Sherman Oaks in the flesh

Jim Millaway on Tulsa’s cult classic, “Mazeppa”

“Mazeppa” hit local airwaves in 1970. Tulsans Gailard Sartain and Jim Millaway created and starred in the irreverent, off-kilter, homegrown sketch-comedy show, with Sartain performing a revolving cast of characters, including Dr. Mazeppa Pompazoidi, and Millaway playing the straight man, Sherman Oaks. In 1971, Gary Busey joined the production.

The show ran until 1973, after which Sartain joined the cast of the “Hee Haw” TV show, Millaway went on to work for Roy Clark Productions and Busey headed for Hollywood.

The upcoming Tulsa Overground Film Festival will host a special event paying tribute to Millaway and the legacy of Tulsa’s public access cult classic. 

The Tulsa Voice: I’m familiar with the LA suburb, but can you give me the origin story behind “Sherman Oaks?”

Jim Millaway: When I was growing up and reading comic books, in the back they had ads where you could send off for things, you know? You could send off for X-ray specs, different collectibles, near pornography, whatever. Well, the address was always Sherman Oaks, California. It was probably just one Novelty Company’s warehouse site, but it seemed like a magical kind of place to me.

TTV: Give me a preview of what people can expect to see from you at the Tulsa Overground Festival.

JM: I have two student films that were done in 1970 and 1971 at The University of Tulsa, so this would be pre-Mazeppa. And then there will be some Mazeppa-related clips, some commercials we made for actual businesses at the time, but I can promise you that they don’t look anything like actual commercials that anyone would make these days. It wouldn’t be believable that anyone would even pay anyone to do these things.

TTV: Are those two films unreleased?

JM: Well, yes. They have been seen because they were released at the school film festival, but nobody’s seen them since then.

TTV: When I watch the old Mazeppa shows, I still see the humor in them.

JM: Part of the reason they hold up is because it’s kind of a regional take on clueless people who think that they’re doing a really good job. Around here, that never really goes out of style.

TTV: How did you guys get on TV?

JM: A bunch of people we knew worked at Channel 6 and they had a promotional program called “Dialing for Dollars.” They would ask a question and you could call in with the answer and win some money. Well, Gailard Sartain, who was working as a cameraman, started doing some comedy bits. They liked it and said that he could do more around some horror movies that they were going to run late at night.

TTV: And Gailard was one of your friends?

JM: Oh yeah. Back in the day, there weren’t a lot of places to hang out. So we used to go down and hang out at Channel 6 just for something to do. Back then, everything was done in the studio. They had cameramen and directors that they paid to be there the whole time. So, there were certain blocks of time when they weren’t dong anything. If there was nothing to shoot, everyone was just standing around and it cost the station money. In that respect, Mazeppa didn’t cost the station a penny. We did it at times when nothing else was happening.

TTV: Did you get to do whatever material you wanted?

JM: Oh yeah, they never checked us. It was kind of like we weren’t even there. Television used to go off the air at midnight, and we were on after midnight. “Decent thinking people” didn’t stay up past ten ‘o clock. So, if you were up past midnight watching TV—what a thrill, it was illicit.

TTV: Did you want to be on TV? Had that ever occurred to you before the offer came up?

JM: Did you want to write for the newspaper? Of course! God, yes! Everybody wanted to be on TV. That hasn’t changed, by the way. Never underestimate the desire of people to be on television.

TTV: Back in the day there were only three channels, so I imagine it was a big deal to be on TV.

JM: Oh yeah, it was. Also, you have to remember that this was pre-SNL, so even though we didn’t consider ourselves young, although we were in our twenties, young people were not on TV that much back then. 

TTV: Did you have an in-studio audience? I remember seeing shots of one.

JM: Kind of. Kids would come in; our friends might come in to watch. One time I remember a Latin Club from Muskogee showed up. There was this broke-dick country show called the Horn Bros. that was on in the morning and there were clips of their audience. We stole those and made it look like they were there to see our show.

TTV: You stayed in the business after Mazeppa, right?

JM: I did. I worked for Roy Clark Productions and we did some specials—we did a show with Hank Thompson for about three seasons—and then I went out to LA and worked for a year, then came back here and was a rockin’ DJ on the morning drive for KMOD where I worked with Jeanne Tripplehorn when she was just a kid— I think she was 18. Then, Jeanne and I did another late night show on the local Fox station for about three years.

TTV: Gary Busey. Always kind of touched in the head?

JM: There’s no offstage for Gary. From the time he wakes up in the morning until the time he goes to sleep at night, he’s “on.” He wears down after about 18 hours, but he’s always “on.”

TTV: When you were doing Mazeppa, were you “Tulsa Famous?”

JM: No. No. It wasn’t until years later that people would come up to me and tell me that they were fans of the show. We didn’t think anyone was watching.

TTV: No girls were extra-interested in you guys because you were on TV? 

JM: None. No, it was all guys, and they were like comic book guys. I don’t think any girls watched it ever - at all.

TTV: You’re likely going to expose a good deal of young people to your work at the Overground Festival. I think that’s important.

JM: With young people, I would say, look, you only need a handful of people to get something done—to actually create something. And you can create something where there was nothing, but it only takes—let me put it this way: if you had six people working on something you could get just about anything done, whether that’s in Silicon Valley or here at a little comedy club. You’ve just got to find six people with talent and the desire to see something through and, by God, it’s going to happen. 

For more from Beau, read his story on vintage guitar dealer Andrew Winn.