albany, CA with his wife and two children. |
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