A compilation of information and links regarding assorted subjects: politics, religion, science, computers, health, movies, music... essentially whatever I'm reading about, working on or experiencing in life.
Leonard Nimoy, the sonorous, gaunt-faced actor who won a worshipful global following as Mr. Spock, the resolutely logical human-alien first officer of the Starship Enterprise in the television and movie juggernaut “Star Trek,” died on Friday morning at his home in the Bel Air section of Los Angeles. He was 83.
His wife, Susan Bay Nimoy, confirmed his death, saying the cause was end-stage chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.
Mr. Nimoy announced that he had the disease last year, attributing it to years of smoking, a habit he had given up three decades earlier. He had been hospitalized earlier in the week.
His artistic pursuits — poetry, photography and music in addition to acting — ranged far beyond the United Federation of Planets, but it was as Mr. Spock that Mr. Nimoy became a folk hero, bringing to life one of the most indelible characters of the last half century: a cerebral, unflappable, pointy-eared Vulcan with a signature salute and blessing: “Live long and prosper” (from the Vulcan “Dif-tor heh smusma”). [...]
He was a man of many talents. He had a Master's degree in Spanish that he earned in his 40's, among many other accomplishments. Follow the link for photos, video and more.
HBO’s new Sunday night drama True Detective is really, really good. It’s also potentially revolutionary.
The moody crime drama starring Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey examines a grisly Louisiana murder through the eyes of the detectives who handled the case. Some reviewers are comparing it to The Wire–which makes most short lists for the Greatest Series Ever–although a more apt comparison may be an earlier David Simon work, the more stylized Homicide: Life on The Street. In any case, this show is well worth watching (and worth discussing, as we’ll do in weeks to come.) [...]
It sounds like it could be good. But I don't get HBO. Maybe it will come out on Netflix eventually?
Eydie Gorme, a popular nightclub and television singer as a solo act and as a team with her husband, Steve Lawrence, has died. She was 84.
Gorme, who also had a huge solo hit in 1963 with “Blame it on the Bossa Nova,” died Saturday at Sunrise Hospital in Las Vegas following a brief illness, according to her publicist, Howard Bragman.
Gorme was a successful band singer and nightclub entertainer when she was invited to join the cast of Steve Allen’s local New York television show in 1953.
She sang solos and also did duets and comedy skits with Lawrence, a young singer who had joined the show a year earlier. When the program became NBC’s “Tonight Show” in 1954, the young couple went with it.
They married in Las Vegas in 1957 and later performed for audiences there. Lawrence, the couple’s son David and other loved ones were by her side when she died, Bragman said.
“Eydie has been my partner on stage and in life for more than 55 years,” Lawrence said. “I fell in love with her the moment I saw her and even more the first time I heard her sing. While my personal loss is unimaginable, the world has lost one of the greatest pop vocalists of all time.”
Though most recognized for her musical partnership with Lawrence, Gorme broke through on her own with the Grammy-nominated “Blame it on the Bossa Nova,.” a bouncy tune about a dance craze written by the Tin Pan Alley songwriting team of Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil.
Gorme would score another solo hit in 1964, this time for a Spanish-language recording.
Gorme, who was born in New York City to Sephardic Jewish parents, grew up speaking English and Spanish. When she and her husband were at the height of their career as a team in 1964, Columbia Records president Goddard Lieberson suggested that Gorme put that Spanish to use in the recording studio. The result was “Amor,” recorded with the Mexican combo Trio Los Panchos.
The song became a hit throughout Latin America, which resulted in more recordings for the Latino market, and Lawrence and Gorme performed as a duo throughout Latin America.
“Our Spanish stuff outsells our English recordings,” Lawrence said in 2004. “She’s like a diva to the Spanish world.” [...]
Wow, I had no idea. Read the whole thing, they had a pretty interesting life together.
We recently tried watching the movie "Cloud Atlas". It seemed like it could be promising. At first. But we eventually gave up. It was telling several stories that occurred at different times in the past and future, and kept jumping between them. It ended up seeming pretentious and annoying. Some of the stories seemed interesting, but the way they were being presented in fragments to artificially create a mystery (the way many bad films do) just put me off. It seemed like too much work, for too little payoff.
I was curious about the stories though, and decided to look up the "spoilers" to see how it all ended. I found a website, that gave a summary of each story, as a complete story, instead of an endless series of fragments:
NOTE: This spoiler was submitted by L. who says, "The film’s stories are all intertwined and scenes intercut with one another. Unfortunately, I can’t recall every editing choice so for simplicities sake, I broke down each story into chronological order – which robs part of the film’s beauty and doesn’t do it as much justice.
The stories are simple but the structure is divine. Your viewing experience will be MUCH different from this spoiler." [...]
The reviewer claims this presentation of the stories, in chronological order, robs part of the films beauty, etc. But I actually enjoyed this summary more than trying to watch the movie! Reading this was quicker, and less irritating. The ending isn't bad, but if I had to sit through that movie for three hours for that ending, I would not have felt it was worth it. If they had shown the stories in chronological order, and edited it down some to pick up the pace, it might have made a better movie.
The historical inaccuracies were also annoying; mixing up geography and people in places they never were, etc. Sloppy. Why mislead people about facts, when with a little effort, it could be accurate? I hate to be saying so many bad things about it, but I am saying them, because it was ALMOST an enjoyable movie. The story summary made it seem like it could have been pretty good. A bad movie you can forget. But an almost good one, is a bit tragic.
The film got high marks on the IMDB, so perhaps my opinion is a minority view. But if you also found the film tedious, but somewhat interesting, you might also enjoy reading the full spoiler summary at the above link.
There has been lots of Buzz about a new ABBA song being released in April, when the new Deluxe version of their "Visitors" Album is reissued. But I don't think it's really an actual song. Sounds more like a mixture of experiments:
Wonderful news! ABBA’s last studio album The Visitors is to receive the ‘Deluxe Edition’ CD treatment. As with previous releases in the Deluxe Edition series, this version of ABBA’s final album offers a DVD of archive material along with CD bonus tracks.
Notably, it includes (what sounds like it could be a musical journey through the evolution of Like An Angel Passing Through My Room) a demo medley called From A Twinkling Star To A Passing Angel, the first previously unreleased ABBA recordings since 1994! [...]
We'll see when it comes out. I looked up their song "Like An Angel Passing Through My Room" on Wikipedia, and found this:
"Like an Angel Passing Through My Room" by ABBA is the closing track from the group's final studio album, The Visitors. It was written by Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus.
Work began on this track on 26 May, 1981 in Polar Music Studios. [1] At first, the track was given the title, "Another Morning Without You". In later recording sessions it was re-titled "An Angel Walked Through My Room", "An Angel's Passing Through My Room" and also "Twinkle Twinkle". At one point the song was turned into a disco track but this idea was eventually abandoned as the group felt it sounded too similar to "Lay All Your Love on Me".[2] Initially the track featured vocal parts from both Agnetha Fältskog and Anni-Frid Lyngstad but the final version of the song featured Anni-Frid as soloist. It is the only ABBA song to feature just one vocalist. [3]
Unlike many other ABBA songs, the final mix of the track was sparsely produced - the entire track consisting of the soloist's vocals, synthesized strings, and a music box melody (also synthesized). The sound of a ticking clock, also heard throughout the track, was produced by Andersson's MiniMoog.
The designer of the album sleeve for The Visitors, Rune Söderqvist, was partly inspired by this song's theme when he conceived the idea of photographing the group standing before Julius Kronberg's painting of an angelic-looking Eros.[4] [...]
Read the whole thing for embedded links and more information.
The song as it exists right now, is quite nice. Below is a YouTube of the song, with photos of Freida (Lyngstad). Below that, I've posted the lyrics. Enjoy.
Long awaited darkness falls Casting shadows on the walls In the twilight hour I am alone Sitting near the fireplace, dying embers warm my face In this peaceful solitude All the outside world subdued Everything comes back to me again In the gloom Like an angel passing through my room
Half awake and half in dreams Seeing long forgotten scenes So the present runs into the past Now and then become entwined, playing games within my mind Like the embers as they die Love was one prolonged good-bye And it all comes back to me tonight In the gloom Like an angel passing through my room
I close my eyes And my twilight images go by All too soon Like an angel passing through my room
I read somewhere, that it was the very last song that ABBA ever recorded.
We recently saw a good movie, "Water for Elephants". It involves a circus in the 1930's, where a tragedy happens.
The story begins in the present, where the main character, now an old man, begins to tell the story of that tragedy to a present-day circus owner. Leading up to that, in their conversation they mention two other circus tragedies, the Hartford circus fire in Connecticut in 1944, at the Ringling Bros. Circus, and the Hammond Circus Train Wreck in Hammond Indiana, involving the Hagenbeck-Wallace circus.
The tragedy in "Water for Elephants" is fictional, but the two tragedies referred to really did happen, so I looked them up. Quite a bit of history there:
The worst tragedy in the annals of circus history occurred during the afternoon show of the Ringling Brothers Circus on July 6, 1944, at Hartford, Connecticut. With nearly 7,000 people enjoying the performance, the big tent suddenly became engulfed in flames. As fire spread up the side walls and raced across the top of the tent, the bandmaster, Merle Evans, swung his band into the song Stars and Stripes Forever -- the circus disaster tune. The sound of this tune moved all employees into high gear. The horses, elephants, the lions and tigers, were quickly led out of the tent out of danger.
People stampeded toward the exit they had entered from. Unfortunately, this was the end on fire. Fire had not spread to the other end yet and employees tried directing them to that exit. In the panic, crowds still stampeded the end on fire. Three minutes later, the tent poles started collapsing and the roof -- what was left -- caved in. In six minutes total, almost all of the tent was burned completely and the entire area was nothing more than smoldering ashes. 168 men, women and children died as a result. Hundreds more were badly injured.
The feeling of responsibility to the victims was uppermost in the circus management's minds. Five of the top management personnel at Ringling's were arrested on changes of manslaughter and subsequently served sentences and were ultimately pardoned by the State of Connecticut. In addition, due to the fire, Ringling's found itself with over four million dollars in damage claims from victim's families. [...]
The rest of the article also has a link to photos at the end.
[...] The fire began as a small flame about 20 minutes into the show, on the southwest sidewall of the tent, while the Great Wallendas were on. Circus Bandleader Merle Evans is said to be the person who first spotted the flames, and immediately directed the band to play "Stars and Stripes Forever", the tune that traditionally signaled distress to all circus personnel. Ringmaster Fred Bradna urged the audience not to panic and to leave in an orderly fashion, but the power failed and he could not be heard. Bradna and the ushers unsuccessfully tried to maintain some order as the panicked crowd tried to flee the big top.
Sources and investigators differ on how many people were killed and injured. Various people and organizations say it was 167, 168, or 169 persons (the 168 figure is usually based on official tallies that included a collection of body parts that were listed as a "victim") with official treated injury estimates running over 700 people. The number of actual injuries is believed to be higher than those figures, since many people were seen that day heading home in shock without seeking treatment in the city. The only animals in the big top at the time were the big cats trained by May Kovar and Joseph Walsh that had just finished performing when the fire started. The big cats were herded through the chutes leading from the performing cages to several cage wagons, and were unharmed except for a few minor burns.
The cause of the fire remains unproven. Investigators at the time believed it was caused by a carelessly flicked cigarette but others suspected an arsonist. Several years later while being investigated on other arson charges, Robert Dale Segee (1929–1997) who was an adolescent roustabout at the time, confessed to starting the blaze. He was never tried for the crime and later recanted his confession.
Because the big top tent had been coated with 1,800 lb (816 kg) of paraffin wax dissolved in 6,000 US gallons (23 m³) of gasoline (some sources say kerosene), a common waterproofing method of the time, the flames spread rapidly. Many people were badly burned by the melting paraffin, which rained down like napalm from the roof. The fiery tent collapsed in about eight minutes according to eyewitness survivors, trapping hundreds of spectators beneath it.
The circus had been experiencing shortages of personnel and equipment due to World War II. Delays and malfunctions in the ordinarily smooth order of the circus had become commonplace. Two years earlier, on August 4, 1942, a fire had broken out in the menagerie, killing a number of animals. Circus personnel were concerned about the 1944 Hartford show for other reasons. Two shows had been scheduled for July 5, but the first had to be canceled because the circus trains arrived late and the circus could not set up in time. In circus superstition, missing a show is considered extremely bad luck, and although the July 5 evening show ran as planned, many circus employees may have been on their guard, half-expecting an emergency or catastrophe.
It is commonly believed that the number of fatalities is higher than the estimates given, due to poorly kept residency records in rural towns, and the fact that some smaller remains were never identified or claimed. It is also believed that the intense heat from the fire combined with the accelerants, the paraffin and gasoline, could have incinerated people completely, as in cremation, leaving no substantial physical evidence behind. Additionally, free tickets had been handed out that day to many people in and around the city, some of whom appeared to eyewitnesses and circus employees to be drifters, who would never have been reported missing by anyone if they were killed in the disaster. The number of people in the audience that day has never been established with certainty, but the closest estimate is about 7,000.[1]
While many people were burned to death by the fire, many others died as a result of the ensuing chaos. Though most spectators were able to escape the fire, many people were caught up in the hysteria and panicked. Witnesses said some people simply ran around in circles trying to find their loved ones, rather than trying to escape the burning tent. Some escaped but ran back inside to find family members. Others stayed in their seats until it was too late, assuming that the fire would be put out promptly, and the show would continue.
Because at least two of the exits were blocked, by the chutes used to bring the large felines in and out of the tent, people trying to escape could not bypass them. Some died from injuries sustained after leaping from the tops of the bleachers in hopes they could escape under the sides of the tent, though that method of escape ended up killing more people than it saved. Others died after being trampled by other spectators, with some asphyxiating underneath the piles of people who had fallen down over each other.
Most of the dead were found in piles, some three bodies deep, at the most congested exits. A small number of people were found alive at the bottoms of these piles, protected by the bodies that were on top of them when the burning big top ultimately fell down on those still trapped beneath it. Because of a picture that appeared in several newspapers of sad tramp clown Emmett Kelly holding a water bucket, the event became known as "the day the clowns cried." [...]
Visit the Wiki page to see all the embedded links, and more details.
And YouTube has film footage, some of it in color:
I grew up in Connecticut, and my mom is from Hartford. She was a little kid back then, and she tried to get her parents to take her to that afternoon show. They wouldn't. What a blessing that turned out to be.
The fire was not only the worst circus accident, but also the worst fire in American history, in terms of loss of life and injuries (or so I read somewhere).
The other disaster involved the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus in 1918:
[...] The largest corner of the plot, the part holding those scores of unidentified bodies, is a mass grave, a result of the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus train wreck on June 22, 1918; it happened in northwest Indiana, between Gary and Hammond. At least 187 people were injured, and an estimated 86 were killed — according to news reports from the time, many of the bodies were so charred and pulled apart it was hard to finalize an exact count.
The flagman waved a lit flare at the speeding train, now bearing down. It was approaching too fast. His own train, the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus train, had stopped on the Michigan Central line. Engineers were cooling an overheated axle box. It was 4 a.m., June 22, 1918, just outside of Hammond. The circus train had left Michigan City hours before and was headed to Hammond for a show. The train behind it, a 21-car military troop transport, had left Michigan City about an hour later. It barreled forward now.
The troop train was empty. The driver, a 28-year Michigan Central veteran named Alonzo Sargent, was asleep inside. According to testimony, he passed two yellow signals of caution, then two red signals. In addition, the flagman had left a flare of warning on the tracks about a mile behind the stopped circus train.
Sargent passed this too.
Before the trains collided, the circus flagman testified, that in a last desperate attempt at getting the attention of the sleeping engineer, he flung his flare at the front window of the hurtling locomotive.
Thanks to the growth of railroads, in 1918 the traveling circus was in its heyday, said Steve Freese, executive director of the Circus World Museum in Baraboo, Wis. "It was the golden age of the circus, and the primary entertainment for small Midwest towns. Hundreds lined the tracks just to watch them unload."
The Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus, formed in 1907 and headquartered in Peru, Ind. (now the site of the International Circus Hall of Fame), had become one of the most popular circuses in the country. Famed lion tamer Clyde Beatty was a member. So was a young Red Skelton, tagging alongside his father, a Hagenbeck-Wallace clown. The circus also had a history of trouble: train wrecks, fires, even a flood, which killed eight elephants.
Nevertheless, remnants remain. Circus World lent vintage Hagenbeck-Wallace wagons to the production of "Water for Elephants," including animal cages and baggage wagons. "There was really no way we could have ever built them from scratch," said David Crank, the film's art director. "And we had to repaint them, to match the circus that's in the film. But really, it was like handling this whole world that nobody remembers anymore. Those circus wagons were, like, 5,000 pounds apiece. You can't imagine a wreck of these things."
The military train, made of steel, hit the circus cars at 35 mph, slicing through the caboose, then two cars of sleeping crew, then a car carrying black employees, then a car filled with performers. The circus cars were made of wood, and splintered before piling up. Survivors later said the cars were jumbled so high that as they climbed from the wreckage they found themselves standing above nearby telegraph wires.
Many died during the initial collision; many more died from the resulting fire. The old-fashioned cars were still lit by kerosene lanterns. The Flying Wards, a trapeze act, lost a member; every one of the McDhu Sisters, who rode elephants and did aerial stunts, died. Two strongmen died. Joe Coyle, the father in a family clown act, escaped, but watched from the road as his wife and sons died in the fire, just out of reach.
The circus traveled with about 50 cars, in two sets. Most of the performers and crew had been asleep in the second set. The animals were in the first, 90 minutes ahead of the collision. None died. According to a Tribune story that ran the day after the accident, the first set pulled into Hammond and sat unloaded as "a silent group" stood around "the big boss in charge," who solemnly checked off a roster of employees.
After the wreck, the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus canceled only one show, the Hammond performance. Circuses around the country pitched in and lent performers and according to the Showmen's League, within a day of the disaster the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus was performing its scheduled show in Wisconsin.
Sargent was arrested after the accident and charged with manslaughter. Despite being found responsible by federal transportation officials — the cause was sleeping on the job, they said — he was acquitted.
The rest of this history is a mix of the good, sad and curious. The accident led to regulations mandating sleep for train crews. Joe Dierckx, the only surviving member of the Great Dierckx Brothers strongman act, married his nurse, a sister of Knute Rockne. Oddly, nine years later, a passenger train moving through Aurora hit a herd of elephants being loaded onto another Hagenbeck-Wallace train; there was one fatality, a handler riding one of the elephants was thrown to the ground and crushed to death when the animal tumbled. The Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus itself continued for years, was sold in 1929 to Ringling Bros., then, battered by the Depression, closed for good two decades after the Indiana wreck. [...]
The whole article has more information about the cemetery, Showman's Rest, where the victims were buried, and many other circus performers have been buried since.
Here is a photo from the Hagenbeck-Wallace circus, from 1917:
New, as in newly released recordings. Some songs that I've never heard her sing before, and some I've never heard before at all. I placed a pre-order on Amazon.com, and it shipped on the release date. It arrived recently:
2011 album from the veteran entertainer. This is Doris' first studio album of new material in 17 years; a dozen songs of a timeless quality, with nine brand-new recordings produced by top UK record producer Ted Carfrae from sessions originally produced by Day's late son, Terry Melcher plus a trio of Day classics.
Doris Day has been fully involved with the musical selections for this special release. Her son Terry Melcher--who was known as a songwriter and producer for folk-rock pioneers The Byrds and other artists--co-wrote four of the new songs with Beach Boys member Bruce Johnston: the emotional title track "My Heart," the romantic "The Way I Dreamed It," the haunting "Happy Endings" sung by Melcher with a newly recorded spoken-word introduction by Day for her fans and the single release "Heaven Tonight."
Also on the set list are three classic rock-era favorites: Joe Cocker's ballad "You Are So Beautiful", the Lovin Spoonful's joyful 1966 hit "Daydream" and The Beach Boys' nostalgic "Disney Girls," the latter written by Bruce Johnston, who co-produced three of the recordings on the album. Sony.
We played it the first time, during dinner. At first, I was kind of shocked; the songs at the beginning were done in the modern pop-music style; not what I'm used to hearing Doris sing. But the styles changed as the album progressed, with some real surprises and treats. She dedicated one song, "My Buddy" to her son Terry, who died of complications of melanoma in 2004.
She explained (on the disc!) how he had been her "buddy" in so many ways, and how he had been a singer in his own right. She then introduced the next song, sung by Terry, called "Happy Endings".
There wasn't a dry eye at the dinner table; it was very moving.
All things considered, it's a great and varied collection, demonstrating her range of styles. A few of the songs alone were worth the price of the album.
After hearing Terry sing, I became curious about his work and his life, so I did some searching on Google.
Terry's Wiki Page had quite a bit of information. But I also found another page on a blog, written about him by someone who knew him. It had some interesting comments, and a picture of him from a record sleeve:
It was in the early 1960s when I found myself sitting at a baby grand piano in a beautiful but unfamiliar home in Beverly Hills going over some new songs I'd written. I recall being nervous as I played because I couldn't help but realize somewhere nearby was Doris Day, one of the most popular entertainers in the country at the time. Just like a million other guys, I had a crush on the lady and was fearful that at any moment she might choose to speak to me.
Actually, the reason I was there was not because of Doris Day, but because of her young son, Terry Melcher, whom I'd met a few days before. I had recently been discharged from serving a two year stint in the Army and was trying to get back in the music business when a mutual friend introduced us. Terry seemed impressed by the fact that, during the late 1950's, I had been lucky enough to have some success as a songwriter, having my songs recorded by popular stars of the time such as Russell Arms, Jimmy Darren, Ritchie Valens, Yvonne De Carlo, and Gail Robbins, among others.
Because of my past success and our mutual interest in the music business, Terry and I hit it off almost immediately. He was good looking, rather tall with light skin and looked like a typical Southern California surfer. He also struck me as being very mature for his 18 years and, although I was about seven years older, we seemed to enjoy a compatible sense of humor as well as our passion for music. After we chatted for a while about the popular songs of the day, he asked me if I'd come over to his house so we could practice singing some of my songs and hang out together. I was happy to accept his invitation.
A few days later we were in Terry's den, sitting at his piano and going over some of my material. It didn't take me long to recognize he had a very good ear for music. He would easily harmonize to my singing and seemed to have near perfect pitch. Up to that time we were just fooling around but then I asked him if he ever thought about recording as a vocalist. He seemed to be excited at the suggestion and, after a moments pause, he said he liked the idea of performing on a record. He immediately added he'd be glad to finance it and, since he knew I had already done some independent record producing, asked if I would handle the production.
The next day I hired my friend Jack Nitzsche as my arranger and asked him to call my favorite studio musicians to play the background, including Hal Blain, Leon Russell, Carol Kaye, and Glen Campbell. I then booked a three hour session with Stan Ross at Gold Star recording studios where I produced almost all my records. It was just that easy. Terry and I had selected a song of mine to record entitled "That's All I Want". It was an upbeat rock tune that had a powerful built-in arrangement for a back-up vocal group. Jack also liked the song and did a great horn arrangement that added immensely to the final result. The basic sound track started out with a strong combination of horns and voices and then settled into a driving drumbeat. As I recall, Jack's wife Gracia was one of the female background singers as well as Darlene Love and a couple of other friends. There just seemed to be so much talent around in those days. [...]
Terry gets a copy of the record and brings it home to his parents, and... well, read the whole thing; it's a charming story. A real treat for anyone who's interested in the old days of the music biz.
UPDATE: I've been reading more about the My Heart album and it's release. Many of the songs were recorded around 1985, to be used in Doris' cable TV talk show, Doris Day’s Best Friends on CBN. The show only had 26 episodes, but there was a wealth of music recorded for it.
And the good news is, it looks like there are even more original recordings that could be released in the future. Goody!
