Galvin crop

Back in the day, the comedian Arsenio Hall had a late night talk show that primarily became notable for two things.

First, presidential contender Bill Clinton (that should tell you how far back “the day” was) joined Hall’s house band, playing saxophone on a jam of “Heartbreak Hotel.”

The other was a standard bit in the monologue when Hall would bring up “things that make you go hmmmm” — which then inspired a hit song of the same name by C+C Music Factory.

This week, I’ll only be discussing one of these, and I’m sure you’ll have little problem guessing which.

Clinton’s saxophone playing … only kidding, although were I to do so, it would allow me to drag out from deep in the cobwebs of the hippocampus what Radar O’Reilly (that should tell you how deep in the cobwebs we are) would call the amusing anecdote about the MTV News reporter (ditto) who — after Clinton said one of his favorite musicians was Thelonious Monk — asked a colleague “Who was the loneliest monk?”

But time and space are limited, so I won’t go there.

Instead, I will turn your attention to something which recently made me go “hmmm,” apparently loudly enough to catch the ear of our publisher, Dave Sommers, who then requested I write a column about it.

So, in the words of Barney Stinson, “Challenge … accepted.”

The other day, roaming the vast expanse that is the Rogue Valley Times newsroom, I found myself considering the elevator positioned along the north wall.

How I knew it was the north wall I shall get to in short order. How I knew it was the elevator, on the other hand, was more direct.

It was because of the sign above the door frame — white block lettering, all caps, on a standard-issue blue nameplate.

“ELEVATOR,” it reads.

The sign made me go “hmmmm,” or words to such effect, as I wondered aloud who in their right mind wouldn’t know that they were standing before an elevator … err, ELEVATOR?

I felt as though I was in one of those movies where the hero names their dog “Dog.”

I mean, would they think it was an escalator, inhalator, indicator, innoculator, infusilator or an incubator? Nope, it’s an elevator.

Thar she blows!

Well, it turns out we can’t have one — or, at least this one.

Now, wait, we have to back up here, for I have erred in the telling of this tale. The royal blue sign with white block lettering doesn’t actually say “ELEVATOR.”

Instead, it says “EIEVATOR,” for some miscreant ne’er-do-well has chipped the cross-stroke away from the stem of the second letter, perhaps in a misguided attempt of getting the L out of there — only to discover that the elevator was, as the French say, kaput.

(Yes … that was the joke.)

It apparently, in fact, has been kaputed for quite some time. How do I know this? Well, not because it has yellow emergency tape across its door. While you pick up the references to CBS sitcoms I’m dropping here, I will tell you that we knew the EIEVATOR was out of order because … there’s a sign.

A sign the shade of, well, it could be ivory, or beige, tan, a light taupe, eggshell or just a dirty white with black block letters informing us:

“THIS ELEVATOR …”

There they go again. We know it’s an elevator. Even the graduates of the Midvale School for the Gifted would know it’s an elevator. They might still to push the doors open, but they’d know what it was.

It’s like those ubiquitous “HELLO! MY NAME IS” tags they give you when you attend a convention or a class reunion.

Do they think we’re going to write someone else’s name on it? (Well, I always do, for the fewer people who know who I am or what I look like … the better. You think that’s actually my picture that runs with this column?)

We return, however, to the secondary sign at the elevator — the one erected at little expense, certainly less expense than it would take to … oh, I don’t know … fix the elevator.

“THIS ELEVATOR

OUT OF SERVICE

PLEASE USE STAIRS

OR ELEVATOR IN

SOUTH LOBBY”

Which is, of course, how I knew that the kaputulated elevator was situated on the north wall of the newsroom (See? I told you we’d get back to that.)

I think we’ve all learned something here today — at least, I suspect Mr. Sommers has. Therefore, I’ll leave you with a scary thought that’ll make you go “hmmmm”:

There are still east, west and south walls for me to examine.