Frank Zappa gave Maryland more than just the first 10 years of his life. He also gave his home state one of its most memorable moments in legislative history.
Never before, nor since, I'm guessing, has someone testified to the state Senate Judicial Proceedings Committee, "I like nipples."
That was back in 1986. My excuse for revisiting this tawdry episode all these years later: Baltimore is preparing to erect a statue of Zappa, yet another of its offbeat natives.
Zappa and his family left Maryland while he was a grade-schooler. He was a famous, 45-year-old rocker, living in California, by the time Maryland was mulling a ban on the sale of "obscene" music to minors.
The House had already passed the legislation, sponsored by Del. Judith Toth, a Montgomery County Dem, of all things.
The Recording Industry Association of America turned to - who else? - Bruce Bereano, lobbyist for smoking, gambling, boozing and - vice of the moment - singing.
"Someone told me that Frank Zappa was big on this issue, when Tipper Gore had tried to label music cassettes," Bereano recalled the other day. "I didn't know who Frank Zappa was. I checked with some of my more funky friends. I made a cold call out to California to speak with him. They didn't think it was a legit call at first, but I persisted. And I got him on the telephone. I proposed, at my own expense, to fly him into Annapolis to testify against this bill."
Zappa, already scheduled to come east for a Johnny Carson show, agreed.
He did not disappoint.
In one of the funniest moments, he read aloud the state's definition of obscene.
A particular female body part was deemed taboo.
"I like nipples," Zappa told the committee, deadpan. "I think they look good. If you are going to look at a woman's breast, if you take the nipple off, which is the characterizing, determining factor, what you've got is a blob of fat there. And I think that when you're a baby, one of the first things you get interested in is that nozzle right there, and you get to have it right in front of your face. You grow up with it, so to speak. And then you grow up in the state of Maryland and they won't let you see that little brown thing any more."
The crowd in the hearing room roared.
The bill died in committee.
A suit, a book, a desk and two wristbands
Will Wilson, a San Francisco Democrat who's painted pictures for Michael Jackson and Penthouse, has an unlikely client in Bob Ehrlich.
