Colony Little, Culture Shock Art

This is one of those stories that I’ve long wanted to write, but not under these circumstances.

In the land of parasocial relationships, there are times when the line between the real and virtual world becomes blurred–Sid Krofft lived his life right on that line, in the space between reality and the imaginary. Every Sunday evening at 6:00 pm, I’d meet him there, listening to the fantastical stories behind his rich and colorful life. It quickly became a welcome ritual– I’d cook dinner or sit at the kitchen table and draw, listening to Sid share his stories, as if I was a kid at the library waiting for story hour.

During lockdown I stumbled upon Sid Krofft on IG live, speaking from his treehouse in the Hollywood Hills–his parrots squawking in the background as his assistant Kelly Killian moderated his hour-long virtual chats where he would talk about his life and career as a puppeteer, television show creator. Brothers Sid and Marty Krofft were the producers and masterminds behind the shows and characters that shaped my childhood. Saturday mornings were spent watching Land of the Lost, Sigmund the Sea Monster, Wonderbug…these shows were part of a wild medley of trippy live-action programs that only psychedelic drugs could produce. And during those Sunday talks, with a wry wink, Sid confirmed what we all already knew–the man lived a colorful life, but his creative vision was formed decades before his psychedelic, fever-dream productions took shape. Sid Krofft’s career began as a young puppeteer in vaudeville, cabaret and the burlesque circuit.

Every Sunday Sid would regale us with the stories that shaped his life, traveling the eastern seaboard performing with Hollywood royalty, and exploring the world through his art. He supported his family with his work, but didn’t share a whole lot about his brothers and his parents–some stories were left untold. His assistant Kelly dutifully managed the slow unpacking of his life’s work, asking thoughtful questions to jog his memory which, on good days revealed his incredible capacity for detail, while others would keep him stuck on a memory of Judy Garland, whom he loved dearly.

As the world attempted to regain some warped sense of normalcy as the pandemic waned, Sid continued to show up on Sundays at 6:00 pm eastern, inviting guests and celebs into his live streams for interviews, but in reality, we all tuned in to hear Sid. Kelly would later share with us how these livestreams saved him from being a recluse. Prior to this he kept to himself, comfortable remaining in the shadows, in a space he liked to dwell, as the characters of his dreams took center stage. As he encountered fans, both old and new, his Instagram family meant the world to him.

The 2025 fires forced Sid to move out of his beloved tree house. He loved going to conventions– they gave him the opportunity to meet his fans while raising funds for his continued care, and the re-assembling of his archive. The bulk of his memorabilia, including some of his puppets were lost to storage snafus, mis-management, and family friction, but there is a legion of Krofft friends and fans who have taken up the mantle of custodial archival caretakers.

I met Sid in Raleigh days before his 96th birthday. He was at Galaxy Con wearing a pink and green campshirt covered in flamingos and aliens. It was perfectly wacky, perfectly Sid. He told me some stories about casting the first Black character on the Bugaloos and how Mick Jagger insisted on casting Wayne Lareya for the role of “Harmony”, a story that his brother Marty, who preceded Sid in death refutes. He marveled at my gray curls and we looked at pictures together that triggered memories to the surface; this was something I loved to do with my grandmother before I lost her ten years ago.

He brought us all so much joy and he was lucky to get so much love in return. There were so many stories I wanted to hear more about: the indoor amusement park at the old CNN Center in Atlanta, the show he did with Richard Pryor, more stories about Liza and the day they met, and some of the more sensitive stories of his past growing up as a child. I take comfort in knowing that there were some people in his life dedicated to sharing more later. Until then, I will always remember his favorite words of advice to take the road less traveled, “go left”. I’ll miss you Sid, thank you.