MAY 8, 2026
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HERE COME THE JUDGE! . . . Mr. Pigmeat Markham
by
Dominique Breckenridge
Dominique Breckenridge
I could not begin to do justice to the comedian I am spotlighting today in the most authentic form, or to his place in the history of not only comedy but also the foundation of the hip-hop community. However, I can place the most authentic spotlight on this comedian in the context of my introduction to him as an artist and the necessity for him to be better known.
The comedian I am referring to... is Dewey Markham. Commonly known to the rest of us as Mr. "Pigmeat" Markham.
I have shed a brief spotlight on Pigmeat Markham in the past and continue to bring him into the conversation whenever I can. But today, I am projecting a broader insight.
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Collection of Pigmeat Markham records, courtesy of my dad | Photographed by Dominique Breckenridge
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AN INTRODUCTION
I grew up hearing that name and that distinctive, unique voice through my dad, who would play Pigmeat Markham records frequently, heard throughout the house. I cannot say that I listened to all of the records in their entirety, for me, growing up as a kid I had my own interest in . . . everything, school talent shows, cheerleading, bike riding, orchestra, skating, drill team, putting on skits, pretending to be a renowned actress winning her first Academy Award while in front of my mirror giving my acceptance speech, reading books I could never put down, already ready for the next installment, so hearing Pigmeat Markham in the house like a visiting relative, that one uncle you can’t wait to see because he always showers you with the good stuff, laughter, plays back in my memory as something . . . you just heard through the house.
But what I do remember most is the laughter I heard, not from my dad—though I could hear him laugh occasionally while the records played—but rather the laughter that accompanied the comedy performed for the audience. The laughter at what the audience was hearing and seeing on stage, the laughter I, the listener, could not see happening on stage through audio alone, but always had a deep bond with hearing the audience's reaction and the comedic timing of the dialogue, which allowed me to build an image, set the stage, and produce the motion in my mind through his words. He was that good.
Born Dewey Markham in Durham, North Carolina, on April 18, 1904, in the historically Black community Hayti (pronounced “Hay-tie”), that would later be demolished by urban renewal the 1960s-1970s like most thriving, self-sufficient all-Black communities across America during that time—no one knows this better than my dad, Howard Breckenridge, Jr., a historian of his hometown community in Louisville, Kentucky, who has worked tirelessly in his efforts and has spent all of his adult life shedding light on the community that raised him growing up that was demolished by urban renewal in the 1960s, Little Africa, producing a book (FROM RAGS TO RAGS by Howard Breckenridge) and two documentaries (LITTLE AFRICA: A Documentary (2012) and LITTLE AFRICA: Remembered by Howard Breckenridge (2025)).
I grew up hearing that name and that distinctive, unique voice through my dad, who would play Pigmeat Markham records frequently, heard throughout the house. I cannot say that I listened to all of the records in their entirety, for me, growing up as a kid I had my own interest in . . . everything, school talent shows, cheerleading, bike riding, orchestra, skating, drill team, putting on skits, pretending to be a renowned actress winning her first Academy Award while in front of my mirror giving my acceptance speech, reading books I could never put down, already ready for the next installment, so hearing Pigmeat Markham in the house like a visiting relative, that one uncle you can’t wait to see because he always showers you with the good stuff, laughter, plays back in my memory as something . . . you just heard through the house.
But what I do remember most is the laughter I heard, not from my dad—though I could hear him laugh occasionally while the records played—but rather the laughter that accompanied the comedy performed for the audience. The laughter at what the audience was hearing and seeing on stage, the laughter I, the listener, could not see happening on stage through audio alone, but always had a deep bond with hearing the audience's reaction and the comedic timing of the dialogue, which allowed me to build an image, set the stage, and produce the motion in my mind through his words. He was that good.
Born Dewey Markham in Durham, North Carolina, on April 18, 1904, in the historically Black community Hayti (pronounced “Hay-tie”), that would later be demolished by urban renewal the 1960s-1970s like most thriving, self-sufficient all-Black communities across America during that time—no one knows this better than my dad, Howard Breckenridge, Jr., a historian of his hometown community in Louisville, Kentucky, who has worked tirelessly in his efforts and has spent all of his adult life shedding light on the community that raised him growing up that was demolished by urban renewal in the 1960s, Little Africa, producing a book (FROM RAGS TO RAGS by Howard Breckenridge) and two documentaries (LITTLE AFRICA: A Documentary (2012) and LITTLE AFRICA: Remembered by Howard Breckenridge (2025)).
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LITTLE AFRICA documentaries, remembered by Howard Breckenridge, directed and produced by Dominique Breckenridge
It was from Markham’s community, an all-Black middle-class neighborhood directly across the tracks from an all-White neighborhood, that the material for his comedy would take root.
Comedy that reflected the sights and sounds, the people, and the goings-on of the community he grew up in—a tobacco town. Between the tobacco town he grew up and worked in and the roads he traveled in his youth, as told by Markham himself in his autobiography, HERE COME THE JUDGE, this world, his world, was constructed of “small southern towns—tobacco towns, coal-mining towns, cotton-pickin’ towns—dirty little theaters, tent shows, backroom clubs” they called “joints,” calling his comedy from Tobacco Road, not from Sugar Hill.
Markham’s type of comedy, which he did not apologize for, came from life experience, the Black community he saw around him growing up.
Comedy that reflected the sights and sounds, the people, and the goings-on of the community he grew up in—a tobacco town. Between the tobacco town he grew up and worked in and the roads he traveled in his youth, as told by Markham himself in his autobiography, HERE COME THE JUDGE, this world, his world, was constructed of “small southern towns—tobacco towns, coal-mining towns, cotton-pickin’ towns—dirty little theaters, tent shows, backroom clubs” they called “joints,” calling his comedy from Tobacco Road, not from Sugar Hill.
Markham’s type of comedy, which he did not apologize for, came from life experience, the Black community he saw around him growing up.
The very street from which Dewey Markam lived was named after his family. Markham Street. During those days, as related by Markham, it was not uncommon for streets to receive their names by being referenced to the best-known families in the area where they lived. For the street on which Markham lived, they were the popular family on the street. Thus, Markham Street it became, and thus, Markham Street it remained. Officially.
And hearing the tales of Markham’s upbringing, there’s no doubt that his family was one of the more well-known families on their street, if not for Dewey himself, an entrepreneur from a child. His imagination without bounds, as most soon-to-be entertainers do—create—Markham would gather potato sacks as a kid, enough to build tents with in his backyard, and perform under the burlap covering, feeding the thrill of performing aloud all by himself, or to others.
The aspirations of becoming a performer one day already running through his veins, Markham would not only perform his own sketches, he would also give slide shows to put on display for the other kids in the neighborhood, making a homemade projector out of a light bulb and old photos to flash the pictures on a screen, charging his friends sewing pins (that he would give to his mother for her sewing) to see the show.
School provided another outlet for Markham to showcase his talent, as his school years helped build a foundation for his acting and performing skills. He wrote and acted in many of his school plays. The talent was already there, ready to flourish and grow.
The growth began when he ran away from home in 1918, without a word to his family, at the age of fourteen. His sights set firmly on getting into show business, he left his hometown with only the clothes he had on his back, literally, to join a gilly carnival, making $50 a week to do comedy bits, when a man named Booker came to Markham’s town looking for local talent.
From there, the growth blossomed through a pilgrimage of vaudeville circuits—both Black and White—working in carnival and “medicine” shows as a dancer and comedian, performing across the South, learning and perfecting the bass-drum to perform with a band, amongst many other avenues and venues.
Climbing his way from tent shows to theatre, by 1927, Pigmeat began performing in theatres for extended engagements. From minstrel shows to the Apollo Theatre, Pigmeat laid a trail. His road life, too, became an education.
Building this foundation, in his early comedy years, not yet writing his own material to perform in front of live audiences, Markham would recycle material that had been passed down and used through the vaudeville circuit since its origin, as with one of his more popular sketches, at least in my household growing up, “Open The Door, Richard!” a song written by an old friend of Pigmeat’s, Bob Russell, for a show called MR. RAREBACK, where John Mason was the first man to sing the song, later performed by Dusty Fletcher in 1935, and later performed by Pigmeat, Markam would, over time, start incorporating his own written sketches.
Building this foundation, in his early comedy years, not yet writing his own material to perform in front of live audiences, Markham would recycle material that had been passed down and used through the vaudeville circuit since its origin, as with one of his more popular sketches, at least in my household growing up, “Open The Door, Richard!” a song written by an old friend of Pigmeat’s, Bob Russell, for a show called MR. RAREBACK, where John Mason was the first man to sing the song, later performed by Dusty Fletcher in 1935, and later performed by Pigmeat, Markam would, over time, start incorporating his own written sketches.
HERE COME THE JUDGE!
His most well-known character, “The Judge,” was one of those original sketches.
Born to life by Pigmeat in his early days of writing his own comedy routines, “The Judge” was born in 1928 while Pigmeat was performing at The Alhambra in Harlem. Pigmeat incorporated this original character for another comedy sketch he wrote, which received so many laughs that he knew he was on to something. Thus, “The Judge” became a full act of his own.
On March 25, 1968, “The Judge” would be responsible for Pigmeat Markham’s revival to the main spotlight, by way of Sammy Davis, Jr. The same Sammy Davis, Jr., Pigmeat remembered fondly from the old road traveling days, when Pigmeat used to hold baby Sammy backstage while Sammy’s mother, Elvera "Baby" Sánchez-Davis, a dancer in the chorus, would perform.
Sammy, too, a performer from the crib, so to speak, grew up, and around these talents, like Pigmeat, and not only remembered when Pigmeat used to perform his “Judge” routine on the road and in theaters, but remembered “the chant” . . . “Here come the judge! Here come the judge!”
It was this chant that Pigmeat had perfected over 40 years that Sammy performed during his appearance on ROWAN AND MARTIN’S LAUGH-IN in 1968, sparking curiosity over “What happened to Pigmeat Markham?” A question Sammy knew the answer to. And an answer that came at no better time than when Pigmeat said himself, performing for him, had slowed to a trickle. This "second act" was cemented when Pigmeat was asked to be a guest star on ROWAN AND MARTIN’S LAUGH-IN.
From those appearances, his record sales suddenly took off, more guest appearances began being scheduled, and his “Here come the judge” (not "Here comes the judge") chant from 40 years back was being heard and said aloud as if “brand new and beautiful.” A sentiment that was not lost on Markham when he witnessed this with his own eyes.
This momentum inspired Pigmeat to write a song in 1968, a song that many music artists credit as a precursor to hip-hop, called “Here Come the Judge!” that, in turn, became a number one seller.
SITUATION COMEDY
Markham’s quick comebacks had rhythm and a style. More or less, his trademark. At times, performing live with fellow comedian George Wilshire, Markham’s one-time straight man, you feel the flow of Markham’s responses. They have a cadence. The Markham rhythm, tempo. A rhythm and tempo that many associate with being the foundation work of the later-to-come hip-hop.
Markham gathered his comedy material through life experiences.
“Mr. Markham believed that comedy was important to black people and his specialty was making fun of everyday situations.”
A “situation” man was how Markam identified himself, not a “joke” comedian.
Picking up pieces as a "background listen," though it might have been for me growing up, there was one sketch, one idiom that made its way from the vinyl onto the wrinkle in my brain that has forever stayed with me, and is the first thing I think about whenever I hear, see, or mention the name Pigmeat Markham . . . “George . . . give the man the two dollars.”
That idiom has followed me through my life in various moments, at random times, for no reason, but it always brings me back to Pigmeat Markham.
The “Pay the Two Dollars” troupe is an old vaudeville sketch created by real-life brothers, Willie and Eugene Howard, also billed as the Howard Brothers, that dates back to GEORGE WHITE’S SCANDALS OF 1931 revue on Broadway.
The sketch birthed a life of its own, recreated and used on numerous occasions on stage, in comedy acts, and in films, as seen in ZIEGFELD FOLLIES (1945) in the PAY THE TWO DOLLARS segment, acted by Victor Moore as the “Client” and Edward Arnold as the “Lawyer”. The idiom can also be heard being said in Alfred Hitchcock's NORTH BY NORTHWEST (1959) by “Clara Thornhill” (Jessie Royce Landis) to “Roger Thornhill” (Cary Grant), “Roger. Pay the two dollars.”
I was introduced to this sketch growing up hearing Pigmeat Markham and George Wilshire, in Markham’s comedy sketch TWO DOLLAR SPIT, performed and recorded at the Apollo Theater in January of 1969.
Video created by: Dominique Breckenridge found on my Dominique Revue YouTube Channel
SWEET POPPA PIGMEAT
The name alone, “Pigmeat,” draws interest to the man behind the name. I mean, where does one pick up a nickname like “Pigmeat” and why?
“Pigmeat” was a nickname that stuck with Dewey Markham along the way of performing on the road after going through a variety of billed names. His nickname from his youth, “Black Rock,” followed Markham on the road in his early performing days, much like one of his two dogs, a black mutt he named Black Rock, which followed him around every day on his way to school, waiting for Dewey outside until school was over, generating the nickname “Black Rock” from his schoolmates.
But his official nickname, the name the world would know, Pigmeat, is the name Mr. Markham said he could never take credit for creating.
Recalled by Markham, one night, during the days before he began writing his own material, he walked onstage, performing a 10-minute sketch, and at the end of the sketch, he hollered out, “My name is Sweet Poppa Pigmeat,” and from there, the name stuck. Everyone remembered him as “Pigmeat” from then on.
And there was a large portion of his career, until 1943, when Pigmeat performed under burnt-cork. For those unfamiliar with this term . . . Blackface. Yes, even Black artists of the era worked under burnt-cork makeup. (Read my essay GIVING B(L)ACK OUR VOICES)
Markham credited his liberation from using the makeup to a group of young Black men who came backstage to Pigmeat's dressing room before a performance one night at the Lincoln Theater in California, seeking to talk to the comedian about not using the makeup anymore.
These young men voiced their point of view and how the Black community felt on its discriminatory history, and that it was time for change. Pigmeat listened. Those years of use for Markham, he expressed, felt more like a "fence between the actor and the audience," gaslighting an actor, so to speak, into believing they were hiding behind their makeup. But after that productive conversation with those young Black gentlemen, Pigmeat put the cork away permanently.
LIFE’S COMPILATION
Pigmeat’s life narrative was not an overnight success story, but it was a success, an ongoing one. His life's timing always seemed to be as in rhythm as his comedy acts.
A portion of his life reads like the source material for FOOTLIGHT PARADE (1933) when, in 1923, Pigmeat joined the GONZEL WHITE’S MINSTREL SHOW, earning more money than he had previously, just five years after running away from home to join the gilly carnival.
GONZEL WHITE’S MINSTREL SHOW marked the shift of Pigmeat’s career, from “small time” to big time. Theater. Gonzel’s wasn’t a tent show; it was a revue. No storylines or plot, just musical numbers and acts, performed before the film being shown in the theater. You know . . . like Cagney’s prologues in FOOTLIGHT PARADE.
And part of the 10-piece band that played in the pit for GONZEL WHITE’S MINSTREL SHOW was a piano player. His name . . . was Count Basie.
There would be a lot of before-they-were-famous names Pigmeat would work with, meet, and know, and many would become lifelong friends, all in tune with his life’s rhythm.
Fellow comedian Mantan Moreland, Edna Mae Harris (featured in my NOTABLE CLASSIC BLACK ENTERTAINERS series), Eddie “Rochester” Anderson, Harry Belafonte, Eddie Green, who gave Pigmeat his spot in burlesque when Green, the only Black actor in the burlesque show, left for Hollywood, passing the reins to Pigmeat, and later extended the branch to Pigmeat responsible for Markham’s arrival to Hollywood by way of an old acquaintance from Pigmeat’s Apollo days, Ralph Cooper (also featured in my NOTABLE CLASSIC BLACK ENTERTAINERS series, under DARK MANHATTAN (1937)), James Brown—pre-James Brown and The Famous Flames, when Brown was the then drummer for The Flames—who would later, in 1961, ask Pigmeat to be part of his revue, with a nostalgic idea of modernizing the old minstrel shows before his concerts, incorporating live music and comedy. A combination, Brown believed, Pigmeat would fit naturally. He did. Sparking a business relationship that continued for a time whenever Brown would tour the East.
Pigmeat’s stint in Hollywood would provide numerous film credits, but, as with the majority of Black “race films,” the bulk of Pigmeat’s credits are considered lost today. AM I GUILTY? (1940), starring Ralph Cooper, MR. SMITH GOES GHOST (1940), SWANEE SHOWBOAT (1940), starring Nina Mae McKinney, HOUSE-RENT PARTY (1946), PIGMEAT’S LAUGH HEPCATS (1946), with a few surviving films that can be watched where you can witness Pigmeat’s talents first-hand, THAT’S MY BABY! (1944), JUNCTION 88 (1947), and BURLESQUE IN HARLEM (1949).
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Video created by: Dominique Breckenridge found on my Dominique Revue YouTube Channel
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SWANNE SHORBOAT (1940)
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Live performances in venues and revues led to radio appearances, following the rhythm of an old acquaintance, in tune with Pigmeat working with The Andrew Sisters, as a recurring cast member, along with Gabby Hayes, for a year, on The Andrew Sisters' radio show, THE ANDREW SISTERS SHOW, subtitled EIGHT-TO-THE-BAR RANCH, later touring on the road with the show from San Diego, to Los Angeles, and New York.
Today, when the world attends live performances, you witness phones attached to people's hands, an extension of their arms, recording what they are witnessing before their eyes. Yesterday? The front rows of the Apollo were filled with White comics “like Milton Berle, Jack Carter, Henny Youngman, Joey Adams and Molasses and January” (recalled by Pigmeat) at the midnight Saturday shows, accompanied by the women they brought with them to take shorthand in their notebooks, ripping the jokes Pigmeat and other Black comics were performing onstage.
Pigmeat’s comedic triumphs didn’t stop at hijacked routines. There is a dance step that every classic film fan who did not experience those days and times first-hand has heard of, “Truckin’.” Heard and seen by Mickey Rooney’s “Andy Hardy” in JUDGE HARDY’S CHILDREN (1938) or Cary Grant’s “George Curby” in TOPPER (1937) . . . A dance that swept across America. Its creator? Pigmeat Markham. A sweep Pigmeat was unaware of until he reached New York and found the dance had beat him there.
It was a dance Pigmeat called his “second mark in show business,” formulated one rainy night on the town in 1935 with his buddies at a roadhouse, “putting nickels in the juke box,” listening to music, and Markham “started doin’ this step” he made up on the spot, that attracted so much attention, he continued.
That step made its way from a roadhouse to the stage, where Pigmeat was met with encores and questions from audience members rushing to him after the show, inquiring, “What was that?” Not having a name for it, he replied, “Oh, I was only truckin’ on down.”
But there was a place, and a man, where race did not dictate the outcome. The Ed Sullivan Show, hosted by . . . Ed Sullivan.
Such a name and reputation for comedy had Pigmeat that in 1948, while Pigmeat was engaged at the Apollo Theater, Ed Sullivan sought him out, personally going to the Apollo to talk to Pigmeat about being a guest on his show. Unbeknownst to Sullivan, Markham was in the Harlem Hospital for eight weeks, canceling his bookings due to two broken legs he suffered during a live stage performance when the wire snapped, and Markham fell 22 feet to the ground. These cancellations led to an opportunity. That Pigmeat rhythm was still in tune.
Ed finally spoke with Pigmeat, offering Pigmeat a spot on his program, and post-performance, Ed called Markham down to his office, where Pigmeat was shown a pile of mail from viewers wanting to know. “When was the Judge coming back?” A crossover Pigmeat was not expecting but prepared for when asked by Sullivan to return to the show. Pigmeat became a frequent guest.
The Ed Sullivan Show may have been on the brink of what would later be a household television show phenomenon, still mentioned and known of today, but Pigmeat recalls a story that every person should know:
HERE COME THE JUDGE! An autobiography by Pigmeat Markham, 1969
Ed Sullivan and Pigmeat would go on to be very good friends over the years. A common thread that seemed to follow Pigmeat throughout his life.
Make no mistake, Mr. Markham was no pushover. He said what he felt and meant what he said, but his philosophy in life seemed, at least in my research, to flow with life’s natural rhythm and strike when you hear the beat.
Not a life without its own struggles, as with most of us, Pigmeat remembers his as a joyous one. Passing away at the age of 77 in the Bronx from a massive stroke on a Sunday in 1981 of December, survived by his wife Bernice, and two children, Dewey, Jr. and Kathy (as spelled by Pigmeat), Markham made an impression on a girl who did not even exist when he passed away, but whose talent was left behind and made such an impact and impression on her dad in his youth, it was introduced to her in her youth, that on this day, I am happy to share that impact and impression with anyone who comes across this piece and takes the time to read it, and, hopefully, share it with someone else.
Known by many names, Dewey Markham, Black Rock, Rock Markham, Mr. Vaudeville, and The Judge, are all notes used to orchestrate who would become Pigmeat Markham. A comedian deserving of recognition.
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Sources: HERE COME THE JUDGE! (autobiography) by Pigmeat Markham BLACKS IN BLACKFACE: A Sourcebook on Early Black Musical Shows by Henry T. Sampson BLACKFACE! Dewey "Pigmeat" Markham |
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This write-up is an entry to the 2026 CMBA "Make 'em Laugh" Spring Blogathon
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COMMENTs: |
Dominique Breckenridge (of DOMINIQUE REVUE)
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For my other NOTABLE CLASSIC BLACK ENTERTAINERS pieces:
BLACK HISTORY MONTH: Notable Entertainers 2021 | BLACK HISTORY MONTH: Notable Entertainers 2022 | BLACK HISTORY MONTH: Rise 'n' Shine 2023 | CINEMA COFFEE: Orlando Martins | HILDA SIMMS | EDNA MAE HARRIS | FRANCINE EVERETT | MELBA LISTON | SALLIE BLAIR | DARK MANHATTAN | WOMEN'S HISTORY MONTH 2025 | Voilà! La Baker: The Phenomenon That Was Josephine | KATHERINE DUNHAM: She IS a Moment | GIVING B(L)ACK OUR VOICE | HERE COME THE JUDGE! . . . Mr. Pigmeat Markham
BLACK HISTORY MONTH: Notable Entertainers 2021 | BLACK HISTORY MONTH: Notable Entertainers 2022 | BLACK HISTORY MONTH: Rise 'n' Shine 2023 | CINEMA COFFEE: Orlando Martins | HILDA SIMMS | EDNA MAE HARRIS | FRANCINE EVERETT | MELBA LISTON | SALLIE BLAIR | DARK MANHATTAN | WOMEN'S HISTORY MONTH 2025 | Voilà! La Baker: The Phenomenon That Was Josephine | KATHERINE DUNHAM: She IS a Moment | GIVING B(L)ACK OUR VOICE | HERE COME THE JUDGE! . . . Mr. Pigmeat Markham
My very own passion project ... Dominique's THE SOCIETY (an original period piece written by © Dominique Breckenridge)
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An in-depth essay on the orgin and impact of the radio-turned-television program (with an all-Black cast), THE AMOS 'N AND SHOW in GIVING B(L)ACK OUR VOICE
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BETTYE: The Miniseries (an original series created by Dominique Breckenridge)
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View designs sketched and created by me from my DOMINIQUE PRIVATE COLLECTION for DOMINIQUE REVUE
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For more, visit my Dominique Revue YouTube Channel
For my other CINEMA COFFEE blog pieces:
#ForMyMom Cinema Coffee ... | COFFEE CINEMA: Talking Streetcar | CINEMA COFFEE: "Et tu, Brute?" | CINEMA COFFEE: "La Chocolaterie" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Milk? I loathe milk!" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Elderberry Wine ..." | CINEMA COFFEE: "The choice I never had ..." | CINEMA COFFEE: "The smell of Mimosa" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Mighty like a Rose" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Don't cry on the rolls" | CINEMA COFFEE: "You're the first Kansas I ever met" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Everybody calls me Gracie" | CINEMA COFFEE: "What the devil are Belinskis?!" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Hello friends and enemies." | CINEMA COFFEE: "Stop remindin' me of heaven." | CINEMA COFFEE: "Even Gatsby could happen" | CINEMA COFFEE: "I made a wish" | CINEMA COFFEE: Audie Murphy | CINEMA COFFEE: Put The Blame on Mame | CINEMA COFFEE: "Just Singleton." | CINEMA COFFEE: "Where I Come From, Nobody Knows" | Film Therapy: Coping through Cinema | CINEMA COFFEE: Socks fall down | CINEMA COFFEE: "The moon's reaching for me" | CINEMA COFFEE: The Horne: Luso World Cinema Blogathon | CINEMA COFFEE: Aunt Bettye Lightsy | CINEMA COFFEE: I never lose | CINEMA COFFEE: "I have a mother!" | CINEMA COFFEE: THE SIGN OF GEMINI | CINEMA COFFEE: Venus Rising | CINEMA COFFEE: Stan vs Geek | CINEMA COFFEE: "Positively the same dame"| CINEMA COFFEE: I would rather lose ma whip than lose ma Daisy! | CINEMA COFFEE: "D'ENTRE LES MORTS goes VERTIGO" | CINEMA COFFEE: Christmas with Gina Lollobrigida | CINEMA COFFEE: INTRODUCING DOROTHY DANDRIDGE . . . The Actress | CINEMA COFFEE: BEAUTY AND THE BEAST book-to-screen
#ForMyMom Cinema Coffee ... | COFFEE CINEMA: Talking Streetcar | CINEMA COFFEE: "Et tu, Brute?" | CINEMA COFFEE: "La Chocolaterie" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Milk? I loathe milk!" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Elderberry Wine ..." | CINEMA COFFEE: "The choice I never had ..." | CINEMA COFFEE: "The smell of Mimosa" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Mighty like a Rose" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Don't cry on the rolls" | CINEMA COFFEE: "You're the first Kansas I ever met" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Everybody calls me Gracie" | CINEMA COFFEE: "What the devil are Belinskis?!" | CINEMA COFFEE: "Hello friends and enemies." | CINEMA COFFEE: "Stop remindin' me of heaven." | CINEMA COFFEE: "Even Gatsby could happen" | CINEMA COFFEE: "I made a wish" | CINEMA COFFEE: Audie Murphy | CINEMA COFFEE: Put The Blame on Mame | CINEMA COFFEE: "Just Singleton." | CINEMA COFFEE: "Where I Come From, Nobody Knows" | Film Therapy: Coping through Cinema | CINEMA COFFEE: Socks fall down | CINEMA COFFEE: "The moon's reaching for me" | CINEMA COFFEE: The Horne: Luso World Cinema Blogathon | CINEMA COFFEE: Aunt Bettye Lightsy | CINEMA COFFEE: I never lose | CINEMA COFFEE: "I have a mother!" | CINEMA COFFEE: THE SIGN OF GEMINI | CINEMA COFFEE: Venus Rising | CINEMA COFFEE: Stan vs Geek | CINEMA COFFEE: "Positively the same dame"| CINEMA COFFEE: I would rather lose ma whip than lose ma Daisy! | CINEMA COFFEE: "D'ENTRE LES MORTS goes VERTIGO" | CINEMA COFFEE: Christmas with Gina Lollobrigida | CINEMA COFFEE: INTRODUCING DOROTHY DANDRIDGE . . . The Actress | CINEMA COFFEE: BEAUTY AND THE BEAST book-to-screen
