"The Tillman Story": The reviews
For whatever reason, The Tillman Story, Amir Bar-Lev’s documentary on the friendly-fire death of Pat Tillman in Afghanistan and the by all accounts tragically, perhaps criminally, mishandled aftermath, hasn’t opened in Arizona yet.
It’s screened for critics once, and at least once for the ASU football team, but as yet I haven’t heard of any local special screenings before its scheduled opening Sept. 3.
It’s showing in New York, however. The reviews have been exceedingly positive—though note the one exception below, from the New York Post.
You can see the trailer here. The full Metacritic page is here.
Here are some of the first reviews:
Mr. Bar-Lev’s clearsighted, emotionally steady documentary examines the family members’ deepening inquiry into the circumstances of Tillman’s death and chronicles their mounting rage at the military’s misappropriation of his story. The film visits the canyon where he died and the soldiers who were with him and heard his final words, in which he tried to alert the unidentified troops only 40 yards away that he was on their side.
The family’s outrage over the exploitation of their son boiled over in a letter that Tillman’s father, Pat Sr., wrote accusing the military of fraud. The letter led to an internal investigation and a Congressional hearing at which military leaders were grilled on what they knew about what the family asserted was a cover-up; their memories were vague.
“The Tillman Story” is a story that won’t go away, won’t leave you alone, won’t let you feel at ease. Intensely dramatic, filled with elevated heroism, crass self-interest and blatant stupidity, it’s a paradigmatic narrative of our tendentious, turbulent times.
It’s a fascinating film, full of drama, intrigue, tragedy and righteous indignation, but maybe its greatest accomplishment is to make you feel the death of one young man — a truly independent thinker who hewed his own way through the world, in the finest American tradition — as a great loss.
‘The Tillman Story" purports to be an exposé of the cover-up of the death by friendly fire of the Army Ranger and one time NFL star Pat Tillman. But, provocative and colorful as the film is, it does the very thing it denounces — massaging the facts to seize Tillman for a political agenda.
[…]
The film dances around this point, but Tillman’s mother, who is still unsatisfied after being given 3,000 pages of documents from the Army investigation, is a George W. Bush hater. Like many before her (such as Cindy Sheehan, who said her soldier son “was murdered … to benefit Israel”), she found sorrow curdling into something more dynamic and satisfying: political rage. A military organizational chart that is topped by a photo of the then-commander in chief (cue scary music) is as close as the movie gets to painting a picture of an evil cabal headed by Bush. But fratricide, when you clear away the fog of war, is simply a gruesome accident.
7:56 AM
Memories of the Sombrero Playhouse: The Complete Saga
Here’s PHXated’s chat with Gary Gohring, the manager of Phoenix’s ‘70s-era art-movie mecca, the Sombrero Playhouse, in its complete form.
I’m fascinated by the work that’s been done to chronicle the work on the Vanishing Phoenix front; you can read Yuri’s thoughts on it here and here.
Today I’m beginning a four-part interview with Gary Gohring, who longtime Phoenicians will remember was an early film critic of New Times, waaay back in the 1970s.
Gohring was also the manager of the Sombrero Playhouse, a former live theater that became, in the late 1970s, the city’s most vibrant movie theater.
There’s not much about the Sombrero in the archives of the local papers, thought I did find this bit of comments on it on a site called Cinema Treasures.
I recently contacted Gohring, who now lives in San Diego; he was kind enough to agree to the following interview, which I’ll post in chunks over the next few days.
As I note in the chat below, the Sombrero was a key part of the Valley’s cultural life in the barren 1970s, and deserves a more prominent place in our cultural memory.
-- Bill Wyman
PHXated: Gary, thanks much for answering a few questions about the Sombrero Playhouse.
Gary Gohring: You’re welcome.
PHXated: Can you tell me something about the Sombrero during your time there? When did it turn into a movie theater? What was the sort of mission statement? Am I right in remembering it was really the only place to see art films like that in Phoenix proper? (Leaving aside the Valley Art and occasional movies at the museums.)
G.G.: I think the Sombrero Playhouse became a movie theater sometime in 1977. I am not really sure about the exact date as I became involved after it was already established. Morey Levine was the owner of the theater, and he could probably provide the exact date. (I do not know how to get in touch with him.) I don’t recall a particular mission statement, but he may be able to provide that as well. We were the only repertory movie theater in the Phoenix area (outside of the Valley Art) from when it opened to when we finally shut down in 1981.
PHXated: The owner was Richard Charelton, right? Didn’t he have something to do with the Woolworth family? Do you know where he is now?
G.G.: Richard Charelton owned the property on which the theater was located. I have no knowledge of either his connection to the Woolworth family or where he is now.
PHXated: What were the logistics of the place? What did it cost to rent a Fellini movie for a couple of showings? How did you get the films… were they flown in or mailed in? Any showings that were notable or that you were particularly proud of? Did you ever book films no one was interested in? Besides Rocky Horror, what were the most popular things you showed?
G.G.: I cannot recall the exact logistics of the place. I want to say we could seat 350 or so maximum for a showing, but that is just a poor remembrance. We used a booker out of Los Angeles to get our films, but I did most of the programming through him when I started working at the theater, first as assistant manager, then as manager, in 1977-78. (Morey and our booker deserve all the credit, though, for bringing in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which was already playing before I started.) We received the majority of our films just as other theaters did; they were flown in (often the night before). Occasionally, a non-major distributor like New Yorker Films would mail a 16mm title to us. Costs varied, depending on the popularity or availability of the film itself.
We tried to bring a diverse lineup of movies to the Phoenix area, most notably those American, cult, and foreign films that had been popular or overlooked in previous limited runs n the Valley. We also occasionally brought in a few premieres, and we would have festivals around a particular actor, director, or theme. In fact, I basically became the programmer because I suggested they do a Woody Allen film festival, which proved a big success for the theater. My own particular tastes ran (and still run) towards the more obscure, out of the mainstream foreign films, and (not too surprisingly) these generally proved to be the movies not too many people were interested in. Off the top of my hear, our biggest successes, outside of the Friday and Saturday midnight showings of Rocky Horror Picture Show, were the double-bills of King of Hearts/Harold and Maude and Emmanuelle 2: Joys of A Woman/Story of O.
PHXated: It was a long time ago, but I have a sense that a certain amount of care was taken with presentation and projection at the Sombrero—-particularly in contrast to that of other theaters in town. Is that a fair impression? Did you have decent equipment? What kind of projectors were they?
G.G.: The theater had a great, dedicated staff, and it was blessed with about four projectionists during my tenure there who did wonders with the prints we received, many of which were in pretty bad shape. We had standard 35mm projectors for the day.
PHXated: Going through some old boxes a while back, I found a frequent film-goer card from the Sombrero, with dates marked by hand—something like “5/14 …. 5/17 … 5/18 … 5/23.” That shows you how often we went! To me, the theater was a major cultural institution in town at the time, and I have memories of seeing so many classic, foreign, cult and (not least) rock movies there. Is this an overinflated impression of its role in the valley’s cultural life at the time?
G.G.: The discount card you referenced was indeed marked by hand. Ten admissions for $20, I believe it was. (The discount card I now get has 5 admissions for $40.) As I mentioned, we did attempt to bring a diverse collection of films to the Phoenix market, trying to accommodate a wide variety of tastes. In many cases, we were successful, and in some cases, we were not. I know for sure we did not appease the customer who kept requesting more Oliver Reed films. "He made other films besides Women in Love, Tommy, and The Devils,“ one of the person’s notes lifted from the suggestion box stated. As for leaving a cultural legacy, I think that other than being known as the place where The Rocky Horror Picture Show first played and as the movie theater that had no parking, we probably did not leave much of a cultural legacy. At least not the cultural legacy I would have liked. However, it is good to hear that there are those like yourself who not only remember but do so with fondness.
PHXated: Specifically, The Rocky Horror Picture Show was a big deal for my high-school friends; in such a culturally conservative and homogeneous city, as a bunch of misfits in a high school drama club, I felt it was a place where we could meet similar quote-unquote creative kids our age. What was your impression of RHPS at the time? Was it fun or a nightmare to oversee?
Gary Gohring: I am not really the person to ask about The Rocky Horror Picture Show as I was neither a fan of it or all the attendant fan involvement with it, but I certainly recognize that for many, many people in their teens and 20s in the mid-to late ‘70s it was the cult film and an important social bonding experience.
Additionally, its financial success helped the Sombrero prosper and ultimately stay in business as long as it did. It certainly allowed me to indulge my aforementioned tastes and book films such as [Bresson’s] Diary of a Country Priest and [Ozu’s] Tokyo Story, which hardly drew the same crowd, enthusiasm, or grosses.
The assistant managers usually ran the theater on Friday and Saturday evenings; I only worked those RHPS showings they missed. The theater was a nightmare to clean up on the mornings after, and we lost more than one cleaning crew in large part because of it.
PHXated: I remember the Valley Art, of course—particularly the afternoon showing of The Graduate where they accidentally showed an X-rated preview of Screw on Screen before it. (Sheer chaos resulted.) As I drive around town, I also think of the (literally) underground screens at Los Altos mall, the big Bethany theater, the Kachina in Scottsdale, the Cine Capri …
I’m not nostalgic that much about it (there are so many more movies available these days through so many sources), but there was something larger than life about seeing Star Wars, or Alien, at the Cine Capri, or Annie Hall at the Bethany. Any theaters you remember fondly from the time?
G.G.: What I remember most about moviegoing in Phoenix during the ‘70s was not so much the theaters themselves but the evolution of the moviegoing experience itself, disintegrating from the big movie houses such as Cine Capri, the Kachina, etc. into the multiplexes. And in some cases, this was done extremely poorly, with a single cinema being butchered into an awkward five or six screen theater. Mann’s Christown, I am looking at you.
The ‘70s also became the decade that ushered in the financial mega-blockbusters, where success has become measured more in terms of stratospheric box-office receipts on the opening weekend rather than solid financial gain and/or quality.
I enjoyed (still do) going to foreign movies and off-beat films, so I generally most liked going to NEEB Hall at ASU, the Valley Art, and Dan Harkins' Camelview Cinemas, and as I lived in Tempe at the time, I did not mind driving to the other side of town to the Bethany Cinemas to see the likes of [Peckinpah’s] Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia or to the UA 6 Cinemas to see [Monte Hellman’s] The Cockfighter in their exclusive Valley runs.
PHXated: How did you come to work for New Times? What did you do after that? What do you do now?
Gary Gohring: I sent three sample movie reviews to the New Times in the Fall of 1973 in the hope of writing movie reviews for them. The editors at the time were kind enough to ignore their mediocrity and asked me to write a small column listing all the films currently in town.
Being an ASU undergraduate at the time, I jumped at the chance to earn a whopping $15 a column. I eventually ended up writing movie reviews for the New Times on a sporadic basis from 1973 through early 1977, and then on a regular basis from April 1978 to April 1982. I really appreciate the opportunity Jim Larkin and Mike Lacey gave me when they took back control of the paper in 1978.
I tried to write reviews that would get readers to look at a movie and its creators in a new and original way. For me, the best movie reviewers do this. Unfortunately, most readers of movie reviews (sadly, an ever shrinking number) and advertisers want reviews that reflect their taste and universal opinion. I was not successful in accomplishing what I wanted, and I never did fit the other model.
I was fortunate, though, during my tenure there to work with a great staff and some terrific writers, most notably Bart Bull, Bob Boze Bell, Sandy Lovejoy, and Dewey Webb.
I have quietly faded into oblivion since then, having moved from Phoenix in 1992. However, I still go to movies and enjoy viewing and discussing them as much as ever.
PHXated: I moved away in the late ‘70s, came back soon after to visit and … the Sombrero was just gone, with nothing there but a vacant lot. What lead to its closing?
G.G. Disagreements between Richard Charleton, the property owner, and Morey Levine, our owner, most notably concerning our showing of soft-core fare such as Emmanuelle 2, came to a peak in the summer of 1978. The most immediate result was that we lost our parking and had to lease a not-too-convenient lot nearby.
These conflicts, inconveniences, and subsequent costs to deal with them escalated, driving away patrons and affecting both programming and the bottom line.
Then we lost our exclusivity to show The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Also, there were only so many times we could show King of Hearts. The theater closed in early 1981.
Even had we not encountered the problems we did, we would probably have been buried by the coming video revolution. I believe the property was subsequently sold, but to whom I do not remember. I know the building was subsequently torn down, but I do not recall when or by whom.
PHXated: Gary, thanks again for responding!
G.G.: Hope this incomplete recollection helps in some way.
4:18 PM
Memories of the Sombrero Playhouse, Part 4: The Final Chapter!
PHXated has been speaking with Gary Gohring, who in the late 1970s, managed the Sombrero Playhouse, at the time the only place in Phoenix and one of the few places in the entire Valley one could see art-house movie fare.
In the final segment, Gohring talks about his career at New Times, where he was film critic, and the end of the Sombrero.
Part one is here.
Part two is here.
Part three is here.
PHXated would love to hear your memories of movie-going in Phoenix at the time, or see any old Sombrero schedules you have!
PHXated: How did you come to work for New Times? What did you do after that? What do you do now?
Gary Gohring: I sent three sample movie reviews to the New Times in the Fall of 1973 in the hope of writing movie reviews for them. The editors at the time were kind enough to ignore their mediocrity and asked me to write a small column listing all the films currently in town.
Being an ASU undergraduate at the time, I jumped at the chance to earn a whopping $15 a column. I eventually ended up writing movie reviews for the New Times on a sporadic basis from 1973 through early 1977, and then on a regular basis from April 1978 to April 1982. I really appreciate the opportunity Jim Larkin and Mike Lacey gave me when they took back control of the paper in 1978.
I tried to write reviews that would get readers to look at a movie and its creators in a new and original way. For me, the best movie reviewers do this. Unfortunately, most readers of movie reviews (sadly, an ever shrinking number) and advertisers want reviews that reflect their taste and universal opinion. I was not successful in accomplishing what I wanted, and I never did fit the other model.
I was fortunate, though, during my tenure there to work with a great staff and some terrific writers, most notably Bart Bull, Bob Boze Bell, Sandy Lovejoy, and Dewey Webb.
I have quietly faded into oblivion since then, having moved from Phoenix in 1992. However, I still go to movies and enjoy viewing and discussing them as much as ever.
PHXated: I moved away in the late ‘70s, came back soon after to visit and … the Sombrero was just gone, with nothing there but a vacant lot. What lead to its closing?
G.G. Disagreements between Richard Charleton, the property owner, and Morey Levine, our owner, most notably concerning our showing of soft-core fare such as Emmanuelle 2, came to a peak in the summer of 1978. The most immediate result was that we lost our parking and had to lease a not-too-convenient lot nearby.
These conflicts, inconveniences, and subsequent costs to deal with them escalated, driving away patrons and affecting both programming and the bottom line.
Then we lost our exclusivity to show The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Also, there were only so many times we could show King of Hearts. The theater closed in early 1981.
Even had we not encountered the problems we did, we would probably have been buried by the coming video revolution. I believe the property was subsequently sold, but to whom I do not remember. I know the building was subsequently torn down, but I do not recall when or by whom.
PHXated: Gary, thanks again for responding!
G.G.: Hope this incomplete recollection helps in some way.
9:31 AM
Sombrero Playhouse Memories, Part 3: The Rocky Horror kids strike back!
Last week, we began a conversation about a bit of Phoenix cultural arcana that gets forgotten: The Sombrero Playhouse, the city’s vibrant 1970s-era art house, one of the few places in town film fans could see foreign fare, art films, cult classics and rock movies.
Gary Gohring, who was the theater’s manager as well as the New Times' film critic at the time, now lives in San Diego; he agreed to participate in the following email chat about the theater and cinematic life in the Valley of the time generally, including the late, magnificent Cine-Capri, seen above.
The photo is by George Aurelius, and comes courtesy of CineCapriTheater.com.
Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here
PHXated: Specifically, The Rocky Horror Picture Show was a big deal for my high-school friends; in such a culturally conservative and homogeneous city, as a bunch of misfits in a high school drama club, I felt it was a place where we could meet similar quote-unquote creative kids our age. What was your impression of RHPS at the time? Was it fun or a nightmare to oversee?
Gary Gohring: I am not really the person to ask about The Rocky Horror Picture Show as I was neither a fan of it or all the attendant fan involvement with it, but I certainly recognize that for many, many people in their teens and 20s in the mid-to late ‘70s it was the cult film and an important social bonding experience.
Additionally, its financial success helped the Sombrero prosper and ultimately stay in business as long as it did. It certainly allowed me to indulge my aforementioned tastes and book films such as [Bresson’s] Diary of a Country Priest and [Ozu’s] Tokyo Story, which hardly drew the same crowd, enthusiasm, or grosses.
The assistant managers usually ran the theater on Friday and Saturday evenings; I only worked those RHPS showings they missed. The theater was a nightmare to clean up on the mornings after, and we lost more than one cleaning crew in large part because of it.
PHXated: I remember the Valley Art, of course—particularly the afternoon showing of The Graduate where they accidentally showed an X-rated preview of Screw on Screen before it. (Sheer chaos resulted.) As I drive around town, I also think of the (literally) underground screens at Los Altos mall, the big Bethany theater, the Kachina in Scottsdale, the Cine Capri …
I’m not nostalgic that much about it (there are so many more movies available these days through so many sources), but there was something larger than life about seeing Star Wars, or Alien, at the Cine Capri, or Annie Hall at the Bethany. Any theaters you remember fondly from the time?
G.G.: What I remember most about moviegoing in Phoenix during the ‘70s was not so much the theaters themselves but the evolution of the moviegoing experience itself, disintegrating from the big movie houses such as Cine Capri, the Kachina, etc. into the multiplexes. And in some cases, this was done extremely poorly, with a single cinema being butchered into an awkward five or six screen theater. Mann’s Christown, I am looking at you.
The ‘70s also became the decade that ushered in the financial mega-blockbusters, where success has become measured more in terms of stratospheric box-office receipts on the opening weekend rather than solid financial gain and/or quality.
I enjoyed (still do) going to foreign movies and off-beat films, so I generally most liked going to NEEB Hall at ASU, the Valley Art, and Dan Harkins' Camelview Cinemas, and as I lived in Tempe at the time, I did not mind driving to the other side of town to the Bethany Cinemas to see the likes of [Peckinpah’s] Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia or to the UA 6 Cinemas to see [Monte Hellman’s] The Cockfighter in their exclusive Valley runs.
Tomorrow: The end of the Sombrero.
2:19 PM
Memories of the Sombrero Playhouse, Part Deux!
Yesterday, we began a conversation with Gary Gohring, who back in the 1970s was the thoughtful film critic for the Phoenix New Times … and the manager of the city’s best art house, the Sombrero Playhouse.
The Sombrero doesn’t get its due when people talk about the cultural scene of the period, so we tracked down Gohring, now living contentedly in San Diego.
He graciously agreed to share his memories of the time, the second installment of which follows.
Part I is here.
PHXated: It was a long time ago, but I have a sense that a certain amount of care was taken with presentation and projection at the Sombrero—-particularly in contrast to that of other theaters in town. Is that a fair impression? Did you have decent equipment? What kind of projectors were they?
G.G.: The theater had a great, dedicated staff, and it was blessed with about four projectionists during my tenure there who did wonders with the prints we received, many of which were in pretty bad shape. We had standard 35mm projectors for the day.
PHXated: Going through some old boxes a while back, I found a frequent film-goer card from the Sombrero, with dates marked by hand—something like “5/14 …. 5/17 … 5/18 … 5/23.” That shows you how often we went! To me, the theater was a major cultural institution in town at the time, and I have memories of seeing so many classic, foreign, cult and (not least) rock movies there. Is this an overinflated impression of its role in the valley’s cultural life at the time?
G.G.: The discount card you referenced was indeed marked by hand. Ten admissions for $20, I believe it was. (The discount card I now get has 5 admissions for $40.) As I mentioned, we did attempt to bring a diverse collection of films to the Phoenix market, trying to accommodate a wide variety of tastes. In many cases, we were successful, and in some cases, we were not. I know for sure we did not appease the customer who kept requesting more Oliver Reed films. "He made other films besides Women in Love, Tommy, and The Devils,“ one of the person’s notes lifted from the suggestion box stated. As for leaving a cultural legacy, I think that other than being known as the place where The Rocky Horror Picture Show first played and as the movie theater that had no parking, we probably did not leave much of a cultural legacy. At least not the cultural legacy I would have liked. However, it is good to hear that there are those like yourself who not only remember but do so with fondness.
10:43 AM
PHXated's contribution to "Vanishing Phoenix": The Sombrero Playhouse
I’m fascinated by the work that’s been done to chronicle the work on the Vanishing Phoenix front; you can read Yuri’s thoughts on it here and here.
Today I’m beginning a four-part interview with Gary Gohring, who longtime Phoenicians will remember was an early film critic of New Times, waaay back in the 1970s.
Gohring was also the manager of the Sombrero Playhouse, a former live theater that became, in the late 1970s, the city’s most vibrant movie theater.
There’s not much about the Sombrero in the archives of the local papers, thought I did find this bit of comments on it on a site called Cinema Treasures.
I recently contacted Gohring, who now lives in San Diego; he was kind enough to agree to the following interview, which I’ll post in chunks over the next few days.
As I note in the chat below, the Sombrero was a key part of the Valley’s cultural life in the barren 1970s, and deserves a more prominent place in our cultural memory.
*-- Bill Wyman*
PHXated: Gary, thanks much for answering a few questions about the Sombrero Playhouse.
Gary Gohring: You’re welcome.
PHXated: Can you tell me something about the Sombrero during your time there? When did it turn into a movie theater? What was the sort of mission statement? Am I right in remembering it was really the only place to see art films like that in Phoenix proper? (Leaving aside the Valley Art and occasional movies at the museums.)
G.G.: I think the Sombrero Playhouse became a movie theater sometime in 1977. I am not really sure about the exact date as I became involved after it was already established. Morey Levine was the owner of the theater, and he could probably provide the exact date. (I do not know how to get in touch with him.) I don’t recall a particular mission statement, but he may be able to provide that as well. We were the only repertory movie theater in the Phoenix area (outside of the Valley Art) from when it opened to when we finally shut down in 1981.
PHXated: The owner was Richard Charelton, right? Didn’t he have something to do with the Woolworth family? Do you know where he is now?
G.G.: Richard Charelton owned the property on which the theater was located. I have no knowledge of either his connection to the Woolworth family or where he is now.
PHXated: What were the logistics of the place? What did it cost to rent a Fellini movie for a couple of showings? How did you get the films… were they flown in or mailed in? Any showings that were notable or that you were particularly proud of? Did you ever book films no one was interested in? Besides Rocky Horror, what were the most popular things you showed?
G.G.: I cannot recall the exact logistics of the place. I want to say we could seat 350 or so maximum for a showing, but that is just a poor remembrance. We used a booker out of Los Angeles to get our films, but I did most of the programming through him when I started working at the theater, first as assistant manager, then as manager, in 1977-78. (Morey and our booker deserve all the credit, though, for bringing in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which was already playing before I started.) We received the majority of our films just as other theaters did; they were flown in (often the night before). Occasionally, a non-major distributor like New Yorker Films would mail a 16mm title to us. Costs varied, depending on the popularity or availability of the film itself.
We tried to bring a diverse lineup of movies to the Phoenix area, most notably those American, cult, and foreign films that had been popular or overlooked in previous limited runs n the Valley. We also occasionally brought in a few premieres, and we would have festivals around a particular actor, director, or theme. In fact, I basically became the programmer because I suggested they do a Woody Allen film festival, which proved a big success for the theater. My own particular tastes ran (and still run) towards the more obscure, out of the mainstream foreign films, and (not too surprisingly) these generally proved to be the movies not too many people were interested in. Off the top of my hear, our biggest successes, outside of the Friday and Saturday midnight showings of Rocky Horror Picture Show, were the double-bills of King of Hearts/Harold and Maude and Emmanuelle 2: Joys of A Woman/Story of O.
More tomorrow ….
1:13 PM
"Sedona: The Motion Picture" now filming
The film once envisioned a budget of $2 million, a friend of PHXated tells us; now it’s down to a small percentage of that figure, with a lot of even that planned to be barter.
But production has finally begun in Sedona. The producers' aim, our friend says, is to capture the kooky quality of the environment in hopes of creating a “Northern Exposure”-like TV spinoff.
The creators are Tommy Stovall and Marc Sterling; their previous effort was a film called Hate Crime.
The plot of Sedona: The Motion Picture? These things always change, of course, but here’s an early précis:
Imagine the plight of Tammy Johnson, a 50-year old type-A businesswoman who takes a wrong turn en route to Phoenix and winds up in Sedona, where a tour plane barrels down West State Route 89A in an emergency crash landing maneuvering that forces her car off the road. Her car’s a wreck, she’s running terribly late, and she winds up suffering an agonizing wait at the repair shop, where she discovers that she can’t even rent a car to get out of town. As she’s stuck in Sedona, the no-nonsense advertising exec encounters a series of quirky New Age locals, including a “holistic pedicurist whose services include psychic readings.
7:26 AM
Dan Harkins—pet safety activist
Harkins, the owner of the Harkins movie theater chain, will be doing pet-safety public service announcements that will run in all his theaters, the Republic’s Krystal Klei reports.
The newfound enthusiasm for the subject came after Harkins got cited last week while leaving his dog in his car in 100-degree heat while he watched a movie in a Scottsdale theater.
The Republic story seem a bit overly Harkins-friendly:
According to police records, Harkins checked on his dog multiple times, providing her with water and taking her on walks. Records also say he said he never left the dog in the car for longer than 45 minutes, and parked in a shady space with the windows cracked.
Although Harkins made efforts to ensure his pet’s safety, police cited Harkins because temperatures outside exceeded 100 degrees, police said.
“He never left his dog in the car more than 45 minutes” is not exculpatory.
Earlier stories established that the dog had been in the car for nearly four hours during the hottest time of the day—and that Harkins had been parking in a handicapped spot to boot.
12:03 PM