Well, dear readers, as most who’ve read the Kritzer books know, almost everything in them is based on fact. Some events and people and timelines I took liberties with in service of the stories told in each book – as I’ve said, I just wrote and the story for each book simply presented itself at some point. Hence, there were events I would love to have written about but as the books evolved those events didn’t really work for a lot of reasons. One obvious one was my obsession with The Court Jester, a movie I so loved that I made my parents and every aunt and uncle that I could lasso take me over and over. I “did” The Court Jester in my room. I knew the songs pretty well, having seen the film over ten times over the period of a few weeks. I wanted to BE Danny Kaye and for a year or two after, I never stopped doing The Court Jester whenever and wherever I could. Only in my teen years did I become aware of the LP and I scooped that up, believe you me. And later, when I began collecting films, the first I purchased was a 16mm IB Tech print of The Court Jester, which was delivered to me on the final day of shooting (at the Fox Venice Theater) of The First Nudie Musical. Another event, which I actually wrote for Benjamin Kritzer, but discarded because it just interrupted the flow of the book (I have the chapter somewhere), was when my mother took me to the opening day of Tammy And The Bachelor at the Wiltern Theater. My mother loved Debbie Reynolds and Miss Reynolds was coming to the Wiltern to the first matinee show. We arrived and the crowd was huge. Miss Reynolds arrived and waved to everyone and then began throwing signed copies of the 45rpm title song to Tammy. People were maniacally grabbing for them. I, of course, could barely see Debbie let along catch one of the flying 45s. My mother quite suddenly and at the top of her lungs yelled, “Hey, Debbie OVER HERE!” Debbie looked our way and threw a record right at us – my mother caught it and I had my very own signed copy of Tammy. It was a blue label promotional copy. I don’t have it anymore, but wish I did.
But the biggest omission was in Kritzer Time, where I completely left out my very first relationship because, again, the story I was telling was so powerful and so what I wanted to tell and I had to futz with the real chronology of what happened, that there was simply no way to tell the story of my very first real girlfriend, Esther Lenz. Esther was an older woman (one year older than I) and we met because we had mutual friends. She went to Fairfax and I went to Hamilton High. She did shows at the Westside Jewish Community Center and our mutual friends did them with her. I don’t remember who brought us together, but we met and suddenly we were just boyfriend and girlfriend, just like that. I have absolutely no memory of the why of it – it just happened in the way those things happen when you’re fifteen. We went everywhere together. She was a funny, charming, weird, and wacky girl. Her mother hated me, or at least pretended to hate me, and she would never leave Esther and I alone for more than ten seconds if we were at her house on Stanley. So, to get our make out time in we did the most outrageous things. We’d go to the Westside Jewish Community Center and lock ourselves in the girls’ bathroom and make out. We’d to my house when my parents were out and make out. We’d go to movies and make out. And this you will not believe but I swear every word of it is true – we’d go into unlocked cars, STRANGERS cars, and make out. Chutzpah? You tell me. We never got caught and never had a problem and in those days most people did not lock their cars. We also made out at the La Brea Tar Pits as they were building the museum there. It was all very innocent, of course. We fought all the time and made up all the time. We did The Fourposter together at the Century City Playhouse (talk about chutzpah!). I saw her through her nose job. She made me the most delicious tuna melts. She loved listening to me play the piano and sing to her. I dated her until somewhere in the 11th grade, I think, and then we broke up, a final break up, since we’d broken up once a week for a year, and that was that. We both moved on to other people, I, our very own Jane and for a short time our very own Jeanne, she with quite a few different people. She was at LACC when I began there, and we saw each other a few times. Then I didn’t see her for many years, until we saw each other somewhere in the mid-1980s. We became good friends. She’d had a horrible divorce from a crazy person, and was raising her three young kids by herself, teaching, occasionally belly-dancing (!), and barely making ends meet, and living at home with her mother, which, believe me, was not easy for her. I became like a surrogate father to her two daughters and son. They came over every week for dinner and we’d watch movies and I’d play the piano and it was all a lot of fun. She was always at The Gardenia with her kids for every show I did. When I began producing albums I didn’t see her or anyone else very much, as I was in New York every couple of weeks and in the studio all the time. We spoke, saw each other at Christmas and had occasional dinners. In 1998, I think, I had a message on my machine from Samara, her oldest daughter, at that time probably around twenty. Esther had died – a stroke – at fifty-one. It was, I believe, the first person I’d known that well who’d died. I couldn’t believe it. I went to the funeral but really didn’t want to be there, mostly because I don’t do funerals. So many people got up to speak, most of whom hadn’t known her all that long – I didn’t, and I probably should have, since I really think I knew her longer than anyone there save for her mother (who died soon thereafter) and a few mutual friends.
Years went by, but then about four years ago I reconnected with her kids – we went and had lunch and it was really nice to see them again, and we reminisced like crazy.
Esther and I had a running gag for as long as I knew her – on her birthday I’d always say “Just remember – you’re older than me.” And she’d always reply, “And I always will be.” She was a dear, generous soul. I never did see her belly dance.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I must get a good night’s sleep as I have a very long day today.
Yesterday, I got up really early and did the announcement for Two For The Seesaw. Orders began coming in almost immediately and continued coming in all the livelong day and night. Interestingly, I don’t get as many Kritzerland orders for the soundtracks as I do for the shows. The reason for that is simple – there are several big soundtrack dealers online and lots of people buy from them rather than the Kritzerland site, whereas the shows have very few online dealers so people come directly to us. But, of course, the shows don’t sell out as quickly, whereas the soundtracks sellout VERY quickly, usually within a couple of days. I did the long jog, I did some shipping, I ate some lunch, and I did some work regarding a few potential upcoming projects. I also committed to our next project and got that contract, so that one, a show reissue (first CD release) is on the fast track and we’ll probably announce it in two to three weeks, then that will be followed a week or two later with a soundtrack release. And so it will go, right through to July and beyond. I picked up a couple of packages at the mail place, and then I came home and sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I watched two count them two motion pictures. The first motion picture, which I’d TIVOd, was entitled The Marriage Of A Young Stockbrocker, based on a novel by The Graduate’s Charles Webb. I think the movie was a total bomb when it came out, and one can easily see why, but I thought it was quirky and had some funny stuff in it, most especially the droll performance of Richard Benjamin. There was quite a bit of nudity, including more than you’d imagine from co-star Elizabeth Ashley. I then watched a motion picture on DVD entitled Westbound, an oater with Randolph Scott, directed by Budd Boetticher, but not part of their Columbia series. It’s not as good as those films, but it’s not as bad as director Boetticher thought it was (he hated it – he did it as a favor to Scott, who had a contractual obligation to fill at Warner Bros.). In fact, while the script may be weak, it’s quite a good little film, and Scott, as always, is terrific. This is yet another Warner Archive release – the transfer is just okay, but could have been worse, so it’s nice to finally have a DVD of this hard-to-see film.
Today, I’ll be getting up early, doing the long jog, and then taking the long drive to David Wechter’s home environment, where we will be working on a script idea we have. I think he’d like me to stay through dinner, but they eat sort of late and I’m probably going to get antsy, work-wise, after about four hours, so I’ll probably brave the traffic and come home around fourish.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, do the long jog, ship a couple of packages, work on a script, eat something amusing, and then come home and do things around the home environment. Today’s topic of discussion: As most know, I’m a huge fan of concept albums – always have been, always will be, but only when they’re done right. So, what are your all-time favorite concept albums? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I lay my weary head upon my pillow.