One of the saddest days of my young life, at the time, was learning of the decision in 1965 to have the RKO Palace downtown demolished. This was long before anyone routinely gave a thought to preservation, restoration, or declaring historic buildings city landmarks.

While the Eastman Theatre was (and still is) the classiest place to attend a concert, when it came to the movies, nothing beat the RKO. As a kid, especially, everything truly seemed larger than life… whether it was the lobby itself, crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, staircases to the upstairs balcony, the stage curtain lighted with that alternating red and black glow, or the screen itself. If you were lucky, the sounds of the Mighty Wurlitzer theater organ might greet you on the way in. And if it were a popular enough feature with continuous showings, you could spend hours there, and no one batted an eye.

Actually, the routine was pretty simple. My Mom and I would take the bus downtown, have lunch in a nearby department store (when they had restaurants or snack bars as part of their design), and then walk a couple of blocks to the Palace. The outer lobby was full of artistic décor and chandeliers, and then the inner lobby had all sorts of food and snacks available (Hot Dogs were a big ticket item at 30 cents, and the Popcorn was always fresh).

Once inside the theater, I can remember standing and looking up at walls that seemed to reach to the sky, separated by a huge balcony seating area. The proscenium arch was accented by red and blue colored lighting, and there was always a thrill when that red velvet curtain opened to reveal the screen that we all escaped into.

The RKO Palace opened on Christmas Eve in 1928, and like many theaters of the time, had a live show on the 80 foot deep stage, short subjects and a sing-along in addition to the main feature. The side of the building advertised “The Showplace of Rochester”, and as you went in the main entrance, there was the proclamation over the doors “Rochester’s Most Beautiful Theater”.

As television loomed larger, profits got smaller and movie-going routines changed. “Urban Renewal” became the justification for its destruction.

The fate of the Wurlitzer organ was a different story, though. The original 4/21 model was restored and updated to a 4/23 model (Opus 1951) thanks to the efforts of the Rochester Theatre Organ Society, who moved it to the Auditorium Theater, where it is featured today at scheduled concerts.
Today, the actual Palace site is still an empty parking lot, so who knows whatever then-announced project it was that must have fallen through…
While it’s rare to find much material on the RKO now, let alone its final days, how interesting that all these years later, there is evidence that the last feature that played the RKO Palace in1965 was “Von Ryan’s Express.”

Here’s a toast to a great movie palace. Excuse me while I go out to the lobby and get some popcorn…

Cole Porter’s “Anything Goes” ranks as probably my most favorite stage show of his. Oh, wait… which version ?? Well, if nothing else, this theatrical idea has lasted through several incarnations: the original Broadway run in 1934 with Ethel Merman, William Gaxton and Victor Moore; the 1936 film version with Bing Crosby, Ethel Merman and Charlie Ruggles, another film version in 1956 with Crosby, Donald O’Connor and Mitzi Gaynor that bore little resemblance to its source, and several stage revivals, right up through the current 2011 Tony-winning production.

As the score has changed a bit over the years, with interpolations of other Porter songs thrown in, or original ones restored, so has the plot. The original storyline, concerning an ocean liner in danger mid-voyage, had to be altered when such an actual news item occurred. This resulted in the change to an ocean liner bound from New York to London, with a cast that includes a nightclub singer, a gangster disguised as a missionary, and a stowaway who assumes the identity of Public Enemy Number One,

Cole Porter & Ethel Merman

For the record, the 1962 revival, that was considered the “official version” for decades, has always been my benchmark. That score’s cast featured Eileen Rogers (a Merman heir whose style fell out of fashion), a young Hal Linden, and the physical comedian Mickey Deems.

When I became a Sinatra fan, I was thrilled to discover that the original show had been adapted for television and aired on February 28,1954 as part of NBC’s “Colgate Comedy Hour”. This historic production was a departure from the show’s regular variety format, and featured Ethel Merman, Frank Sinatra, and Bert Lahr. It was only available previously on tape through an old Video Yesteryear kinescope transfer. With that release, it was fun to have the original Colgate product commercials, but was disappointing due to occasional skips in the print, the abbreviated credits, and almost all of the “Friendship” number non-existent

Thanks to the work of the Archive of American Television, their latest effort has been to acquire a kinescope of “Anything Goes” from the Ethel Merman estate and release it on DVD. Gone are the commercials, but what remains is a pristine and complete copy of the show itself. Needless to say, it probably looks better today that it did on standard television sets originally.

We now can fully revel in the interplay between these three great stars, appreciate the orchestrations of Buddy Bregman, and chuckle as a hastily arranged reprise of the title song is done to fill time when the show unexpectedly runs short. Merman even brings in Lahr and Sinatra, who laughs and says “I wish I knew the words.”

As for the score, there is “Anything Goes” (Merman), “You’re The Top” (Merman & Sinatra), “Friendship” (Merman & Lahr)”, “All Through The Night” (Sinatra), the interpolated “You Do Something To Me” (Sinatra) & “Just One Of Those Things” (Sinatra, with a reprise by Merman), Merman’s “I Get A Kick Out Of You” (then reprised by Sinatra), and a young Maynard Ferguson on trumpet, wailing into the stratosphere as Merman leads the revival meeting production number of “Blow Gabriel Blow”.

At the time, the telecast was considered unique, and received great critical acclaim. With the team of Executive Producer Leland Hayward, Producer Jule Styne, and Director Al Goodman, “Anything Goes” remains a hallmark of television’s golden age.

Frank Loesser

Frank Sinatra never hesitated to say how awkward he thought the casting of the 1955 film version of “Guys and Dolls” was, including his own, and working with “Mumbles”. Frank Loesser’s love letter to Damon Runyon’s world has been called the quintessential musical on stage, and the film version has been referred to as anything but the equivalent.

Producer Sam Goldwyn simply wanted box office draw and that’s why Marlon Brando is Sky Masterson, and Jean Simmons is Sarah Brown. Vivian Blaine as Adelaide, and Stubby Kaye as Nicely-Nicely were the only originators retained from the acclaimed Broadway cast. Of course, gravel-voiced Sam Levene is a prime example of how the original concept of Nathan Detroit on stage was altered for the film, and even Blaine’s singing in the film is a different style than on the original cast album.

Brando and Sinatra

From the beginning of his career, Loesser was praised for the uniqueness and cleverness of his lyric writing. It is true that he is probably the most conversational lyricist the stage ever saw, and that style made audiences identify with his characters as an everyman.

Once Loesser was able to do both music and lyrics for his shows, he fought for as much control as possible over the finished product. This was no different when it came to the much-anticipated filming of “Guys and Dolls”.

Recently, watching the excellent biography of Frank Loesser, “Heart and Soul”, we learn that this was a most particular fella when it came to how his songs would be performed, and actors became accustomed to being coached on the songs by Loesser himself. Of course, not everyone appreciated Loesser’s advice, much the same as Judy Garland resisted Irving Berlin’s coaching during her performances for the film, “Easter Parade”. She finally walked up to him, put her face two inches in front of his, poked a firm finger into his stomach and responded “Listen buster, you write ‘em, I sing ‘em.”.

That quote pretty much sums up Frank Sinatra’s reaction to any advice given by the composer and lyricist of “Guys and Dolls” as well. In a 2010 interview, Michael Feinstein said “Sinatra is so connected with the persona of the ‘Guys and Dolls’ characters even though he had great conflicts with Frank Loesser personally. But he was a huge fan of Frank Loesser’s works, so much so that when he started his own record label, Reprise Records, he recorded four musical shows in their entirety as part of the Reprise repertoire in musical theater.”

The version of this score recorded for the Reprise Repertory Theater represented a cooling off by Sinatra after stating he would never sing another Frank Loesser song ever, once the film was completed. Loesser had felt that Sinatra was not true to the role of Nathan Detroit and strongly disagreed with The Voice’s interpretations of the character’s songs. This resulted in Loesser and Sinatra never speaking to each other again.

While Sinatra recorded twelve Loesser songs over his long career, perhaps, some of this resulting anger led to what became the definitive recording of “Luck Be A Lady” in 1963. Backed by a screaming Billy May chart, and visual dice-throwing gestures, the song is forever associated with Sinatra and the Las Vegas image of gambling. Audiences never failed to respond to it, whether on television, nightclubs or concert venues.

Sinatra singing Luck Be A Lady

Goldwyn’s production of “Guys and Dolls” grossed $5.5 million dollars at the box office and does contain some classic lines, including Adelaide’s “Speaking of chronic conditions, Happy Anniversary.”; Nathan’s “I have been running the crap game ever since I was a juvenile delinquent.”; Sky’s “But for a close relationship that can last through all the years of our life, no doll can take the place of aces back-to-back.”; and Big Jule’s “Well, I used to be bad when I was a kid, but ever since then I’ve gone straight, as has been proved by my record: Thirty-three arrests and no convictions!”.

Excuse me, but I have to go lay down a bet now on cheesecake and strudel sales…

Jimmy Durante in the recording studio.

Probably the most beloved entertainer in show business was Jimmy Durante. It is just as difficult to find a disparaging remark made about him, as it is to find one attributed to him.

Durante’s career and longevity were unique in the respect that he was born in 1893 and entertained in vaudeville, theater, radio, movies, television, records and nightclubs.

The Club Durant, of which Jimmy was part owner, opened in 1923. “”If I didn’t open dat club, and become a boss, I wouldn’t a stood up and started singing. . . . I knew everybody, started to give dem da big hello. . . .” The team of Clayton, Jackson and Durante was initially formed here, with Lou Clayton and Eddie Jackson. It broke up officially in 1931, but Jackson and Durante would occasionally reunite for a special appearance.

As for Durante’s singing, he personally composed most of the songs that would become associated with him throughout the years. These included “I’m Jimmy That Well-Dressed Man”, “Who Will Be With You When I’m Far Away, Out in Far Rockaway ?”, “Did You Ever Have the Feelin’ That You Wanted To Go, Still You Have the Feelin’ That You Wanted To Stay ?”, “I Know Darn Well I Can Do Without Broadway (Can Broadway Do Without Me ?)”, and  “Inka Dinka Doo”.

The Voice and Da Schnoz had appeared together on radio and then on television, in 1953, on NBC’s “Colgate Comedy Hour”. While most people immediately think of the Sinatra-Durante connection with “The Song’s Gotta Come From The Heart” in MGM’s ‘It Happened In Brooklyn’, there’s also a bit of what-might- have-been… and from an almost unlikely place.

Director Frank Capra worked with Sinatra on the film, “A Hole In The Head” in 1959, and wrote: “I disappointed the press by extolling both Sinatra’s talent and his cooperation. Whatever tales of woe other directors had to relate about Sinatra’s intransigence did not apply to my experience— as witness the fact that we finished Hole under schedule and under budget.”

Frank Sinatra & Jimmy Durante in the recording studio

“…Frank Sinatra invited Lu and me to be his guests at the Sands Hotel, Las Vegas, where he was giving solo performances. Important conference, he said. It was during late supper in one of the lounge booths that Sinatra stunned me with his sudden question, ‘How would you like to produce and direct a film with me, Dean Martin and Bing Crosby ?’

‘Geez, Frank !’, I stuttered. ‘Throw in Garbo and I’ll consider it.’

‘Ain’t that the greatest ? Sammy Cahn came up with it. The life of Jimmy Durante and his two pals, Lou Clayton and Eddie Jackson. The ups and downs of the greatest team of laff-getters to ever hit show business. You like ?’

‘Does Jimmy Durante like ?”

‘Wild about it. And so is Dino, and so is the Bingle. But we need you, Cheech, to pull it all together. Even-steven four-way split—you, me, Dean and Bing—on everything. I’ll take last billing. We’ll kill ‘em, Cheech ! With that combo, we’ll murder the people—“

“For Abe Lastfogel and the William Morris Agency, putting together a Sinatra-Martin-Crosby package was like trying to stuff four jacks-in-the-box into a cigarette case. Hold one down, the other three would spring out.  The preliminaries alone were staggering. Four corporations were involved. Four wrangling over-officious sets of agents, lawyers, and tax experts split fees and infinitives. To appease and coordinate them, a disinterested fifth firm of legal minds was hired. In Hollywood, there was no business but big star business now.”

“Months passed while lawyers haggled, and the three stars busily made millions in recordings, radio, television, and other films. But I, merely the producer and director, twiddled my thumbs and took solace in John Milton’s comforting line ‘They also serve who stand and wait.’

“My old friend and ex-partner, Sam Briskin, had offered the best deal for the Durante story. I phoned Sinatra’s office. Would Mr. Sinatra arrange a meeting of the principals ? He did. Crosby, Martin, Sinatra, and I met for lunch at Sinatra’s Puccini Restaurant on South Beverly Drive. “

“I gave them the highlights of the offer:

1)     Columbia will put up $5 million to make film, without approval of script, and without interest.

2)     Columbia agrees that Crosby, Sinatra, Martin, and Capra shall each draw $250,000 in salary from the venture.

3)     Durante to receive $250,000 for life story, clearances from his partners or heirs, all music rights to Durante’s songs, and film rights to Gene Fowler’s book Schnozzola.

4)     Film to be made at Columbia Studios as a co-venture between five corporations: Columbia’s, Sinatra’s, Crosby’s, Martin’s, and Capra’s.

5)     Each of the five corporations to own one fifth of the film.

6)     Columbia will distribute the film—domestic fee: 25%, foreign: 35%.”

“There was much jubilation and pumping of hands. Greatest deal ever offered. ‘Take it !’ all said. A couple of toasts. All agree verbally. I’m instructed to move into Columbia Studios to prepare the production. The Durante story was on. Hallelujah !”

“I began preparing the screenplay with two pretty good handicaps. One, there were no writers available; the Writers Guild had called a strike. And, two, strike or no strike, I could only hire people with my own money. My wealthy star partners would not advance a dime to the project until their convention of lawyers had arrived at a consensus.”

“On November 11, 1959, I sent my partners a seventy-five page treatment, interspersed with key dialogue scenes. Anyone who had been in film production for over two weeks would have immediately seen that the treatment contained the ingredients for one of the great pictures of all times. But my partners were stars ! Big business ! Presidents of many corporations ! They had flunkies to read for them. Silence. No comment on my treatment nor on my numerous memos.”

“On the fifteenth day of January, 1960, eleven months after Sinatra had called me to Las Vegas… the mob of lawyers, agents, and tax experts that had conceived so diligently in Sinatra’s office for months, now labored mightily and brought forth an agreement that was as binding as the kiss of a whore. Any partner could veto paying any bill. If said male star not agreeable to others, ‘this joint venture shall terminate at the option of any party’.”

“When my temperature cooled to 103, I wrote the following letter to Abe Lastfogel: ‘This agreement calls for four producers. It’s tough enough for one producer to prepare and complete this picture, but with four I can only see confusion compounded… Therefore, Frank Capra and Frank Capra Productions are withdrawing from the co-venture forthwith. Whatever material has been written by Capra… will remain the property of Frank Capra Productions… Will you please notify the other members… of my decision.”

“In Sinatra’s letter (January 26), to Bing, Dean, and Frank, he admits he had four producers in mind at all times: ‘While Frank Capra was to be the individual producer and director, I always thought of this project as one in which all four of us would make the basic decisions…’ “

“A great, great film was killed by stars. Jimmy Durante was heart-broken about the blow-up, but never a harsh word out of him. ‘I guess dey can’t find nobody who looks like me or sounds like me. We had another problem, too—dose tree guys are too busy… dey got too many irons in da fire.’ “

Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin on the Timex Special

We get a brief glimpse of the potential of Sinatra-Martin-Crosby as Clayton, Jackson and Durante during the finale of Sinatra’s Timex special in October of 1959. After announcing the upcoming film, and a Durante-esque routine, the Jackson-styled version of “Bill Bailey” includes a curtain call with Durante himself making a cameo appearance.

While Durante would live until 1980, the proposed picture of his life was never revisited or resurrected by anyone. But the impression that he made on the entertainment industry was a lasting and indelible one.

And goodnight, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are…

It’s interesting that if one mentions Frank Sinatra and Saturday Night Live in the same sentence, people immediately divide into two camps and whether they preferred the impression by Joe Piscopo or Phil Hartman,

Phil Hartman as Frank Sinatra

Piscopo’s was done in 12 sketches on the show between 1981 and 1984, tending to be used more on the musical side, while Hartman’s 10 sketches, between 1990 and 1996, tended to rely on the more gruff and cantankerous side of Sinatra that had been portrayed in the media.

Either way, today’s technology gives us the opportunity to try and search out the potential to relive some of these classic television moments (for instance, excerpts of many SNL episodes throughout its history are available for viewing on Netflix).

Over the years, I’ve tended to side on the Piscopo side, due to the music parodies and overall premises, like Sinatra stumping for the value of US cars, singing a duet with Mick Jagger (Tim Curry), “Ebony and Ivory” (with Eddie Murphy as Stevie Wonder), the Sinatra-styled “Flintstones” theme on Gumby’s Christmas Special, and the party at Bob Hope’s house (with Rick Moranis as Woody Allen and Dave Thomas as Hope).

Joe Piscopo as Sinatra on SNL

Piscopo has also stated that he actually received Sinatra’s blessing to do the impression after having performed it for him in person.

Hartman’s impression was more of a caricature and everyone seems to remember the infamous “Sinatra Group”, a takeoff on PBS’ John McLaughlin panel show in 1991. My personal favorite, though, is the masterful “Sinatra Duets” sketch in 1993, where celebrities are continually pushed and pulled in and out of the recording studio, at breakneck speed, after singing a few lines with Ol’ Blue Eyes.

One Sinatra-esque moment that is usually forgotten comes from January of 1987 when Paul Shaffer hosted the show. Before the goodnights, Shaffer says to the audience, “”You know, it’s been fun tonight, but sometimes after the fun’s over.. a man stops.. and reflects…“

Paul Shaffer

Then, singing a parody of the Ervin Drake classic:

“In 1975
It was the very first year.
It was a very good year
For bees and “Never Mind” For laughs and getting small
And Chevy would fall
Something new had arrived
Way back in ’75.

In 1978
That was a wild and crazy year.
It was the year of the Stones
Of movie stars for hosts
And Brothers Czech and Blues
When Billy did the news
Belushi’s chauffeur would drive
That’s when that cat was still alive.

Then 1980 came along
That was Doumanian’s year.
Gets kinda foggy after that
Then Eddie Murphy busted through
Joe Piscopo sneaked in there, too
Then Ebersol cleaned house
“You look mahvelous” was the phrase
Those were some ten year heady days.

And now the days seem short
but, baby, this damn show’s still here.
We got a gang of fresh, young talented kids
I don’t quite know their names
But that Liar guy’s a hoot
And one of those chicks is kinda cute
We’ve launched some fine careers
It was a mess of good years.”

This is an updated version of a blog post from several days ago – RA

One of the most unique people in the early days of television, or what is now referred to as the “golden age”, was Ernie Kovacs.

When television was live, Ernie played with the technology, as it was, to deliver sight gags that no one else had thought of, including taping an orange juice can and kids kaleidoscope over the camera lens and rotating it while music was played. His sketches didn’t hesitate to poke fun at the medium itself or the types of current shows on the air. A running gag could be to introduce the ‘Vice President of the Network’, extend his hand toward them, and just as the person would get close to Kovacs have them fall through a trap door in the floor.

Once video tape came into existence, this seemed to unleash Kovacs’ visual creativity even more, as he could peer through people’s heads, be trapped inside a huge bottle of water, have a string of people walk out of a bathtub totally dry (during someone’s bath),  have a used car salesman tap the fender of a car only to have it fall completely through the floor (purported to be the most expensive gag created for television at the time), and mount an entire 30 minute silent show simply called “Eugene” (where books came to life, sound effects ruled, and our belief in the laws of gravity became challenged).

Among the true classic videos that Kovacs created were what we might now refer to as music videos: the office furniture performing a medley of “Jealousy” and “Sentimental Journey”, various people and objects performing the finale of the “1812 Overture”, and the infamous Nairobi Trio miming to “Solfeggio”. Even Ernie’s theme, “Oriental Blues” was used as background for quick sight gags during the closing credits on some shows.

The Nairobi Trio was unique in that it was done initially live and then on video tape several times, which made it a recurring and probably best-known gag. The setup was simple: three people in ape costumes who never spoke; one playing the piano (usually Kovacs’ wife Edie Adams), a conductor (usually Kovacs), and one with a pair of mallets who always timed their hitting the conductor’s head when the conductor had turned away briefly. Of course, the punchline is when the conductor gets their revenge for this.

One of the interesting facts of Kovacsland is that the ape with the mallets would occasionally be played by one of Ernie’s celebrity friends. Being in costume, one couldn’t tell who was underneath all that, but over the years it has been written that among those playing that role were Jack Lemmon and Frank Sinatra. Edie had also appeared in 1958 on ABC’s “The Frank Sinatra Show”.

Sinatra was said to have really liked Kovacs and maintained close ties with him until Ernie’s tragic death in a car accident in 1962. In fact, the official pallbearers for the funeral were Jack Lemmon, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin (a poker-playing friend of Kovacs), directors Billy Wilder & Mervyn LeRoy, and cast member Joe Mikolas. Afterwards, Milton Berle, Jack Lemmon, Sinatra and Martin primarily attempted to organize a television show to benefit the family, in light of Kovacs’ huge debt that remained (much of the $500K amount reportedly due to his opposition to paying the Internal Revenue Service while being in the 92% bracket). Edie Adams declined this gesture and worked constantly for many years until everything was paid off.

George Schlatter has stated that the Kovacs style influenced the creation of “Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In”, and Schlatter’s wife, Jolene Brand, was one of Kovacs’ regular cast members during his final years. Both of them have been interviewed for an upcoming DVD box set featuring complete Kovacs shows. Additionally, when Chevy Chase won his Emmy for what was then “NBC’s Saturday Night”, he made a point of thanking Ernie Kovacs in his remarks.

The most tragic thing about the Kovacs legacy was the amount of video that remained of his work. In 1996, Edie Adams testified before the National Film Preservation Board and stated: “The first time I was made aware of the willful destruction of videotapes was in 1962, after the sudden death of my husband, Ernie Kovacs. He had been working on two shows for ABC here in Hollywood. “Three months after his death, several members of his ABC crew came to see me at home and asked if I couldn’t do something about the fact that ABC was using the wall of Kovacs’s master tapes as used tape to tape over the news, the weather, public service blurbs, or anything, to recoup some of the moneys owed to them by Ernie.”

“So, I called up my lawyer and told him to use the modest insurance policy to pay them off and buy back the 12-foot wall of Kovacs’ tapes they were “saving money” by using. In all, about 40 hours was there, and by the time it was transferred to my storage facility, only 15 hours of it showed up.”

“In the earlier ’70′s, the Dumont network was being bought by another company, and the lawyers were in heavy negotiation as to who would be responsible for the library of the Dumont shows currently being stored at the facility, who would bear the expense of storing them in a temperature controlled facility, take care of the copyright renewal, et cetera.”

“One of the lawyers doing the bargaining said that he could “take care of it” in a “fair manner,” and he did take care of it. At 2 a.m., the next morning, he had three huge semis back up to the loading dock at ABC, filled them all with stored kinescopes and 2″ videotapes, drove them to a waiting barge in New Jersey, took them out on the water, made a right at the Statue of Liberty and dumped them in the Upper New York Bay. Very neat. No problem.”

Today, according to Edie’s son, Josh Mills, there are more than 150 30-minute shows that Kovacs did that have been found and saved: “”The Kovacs archive is alive and well and ready for more!”

Josh also added, “My mother told me that the first call she got after Ernie died was from Sinatra. “Ya need anything, kid?” He was very fond of my mom and Ernie, though Ernie was never really into the idea of the Rat Pack. But he and Sinatra and Dean Martin were great friends.”

The latest news on Ernie and Edie, including the upcoming Kovacs tribute at The Paley Center in New York City, can be found at their respective web sites, erniekovacs.com and edieadams.com.

And the next time we watch a clip of The Nairobi Trio in action, we can wonder if the ape with the mallets just might be Frank Sinatra.

One of the most unique people in the early days of television, or what is now referred to as the “golden age”, was Ernie Kovacs.

Ernie Kovacs

When television was live, Ernie played with the technology, as it was, to deliver sight gags that no one else had thought of, including taping an orange juice can and kids kaleidoscope over the camera lens and rotating it while music was played. His sketches didn’t hesitate to poke fun at the medium itself or the types of current shows on the air. A running gag could be to introduce the ‘Vice President of the Network’, extend his hand toward them, and just as the person would get close to Kovacs have them fall through a trap door in the floor.

Once video tape came into existence, this seemed to unleash Kovacs’ visual creativity even more, as he could peer through people’s heads, be trapped inside a huge bottle of water, have a string of people walk out of a bathtub totally dry (during someone’s bath),  have a used car salesman tap the fender of a car only to have it fall completely through the floor (purported to be the most expensive gag created for television at the time), and mount an entire 30 minute silent show simply called “Eugene” (where books came to life, sound effects ruled, and our belief in the laws of gravity became challenged).

Among the true classic videos that Kovacs created were what we might now refer to as music videos: the office furniture performing a medley of “Jealousy” and “Sentimental Journey”, various people and objects performing the finale of the “1812 Overture”, and the infamous Nairobi Trio miming to “Solfeggio”. Even Ernie’s theme, “Oriental Blues” was used as background for quick sight gags during the closing credits on some shows.

The Nairobi Trio was unique in that it was done initially live and then on video tape several times, which made it a recurring and probably best-known gag. The setup was simple: three people in ape costumes who never spoke; one playing the piano (usually Kovacs’ wife Edie Adams), a conductor (usually Kovacs), and one with a pair of mallets who always timed their hitting the conductor’s head when the conductor had turned away briefly. Of course, the punchline is when the conductor gets their revenge for this.

Ernie and Edie

One of the interesting facts of Kovacsland is that the ape with the mallets would occasionally be played by one of Ernie’s celebrity friends. Being in costume, one couldn’t tell who was underneath all that, but over the years it has been written that among those playing that role were Jack Lemmon and Frank Sinatra. Edie had also appeared in 1958 on ABC’s “The Frank Sinatra Show”.

Sinatra was said to have really liked Kovacs and maintained close ties with him until Ernie’s tragic death in a car accident in 1962. In fact, the official pallbearers for the funeral were Jack Lemmon, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin (a poker-playing friend of Kovacs), directors Billy Wilder & Mervyn LeRoy, and cast member Joe Mikolas.

Afterwards, Milton Berle, Jack Lemmon, Sinatra and Martin primarily attempted to organize a television show to benefit the family, in light of Kovacs’ huge debt that remained (much of the $500K amount reportedly due to his opposition to paying the Internal Revenue Service while being in the 92% bracket). Edie Adams declined this gesture and worked constantly for many years until everything was paid off.

George Schlatter has stated that the Kovacs style influenced the creation of “Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In”, and Schlatter’s wife, Jolene Brand, was one of Kovacs’ regular cast members during his final years. Both of them have been interviewed for an upcoming DVD box set featuring complete Kovacs shows. Additionally, when Chevy Chase won his Emmy for what was then “NBC’s Saturday Night”, he made a point of thanking Ernie Kovacs in his remarks.

The most tragic thing about the Kovacs legacy is the amount of video that remains of his work. Edie Adams wrote that once she found out that tapes of his shows were being erased for re-use, she attempted to buy everything she could from the network. She also has written that some of his early work was part of a load of kinescopes simply piled into a truck and dumped in the river.

According to Adams, there’s only about 15 hours of material that exists today. But, the next time we watch a clip of The Nairobi Trio in action, we can wonder if the ape with the mallets just might be Frank Sinatra.

One of the treats of “The Kim Novak Collection” is being able to enjoy some commentary provided by Novak in an interview format, along with what looks to be a brighter and crisper copy of “Pal Joey” than what I had owned previously.

About the classic Rodgers & Hart show itself, Novak says “I saw it when I was in high school in Chicago. I saw the stage show. I thought it was great.”

With regards to being signed for the role of Linda English: “It was the ingénue role. There wasn’t much to do in that role. The best part was looking at the doggie in the window ! I loved working in San Francisco.”

While singer Trudy Erwin’s voice was dubbed for Novak’s on “My Funny Valentine”, this was not something that was readily known at the time. However, Novak confirms it: “It’s not me. I wish it were. There’s a record of me singing it somewhere. Personally, I liked my singing of it, but Harry Cohn didn’t like me singing it. He preferred a more professional sounding voice.”

At the time, the studio publicity department tried to market the 1957 film as a potential duel between the two Queens of the Columbia lot. Novak dispels that myth by saying “Working with Rita Hayworth… that was fantastic. We got to rehearse together.”

Novak goes on to mention that she and Hayworth learned involved and difficult routines with choreographer Hermes Pan: “We had rehearsals and every day, Frank Sinatra would be on the call sheet. He never showed up. So, Hermes would stand in for him and we’d work out these fabulous routines. Maybe about the twelfth day, he (Sinatra) came, shows up and said ‘I’ll sit and watch the girls do their thing.’ We go through the whole routine. He says, ‘All right, I’ll do this, I won’t do that, won’t do that, I’ll do this.’ Cuts it down to ribbons, of what he’ll do and what he won’t do. It was heartbreaking. It was cut down a lot. It’s just that he didn’t want to do all of that stuff.”

Kim Novak and Frank Sinatra

In comparing the Sinatra she knew previously, Novak comments: “Now, mind you, I’d already done and worked with Frank on ‘Man With The Golden Arm’ by now, which by the time I’d worked with him, I just fell in love with him. He was so wonderful. Frank Sinatra can be the nicest person in the whole wide world; Kind, gentle, wonderful, generous. We went out. We were dating and he was everything. Everything you could ever want. He sent me incredible (first edition) books.”

In reflecting now on Sinatra as her Pal Joey, Novak says “It bothered me at the time. It took me a lot of years to realize that Frank Sinatra was playing a different role, and I don’t know why I didn’t take that into account. All of a sudden, he wasn’t that kind person to me. But, he was playing a cad and I should have realized it. Because when he was playing a cad, I thought, ‘Gee, he’s not very nice to me’, and so I was not very nice to him back. But, I guess, in a kind of way, I was being the girl in ‘Pal Joey’. Maybe we were all being the characters we were.”

Sinatra at The Sands, 1956; with Lauren Bacall and Kim Novak

When reminded of Sinatra’s singing in the film, and how that tends to transcend anything else over time, Novak agrees, laughs and concludes: “I forgive him anything.”

Getting back to Frank Sinatra: The Concert Collection… The ‘Primetime’ volume is unique in that it displays three different types of formats used for Sinatra specials, along with a healthy dose of Don Costa conducting and arranging.

“Francis Albert Sinatra Does His Thing”, from 1968, has a thematic nod to the current times, including the great line “Now, nobody would really explain to me exactly what my thing is supposed to be… but it can’t be all bad, baby, ‘cause they’re lettin’ me do it on television.”

The show starts with new arrangements of “Hello Young Lovers”, “Baubles, Bangles and Beads”, and the current recording “Cycles”. While I was never a fan of the ‘hip chorus’ backing Sinatra vocals on records, it’s tolerable here and one gets to see The Man run over to hug what appears to be a surprised Costa, while spotting Conte Candoli on trumpet and Ray Brown on bass.

As a tribute to the Civil Rights Movement, the medley with Diahann Carroll is interesting, but other than “The Lonesome Road”, it’s always seemed a bit forced to me. On the other hand, Sinatra singing with The Fifth Dimension on Laura Nyro’s “Sweet Blindness” has always been playful, including when he sings ‘sweet-eyed business’ by mistake.

The Saloon Medley is given a fresh approach with the handling of “Glad To Be Unhappy”, “Here’s That Rainy Day”, “It Never Entered My Mind” and “Gone With The Wind”. Sinatra, the actor, is emphasized reflecting and then leaving a motel room by car. This is also the show where love beads are worn for a medley of “Nice ‘n’ Easy” and “How Little We Know” but then it’s back to formal wear for a concert performance of “Lost In The Stars”.

1969’s “Sinatra” not only gives him an Executive Producer credit, but returns to the one-man show format. “For Once In My Life” provides a strong opening and “My Way” is still a new song. While the film clip self-deprecating segment is tedious, it’s a treat to hear new takes on “All The Way” and “The Tender Trap”.

The contemporary sounds of Sinatra are shown to good advantage with “Little Green Apples”, “A Man Alone”, “Didn’t We” and “Love’s Been Good To Me”. This show ends with a new arrangement of “My Kind Of Town”, but a humorous reprise is attempted for the closing credits, which then brings everything to an awkward fade, mostly due to all of the sound effects.

Nelson Riddle returns to conducting the orchestra for “Sinatra And Friends”. The concept of this 1977 special was to give many guests an opportunity to do a solo number, and be paired with Sinatra for a duet. The opening “Where Or When” features everyone and then Sinatra solos on “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”.

For the most part, the guest solos seem dated now, which leaves the duets as the reason to watch this show. Natalie Cole is a great complement on “I Get A Kick Out Of You”, Dean Martin makes a token appearance to join Sinatra and Robert Merrill on “The Oldest Established”, Tony Bennett partners on “My Kind Of Town” and Leslie Uggams is featured on “The Lady Is A Tramp”.

Unfortunately, Loretta Lynn struggles on the disco arrangement of “All Or Nothing At All” (nuff said), and while “September Song” ultimately works with Sinatra and John Denver, it’s still a tough moment since Denver’s singing style is so literal to the music (which comes off a bit stiff).

Sinatra closes the show with the disco arrangement of “Night and Day” (a bit more tolerable), Paul Anka’s “Everybody Ought To Be In Love”, and “Put Your Dreams Away”. While The Voice is showing a bit of wear on this last number, it’s still a testament to how long it’s been his signature theme.

“Concert For The Americas”, taped for Showtime in 1982, is the fourth volume of the set and simply a stellar and exciting performance from start to finish. This show finally makes its official US video debut as part of this box set, but is also available individually.

Vinnie Falcone takes the baton through most of what would become the staples of the latter Sinatra In Concert repertoire. Throughout, there is give and take with the audience, as well as with the orchestra. And yes, after the end of “Strangers In The Night”, if you turn the volume up a bit, you’ll be able to hear Sinatra say to the orchestra, “That’s the worst f—ing song I ever heard !”.

Buddy Rich is featured on the opening “Prologue” and closing “Something’s Coming” sections from his classic “West Side Story Medley”. As a side note, when the show was syndicated by Paramount (if memory serves) for a two-hour time slot, with commercials, an additional Buddy Rich number was included to fill the time needed.

Tony Mottola is given the spotlight to accompany Sinatra on “Send In The Clowns” and “Quiet Nights Of Quiet Stars”. Even at this stage of his career, Ol’ Blue Eyes could still hold an audience spellbound with just voice and guitar.

The finale is the unique version of “Theme From New York, New York” that includes a few lines from the ‘On The Town’ “New York, New York” as an introduction, before the fireworks display over the closing credits brings the official close to this box set.

The Bonus Disc is especially great for anyone who doesn’t already have “Happy Holidays With Bing and Frank”. From 1958, it’s packed with great Christmas music, plus a duet on “White Christmas”. And we all can guess why the valet’s name is Leon…

“Vintage Sinatra” is also featured and was created for PBS in 2003, and shows great performance footage from Sinatra on television in the 1950’s. Unfortunately, the ten bonus clips included have not been remastered, so it’s a bit jarring after watching the care put into the ones preserved for the special.

The quality of this particular bonus material varies from an almost pristine “Our Love Is Here To Stay”, to a wonderful performance of “Bewitched” that is marred by a competitive and overwhelming amount of hiss. “Moonlight In Vermont” is in a setting that complements the performance, and the absolute standouts are watching Sinatra practically right in the orchestra for “The Road To Mandalay” and “We’ll Be Together Again”.  These last two clips alone make this set worth owning.

All in all, including the bonus material, the entire box gives us Sinatra performing on television over four decades, and that’s quite a feat unto itself…

I was recently sent an article that appeared in the newest edition of Symphony magazine. The subject dealt with how arrangers are able to take various types of music and make them work in a symphonic Pops environment… and the dangers therein if not handled well, from a musical, conducting and audience perspective.

Among the arranger-conductors interviewed were Peter Nero, Jeff Tyzik and Matt Catingub. Some may remember Catingub as the son of jazz singer Mavis Rivers, whom Sinatra signed to Reprise Records. My first exposure to Matt was his making a surprise appearance during the 1995 Sinatra Tributes at Carnegie Hall. At that time, he showed off his expertise as a vocalist and sax soloist, backed by an orchestra on “There’s No You”.

These days, Catingub is the conductor of the pops concerts for the New Mexico Symphony, as well as the Honolulu Pops. Because of his exposure to music and arrangers when growing up, he was the first choice of George Clooney to score the film, “Good Night and Good Luck”. Catingub states that he used Nelson Riddle and Ben Webster as his models for that assignment to create the ‘sound’ that Clooney was looking to evoke.

“At the time, Nelson Riddle, Billy May, Gordon Jenkins, all those wonderful writers, that’s what they did 24/7, and they got to work with those singers with a regularity that’s unheard of today. They learned their craft. They learned what to write, and most importantly what not to write. I think what made Nelson Riddle so great as an arranger for Frank Sinatra is that he knew exactly how to fill in the blanks, if you will, without stepping on Mr. Sinatra. Not many people get the chance to do that much anymore. In their arrangements, they were composers in their own right. What they created are in themselves masterpieces.”

I once had the opportunity to hear a Sinatra Orchestra rehearsal. Frank Jr. occasionally filled in the vocal part, but it was mostly his going over a few things to make sure the orchestra would be tight and in sync that evening. It was fascinating to hear “I Get A Kick Out Of You” and “Come Rain Or Come Shine” sans vocal, and made me appreciate how much the arrangers had essentially treated Sinatra as another instrument in the orchestra, as there was very little melody-line backup played by the orchestra itself.

Another chance to appreciate Sinatra arrangements in a different light was when Vic Damone performed with the Rochester Philharmonic. His show included about a half-dozen arrangements that Sinatra had given him, after The Voice had ceased performing live. Damone even kept the vocal charts on a music stand, emphasizing that he wanted to make sure that he paid the proper homage to The Master. Most of the selections came from the “Nice ‘n’ Easy” sessions, and fit Damone’s style just fine.

However, Vic also did “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” and I couldn’t help but think that he was instead singing in place of Sinatra on that one. It was a great example of how much the arrangement and the original singer had been simply fused together as one, for all time.

With the recent passing of Mitch Miller, we were all reminded of the love-hate camps that exist if the names of Sinatra and Miller are uttered in the same sentence.

On the one hand, Miller is vilified as the man who destroyed Sinatra in the 50′s, evidenced by the infamous “Mama Will Bark”. On the other, Miller had such great success with the likes of Guy Mitchell, Johnnie Ray, Vic Damone, Patti Page, Doris Day, Frankie Laine, Rosemary Clooney and Tony Bennett, it’s hard not to side with the folks who attest that other outside influences may have impacted the Sinatra situation more… like swooning bobby-soxers growing up, changing public tastes in Pop Music, and the fact that Sinatra divorcing his wife and leaving his family for Ava Gardner was one of the most scandalous news stories of the time.

Since Sinatra’s public during the Columbia Years was primarily among the youngest (there were still screaming females in the audience of his early 50′s CBS TV show), it’s not too tough to imagine parents potentially trying to exert a forbidding reprimand where his music was concerned. After all, once The Beatles did “Sgt. Pepper”, they were verboten in our house. But, I digress…

Mitch Miller was unique to the music industry. He was an accomplished musician before becoming an A&R man, or developing the ‘Sing Along With…’ format that expanded into television with the bouncing ball over the scrolling lyrics.

Miller at a Charlie Parker recording session

He was a graduate of the Eastman School Of Music and the Oboe player on the classic recording sessions that Charlie Parker did with Strings for Norman Granz in 1949 and 1950. The fact that these were Parker’s best selling recordings may not have been lost on Miller, as jazz fans have debated over the years whether they were simply ‘Parker novelties’. While Miller’s relationship with Eastman was volatile over the years, there eventually was enough of a healing that resulted in his donating a Grand Piano to the school, and an occasional guest conducting appearance.

Before the sing-along phase became his trademark, Miller recorded albums for Columbia that were a mix of instrumental and vocal tracks, and a cross between a novelty-type approach and what we used to call Easy Listening, sprinkled with a liberal use of various Horns, Chorus and Harpsichord at times. One that I recall being played on our Hi-Fi was titled ‘MMMMitch !’, recorded in 1954, with the infectious fun of the shuffle rhythm and The Paulette Sisters harmonizing on “Kalamazoo to Timbuktu”. The album also featured interpretations of “Under Paris Skies”, “Autumn Leaves” and “Greensleeves”.

Mitch's Marches

The record that I wore out, though, was titled ‘Mitch’s Marches’ from 1957. This was partly due to the presence of “March From The River Kwai and Colonel Bogey” plus it also included takes on “The Yellow Rose Of Texas” and “Jubilation T. Cornpone”.

So why didn’t Miller and Sinatra generate classics ? It may be as simple as wrong place, wrong time. For the most recent detailed writing on this subject, James Kaplan has just released “Frank: The Voice”. This 700+ page tome explores pretty definitively the life and times of Sinatra from the beginning to the great comeback, with a perspective that makes this oft-debated chapter of The Sinatra Story understandable and totally logical.

Continuing through Frank Sinatra: The Concert Collection box, the next volume is titled ‘Around The World’…

Some may remember the Magnavox ad campaign, with a picture of Ol’ Blue Eyes filling the TV screen graphic promoting 1973’s “Ol’ Blue Eyes Is Back”. Sinatra’s return is heralded onscreen by his being surrounded by audience members, and accompanied by a brief tribute version of “You Will Be My Music”.

Celebrities can be spotted in the opening concert section that looks to the past and features Sinatra on a turntable singing strong versions of “I Get A Kick Out Of You”, “Street Of Dreams”, an abbreviated “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”, and “I’ve Got The World On A String”, now part of the Sinatra canon for twenty years. The set is also effective with the see-through panels taken from photos of Sinatra, mostly in concert.

The Saloon Medley is next, with The Voice framed in front of a bar for seamless versions of “Last Night When We Were Young”, “Violets For Your Furs” and “Here’s That Rainy Day”. The coda is marked by Sinatra’s slow walk to and subsequent lean on the bar’s piano, complete with a ‘No Requests’ sign hanging from it.

There is still some unfortunate video distortion evident especially in the segment with Gene Kelly, but it doesn’t take way from the energy at all. As choreographed by Hugh Lambert, “We Can’t Do That Anymore” shows that these two can still be in step with each other, and Kelly’s soft-shoe to “Nice ‘n’ Easy” is a classic in style.

Looking toward tomorrow shifts the musical focus to “”Let Me Try Again”, “Send In The Clowns” (without the long orchestral introduction) and the full version of “You Will Be My Music”. Part of the fun of this show is seeing shots of Sammy Davis Jr, Lucille Ball, Steve Lawrence, Eydie Gorme, Ricardo Montalban, Milton Berle, Ed McMahon, Fred Astaire and the-then Barbara Marx enjoying the proceedings.

The excitement and aura of a live Sinatra concert was first captured for American TV with “Sinatra: The Main Event”, telecast direct from Madison Square Garden in October of 1974, and produced by ABC’s “Monday Night Football” crew. As Sinatra makes his way onto the stage, accompanied by Jerry Weintraub and Jilly Rizzo, the first of many standing ovations throughout the show ushers in a new arrangement of “The Lady Is A Tramp”, and accelerates through “I Get A Kick Out Of You”. “Autumn In New York” shows the first signs of a roughening of the voice but then there is a firm bounce-back with “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” that demands a brief encore.

Part of what makes something like “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” work in this setting is watching Sinatra strut around the stage having fun with it, while audience members literally dance in the aisle. “The House I Live In” reminds us of our collective heritage, a spirited “You Are The Sunshine Of My Life” comes off as a tribute to the audience, now spanning generations, and we get to experience how Sinatra is able to transform 20,000 people into the role of a single bartender during “Angel Eyes” as he acts the part of a staggering lost soul.

A new arrangement of “My Kind Of Town” preludes “My Way”, introduced as “the national anthem, but you needn’t rise”. Celebrity presence abounds again and one can spot the likes of Walter Cronkite, Carol Channing, Rex Harrison, Robert Redford, Mayor John Lindsey, Ricardo Montalban, William Conrad (leading one ovation), Buddy Rich, and Jacqueline Bisset throughout the event.

“Sinatra In Concert at Royal Festival Hall”, in 1970, was recorded at a benefit concert and televised by the BBC. Princess Grace of Monaco introduces Sinatra, and Tony Bennett can be spotted in the audience, which is also sitting elevated above and behind the orchestra,

Among the unique treats in this program are the rarely heard Lennie Hayton uptempo arrangement of “Something”, “I Have Dreamed”, and a version of “One For My Baby” with Strings, arranged by Gordon Jenkins. In fact, the entire ‘Songs For Losers’ segment also features great interpretations of “I Get Along Without You Very Well” and “Didn’t We”.

And yes, this is the show where everyone usually has something to say about the Sinatra haircut.

“Sinatra In Japan” is noteworthy in that it was a concert shot for video and has only been available previously overseas on DVD, many years ago in the LaserDisc format that was led by Pioneer Corporation, and briefly on a VHS Stereo tape during the Beta-VHS wars.

This is a full, unedited Sinatra concert from Budokan Hall during the 1985 tour and includes a Surround Sound mix option. We get to enjoy seeing Sinatra’s arrival and a video tribute during the Concert Overture audiences became accustomed to, the “You Are There” exit music during the closing credits, and the fact that this show represents one of the very few documents that exists from Joe Parnello’s tenure as Musical Director.

This is Sinatra, vocally strong throughout and complete with gold microphone and orange handkerchief. “My Way” is sung early in the evening, the Strings are featured on “Someone To Watch Over Me”, and then layout during “Come Rain Or Come Shine”.

The audience is also treated to the rare “L.A. Is My Lady”, a rousing “Mack The Knife”, and “New York, New York” is introduced as ‘a brand new song’, which brings everyone to their feet and The Man presented with an abundance of floral gifts during his final curtain.

With the arrival of the box set, ‘Frank Sinatra: Concert Collection‘, I’m working my way through each DVD. Since there’s no better way to start than at the beginning, these thoughts are devoted to “A Man And His Music: The Collection”. In a way, it’s like revisiting this material as I haven’t watched these shows in quite some time.

While some of the technical imperfections I remembered on The Reprise Collection (two ghost-type lines down the left side of the screen in a couple of spots) are still there, which may be the result of being on the original master, overall the quality doesn’t look as faded as it had previously. The sets are simple, albeit with some of those abstract shapes that set designers loved then, but there’s a definite jolt when The Man is singing directly in front of the musicians playing His Music.

From the start of 1965′s “A Man And His Music”, it’s clear that there’s going to be a lot of music packed into this reflective hour. The spoken word is brief and some performances like “Without A Song” and “Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me” contain the opening and closing portions of the arrangement only, while providing one complete lyrical chorus. The incredible stack of sheet music noted as the ‘Frank Sinatra Songbook’ is such a subtle complement to the proceedings and we’re treated to a new Riddle arrangement of “I Get A Kick Out Of You”, complete with a lamppost initially in the background.

Of course, a great concept for TV was the ballad medley segment. Sinatra turning 50 that year was big news and having each verse of “It Was A Very Good Year” used as a bookend for “Young At Heart”, “The Girl Next Door” and ”Last Night When We Were Young” was a masterful stroke. The editing is smooth and the Jenkins wall of strings provide a rich background.

The final segment includes versions of “The Lady Is A Tramp”, “Witchcraft” and “You Make Me Feel So Young” that show why Sinatra was The Chairman Of The Board.

The great success of this formula was duplicated the next year in “A Man And His Music Part II”, with Sinatra “back for another sixty minutes of love and acceptance”.

“Fly Me To The Moon” kicks off a pseudo Sinatra In The Studio and it’s clear how much fun he’s having with the orchestra on “The Most Beautiful Girl In The World”, but then is able to slow it down for “Moonlight In Vermont” before a rollicking “You’re Nobody ‘Til Somebody Loves You”.  I don’t remember seeing anything written as to who the organ player with the sun glasses is, but his obligattos throughout this show are reminiscent of the Sweets Edison trumpet licks on various recordings and sound hip for the Sixties.

This ballad segment again is a standout, with “My Heart Stood Still”, “But Beautiful” and “When Your Lover Has Gone” all framed by segmented bars of ”Just One Of Those Things”. My only disappointment is that during the bridge of “My Heart Stood Still”, the strings seem to be in competition with The Voice rather than reinforcing or supporting it.

The part I remember watching in 1966 was “Luck Be A Lady” and the blues-tinged version of “That’s Life” followed by an abbreviated “Granada”. Seeing Sinatra standing a level above the musicians provides a clear view of them, while allowing him the space to move near the brass section and back.

It’s also a treat to get to watch drummer Irv Cottler in action and what appears to be Al Viola on guitar grooving throughout.

As produced and directed by Dwight Hemion, these two shows are prime examples of how a television special could truly be a special event: short on dialogue and long on music, including during the closing credits.

For many, the greatest achievement in Sinatra’s television career is 1967′s ”A Man And His Music + Ella + Jobim”. From the opening rhythmic infectiveness of “Day In, Day Out”, to an unrecorded Riddle arrangement of ”What Now My Love” (complete with trademark bass trombone) and ending with a tour de force performance of “Ol’ Man River” that allows viewers an extreme close-up of The Voice transitioning from ‘jail’ to ‘I gets weary’ without a break, it’s clear that this will be anything but a formulaic program.

Words cannot express how sublime the segment with Antonio Carlos Jobim is on so many levels. After a brief introduction of “Quiet Nights Of Quiet Stars”, the medley just flies through “Change Partners”, “I Concentrate On You” and ”The Girl From Ipanema”, but ever so gently and soft like a summer breeze. As I’ve shown people this segment, one of the responses usually has been how it’s simply two men, two chairs, two microphones and a small table totally unencumbered by anything else except great music.

If that wasn’t enough, the summit between Frank & Ella, in front of a live studio audience, defies description, and the true testament is that it’s not dated and even improves on a classic appearance the two made together on a Sinatra series in the Fifties. Seeing The Chairman sit down on the floor watching Ella, grinning and then cheering her on from the audience steps is priceless and probably one of the most genuine shows of respect ever captured on video. Oh, and there’s that show-stopping version and encore of the custom created arrangement of “The Lady Is A Tramp’ that will probably wind up in a time capsule someday.

New songs and nuggets “from Frank’s long and happy career” make up 1981′s ”The Man And His Music”. Everything about this special is done “Nice ‘n’ Easy”, and Ol’ Blue Eyes seems especially charged up during “Pennies From Heaven” with Count Basie. It’s also fun to see the then-working quartet of Vinnie Falcone, Tony Mottola, Gene Cherico and Irv Cottler back Sinatra on “I Get A Kick Out Of You”. I read somewhere once that Stephen Sondheim was unaware that Sinatra had recorded “Good Thing Going” until this special originally aired, but that may be apocryphal.

While there are some occasional rough spots vocally, with a deepening voice and noticeable reverb in the sound throughout the show, The Man shows why “New York, New York” replaced “My Way” as the concert closer and this set ends fittingly with the musicians standing and applauding the legacy that is Sinatra.

With the upcoming release of the new DVD box, “Frank Sinatra: Concert Collection“, many fans will not only get to appreciate The Voice from the 50′s to the 80′s, but have the rare treat to experience, for the first time, how special a Frank Sinatra Television Special was. Of course, they won’t get to see the Budweiser Clydesdales, but they will see a stack of sheet music that once seemed as tall as a skyscraper, and some incredible saloon medleys along the way.

For a long time, the rap on Sinatra on TV was that his talent was too special, and that’s why his various weekly series attempts were not considered successful or memorable. But like Astaire and Garland, it turned out that the best Sinatra on TV was when it was JUSTSinatra on TV, solo, in full command of his music and his audience.

Our world has become so fast, so mobile, and so scattered that it’s hard to fathom how much of a fuss there was in 1965, when Sinatra turned 50 and the occasion was marked cathode ray-style with the first “A Man And His Music”. The type of occasion where everyone in the family really did gather around the television to watch something memorable. The type of occasion where those with color sets invited those with black and white ones over to their house to see history.

“A Man and His Music: Part II” has that swinging 1966 Riddle sound, with the Jazz organ first heard on the “Strangers In The Night” album… Sounding incredibly hip, with some blistering, brassy tempos, and complete with the Sinatra studio music stand for decoration. Oh yes, and a once-in-a-lifetime bluesier version of “That’s Life” that differs from both the hit recording and concert arrangement used by The Chairman.

When 1967 brought “A Man And His Music + Ella + Jobim”, television audiences saw an incredible summit of talent. For many fans, this show ranks as his finest hour, the pinnacle of Sinatra on TV, and their desert island video. It’s as simple as that…

The excitement of Sinatra live in concert was captured first for American network TV on 1974′s “The Main Event”. Shot at Madison Square Garden, with the same intensity of what was then the new concept of Monday Night Football, the hour was complete with celebrity citings and rousing audience ovations.

For my money, this concept was perfected with 1982′s “Concert For The Americas”, aired on Showtime when cable TV and premium channels were still in their infancy. For the first time, subscribers saw a full-length Sinatra concert, uninterrupted, and with a Buddy Rich solo thrown in for good measure. There’s never been a better TV finale than this version of “New York, New York” followed by the fireworks display over the credits.

The other nice thing about this box set is that all of the videos that made up “The Reprise Collection” series will be in one place, along with some specials only seen recently on PBS, or The Disney Channel years ago. And since it is almost the season, I can’t think of a better late fifties greeting than “Happy Holidays with Bing and Frank”.

Sure, people may cringe when they see the Sinatra love beads from ’68, or recognize the occasional laugh track and applause so prevalent at a time when television tended to discard its live heritage for production gadgetry. But, above all, this set contains an incredible library of music, and an abundance of examples displaying television music at its best.

With the passing of Tony Curtis, I could not help but be reminded of Janet Leigh’s memoir, “There Really Was A Hollywood”. I happened to be watching Larry King’s attempt to pay tribute to Curtis and, initially, was surprised at the awkwardness of the whole thing. Debbie Reynolds (via satellite) and Hugh Hefner (via phone) almost seemed strained in trying to fill the time with any anecdotes about Curtis as an actor and friend, and pretty much kept repeating the same things. My initial reaction was to think that there should have been more thought put into the guest lineup for this, until I realized that so many of the greats that Curtis worked with, who could have held the audience and regaled them, have also passed on.

Of course, the main Sinatra connection that comes to mind is the 1958 film, “Kings Go Forth”. With themes of racism and miscegenation, this is anything but a fluff or filler film, and continues to pack a punch to this day for its boldness, even though the overall script or performances may not have aged well. Curtis has said over the years that it was his most difficult role to play.

In a 1998 interview with Gary James, Tony Curtis had these things to say about his long relationship with Frank Sinatra:

“Just before I got out of the Navy, I used to hear his music and scrounge around and see if I could get any albums. Then, when I got out of the Navy that part of my life changed a lot. The Sinatra singing and the information you got from him was very, very advantageous. So, without knowing it. Without even thinking about it, I found myself very enamored of him, little did I know I would get to meet him. When I met him I realized he was very nice without everyone around him. He wasn’t so obnoxious. That was the rumor about Frank that you didn’t know what he had in mind. We went to Vegas together. Dean (Martin), a guy named Jack Entratter, who ran the entertainment section of the Sands. We would spend the weekend there. Frank was so obstreperous there, maybe not obstreperous, but, so generating. He would go into a pit and tell one of the dealers to take a little holiday. He’d pick up the cards and give the people the cards they wanted. Play Blackjack. A guy would come up with a 3 and a 5. He’d give him a Number 2, an Ace and a picture card. These people were betting two, three bucks a piece. But, then as time went on they started to take advantage of (it)? What were they taking advantage of? They were betting $2, $4 for Blackjack and if they made it 3 times, they made 6 Blackjacks. There was very little money involved.”

“Frank, with this title of ‘King of Vegas’ made the town really feel good. I love Las Vegas. I love the people. Everybody’s working hard. Where else in the United States could a kid who parks cars have enough money to buy a house after one year of working in a car-hop? Girls would come to town. Oh, yeah a lot of ‘em would scream about the fact there was prostitution. But, there wasn’t. That was not their dilemma. What their dilemma was, was they had come to Vegas to make a living for themselves. The weather was good. The people were nice. Everybody was good to everybody. And—–that’s the way it is now. The intriguing thing about Vegas was everybody wanted to be nice. Everybody, ’cause they knew they would have a wonderful life. So, there you are. So, they did.”

Frank, Ava, Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh

“We went to the Sands bar one night. I was with Dean Martin, Frank, Jack Entratter and a number of other local guys I got to meet who worked at the hotel, who were either owners or would-be (owners). I was the youngest of the group. All of the guys were much older. I was in my early 30′s and all of the other guys were in their early 40′s and a little bit further. So, there wasn’t any young-blood so-to-speak. I was able to bring up a lot of my friends from Universal, actors. We had a wonderful time together. Frank was so accommodating. One night we’re sitting at the bar at The Sands. He looked at me and said, ‘We could use some girls. Do it’. They used me as a guy with a beard. I was the beard for them. As the girls came in for their shows, I’d meet ‘em on the outside of The Sands. This was like a ritual. I’d say, ‘C’mon in’. I’ve got Frank and Dean and once in awhile I’d get Tony Bennett when he was in town. They didn’t do anything malicious. I’d just say to a girl, ‘ ‘C’mon Blondie. I’ve got a couple of guy friends I want you to meet’. So, I didn’t waltz in with these beautiful girls, sit down with Frank; sit down with Frank, Dean, me and Jack and then some other guys would come over and some other girls. So, we had a party all of a sudden. And—–we just loved it. Frank loved it. He was so appreciative. He used to smile. I got very drunk that night. They were drinking Jack Daniels, in old-fashioned glasses. I drank a little more than I could which meant I drank one full. Then I took a little more. Meanwhile the guys were drinking and you couldn’t tell they were drunk. There was nothing they did in their behavior. I couldn’t take it. That stuff was so heavy. I collapsed. Frank, Dean and Jack Entratter, Carl Cohen picked me up and put me on their shoulder like I was a Viking. My head thrown back. They took me out to the pool area and they threw me in the pool. Jack Entratter jumped in and pulled me out. A lot of the guys that worked there brought some towels. They took me to my room which was facing the pool. They got me undressed. I was out of my head. They put me in bed. The next day I was so appreciative.”

“I used to play the flute. I still do occasionally. He gave me a flute that’s made in England. It’s a wooden flute, in a beautiful case. That’s one of my sacred possessions from the man. I was in Palm Springs. I did a painting for him and his wife which they had down at the beach house. At that time at the beach house I felt he wasn’t feeling well. I could tell by the way he behaved. He wasn’t out of it, he was just having a more difficult time then usual. And just a little time later I had heard he died.”

On a very snowy January night in 1961, Mr. and Mrs. Tony Curtis appeared together as part of the Inaugural Gala program for John F. Kennedy. Following Ethel Merman, and introduced by producer Sinatra as “the real Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh”, they performed a Burns and Allen-type routine in the setting of their home. Janet asks, “What is the Electoral College I keep reading about ? I thought Kennedy went to Harvard.” Tony then attempts to explain that the Electoral College is not a college at all, and ends up being the one confused regarding the difference between the popular and electoral vote, before Janet actually sets him straight.

In his interview with James, Curtis also relayed this Sinatra story: “”He once told somebody who asked him who his favorite movie star was, he said Tony Curtis. They looked at Frank and said, ‘Why Tony Curtis’? Frank said, ‘He beat the odds’.

“Frank, It’s Labor Day again.” “What do you need and when do you want me ?”. As Jerry Lewis would recount the story most years, that was how he usually described Frank Sinatra’s agreeing to appear on that year’s Labor Day Telethon for MDA.

That kind of a story also harkens back to a different kind of show business; a time when the slogan uttered hourly by announcer Ed McMahon, “Stay up with Jerry and watch the stars come out.” meant a great deal more to even the casual viewer than it does today.

Regardless of the reason, the truly one-of-a-kind “name” performers aren’t seen anymore because that type of in-one entertainment has virtually disappeared. Every generation has its nostalgia, but in my case, staying up to watch legendary or recognizable names in show business, that crossed generations, each year on the telethon was the reason that my best friend and I would plan an all-nighter, with pasta and other food, just to see who might appear. Before the days of home video, one didn’t want to take the chance of missing something, especially because it was also one of the very few LIVE things on the air.

Of course, Las Vegas, where the show has mostly emanated from since 1973, was different then, too. Ensemble glitz and overall spectacle, along with a difference in audience preference today, has replaced the type of nightclub legend that would result in someone like Liberace opening the proceedings, to the wee small hour likes of Cleo Laine and John Dankworth, Abbe Lane, Keely Smith and Sam Butera, to the culminating hours with Jack Jones and Ray Charles, with Sammy Davis Jr. usually in the closing spot before the final tote and Jerry’s concluding song.

Watching this year’s telethon made me think about how much has changed. Our local station (one of the original four that made up the “Love Network”), has gradually carried less and less of the overnight hours, and this year presented the first two hours on Sunday and then started again at 5am on Monday.

But, for the moment, it’s 1975 and the heralding of Sinatra’s appearing for MDA is the announcement that Ol’ Blue Eyes will be seen in three mini-concerts. My recollection is that each of these ran an extended amount of time, compared to the other performers, with Sinatra doing about 3-4 songs each time. I also seem to recall, at one point, Sinatra making pledges for different people on his staff or retainer, in fairly sizeable amounts, supposedly without their knowledge.

Of course, the appearance that everyone remembers is from 1976 when Sinatra sang “Stargazer” featuring Sam Butera, and then said he had a friend backstage that he wanted to bring out. When the cameras captured Dean Martin’s entrance, I can remember watching this and feeling like an incredible historic moment had just happened. This was borne out when the segment was replayed via videotape the next afternoon, and it made the papers. People would ask if I had stayed up and seen it live, and it felt like a badge of honor to say yes. Watching Sinatra and Martin just have fun through a long medley, with Dean alternating glances at Jerry offstage, was priceless.

Over the next years, when Sinatra appeared for MDA it was mostly done as a cut-in to his concert that night, or a song or two might also be taped from that same show and then played as a bonus appearance the next day. The one that stands out the most for me was at a time when there was a lot of press about the deterioration of Sinatra’s voice. Needless to say, when Sinatra appeared, I wasn’t sure what to expect. This might have been the telethon when Jerry told Frank that if he had wanted the whole amount raised right then, “I would’ve asked you.” but I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that FS nailed “Mack The Knife” so hard that it made one take notice, and then killed with “New York, New York”. The result ? Both the audience at the concert and in the studio stood up and cheered continuously.

A time when the stars, indeed, did come out…

I’m currently reading Jerry Weintraub’s memoir, “When I Stop Talking, You’ll Know I’m Dead“. The long-time impresario and producer shares his candid reflections, full of behind-the-scenes and insider stories involving some of the biggest names in show business, Hollywood, politics and glitterati.

Among the many references to Frank Sinatra, of particular interest will be the story of how “The Main Event” went from an idea conceived in almost desperation, to the intentional idea that The Chairman was to be captured totally LIVE, with no rehearsal. My favorite moment is when Sinatra sends the set list to Weintraub and it includes songs like Elton John’s “Crocodile Rock”. This makes a now panic-stricken Weintraub rush to the hotel where Sinatra is staying, to be informed “I wanted to see you, and figured that list would get you here quicker than a phone call.”

The remake of “Ocean’s Eleven” is present, along with the subsequent Twelve and Thirteen, plus a ‘Rat Pack-worthy’ prank at Grauman’s Chinese Theater. In the mix throughout is a healthy dose of Elvis and John Denver, all dovetailing with Weintraub’s long marriage and non-divorce to singer Jane Morgan.

All in all, it’s a great late-Summer read from truly one of the last of a kind.

When Frank Sinatra came out of retirement, I expected his first album, “Ol’ Blue Eyes Is Back”, to herald nothing short of the second coming of The Chairman… full of screamin’ and swingin’ brass. Very quickly, I was instead reminded that this was a man who had sung of September, Alone and Cycles.

One of the most poignant reflections turned out to be Joe Raposo’s composition, “There Used To Be A Ballpark”. The recording always seems to be played today whenever a ballpark has it’s final moment of glory, usually as a prelude to a new and improved stadium unveiling. Popular sentiment is that the song is a tribute to Ebbets Field and what was once the Brooklyn Dodgers. Considering all the pictures we’ve seen of The Voice at various Dodger games over the years, his recording of it would seem most appropriate.

Raposo, who is best known for the various songs he composed for “Sesame Street”, was actually born in Massachusetts and graduated from Harvard. It was written that Sinatra wanted his 1973 return album to be made up entirely of songs by Raposo, but that the eventual decision was to include only four (the others were “You Will Be My Music”, “Winners” and “Noah”). According to Jonathan Schwartz, Sinatra had known Raposo since the 60′s and usually referred to him as “Raposo At The Piano” and “The Genius”.

“Bein’ Green” and “The Hurt Doesn’t Go Away” were also Raposo songs that became part of the Sinatra legacy. But, for the moment, Raposo’s lyrical epitaph to a summer that went so quickly:

And there used to be a ballpark

Where the field was warm and green

And the people played their crazy game

With a joy I’d never seen.

And the air was such a wonder

From the hot dogs and the beer

Yes, there used a ballpark, right here.

And there used to be rock candy

And a great big fourth of July

With fireworks exploding

All across the summer sky

And the people watched in wonder

How they’d laugh and how they’d cheer

And there used to be a ballpark, right here.

Now the children try to find it

And they can’t believe their eyes

`cause the old team just isn’t playing

And the new team hardly tries

And the sky has got so cloudy

When it used to be so clear

And the summer went so quickly this year.

Yes, there used to be a ballpark, right here.

Joe Raposo

Nancy Reagan had been a supporter of the Foster Grandparents program during her days as First Lady of California. When she and her husband moved to the White House, Mrs. Reagan seized an opportunity to bring this outreach to national attention.

Foster Grandparents are volunteers, aged 55 and older, who work primarily in a school setting, assisting children who are falling behind in their studies. While the volunteers may serve as mentors or tutors, the children they assist can be disadvantaged, scarred emotionally, or fighting some sort of physical or mental handicap.

“To Love A Child” became the name of the campaign to bring awareness and encourage more involvement in this endeavor nationally. Mrs. Reagan co-authored a book of the same title, and a song was commissioned as well. Joe Raposo wrote the music, Hal David contributed the lyrics, and all proceeds from the sale of the book and subsequent recording by Frank Sinatra went to the Foster Grandparents organization.

On October 19, 1982, a special luncheon was held on the White House lawn and 600 children were invited. Johnny Grant served as MC and the highlight was a live rendition of “To Love A Child” sung by Sinatra, with Don Costa assisting in the conducting of the military orchestra and children’s chorus, and Nikki Costa as the soloist. Following the initial performance, Mrs. Reagan was invited to join the performers onstage for an encore, and the proceedings were carried live by CNN.