Recent Articles

Recent Articles By Jordan Oakes

National Features

  • Phoenix New Times
    Canine Crusaders

    That drug-sniffing dog up ahead? He may not be your best friend.

    By Ray Stern
  • Broward-Palm Beach New Times
    The Muscle Men

    Thanks to a string of Florida "anti-aging clinics," baseball's steroid scandal isn't limited to superstars.

    By Michael J. Mooney
  • Miami New Times
    Picked On

    Farm workers earn nada in America's green-bean capital.

    By Janine Zeitlin
  • Village Voice
    "Why I'm No Longer a Brain-Dead Liberal"

    An election-season essay from one of America's greatest playwrights.

    By David Mamet

There's never been a shadow of a doubt that St. Louisans are simultaneously in awe of and comfortable around movie stars. We're notorious for getting celebrity visits here in St. Louis -- hell, we have stars on the sidewalk -- but Tippi Hedren's appearance, in terms of both physical beauty and the event itself, was dazzling. She may not have caused a frenzy, but seeing her at Blueberry Hill was a weird treat. Of course, it would be neater to meet her one-on-one on a plane, and even stranger on a train, but the blond actress was so radiant that you looked around expecting Alfred Hitchcock to make a cameo. It matters not that Hedren's daughter Melanie Griffith has done more films, because most haven't been as good as Mom's worst. Besides, Hedren won't let her family plot out her career. A classic Hitchcock babe, Hedren brought her demure elegance to Blueberry Hill thanks to Joe Edwards, the man who knew too much to invite someone who'd flop. The front window (as opposed to the rear window) of Blueberry Hill is famous for presenting conceptual displays, which are not as ephemeral as the lovely Ms. Hedren. Sadly, one minute she's here -- then the lady vanishes.

-- Jordan Oakes

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