Tag Archives: Steve Emmett

Sixty Years Later, Town’s “Teenage Mummy” Lives On

“Citizen Kane,” “The Godfather” or “Raiders of the Lost Ark” it’s not.

But “I Was a Teenage Mummy” holds a place in movie history.

In Westport, anyway.

And if you were in town 60 years ago today, you remember it well.

The film had its world premiere on April 26, 1963 in the Staples High School auditorium.

A full house — 1,200 people — packed the place. The next night there were 2 more showings, both also sellouts. Tickets were 75 cents in advance, $1 at the door.

Life Magazine and the New York Times covered the event. Hugh Downs invited the cast onto the “Today  Show.”

Not bad for a 90-minute film, produced and acted by a group of feisty Long Lots Junior High 9th graders.

Of course, they had adult help: a 21-year-old, with fantasies of Hollywood.

Jeffrey Mullin — one of the “Teenage Mummy” stars — went onto a 40-year career as a documentary filmmaker. He learned editing and cinematography from legendary documentarian Bill Buckley, and between 1985 and 2008, worked with Buckley and fellow Westporter Tracy Sugarman.

These days, Mullin is retired. But as the 60th anniversary of his teenage adventure drew near he checked in with “06880” from his Cape Cod home, with a trove of materials.

Life Magazine covered the movie story.

“Mummy” — a satire on horror movies — was the brainchild of that 21-year-old, Ralph Bluemke (part-time manager of a Stamford theater).

He enlisted his Half Mile Common neighbor Mullin, Allen Skinner of nearby Cross Highway, Steve Emmett and Jayne Walker. Michael Harris played the mummy. Jeff’s 8-year-old brother Scott was the villain.

They raised funds by selling “stock” in Jerall Films (a combination of their names) to parents and friends.

Filming began in September of 1962. Locales includes beaches (for “the desert”), Longshore, and an auto chase scene throughout town.

The Westport Police Department let the teenagers “borrow” a police car — and officer. An auto dealer provided a Cadillac. And, Life reported, “one mother was conned out of her new Mercedes.”

The movie also includes a scene at Idlewild (now John F. Kennedy) Airport. Jayne Walker’s father — a TWA pilot — held his passengers on board for half an hour while the main characters scurried up the steps, and were filmed “disembarking.”

It ran through January, with interruptions when the cast had to raise more cash. The go-to job was babysitting.

The total cost: about $375.

After its Westport premiere, Life magazine said, the film was booked into theaters in Fairfield and nearby counties.

Teen idol Pat Boone gave the movie a boost.

“I Was a Teenage Mummy” did not reach the enduring fame of “The Wizard of Oz.” It’s not mentioned with classics like “The Jazz Singer” or “Star Wars.”

But for a few brief springtime weeks — beginning 60 years ago today — “Teenage Mummy” was very much alive and well in Westport.

(If a story happened — or happens — here, “06880” covers it. Please click here to support our non-profit. Thank you!)

The cast of “I Was a Teenage Mummy.”

Hanne Jeppesen And Westport’s “Big Chill”

We all come to Westport in different ways.

Some of us are born here. Others are brought here by parents, spouses or work. We come here wonderingly, wanderingly, willingly or by whimsy.

Hanne Jeppesen arrived as an au pair.

She grew up safe and secure, in a small town 30 miles south of Copenhagen. Wanderlust took her to a kibbutz in Israel, to Iceland, to a hitchhiking tour of England, France, Luxembourg, Belgium and Holland.

Then a chance glance at a newspaper ad changed Hanne’s life.

Instead of heading to a Danish teacher’s college, she decided to become an American au pair. She knew nothing about Westport — her destination — other than that it was near New York City.

That was enough. She arrived on December 28, 1966, ready for adventure.

Hanne Jeppesen in 1968, as a Westport au pair...

Hanne Jeppesen in 1968, as a Westport au pair…

Life in the suburbs was lonely at first. But she met a German au pair. Hanne took a night school English class at Staples, where she met a “real live wire” Dutch girl. Fifty years later, they’re still friends.

Hanne started going out. The Ship’s Lantern bar downtown was a popular destination. So was the beach.

Westporters were very friendly. Hanne dated a few men. She had a wonderful time. Life was good.

“We drove around in a Corvette, with the top down,” she recalls. “This is what I dreamed America would be like.”

In October of 1968 she returned to Denmark. But her parents encouraged her to live the life she wanted, and 2 months later Hanne was back in Westport. She and  her Dutch friend rented a house here.

Soon, though they moved to New York  City. New adventures beckoned.

...and in New York, a year later.

…and in New York, a year later.

From time to time, Hanne and her friend returned to Westport to visit. Once, at Compo, she met a married man. He invited her to a party that night. And he gave her the keys to his car, in case she wanted to drive around and have fun.

In New York she met a man. They got married, moved first to New Orleans and then San Francisco. They divorced. She had a daughter, and a career in insurance. Now — still living in the Bay Area — Hanne works at Macy’s.

She stayed in touch with a few friends. She always thought fondly of Westport. But except for a couple of visits — the last was in 1998 — Hanne has not spent any time here.

A few years ago though, she saw news online about Jeff Simon. That’s a common name, but it was the same guy she’d dated in Westport. She was intrigued to learn about his life as a photographer and video director.

Then she stumbled on a story about Tracy Sugarman. She’d known his son.

Finding “06880” — including a story about her old friends Alan Sterling and Steve Emmett — helped her reconnect with Westport. She doesn’t know many of the people I write about, but photos and references to the past bring smiles to her face.

Hanne Jeppesen with Jeff Simon, at Compo Beach.

Hanne Jeppesen with Jeff Simon, at Compo Beach.

Living here during a very lively time in Westport and America’s history was wonderful, Hanne says. And she was exactly the right age to enjoy it.

“We did what we were supposed to do in our early 20s,” she explains. “We partied, at people’s houses and the beach. We went to Port Chester, because the bars stayed open later. We had a great group.”

While she lived here, Hanne kept a journal. It was stashed away for years. But after seeing the movie “The Big Chill,” she looked at it. Reading about her time here, and her close-knit friends, she felt a surge of familiarity.

Of course, a movie is not real life.

But Hanna Jeppesen loves the story line that Westport provided to hers.

Hanne Jeppesen, Christmas 2014.

Hanne Jeppesen, Christmas 2014.

It Really Is The “Class” Of ’66

Staples High School’s Class of 1966 has always been special.

Growing up in postwar Westport, then coming of age in high school as a turbulent decade picked up steam, they were an active, accomplished bunch.

The Class of ’66 included 14 National Merit semifinalists, 29 All-State musicians and 5 All-State actors. The Orphenians traveled to the Virgin Islands; student government brought the Beau Brummels and Animals to Staples, and as a gift to the school — a tradition that unfortunately has disappeared — the class donated a handsome sign for the entrance on North Avenue.

John Lupton (left), Class of 1966 president, shakes hands with '67 president Dick Sandhaus at the sign's dedication ceremony. Principal Jim Calkins looks on.

John Lupton (left), Class of 1966 president, shakes hands with ’67 president Dick Sandhaus at the sign’s dedication ceremony. Principal Jim Calkins looks on.

But in the 50 years since graduation, the Class of ’66 has really stepped up its game. A few years ago they paid to refurbish the exterior of the Lou Nistico Fieldhouse at Staples, and added lighting to the current North Avenue entry sign. They’ve also organized their own special scholarship fund through Staples Tuition Grants.

Over the years I’ve become friends with many of the members, who I knew only by name and legend as a kid growing up in town. They’ve accomplished amazing things — in music, the arts, journalism, religion, education, even modeling and wine importing — but for half a century they have remained tight and loving. (Very, very fun-loving too).

A number of them remain — or became — reconnected to their hometown through “06880.” I’ve been honored to be a guest at their 2 most recent reunions.

This year’s 50th was fantastic. It began Friday night at the VFW (with kick-ass music from, among others, Rob Carlson, Jon Gailmor and Roger Kaufman). It continued with a lobster dinner last night at the Westport Woman’s Club (and a moving memorial to the 65 classmates who have died). It ended this afternoon at the beach.

Jon Gailmor, Steve Emmett and Rob Carlson reprised the famed Triumvirate group at the VFW. Gailmor replaced the late Chris Avery.

Jon Gailmor, Steve Emmett and Rob Carlson reprised the famed Triumvirate group at the VFW. Gailmor replaced the late Chris Avery.

There were many highlights for me, as I mingled with so many heroes and heroines from my youth. But the coolest came as I was leaving.

Each class member received a goody bag. In every one was a stone — collected, over a long time, from Compo Beach. They were stamped “Staples High 50th reunion, Class of 1966.”

Class of 66

And wrapped around them were these words:

Each stone carries memories created by the gentle and loving spirit of Compo Beach — our playground, our retreat, the safe haven of our youth. Compo loves us unconditionally. It is the beautiful link that will — like each stone and echoes of friendships — last forever.

While they were growing up, the members of the Class of 1966 — like most teenagers — probably did not realize the gifts they were gaining from their school, and town. I did not realize it several years later, and kids today don’t either.

The passage of time does something powerful and good. But it takes a special group of people to actually stop, think about and honor that time.

Well done, Class of ’66. Very, very classy indeed.