The Clorox Code - Part 3 - Mystery Solved (Sort of)

At the end of the documentary "The History of America in Bleach", the CEO of Clorox came down a spiral staircase and signed black tablets with a Clorox bleach pen.

Sally Kellerman turned to me, rolled her eyes, and said, "Do you believe this shit? And I just wanted to find out the source of Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing."

Suddenly the lights dimmed and the above video cued up. Sally, Dan Brown and I swayed in synchronized rhythm in our seats. "Just love the Bee Gees," Dan said.

"Oh, who doesn't love the Bee Gees?" Sally added.

I nodded. Midway through the song, the screen rose and we saw the fellow (whose name was Dimitri) below along with his two brothers continuing the song in that familiar, high pitched harmony. Sally managed to capture this short clip at the end of the song on her iPhone before the Clorox brass stopped her from recording their next song.

"Oh, how cute, they sound just like the Bee Gees," Dan said.

"What do you mean," Dimitri shouted. "We are the Bee Gees."

"Yes," his brother Grover said. "The Gibb brothers just lip sync to our recordings. They can't sing a note. All those records were recorded by us!"

"Well, I always noticed that the music and the lip moves were always a tad off in their concerts," Sally added.

"Damned straight," Grover said. "They were on the stage getting all the bucks and glory while we were behind a screen doing all the real work. We got a bucket of minnows if we were lucky."

"But what does all this have to do with...Clorox?" I asked.

"We swim in pools..." Grover explained.

"...and pools need chlorine to stay clean..." Dimitri said with a wink. "...and we all know chlorine comes from..."

"'nuff said," Sally said.

They then put on hats and did their Night Fever medley. At the end of the show, the screen came back down with closing music and credits, and we noticed the acknowledgment of "Headgear by Millie's Marine Mammal Millinery of Mendocino". As we exited, young men in white suits holding daisies passed out cans of dolphin-free tuna and packets of Hidden Valley Ranch with instructions on how to make "unforgettable tuna salad".

"We never really solved the Clorox code, did we?" Dan said with certain self realization.

"Will you just shut up and let's zip up to Mendocino," Sally said. "I've got a great idea for my next night club routine."

The Clorox Code - Part 2

After an awkward introduction in the parking lot, Sally Kellerman invited me to jump in her Range Rover with Dan Brown, and we hopped onto the 24 towards downtown Oakland.

Sally pulled the black monolith of an SUV into a parking garage and we crossed 12th Street, staring up at the white monolith of a building constructed from fortunes made from bleach.

A friendly greeter directed us to the visitors center and handed us literature asking if we would like to see their orientation film. We said yes and went into a small theater, its walls, carpet furnishings all a blinding shade of brilliant white. Embedded in the while was the watermark Clorox logo and the catch phrase "A food and chemical company".

"Food and...chemicals..." Sally said with trepidation, holding her brochure against her mouth as she looked at the two or three other visitors just before the lights dimmed.

A pleasant young woman with an eerily dulcet grin walked to the front of the room. "Hello, and welcome to Clorox Center. We're pleased to present today's program about the history of Clorox, its unique culture and its contributions to the larger culture."

The lights dimmed and showed images of early 20th century Oakland and then up on the screen came the number 12. The year was 1912 when a group of entrepeneurs came together to found a new firm.

"Twelve. Twelve. The cult of twelve," Dan whispered.

Five men came together to start Clorox --- then called Electro-Alkaline Company. -- that year and filed papers of incorporation. There was then a brief description of the firm's founding fathers: Archibald Taft, a banker; Edward Hughes, a purveyor of wood and coal; Charles Husband, a bookkeeper; Rufus Myers, a lawyer; and William Hussey.

"Husband and Hussey," Dan whispered. "I'm just saying"

"I loved Olivia Hussey. Such a great name," Sally said, refusing to acknowledge any conspiracy.

"Hush, we're trying to watch the film," a voice chided them from a few rows back.

The film then showed the evolution of bleach through the years, from industrial strength to non-bleaching whitener. And onward into 21st Century as a fascinating morphing of this stalwart product found its way into moistened wipes, bleaching pens and even dental products.

The film concluded with an atmospheric tribute to the brand as angelic voices hummed over the drone of electronic rhythm and images of filth were cleared by liquid dissolves. The film ended in white, bright light and then the room was flooded with near blinding light.

A group of three young men in white hooded robes appeared at the front of the room.

"We hope you enjoyed the program," the man in the middle said. He turned and opened a double door behind him. "And now, are you ready to enter the inner chamber."

Dan looked nervously at Sally who held his hand and insisted. "Dan, we must. We must. Otherwise we'll never know for sure."

The Clorox Code - Part 1

Over a late lunch on a Tuesday, I noted a distinctive profile and shaggy head of hair beneath a familiar fedora at the table beside me at Pasta Pomodoro in Rockridge. I was fairly sure I knew who she was, but I wasn't certain until I heard her place her order.

"The Pasta Putanesca with a green salad. Ranch dressing on the side. Hidden Valley Ranch, of course."

Yes, it was none other than the Voice of Hidden Ranch, Miss Sally Kellerman. The bland man sitting next to her looked familiar, and it took me a while to place him. Finally it all fit. It was Da Vinci Code author Dan Brown.

I tried not to be too obvious as I eavesdropped. "Dan, I'm not saying that there's any conspiracy," Sally said. "It's just that I've always been curious about where the hidden valley of the salad dressing comes from. After all these year's I get those mysterious checks from an anonymous bank in Switzerland. I'm just...you know curious." Sally pulled back her blonde tresses that, at 72, she had cleverly styled in a modified Cousin Itt-do. It was the style you could use to cover up the features you'd rather not have on display but still have your eyes visible, for example, without showing the lines around them.

"But it's made from Clorox!" Dan screamed.

Taking a sip Peligrino, Sally chuckled calmly and patted his hand. "Now, now, Dan. It's made by Clorox bleach not from Clorox bleach." As she so flawless placed the proper emphasis on the right prepositions it was easy to see why Sally is revered as an absolute god in the world of voice work. Many voice actors study for years hoping to have "The Kellerman", that voice once described as having "the perfect patina of a whisper of bourbon for breakfast and the gravitas of half a Turkish cigarette each day before lunch."

Sally had reached her silver screen pinnacle in 1973 in Lost Horizon where she went to a Nepali hidden valley called Shangri La but had to end up having George Hamilton as a boyfriend. No wonder she abandonded film roles for voice work.

"Dan, I'm sure Clorox is a perfectly legimate corporation," Sally said. "It's just that I have...questions."

"Clearly there is a conspiracy and a cover up," Dan said with a quiver in his voice.

"Oh, it's surely nothing that big"

"Sally, can you explain where the Hidden Valley actually is?"

"Well, no. All I know is that Clorox is based here in Oakland. I think we should just drop in."

"Exactly," Dan said. "The more you look at it, the more it gets fishy."

Just then a server brought my grilled salmon. "Oh, fish, I should have ordered that," Sally said.

"It's very intriguing that the Clorox logo is a diamond, a form that is a rhombus," Dan said. "Further, their headquarters is in a diamond-shaped building."

"Uh, that's all pretty superfluous, don't you think" Sally quizzed.

"No, it's central to solving the code..." Dan took a couple more bites of arugula. " In modal logic, the diamond or rhombus expresses the possibility of the following expression. For example, the expression expresses that it is possible that P is true."

"Can you speak in English, please, " Sally pleaded.

"Okay, consider this...The rhombus is consistently divisible by the number 12 in every combination. The Clorox headquarters is on 12th Street and is 12 stories tall and is the anchor of Oakland City Center which takes up 12 city blocks."

"Twelve. Twelve. Twelve. It's just a number," Sally pleaded.

"Oh, is it?" Dan asked. "Consider this. Twelve months in a year. Twelve hours in a day. Twelves eggs in a dozen. Twelve disciples. Twelve original Free Masons."

"Oh, shit, here we go..." Sally moaned.

"And get this," Dan said, leaning in closer. "What is across the street from Clorox as 1212 Twelfth Street? The Oakland Masonic Temple. And need I remind you what numbers represent the number 12. One and two, the bedrock of binary code."

"Bullshit, everyone knows that binary code is zero and one!" Sally screamed.

"But 0 and 1 add up to one. That makes no sense."

"You make no sense," Sally blurted out and asked for the check. Though I was not finished, I asked for my check too and followed them to the parking lot as they headed to Sally's Range Rover, likely ready to head over to Clorox.

With my eyes down, I turned my head as I heard Sally blurt out, "Are you following us?"

Stubborn as Garbage Bags That Time Can't Decay

Last night's trip under the bay and up Broadway to Oakland's art deco palace, the Paramount, to see Leonard Cohen did not disappoint, right down to the fourth encore when the show ended after three and a half hours. There may have been a handful of numbers I was disappointed weren't included ("There Is a War", "A Singer Must Die", "I Came So Far for Beauty"and "Take This Longing" all sadly absent), but every other masterpiece from the arc of his four and a half decades of s0ng writing was there.

To see a man pushing 75 able to just stand and deliver tunes would have been a feat itself, but seeing him prance onto the stage and often crouch, dance and jump was a wonder. Cohen falls into the category of singer-songwriters like Tom Waits, Mark Eitzel and even Dylan who are often revered for the performances despite the vocal limitations. For whatever limitations his voice may have had, every precious word of his poetry was crystal clear, and I had no regrets having spent the $200+ for a seat 12 rows back from the stage and with ushers who treated me like someone in first class not as if they were people pushers on the Tokyo Metro.

The show he put on is essentially identical to the recently released Live in London DVD from which the above clip -- part of the final encore -- comes from. This tune was a perfect, and somewhat unlikely, rousing anthem to end the night. Cohen's tunes are more typically associated with regrets, love affairs gone wrong, self loathing, feelings of unworthiness. But "Democracy" (Is Coming to the USA) ended the night on a note of qualified optimism.

Below is a little known but much beloved (by me) 1965 documentary that I've watched many times called Ladies and Gentlemen: Mr. Leonard Cohen, made when he was around 30 and still living primarily in Montreal. He was still billing himself as a poet/stand up comic and had yet to launch his musical career in earnest. It's shock to see his face without a line, feeling like a cross between Dustin Hoffman and Lenny Bruce. It's also a sign that while he's evolved so much over nearly half a century, many things are constant -- he still has the same impish humor, is still a dapper dresser (likely from coming from a long line of Montreal clothiers), and can weave back to deeper meaning of the simplest point.

This is clearly his legacy tour, and I hope he makes a few million to replenish the fortune lost by his previous manager. Among his last numbers was a spoken word version of "If It Be Your Will", delivered humbly as he removed his fedora and spoke softly as if some professor emeritus in the McGill philosphy department, followed by an angelic rendition of the same words by the "Webb Sister", one of whom accompanied herself on a harp.
"If It Be Your Will"

If it be your will
That I speak no more
And my voice be still
As it was before
I will speak no more
I shall abide until
I am spoken for
If it be your will
If it be your will
That a voice be true
From this broken hill
I will sing to you
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing

If it be your will
If there is a choice
Let the rivers fill
Let the hills rejoice
Let your mercy spill
On all these burning hearts in hell
If it be your will
To make us well

And draw us near
And bind us tight
All your children here
In their rags of light
In our rags of light
All dressed to kill
And end this night
If it be your will

If it be your will.


This review in the Chronicle gives a brief accounting of the amazing band that surrounded his performances deftly and lovingly.

I was reminded of having had the privilege of seeing Nina Simone a couple of times late in her career, and this felt a bit bittersweet knowing that this was a sage for whom autumn is already a dim memory. Yet he has retained all of his faculties, and his words ring truer than ever, beautifully delivered in his tobacco and port burnished voice.

On My Way to See Leonard Cohen

More later. It was a three and a half hour show and it's a school night.

Some Things Really Are Priceless

Last night when I clicked the "purchase" button for one of the last remaining orchestra seats for Wednesday night's performance at the Paramount, I sort of gasped. I'm paying twice what I probably would for a front row seat to see Madonna or Coldplay in order to see a septuagenarian French Canadian Jewish geezer. But I'd rather see Leonard Cohen at any price instead of those two acts.

I just hope he performs the above song (ever more appropriate with each passing year) and not the over-covered "Hallelujah".

Turn Left for Eternity

Who knew that hanging out with a few thousand dead people could be so much fun? Today I spent the morning and early afternoon with fellow blogger Jim of The Blue Elephant in Oakland. He's encouraged me for some time to join him for a tour of the Mountain View Cemetery. Like Manhattan and Boston, San Francisco has little room for the dead, so many are buried in Colma to our south, but many of the grander names such as Crocker, Bechtel, Fillmore, Merritt can be found at Mountain View.

With pitch perfect weather heralding the first day of spring, death was the last thing on my mind, but it was a reminder of how the dead are with us on days like today. The memories of lives once lived are filled not with sadness but a wonderful sense of providence.

Keeping on our theme, we took a tour of The Chapel of the Chimes next door, with a few rooms designed by Julia Morgan of Hearst Castle Fame. Thanks, Jim, for making an introduction to such a great local treasure. It will be on my itinerary when out-of-towners come to see me.

Death and Coffee in Oakland

Yesterday evening while Friendatella and I were killing a little time before the movies at the Grand Lake Theater in Oakland, we were struck by the Day of the Dead Coffee shop which was dead itself with the doors locked. The blue bonneted vision of loveliness a few doors down reminded us of Bryce Digdug who wore a similar bonnet to the Hunky Jesus pageant a few weeks back. (I've been very proud that this video of mine has received many hits after being linked from several right wingnut sites.)

Like many naive San Franciscans, we ventured into this somewhat upscale Oakland neighborhood where there have been several armed robberies at pricey restaurants. The police described the suspects as "teenage boys in hoodies". That really narrows the field, doesn't it?

Oakland, Chinese Family Values and Le Cochon Danseur

Friendatella (whom I know well enough to call just F'tella) and I went to see a wonderfully obscure film tonight in Oakland's Lake Merritt District called The Curse of Quon Gwon, believed to be the oldest extant Asian American film, committed to celluloid in 1916. Clocking in at just around 35 minutes, it was a tale of a couple dealing with issues of in-laws, contemporary vs. traditional values, and cultural identity. There was also a moment or two of odd footwear and head dresses.

It was coupled with a 90 minute documentary called Hollywood Chinese that was also heavily promoted at the Asian American Film Festival last month where I saw the great documentaries on Anna May Wong and the Long/Leung family but have not gotten around to writing about. For better or worse, having a life has made me a bit delinquent on reporting and critiquing on this blog.

The best part of the evening may have been that I may be turning F'tella into a silent film buff after he went reluctantly to a Louise Brooks flick at last summer's Silent Film Festival. Speaking of which, I am glad to post this clip from one of my favorite discoveries from that festival last year in a retrospective called Saved From the Flames that featured many short Melies films and other early silent obscurities. Dancing, stripping pigs are always a great joy, as the clip below attests.