Seems I forgot to publish this: Remembering 'Old Blue Eyes,' Mr. Francis Albert Sinatra

The television is full of tribute programs to Frank Sinatra on what would have been his 100^th birthday and although I am up to my eyes on packing for another trip, I feel I must add my two cents worth.

I recently watched his first movie at MGM, Anchors  Aweigh (1945) and Robert Osborne commented that Frank credits Gene Kelly with teaching him how to act in front of the camera, in addition to teaching him how to dance.   Thought that was nice because I know Gene had always credited Judy Garland as helping him on his first movie For me and My gal (1942). Gene had the biggest part in his movie but, this 13 year old girl was attracted to the shy sailor following his more sophisticated friend on adventures ashore. I was touched when he sang, “What Makes the Sunset” at a restaurant table but when he sang, “I fall in Love too Easily” I ‘fell in love’ – me and millions of other teenage girls all over the globe who saw his movies or heard his recordings.

If I were asked to rank my favorite performers on a scale from 0 – 100%. Judy Garland would be ranked at 150%, Frank at 125% and Ella Fitzgerald at 120%. If I could have sang I would have liked to sound like Ella. We were lucky in England to have the BBC radio who were determined we would be exposed to all sorts of music. Apart from classical music they played, in addition to Pop music all the great jazz performers of the age and of the 1920s. We heard Fats Domino, Jelly Roll Morton, Bix Beiderbecke, Modern Jazz Quintet; in addition to the more well-known Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Louis Armstrong and all the big swing bands. I loved all the girl jazz sings and Bill Eckstine. When interviewed many British musical performers refer to this time when they heard all the great American performers on the BBC radio.

 Judy and Frank never played opposite each other in a movie but they appeared on many radio programs together and were very good friends. Frank admired Judy and was always there to help and guide her in any way he could. In fact, it was at his suggestion that she started recording at Capitol records. We learn about his first recording at Capitol from the James Kaplan book on Sinatra (2010).   As Frank sang “get the string around my fin-ger''  the brass kicked – Bang -  and the band was cooking. Frank was smiling as he sang,   Afterwards he asked who made the arrangement, “Nelson Riddle” says Alan Dell   “Beautiful” said Frank. (p.616) this started their collaboration. Nelson Riddle did one of the first Capitol recordings with Judy called Judy.

When considering Sinatra’s body of work, we must not be distracted by his sometimes-volatile private life. His body of film work is more than impressive, we all know his dramatic roles, From Here to Eternity, The Detective,  Man with a Golden Arm  in addition to the musical comedies, Guys and Dolls, The Tender Trap, Ocean’s Eleven and High Society. This work shows his intelligence and determination. TCM were showing his movies recently and one I had not seen before was called The first deadly sin  (1980) and Frank would have been around 66 years old then. He plays a near retirement serious New York Police Sargent, Delaney, with a difficult case and ailing wife. There is one 3 or 4 minute scene when he comes home to an empty house after a particularly difficult day of police work and a visit to the hospital to see his sick wife. We hear the key in the lock, the cat murmurs hello and Delaney, says “Hello Rocky.” He puts a bag of groceries on the counter, takes his overcoat off and puts on a chair, then his jacket, loosens his tie, goes over, and turns radio on and lights a cigarette. He walks over to the desk glances at the mail and throws it down with disinterest. He wanders around the empty apartment, goes over and touch his wife’s a half finished painting. He drifts around the apartment, turns the lights off and goes upstairs. This scene of utter loneliness was worth an academy award on its own. Of course, the strings of the Gordon Jenkins orchestra helped. Roger Edens said in the Chicago Sun-Times. “Who would have thought, in all honestly, that Frank Sinatra still had this performance in him?”

The last time I saw Frank perform was at the Circle Star Theater in the Bay area. I’d taken my pre-teen children because I felt it was important that they see and witness this giant of the entertainment business. We also saw Sammy Davis Jr. there. I had seen them both years earlier at the Palladium, in the 1950s.

A very mellow and kindly Frank came down the aisle at the Circle Star Theater that night greeting his admirers, with a big smile and accepting their gifts of flowers and Jack Daniels whiskey. This was a very happy and contented time of his life.

Thank you Francis Sinatra for all the pleasure you have given us through the years. Thankfully we have the movies and recordings.

Adventures in Washington Dulles Airport December 2015

My adventures in Washington Dulles Airport December 2015

I am flying home from Virginia after spending a fortnight with my daughter and three grandchildren over the Thanksgiving Holidays. We had spent a lovely Thanksgiving Day with Dr. Thomas Albert (Carolyn’s music director) and his family. We had been to see rock n’ roll artist Patrick Sweany at the Bright Box in Old Town, Winchester, Romeo and Juliet at the Shenandoah Theatre and visited the Museum of Shenandoah Valley to view costumes from the British movies on loan from BAFTA. This was my favorite worn by Mrs. Barry in the movie, Finding Neverland.   

My daughter teaches at noon so I am dropped off early at 10:30 a.m. for a 5.30 p.m. flight, but I do not mind because I look forward to meeting interesting people at the airport. I discovered my interest in foreign and different people when I hitchhiked around Europe a couple of times with my cousin Marigold when we were in our early twenties, and it is while traveling that one finds exotic people.

I try to check my bag but there is a new procedure and I am sent to go to one of the new machines in the terminal. You punch in details of flight and a label is printed out to go on luggage. Then the bag goes over to the bag checker. More automation, soon there will be less and less jobs at the airport.

 I am off on my adventure through the airport. “Where do I go?” I ask the assistant standing in a central position. “I’ll get you a wheel chair,” she offers. “No, No, I don’t want a wheel chair, I have five hours to find my way through the airport” I insist. The next guide at the entrance to gates points me in the direction of an elevator when I tell him “I don’t do escalators or stairs.” “Okay”, he says, “then punch in M for Monkey.” I suppose he thinks I will forget M for Main.

I find myself in a long cravenness area leading to the security checkpoint. The officer looks at my boarding pass, and gasps, “5.30 pm boarding time.” It is about 11:45 am. “I know,” I reply. “I did ask my granddaughter would I should do and she said, ‘Shop, Shop!’” He laughs. This the first time I have ever made a security guard laugh. “Well, there are some good eating places around the D gates.” He tells me.

Next stop, an attendant who points left or right to go through security checkpoint. I go left and find myself behind a tall foreign man trying to handle four pieces of baggage. He tries to balance the lighter ones on top of the carry-on suitcases while he looks for his boarding pass. Why has he four pieces of luggage I wonder and then I spy his wife, master or owner who glances occasionally back at him. He has great difficulty getting the four pieces of luggage on inspection trays and even more trouble balancing the smaller bag on top of carry-on bag to start his walk again. I am observing them and the woman gives me a glare – why does she remind me of an opera singer perhaps it is her haughty gaze. She is quite elegant; obviously, she should not have to carry even her handbag, which this poor soul is trying to manage. He starts shuffling off, and his walk reminds me of the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz.  “This way,” She commands and they go off in a different direction to me.  

The next area has a donut shop and so I buy two. Then I see a newsagent, I will treat myself to a newspaper, I’ve always liked the Wall Street Journal - $3, the last time I bought a newspaper it was $1.50! A wheelchair goes past me, “I’ll come back for you,” The pusher insists. “No, No,” I insist. “I am okay.” Time for a ride on a train. There two different kinds of trains; I don’t know why sometimes one goes on the posh one and other times not.

We arrive at Gates D & C and I start up the slope to main area. “Let me get you a wheel chair,” an assistant offers. “No, No, I have loads of time.” I spy the Lancôme shop and go to investigate. Manage to contain myself and only purchase a lipstick for $12. 

Next to eat and I look at the menu at the first eating establishment, Bistro Atelier. An English breakfast catches my eye. There is a long bar and eating area. A couple of waiters wander around so I guess this is how you get food. A tall angular man in his fifties guides me to table at front of entrance but I would rather sit behind in the corner so I can watch people walk by. The breakfast comes and it is enormous, must have been 4 eggs scrambled and 4 rasher of bacon and a pile of French fries. He brings me coffee and a large glass of water. I hear an accent and I ask where he is from. I am born in the States he says, but then admits that Greek is his first language – he had a mother who insisted he speak Greek so he could understand the culture. He also speaks, French, Italian and Spanish. He tells me about his father, who was born in 1901 and immigrated to the States and their early life. He works at this eating establishment until noon and then on to another and another. He obviously has it down to a fine art and works when the trade is busy. It is very quiet now, the early morning travelers are gone. I attempt to refill my water bottle from the glass of water, but he insists of filling it from the tap at the bar. I read my newspaper and watch the world go by. He gets a $4 tip and so my breakfast was $18.

I check the screens and my flight is still going from Gate D1, which is way down the corridor. So maybe I should start to walk.  

I love the felt carpeting, which is so much easier to walk on than shiny marble floors at Sacramento Airport. At one point, there is a steep slope and I rest for a while. I remember Gate D1, I have left from there before and it is very quiet. I look around for somewhere to sleep and notice there are already two women lying down along the side walls, and so this must be the place.  

I find a place along the outer wall in-between the other two sleepers and lay down. It is amazing how much more rest you get when lying down rather than sitting up. An hour or so goes by and I hear the announcement for boarding for Denver. I sit up and look around. I see there is a man sitting near me, next to the sleeping woman. I look accusingly at him, and ask, “Are you going to Sacramento?” Yes, he replied and explained he and his wife had a dreadful delayed journey from Nashville because of the heavy rain. Nashville! I think. What a delicious accent. He is willing to talk. He is going to officiate at a funeral of a very dear friend who had just died of cancer. He is a “preacher man” from the South. How marvelous, I think, and we talk for an hour. He first had a funeral business and then sold it to his brother. Now he is a stonemason making the headstones for all over the area. He shows me examples of his work on his phone and covers a wide area up to Tennessee. His son is in the business with him. He likes this better because he can control his time better. He seems to have always been in the death business but is remarkably cheerful. I ask him, do you feel there is a life after death? “Yes” he nods. His wife wakes up and smiles kindly at us. She has heard these stories before.

We both lay down to rest again.  It is nearing boarding time and I realize I should have found something to eat because we have a five-hour flight but there is only pizza nearby so I will have to buy something on the plane. I take off for the bathroom, “Do you want a ride?” says a cheerful chap in a buggy. “This is a pretty good job you have” I remark, “riding around the airport giving people rides.” He grins.

The flight is unremarkable. I do talk to a Chinese couple seated behind me who have been here since 1949 but look as if they had just got off the boat. When we disembark, there is only one wheel chair; I think the Chinese woman needs it more than I do and insist on walking out. Nevertheless, the attendant orders another one for me and a young student from Pakistan wheels us both down to baggage claim. He tells my new Chinese friends he spent 10 months in China and loved it. He has cousins in England. A big family contingent meets my Chinese friends and so the student wheels me out to area where the limo is waiting. I turn to look at him and marvel at his hairstyle. Cut very short sides and back with a big pile on top of his head.  How did you manage that I ask. When I blow-dry it, I spray it with hair spray. Must be one of the new styles for young men, I think!

Trip nearly over. But not quite. I board the limo and driver picks up a “walker”, this is the name given to a casual pick-up. Yes, he is a student but busy picking people up and dropping them off -five passengers. There is one woman left on the van as we take off on Highway 80, she lives in Dixon and we turn into the country. He drives purposely as if he knew the area although I could see he was using a GPS. I compliment him on his navigation skills and the woman who was being dropped off agreed laughing, commenting that it was easier in the daylight.

We are alone, perhaps now he will talk. “What are you studying,” I ask. “Sociology” he replies. Interesting I think. Then he starts talking, telling me that he started in Astrology Engineering, but he hated it; then he took Economics and had more negatives things to say about that discipline. Then he found Sociology. I ask what his parents thought of these changes. They had never been to college and didn’t really understand. However, I did because I discovered Anthropology when taking a Physical Anthropology class for my degree at the University of San Francisco. By this time, we are at my house and I am signing charge bill. “So what will you do with this education,” I ask. “I hope to do something to help the poor.” My goodness, how wonderful, I reply and I wish him well.

Thank you to the people who made my trip so much more interesting!