Pink Flamingos

Still, Waters runs deep. Unchanged, unrepentant, unabashed, the bad boy of Baltimore underground -- and eventually aboveground -- movie making, now looks back exactly as he looks forward. While he works on developing his new film, "Pecker," he's also celebrating the release a quarter-century ago -- a quarter-century ago!! -- of the movie that put him on the new map of American culture, "Pink Flamingos. " That work, hated, adored, banned, censored, mutilated, worshiped, but completely impossible to ignore, will be rereleased next Friday in an anniversary edition, with new footage.

Pink flamingos peer down from the dining room walls of Mink Stole's apartment -- playful reminders of the notorious 1972 film that helped launch Stole's career as an actress, alongside Divine, John Waters and the rest of the Dreamlanders. While Stole says she has a copy of "Pink Flamingos" "somewhere," she hasn't seen the film -- or many of the other Waters' productions she co-starred in -- for some time. The past few years, Stole has been focusing on her budding career as a singer.

Some say the world will end in fire, and some say ice. I say they're both wrong. It ended in "Pink Flamingos" 25 years ago.We just haven't noticed that we're dead yet, that's all.But here it is all over again, with that message underscored. A raunchy, all-out attack on everything that's holy except the church, it's the pie in your face from hell.The story behind the story has been retold many times: how he borrowed $12,000 from dad, how cold it was during the cannibal orgy scene, how the dog didn't cooperate.

Jacqueline M. "Jackie" Zajdel, a popular Canton cosmetologist who was a maestra of the shag, beehive, French twist and teased hair for decades, died Aug. 24 of cancer at Mercy Medical Center. The longtime Highlandtown resident was 67. Jacqueline Mary "Jackie" Zajdel was born in Baltimore and raised on Old North Point Road in Dundalk. She graduated in 1962 from Sparrows Point High School. "When she got out of high school, hairstyling was what she wanted to do, and she worked in a couple of shops in Dundalk," said her brother, Edwin "Zip" Zajdel, who lives in Joppa.

Still, Waters runs deep.Unchanged, unrepentant, unabashed, the bad boy of Baltimore underground -- and eventually aboveground -- movie making, now looks back exactly as he looks forward. While he works on developing his new film, "Pecker," he's also celebrating the release a quarter-century ago -- a quarter-century ago!! -- of the movie that put him on the new map of American culture, "Pink Flamingos."That work, hated, adored, banned, censored, mutilated, worshiped, but completely impossible to ignore, will be rereleased next Friday in an anniversary edition, with new footage.

"The Chamber of Commerce has always been wrong on how to sell Baltimore," local filmmaker John Waters proclaimed in a recent interview with radio talk-show host Marc Steiner. "To hell with crabs, you know? Let's come to Baltimore and be appalled!"Waters' notion that Baltimore should celebrate its quirks and foibles bears particular consideration as the city awaits its next big waterfront attraction: a Planet Hollywood restaurant.As the 75th branch of an international chain, Baltimore's Planet Hollywood is not the sort of place you might expect on a John Waters list of must-see attractions.

The first hint that Jenny Campbell and Ron Ecker's home is not your ordinary Carroll County Cape Cod lies in the screen door that leads to the kitchen. Painted by Campbell, it's a knockoff of Leonardo Da Vinci's Mona Lisa. But that's not all. The other window screens reflect the work of Peter Max, Salvador Dali, James McNeil Whistler, and Andrew Wyeth. And then, there are the couple of dozen pink flamingos in the back yard. "But, we didn't want our neighbors to think we were too weird, so Ron and I put in a white picket fence to reassure them," said Campbell, who along with her husband shares the house with five cats and a dog. Clearly this is a home of artistic souls, a residence with the kind of creative karma that one would expect to find in Hampden, Fells Point, or perhaps Waverly.

"Pink Flamingos," photographs by Carlo Mari, text by Nigel Collar (Abbeville Press, 208 pages, $55). In the broad culture of the United States, I know of no icon that is more familiar, more ridiculed, more celebrated or more played upon than the pink flamingo. From earnest Florida resort ornament to the high burlesque of John Waters' film, imitations of these strangely inimitable birds are everywhere. Live flocks grace race tracks and private palaces. But of Earth's 6 million-plus living pink flamingos, three-quarters or more live wild in Africa's Great Rift Valley, which is what this book explores.

Pink flamingos peer down from the dining room walls of Mink Stole's apartment -- playful reminders of the notorious 1972 film that helped launch Stole's career as an actress, alongside Divine, John Waters and the rest of the Dreamlanders. While Stole says she has a copy of "Pink Flamingos" "somewhere," she hasn't seen the film -- or many of the other Waters' productions she co-starred in -- for some time. The past few years, Stole has been focusing on her budding career as a singer.

The Avenue in Hampden is the capital of Baltimore kitsch, so for years the city got along just fine having that huge pink flamingo mounted above the landmark Cafe Hon. But now some city inspector has suddenly discovered that - gasp! - the big bird may actually be in violation of some silly ordinance or another. Sorry, too late. You should have thought of that years ago. The Big Bird stays. There's no need to pretend this long-necked fowl is great art. It's pure kitsch, as it was intended to be. Kitsch is the opposite of the complex, difficult, provocative and occasionally infuriating art in museums.

In John Waters' new gallery show, "Versailles," the cult filmmaker demonstrates his uncanny knack for having it both ways. Over the past half-century, Baltimore's favorite bad boy has carefully constructed an image as a provocateur. But he somehow manages to needle gently, without giving too much offense. "I travel in two completely different worlds," Waters says, "and I love them both. To me, there is no tension between the different realities. I find the contrast delightful." For instance, the title image in his new show, which runs through Feb. 27 at C. Grimaldis Gallery, is split in half.

Gov. Martin O'Malley, 1999-2007 "My advice to anyone who does the job of mayor, whether they do that job in Baltimore, Boston or any city in the world, is this: Make your city a cleaner city, a safer city and a city that becomes a better place for kids to grow up. Where businesses know they can invest their dollars and their hard work will be returned. "If you make a city cleaner, safer and a better place for kids, the people of the city start to do the rest of the work themselves.

The Avenue in Hampden is the capital of Baltimore kitsch, so for years the city got along just fine having that huge pink flamingo mounted above the landmark Cafe Hon. But now some city inspector has suddenly discovered that - gasp! - the big bird may actually be in violation of some silly ordinance or another. Sorry, too late. You should have thought of that years ago. The Big Bird stays. There's no need to pretend this long-necked fowl is great art. It's pure kitsch, as it was intended to be. Kitsch is the opposite of the complex, difficult, provocative and occasionally infuriating art in museums.

A pink flamingo that adorns Cafe Hon in Hampden has become an icon in the neighborhood. But a city inspector has determined the sculpture, erected about seven years ago as part of a holiday display, needs a license or will have to come down. Denise Whiting, who owns the popular restaurant at the corner of 36th Street and Roland Avenue, calls the sculpture, made from chicken wire and a bed sheet, "public art." "It never crossed my mind I'd need a permit," she said. "Are there permits for all the sculptures around the harbor?

Steve Yeager appears caught off-guard when asked if he set out to earn a reputation as a filmmaker focusing on Baltimore's marginalized. The thought, it seems, has never really occurred to him. And yet, it's an obvious question. His first narrative film, 1990's On the Block, the story of a stripper struggling to go legit, was set and filmed in Baltimore's notorious red-light district. His biggest success, 1998's award-winning documentary Divine Trash, chronicled Baltimore's merriest bunch of misfits, the cast and crew of John Waters' reprobate 1972 masterpiece, Pink Flamingos.

Hand that man a crown. John Waters, Baltimore's venerable Filth Elder, is extending his reign over Broadway. On Thursday, Waters will be represented by not one, but two Broadway musicals based on his movies. Cry-Baby will make its official debut; the musical is a romp set in 1950s Baltimore about love, class and the Rosenbergs. Nearby, Hairspray's Tracy Turnblad has been dancing her way to racial equality for five years. But, why stop at two shows? Waters has made 16 films. For instance, Hag In A Black Leather Jacket begs to be a ballet.

Last weekM-Fs question Which September release is at the top of your must-see list? 3.8 percent Cellular 30.8 percent A Dirty Shame 26.9 percent The Forgotten 0 percent The Motorcycle Diaries 11.5 percent Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow 7.7 percent Wimbledon 7.7 percent All of the above 11.5 percent Other 26 votes This weekM-Fs question What is your favorite John Waters movie? Cry-Baby Hairspray Pecker Pink Flamingos Polyester Serial Mom All of his newer stuff All of his old stuff I donM-Ft like his movies Vote at www.baltimoresun.

John Waters and New Line Cinema go way back, almost to the beginning. In 1972, New Line and its founder, Robert Shaye, took a chance on a proudly perverse Baltimore director and his film about a dog-poop-eating transvestite. The gamble paid off and Pink Flamingos put both John Waters and New Line on the map. Since then, Waters has cemented his distinction as the twisted bad boy of cinema, releasing more than a dozen films (eight of them through New Line) and becoming the darling of the indie-film world.

John Waters and New Line Cinema go way back, almost to the beginning. In 1972, New Line and its founder, Robert Shaye, took a chance on a proudly perverse Baltimore director and his film about a dog-poop-eating transvestite. The gamble paid off and Pink Flamingos put both John Waters and New Line on the map. Since then, Waters has cemented his distinction as the twisted bad boy of cinema, releasing more than a dozen films (eight of them through New Line) and becoming the darling of the indie-film world.