The 2014 Olympics in Sochia, Russia

     I was fascinated by the array of international athletes, all competing for a gold, silver or bronze medal. Most of the competitors were in their teens, 20's or 30'.  But not many in the latter age group. The ice skaters were magnificant as they glided, spun around at break neck speed, jumped up and landed on one foot for the triple lutz, and sometimes fell. A few million hearts tumbled when that happened1
     My major complaint was the interruption of my concentration and pleasure on the events when an anchor would babble. He or she was being paid to fill the void. How cruel! These artists high in the air (no pun intended) on skates or a snowboard, after four years of hard training and now four minutes of fame, maybe. How dare NBC allow this interference!
     I suppose it's a sign of the times. Just as this generation's music has rocked rolled over us like wild animals on a binge to find food. They  (the people) shout songs, raise their hands in rhythm and sweat profusely. God forbid they will have sex without a soapy shower first. But it's their trip, not mine.
     Ironically, Jimmy Fallon, who is probably the most physically active talk show host ever, listens to Big Band music on the Sirius Network stations when he relaxes at home. All other times he is in the midst of total chaos. I know. I once hosted a radio show in Chicago from the VIP Room of the Playboy Club, under the helm of Hugh Hefner and his cohorts.
     One of Hef's underlings, Benny Dunn, was an overweiight nerd who stuck to me like glue in the office, preparing for my nightly two-hour show. Benny was a loser, but he went back to the early days when Playboy Magazine began, and was loyal to Hef. His payback was staying on the payroll and being allowed to create mayhem.
     For example, when I came to the office at 9 am, Benny had a list of the people I would be interviewing that night. In the case of an author, I had his or her books to read quickly and highlight pertinent paragraphs. For the visiting fireman, I was given the names of his family members, citations he had received and a humorous anecdote involving a fire that got out of hand. It was all boring stuff and I had to live with some of it.
     My best guests were Jane Fonda, Helen Gurley Brown, Shel Silverstein and Rod Serling. Rod and I hit it off immediately and he did two nights with me on the air that remain memorable. Jane was tipsy, mumbled a lot and played with my knees underneath the round table and its long table cloth. I couldn't concentrate with that kind of foreplay. Helen was just plain charming and we were compatible playmates. Ditto for Shel and his magnificant poetry.
     But I am off the subject. So back to the Olympics. For 2018 let's put duct tape on the mouths of anchors. They should behave in the same quiet manner that announcers do with golf tournaments. The only exception to keeping mouths shut would be a hole in one. Maybe an eagle. Nothing more.
     Russia performed a marvelous display of creativity with their hundreds of participants, ending with grand concert music, spirited dancing, singing and fireworks. It was all breathtaking and deserving of the standing ovations, not to mention more gold medals than any other country.
     I look forward to the 2018 Olympics in South Korea. Eat your heart out Un-jongUn!

My Good Friend Buck Henry

                      MY GOOD FRIEND BUCK HENRY

                                              

         In 1957 I was doing off-beat publicity in New York City and a Buick agency on Broadway near Columbus Circle hired me to create more auto sales. They had a Piper Cub airplane in their large showroom and New Yorkers paid little attention to it.

     I proposed removing the airplane and substituting a large round table for an alleged TV show in rehearsal, “The Unstable Round Table.”  There would be two teams of six actors , each improvising on “The Role of the Dog in Society.” One team would perform for six hours, and then the other team did a turn. Sleeping quarters were in a hotel across the street.

     Open auditions attracted 80 actors and actresses, from noon until 8 pm. Each person was asked to improvise on any subject for two minutes. By closing time I had twelve actors and two alternates committed. The rental studio was turning out the lights when in walked a diminutive chap in ill fitting clothes, out of breath from running up the stairs.

     “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Can I please audition for a role? My name is Buck Henry and I’m really clever.” I began to say we were all booked. But my gut feeling was to let him talk. So I asked Mr. Henry to improvise a comment about the role of the dog in society.

     Without missing a beat, he said, “During the Middle Ages long haired dogs wandered among the dinner tables and served as mobile napkins for the greasy Knights’ hands..”

Buck Henry was hired on the spot to lead one of the two teams.

     During the three day promotion in the Buick Agency window, Buck was spectacular. He attracted large crowds outside (the sound was piped through a speaker on the window) and this generated laughter and applause. Also, more cars were sold than during any other three day period!

     Buck would perform faux chemistry experiments and debate an eight-foot giant from the circus, Ed Carmeli. They were both hilarious. One night, Buck woke up to find Carmeli in bed with him….all others were taken. Buck jumped out, ran over to the Buick Agency and shouted at me, “Why is that giant in my bed?”

     My next spoof was a campaign to clothe all naked animals for the sake of decency in 1959. The Society for Indecency to Naked Animals, or S.I.N.A., took off like a grass fire. Buck agreed to play the role of G. Clifford Prout, the President of S.I.N.A. And he soon appeared on the TODAY Show with Dave Garroway and TONIGHT with Jack Paar.

     In 1962 I managed to book Mr. Prout on Walter Cronkite’s CBS-TV network news show. Buck played his ukelele and sang the S.I.N.A. Marching Song, as Cronkite kept a straight face. This scenario took the campaign to its highest level. The SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE ran a Page One banner headline, “Nude Animal Campaign In Bay Area.”

     TIME magazine finally brought down the curtain when Prout was revealed to be Buck Henry in 1963. Cronkite was furious over being deceived and carried this chip on his shoulder until he died, according to a CBS news friend who told Buck.

     After “Get Smart” and Buck’s screenplay, “The Graduate,” he was a very hot property as an actor, writer and director too. In 1970 I persuaded him to appear in a low-budget independent movie I was producing and my wife, Jeanne, was directing.

     “Is There Sex After Death” was a satire on sex. Buck improvised his answers to a series of questions I asked him on camera and he was extremely funny. I would say one of his best performances ever.

     The film opened at the Playboy Theater on October 24, 1971 before a soldout audience and the reviews were all positive. THE NEW YORK TIMES said it was “funnier than Woody Allen’s ‘Bananas’” and Vincent Canby devoted a full page story in a Sunday Arts and Leisure section.

     Meantime, Buck’s agent, Mace Neufeld, was threatening to sue me if I didn’t delete his role; i.e. until the magnificent reviews appeared, and I had a cancelled check paying Buck for his services.

     Buck went on to great heights in Hollywood and during his stint with John Belushi on Saturday Night Live. We didn’t connect again until early 2000 over dinner at Keen’s Chop House in New York City. Subsequently, we exchange emails and an occasional phone call remembering “the good old days.”

     

Ted Mack's Summer Music Camp

     During the early 50's I was doing PR work for TV personality Ted Mack, a pioneer of showcasing amateur talent along the lines of "America's Got Talent." Ted was a tall, affable man, an intravert and a heavy drinker. He also detested children, although the talent on his highly rated Saturday night TV show in prime time featured mostly kids.
     Ted once invited me to have dinner at his home in Hastings-On-Hudson, NY where he and his wife lived. No kids or pets. I discovered his garage was stacked with wooden framed certificates from Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, Kawanis Clubs, Moose Lodges, Fraternity of Police and every organization one could imagine.
     The Macks were both drinking when I arrived and since I was driving from New York City, I declined to accept a glass of wine. Ted led me out to the garage and asked me to pick up an armful of framed certificates. "That's my starter wood for the fireplace," he said with a grin, as he picked up two seasoned logs from the nearby stack. I was taken aback by this man who was so cherished by American family kids and community organizations. All those plaques being tossed into the living room fireplace!
     I only spent one season promoting Ted Mack's show and then told him I had a lecture tour in the fall. He asked that I arrange to film his summer camp for young musicians in Great Barrington, MA. My roommate, Gary Stradling III, was a cinemaphotagrapher and could handle the assignment.
     Gary and I drove up to Ted Mack's Summer Camp for Gifted Youngsters and spent a week there in a small cabin, built for two. There were 150 musicians in residence, aged 12 to 18, and they comprised the full orchestra, a concert orchestra and a 16 piece jazz band. Professional instructors, mostly high school and college teachers, rehearsed brass, string and woodwind sections. They also gave private lessons.
     Ted just wandered around during the day and then led group singing around the blazing fireplace at night, with toasted marshmellows for everyone. I noticed the absence of wooden framed plaques.
Gary managed to film all the activities. On the final night of our week there, a Sunday, many parents visited their offspring, stayed for dinner and an hour concert by either the full orchestra, the concert band or jazz band.
     This particular Sunday it was the jazz band's turn to perform. Ted owned a clarinet and decided to sit in on "Woodchoppers Ball," a Woody Herman Band signature song that had the saxes wailing, the brass screaming and drums pounding at break neck speed. The band had this stock arrangement well rehearsed.
     Ted spoke briefly to the assembled students, faculry and parents, about 300 altogether on the lawn with the blazing pile of logs in the background. The weather was perfect for this setting and the music.
     The band took off, Ted held his clarinet up to his mouth and played a 32 bar solo in the right place, that is, where Woody Herman would thrill audiences with his playing. But Ted Mack couldn't play his clarinet very well. In fact, he stunk. It was sour notes all the way. Thankfully, the band completed "Woodchoppers Ball" with a grand ensemble climax. The audience cheered and applauded.
     Back in New York, several weeks later, Gary edited the film into a fifteen minute documentary and we both winced at Ted's terrible playing. I knew Ted wanted to screen the completed film at his camp on the final day in about three weeks. And I didn't dare delete his miserable performance on the clarinet.
     My solution was to call Paul DeFrancis, a long time friend from Ohio State University's Jazz Forum, now free lancing in New York and a superb musician on all the woodwinds.  I still had film budget money available and Paul was willing to play for pay and dub in his stellar solo for that of Ted Mack's.  He did it in one exciting take.
     On the final Sunday, before another large assembly of campers and parents, Gary and I set up the 16 mm Bell & Howell projector, hung a bedsheet between two poles as the screen and placed four speakers around. Now it was showtime. The blazing logs on this moonlight night created a perfect setting for a final night at camp.
     I sat next to Ted and he was obviously nervous. "Will I get to hear my solo, Alan?" he asked. I assured him he would. The documentary had been nicely edited by Gary and when Ted appeared on screen playing his clarinet, the audience cheered and applauded. Ted whispered to me, "I really practiced for this solo." At the end, the entire camp audience gave Ted a standing ovation, along with cheers, whistles and applause. He never knew the difference!!!