Artie Shaw Dies at 94

Dec. 30, 2004--Artie Shaw died earlier today at his home in Newbury Park, California, about 40 miles west of downtown Los Angeles. He was 94.

Shaw was a brilliant clarinetist rivaled only by Benny Goodman. Shaw led what many consider the finest big band of the Swing Era because of the highly talented musicians who played in it and the brilliance of his arrangements. Listening to Shaw's records as I write this makes me realize once again how good he and his band really were, particularly the one from 1938-1939.

But Shaw did not like being so famous. He shut down his band a couple of times in the 1940s and, with the big band era a thing of the past, threw in the towel forever in the early 1950s. Writing became his new muse. He lived quietly, almost anonymously, in Southern California.

In the 1988-1989, I lived in Thousand Oaks, next to Newbury Park. I saw Shaw twice.

The first time was at a Wells Fargo branch near my home. The elderly man in front of me was yelling like crazy at the young teller, bringing her to tears. I tapped him on the shoulder and told him to lay off. He turned around, gave me a dirty look, and hurried out of the bank. I realized immediately that it was Shaw. The teller thanked me.

About a year later, I went to a lecture Shaw gave at the Thousand Oaks Public Library. He spoke in a classroom that had about 35 desks. About 20 people, mostly senior citizens, showed up. Shaw arrived a few minutes before seven o'clock, carrying some of his LPs, cassettes, and books.

He began his lecture by saying that he would not talk about his big band days or his eight wives. Shaw encouraged anyone to leave who came to hear about his music or his wives. A few walked out.

Shaw then began his talk, rambling about writing and other things for a little while. More people left. About seven-thirty, a dozen of us were still there.

"Any questions?" Shaw asked.

"Yes," I said. "Why do you refuse to talk about your big band years? You had one of the finest big bands ever. I still listen to your recordings all of the time and think they are fantastic. And most, if not all, of the people who came here tonight want you to talk about them."

Shaw hesitated for a moment. He knew I was right. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"OK," he finally agreed. "Go ahead."

There was one question after another. Shaw, reluctant at first, opened up. He even smiled and laughed a few times. His memories were vivid and colorful. His mind was sharp, alert, fast.

"Nothing fails like success," I said. "My friend in Chicago, Studs Terkel, often says that."

"I know Studs," Shaw said. "He's absolutely right." Both Shaw and Terkel were big fans of Chicago jazz from the 1920s.

"You know, it just gets really boring playing the same big band arrangements night after night, year after year," Shaw said. "Any big band musician will tell you that. Small group jazz offers much more freedom."

As the hour came to an end, Shaw said the albums and books he brought were for sale. A couple of people bought a few. As I was leaving, he asked me if I wanted to buy any. I smiled. "No, Mr. Shaw, I've had all of your albums for a long time." And then I thanked him for doing the lecture.

"Your welcome," he said. We shook hands.

Artie Shaw's music is as haunting, as enchanting today as it was 65 years ago. To find out, all you have to do is listen....

To do so right now, just click on the title of this entry.

A Prayer for the Tsunami Victims

Dear God,

Please work a miracle
in those whose lives were
lost or broken in the wake of the tsunami.
May Your hand upon them
bring comfort and peace.
May the love of the world
bring aid and relief.
Send a legion of angels
to their side,
to uplift them in their time of need.
And show us how we can serve.

Amen

--Marianne Williamson

Wrappin' It Up!

Some newscasters and reporters are saying that 2004 has been the "Year of the Blog." Blogs have been sprouting up all over the Internet. Hell, you're reading one right now!

Blogger.com makes building blogs easy, especially since earlier this year when they were acquired by Google and revamped their web site completely. Blogger is to be congratulated for all of the improvements they have made.

I built my first blogs three years ago, including one on Blogger.com. I use MovbableType for two of my blogs, which I don't recommend for newcomers. Their blogging system is overly complicated. I have blogs for my big band, rhythm n'blues, and grammar school web sites. You'll find them listed in the sidebar.

How many blog building sites are there? In a word, zillions! Just search Google for "blog buiilding sites."

This blog, and my others, welcome entries from their members. The trouble is that after someone joins and posts their first entry, they often don't post another. I wish I knew how to correct this. If you have any suggestions, please let me know.

In the coming year, I hope members of The Flatted Fifth and my other blogs will post at least one entry per month. This is an open-ended blog, meaning you can write about anything you wish. If you would like to join, just click the Register button in the sidebar. I hope you will.

Let's hope 2005 is a great year for all of us! Happy New Year!

The Grand Old Dames

I was re-reading Alan Morrison's comment on my entry about "Dr. Phil and SEX." Alan talks about the Stanford Theater and how owner David Packard likes to show old films using orginal equipment. That would be terrific to see!

I used to go to Laemmle's Music Hall Theater in Beverly Hills because it was an old theater that had been maintained so well over the years. It had a big screen and wasn't cramped like the newer "mini-theaters." The last time I went there was a few years back. Unfortunately, the great old theater had been converted into three "mini-theaters." Ugh!

There is another I go to once in awhile on LaBrea a block or so south of Melrose, the Regent Showcase. The last time I was there was to see the re-release of "The Sorrow and the Pity." Woody Allen did a splendid job having it restored. I found it hard to believe that almost 30 years had passed since I saw "The Sorrow and the Pity" in Chicago when it was first released. The Regent Showcase has been recently restored to its old glory, looking as fit as a fiddle.

In Santa Monica, I sometimes go to the Aero Theater on Montana Street, another old neighborood movie theater that has been maintained so well over the years. New pictures are shown their a couple of months after their release, which means the Aero charges the lowest prices in town. Many movie stars live nearby, so not surprisingly, you often see them going to the Aero. They don't mind saving a few bucks either!

In January 1994, I was at the Aero one Sunday afternoon watching "Gettysburg," a film that lasted about three hours. My friend, actor Richard Jordan, played Brig. Gen. Lewis A. Armistead. Richard was two years older than me and died the previous year of a brain tumor. He was only 55. "Gettysburg" was Richard's last film.

About 3:30, there was an earthquake that scared the hell out of the audience. Some left, but many of us stayed to see the ending. When it was over, I walked down Montana Sreet toward the ocean. I noticed a woman from the theater walking ahead of me. Suddenly, there was another earthquake. It felt like the sidewalk rose up and slapped me in my legs. I fell down. So did the woman ahead of me. I got up and ran to her. She was crying.

"I just can't get used to these," she said. "I've lived here all my life and they still scare the hell out of me." We walked together to Ocean Avenue, then she turned west to go home.

Early the next morning, about 4:30, I felt a jolt like none before or since. It was so strong that I fell out of bed. The bookcases were swaying back and forth and many books fell off. Fortunately, none of the bookcases fell. This was the infamous Northridge Earthquake.

L.A. and its old movie theaters survived the Northridge Earthquake.

All of these movie theaters, ironically, are relatively small and resemble the old Roxy Theater in Berwyn, Illinois, where I grew up. Like the Aero, the Roxy showed movies after they appeared in the downtown theaters and then the main neighborhood theaters. My buddies and our families and neighbors didn't mind waiting awhile to save some money. The Roxy closed it doors about 30 years ago.

I also remember going to the large movie theaters in downtown Chicago in the 1940s, sometimes with both of my parents, sometimes with just my mother to catch a matinee. In those days, some of the Chicago theaters in the Loops still offered stage shows.

I remember one time in the late 1940s riding the Bluebird bus downtown one morning with my mother and Aunt Dorothy to see Frankie Laine at the Chicago Theater. The line stretched down State Street a few feet and then down the alley for a block to Wabash Avenue, then snaked up Wabash to Lake Street and almost back to State Street.

The main floor and every balcony of the Chicago Theater was packed to the gills with screaming women--including my mother and my aunt! When Frankie Laine came onstage, they went bananas!

Funny how things haven't really changed all that much! Except the earthquakes!

Good Grief! It's Christmastime!

Dr. Phil and Sex

I remember about 30 years ago when I'm OK, You're OK was a best seller. It was in the vanguard of pop psychology books. I read it, of course, and then thought the title should be changed to I'm OK, You're OK, But I'm Not So Sure About Him.

I thought about this yesterday when my friend, Holly, and I went to a taping of Dr. Phil's show here in Los Angeles. He uses facilities at Paramount Pictures studio on Gower at Melrose. It's always a kick for me to see the old studios.

Holly is a big fan of Dr. Phil's. For her birthday and Christmas presents these past couple of years, I have given her books by him, each of which she has read in a couple of sittings. She got the tickets for the showing by visiting his web site (click the Title of this entry to go there yourself). Holly saw him a couple of weeks ago at her church, the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, as he talked with its pastor, Rev. Robert Schuller. So did millions of viewers around the world.

We arrived early and stood in line outside for about an hour a half. Then we were ushered into a waiting room where we sat for half an hour and drank coffee. Finally, we were allowed to enter "The Studio."

Technicians and others guided us to seats. There were seven cameras. Then a major domo exhorted us to applaud and cheer on cue as loud as we could. We practiced this many times.

That wasn't really necessary, but it was fun. Most people in the audience were women, about 90 percent. When Dr. Phil finally came out, about 12:20 p.m., everyone leaped out of their seats and cheered like crazy as a video of Cher played loudly on the monitors. The women were as nuts as they could be.

Then Dr. Phil told us today's topic: SEX.

Oh, man, the audience went nuts again! Holly was cheering like crazy! Every woman in the studio went berserk! So did I! So did the other men! Finally, after several minutes, the audience quieted down. Dr. Phil chatted and kidded with us. Then the taping began, and it was as professional as you can imagine.

His first guests were a 52 year-old mother and her 26-year-old son. The son was upset with his mom because she was always going out to bars dressed provocatively to pick up and sleep with men in their early twenties. She had been divorced for 20 years and didn't see anything wrong with her behavior. She didn't care that her behavior really upset her son.

The mother and son were followed by a 40-ish couple who like to swing with other couples. They have been doing this for years. The wife explained her spouse had never, ever satisfied her sexually. He didn't say whether his wife satisfied him. While their young daughter was asleep in her bedroom on the second floor, they often had sex with other couples in their basement.

The last couple was in their late 40s. The husband had recently retired after working two jobs for many years. Their sex life had deteriorated almost completely. They wanted to know what they could do to revitalize it. Dr. Phil offered a few tips and sent them on a week-long, all-expense paid trip to Hawaii, "courtesy of Expedia.com," to "rekindle the flame."

I won't go into the often hilarious, sometimes sick details of what transpired with each couple. You'll be able to see that for yourself when the show airs in February.

By the way, his wife, Robin, is drop-dead gorgeous! They've been married about 25 years. It was fun watching her blush and hide her face in her hands when Dr. Phil kidded about their own sex life.

You might have gathered that I'm not a big fan of Dr. Phil's. Would I go back to see his show taped again? You bet! To see Robin again is reason enough!

And who knows, maybe next time he'll give each of us a gift!

Bah humbug, Dr. Phil! I really enjoyed your show and had a great time.

See'ya soon!

Christmas in Greece

In the mid 1980s, I was a naval aircrewman stationed near Athens. It was the tail end of a period when the Greeks tolerated an American military presence there. That tolerance was rapidly dissipating when I arrived, although you could always say that many more supported us or at least weren't bothered by us than those who didn't. It was just that those who didn't were quite vehement about it. Local terrorists were killing Americans. One Air Force fellow stationed there was killed on his last day of duty--they set a bomb near his apartment. A bomb exploded on a Saturday night in a Glyfada bar frequented by U.S. service people, killing several and wounding dozens. A bomb killed a military attache on one of our buses.

The Navy had us wear flak jackets when riding in the crew van. It was a bit silly, really, because when we were off duty, we had our own cars, which had "Armed Forces Greece" in English prominently displayed on the license plates. And we had military haircuts. If the U.S. Navy and the Air Force were really concerned about the safety of their personnel, they would have allowed us to blend in more with the local population. I bought a Citroen from a German diplomat so at least the car would blend in. It was a great car.

You would think that we'd be terrified to walk on the street, but, as it happened, these events were infrequent enough that we really didn't think about the terrorism much. The Athens area was such a fun place to be, and Christmas was a festive time there. The shopping areas were all decorated, the bakers made wonderful holiday breads, and people really celebrated, not just at Christmas, but during all the religious holidays.

One year just before Christmas, it actually snowed. Snow was extremely rare there, at least it was on the coast in Attica. The locals were ecstatic. They could be so much like little kids at these times. They made little snowmen, put them on top of their cars, and drove around the neighborhood, practically jumping out of their cars to wave to each other.

Another year at Christmas in Greece, my friends and I celebrated at my apartment. The married guys had their wives there. Everyone was in such great spirits. Because we were stationed together, we were all so close. It was a true family, really.

A Winter's Day

Mischalina's comments, which appear immediately below this entry and are so beautifully written, remind me of how I loved, and miss, winter days in Chicago.

I was not a Chicagoan or Midwesterner who moved to Southern California because of the warm and sunny weather out here. In fact, we haven't had a warm or sunny day in L.A. for several weeks now. What we have had are dreary, cold, and often rainy days.

"Hates California, it's cold and it's damp!" still rings true. Homes and apartments and offices and classrooms in Southern California are not insulated very well. That means cold temps seep through the walls and the heat just as easily escapes.

My apartment building, built in the late 1940s, is better constructed than most, but it needs better insulation. There is no chance my landlord will ever fix this annoying problem. He knows this building is better than most.

In Chicago, I lived in an apartment building constructed just before World War One. It had solid brick walls and insulation, plastered walls, not wallboard, and radiator heat throughout. There were rectangular-shaped "tubs" that ran the length and width of each radiator. We kept these tubs filled with water, making them humidifiers. The radiator covers were lightweight and easy to lift to add water.

There were a few times, and fortunately not many, when the solid construction and radiator heat weren't quite enough. I remember days and nights when the temperature dropped to about 20 degrees Fahrenheit below zero, with a wind-chill factor of 60 or 70 degrees below zero. That was COLD!

The radiators always worked beautifully. My three cats loved to sit atop them to stay warm and look out the windows. In warmer months, they would get excited when birds flew by.

One day that stands out was when we experienced "The Blizzard of '79." It happened in late January. I worked at the nearby University of Chicago and lived across the street from the lab school, which was surrounded by a five-foot tall wrought-iron fence. When I awoke that morning and looked out the window, I saw deep snow everywhere. It was sunny and clear but very cold outside. As I left my apartment building, I saw the doorman and janitor had already shoveled the sidewalk in front and even made a snow incline allowing us to get up to and walk atop the snow, which was as deep as the five-foot fence across the street. I made my way slowly to my building on campus, four short blocks away. Not many showed up for work or classes that day. The radio and TV stations told everyone to stay home.

I loved every minute of it! Most Chicagoans hated it.

A major problem was that city snow removal vehicles couldn't get through the deep, deep snow to clear the side streets all over the city. No one could go anywhere. Mayor Michael Bilandic, who was up for relection in April, really botched up the job of clearing city streets. The media was all over him for it. His major political opponent, Jane Byrne, had a field day complaining about Bilandic's inept administration. She defeated him in the primary and won the general election, becoming Chicago's first female mayor. The Blizzard of '79 was a major reason she won.

I thought about that January as I waited for my bus in the light rain this morning on my way to school. Even a light rain causes major traffic problems in L.A. because Californians just aren't used to driving in it. "Slip, slidin' away!"

No one knows when these weeks of cold, damp weather will end. Until it does, I can sing "That's why the lady is a tramp" to my heart's content.

Sleighbells Ring...

Right now, as I type this after a particulary stressful lecture, the snow is starting to swirl outside the lecture hall's large windows. The light has softened to that grey that accompanies winter stillness. Wind blows the flakes softly across the campus lawns and catches in the great oak trees.

Downtown, decorations have been up since before Thanksgiving and now the music is being played. Everywhere you go, the stores are blaring 'Let it Snow' and 'Silent Night' and today they seem to be getting their wish. Dipping into purses and wallets is that seemingly dilligent feeling of good will. Men and women are hurrying about buying anything they can find on sale for their friends and family. Because sometimes you don't love people enough to buy their things full price.

Meanwhile, my brother and I are preparing for the festival of lights. We dusted and untarnished the menorah while listening to talk radio. Later we sang songs we remembered from childhood. I made a pot of hot apple cider and we reminisced about Poland in a way I did not think I had the strengh to do. As of a few weeks ago, every though has been about family. How much I want one, want to repair the family I have. The process is slow, but oh so worth it.

Hoping the very best of holidays for you and yours. Next year may we all continue shining.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.