Oh dear what can the matter be Hugh Hefner?

     When my wife, Jeanne, and I completed the satirical movie, "Is There Sex After Death?" featuring Buck Henry ("The Graduate," "Get Smart," "Saturday Night Live"), we opened at the Playboy Theater on 57th Street in New York City.  This was Sunday October 24, 1971 and there were 600 people inside for a full house to witness this world premiere.
     One reason for the sellout at 6 pm was a line around the block at 4 pm. They were all "shills" I had hired to stand in line for an hour, and that sight attracted real patrons willing to pay admission for this satire on sex. Our staff, including associate producer Michael Rothschild, were overjoyed. We spent a year creating this independent feature for only $80,000.There was very little left for advertising.
     Also, it was a big gamble. Besides Buck Henry we had Robert Downey, Sr. ("Putney Swope") and Andy Worhol's favorite "honey bun," Holly Woodlawn. Then there were the PR stunts: the Sexmobile, an RV decorated appropriately, touring Manhattan streets, and stenciling sidewalk crossings with IS THERE SEX AFTER DEATH? PLAYBOY THEATER 10/24/71. The latter activity would get you arrested nowadays!
     So, Jeanne and I are sitting in the balcony with our attorney Bob Schwartz. The lights dim and the 88 year old projectionist throws a switch on the Hortson Projector (a French invention that enlarged our only 16 mm print to 35 mm on the screen). Unfortunately, the old man in the booth couldn't see too well and threaded the film around the wrong knobs. The film jammed, caught fire and that's what the audience saw on the screen. They hooted and stomped their feet with impatience.
     As Jeanne sprang over to the projection booth (she had directed and edited the movie), I ran down the stairs and up the aisle to the stage. Then I spoke to the audience, offering free vasectomy operations to the first 100 men at the conclusion of the film and discussed the sex life of the dinosaur. Also a little known fact that cave men would tie a string at the base of their penis to remember something. They remembered it was very painful.
     After ten minutes of my blather Jeanne had cleaned out the film gate and threaded the film properly. The lights dimmed and the movie played to the end for a standing ovation. I had returned to my seat in the balcony and quietly inquired of attorney Schwartz what the penalty was in New York state for murdering a projectionist. He said to forget it.
     That night, across the street in our hotel suite, production assistant Margery Horne came running down the hall with the early editions of the New York Times, Daily News and New York Post. We had received rave reviews, along with both radio and television news that evening. Jeanne and I did not sleep a wink. We even forgave the projectionist.
     Next day around noon I went down to the theater for the first showing at l pm. There was another line around the block! And they weren't shills. These were paying customers waiting to crowd the theater. Wow. Talk about being high. I could have done a Gene Kelly "Dancing In the Rain."
     Later that afternoon I received a phone call from Vincent Canby, the senior movie critic for the NEW YORK TIMES. He had been in the audience when we almost lost control of the premiere, and enjoyed my monologue on stage to keep the audience from leaving. "Just like the Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland movies when they put their shows on in the barn."
    Canby interviewed me over the phone and said he would write a feature article that would appear in the Sunday NEW YORK TIMES in about two weeks in the Arts and Leisure section. His article was a full page tribute to "Is There Sex After Death?" and every screening sold out with continual lines around the block.
    When Hugh Hefner read this Canby feature aboard his private jet, he had a bowel movement. So I heard from his associate, Benny Dunn. Why? Because Hef had booked Roman Polanski's "Macbeth" into the Playboy Theater within the next month. There was big trouble ahead. That will be discussed in another blog. So stay tuned!

I quit my day job to become a musician

      It was during the 60’s and I was working for the AAA in NYC. My job, along with ten others, was to sit around a long table at the headquarters on East 79^th St. in a lovely old Town House. It was 9 to 5 with an hour off for lunch and ten minutes on the hour to stand, stretch, visit the bathroom, etc. Very rigid and boring.

     A few minutes after 9 am the bags of mail would arrive from people all over the USA who belonged to the AAA, and a request to send a map with a green line we would make on the best route(s) to go from one city to another. The large mail bags would be dumped on the table and each of us had several hundred to complete that day. Or else. A drill sargeant would enter the room many times to see if we were not goofing off. He was a silver haired employee in his 50’s who had been in the Marines during World War II. An officer, but no gentleman. “Keep going you grunts,” he would shout. “ No screwing around on company time.”

      I was in a waiting period of six months in order to obtain my New York Local 802 Musician’s Union card. Then I could perform as a percussionist. I had my eye on the Radio City Music Hall Orchestra, 55 fine musicians playing four shows a day.

     After 4 months on the job with the AAA I was freaking out from that treadmill to oblivion. I would hyperventilate at the end of each day as I bolted for the door at 5 pm. I had to get out of this job somehow and not lose unemployment insurance, by being let go, rather than fired.

     I got my chance when one letter from a woman in Great Neck Estates, written on expensive paper with her name in gold letters, asked for a scenic route from her home to Asbury Park, NJ. Well, it’s a kind of direct route over the George Washington Bridge, or through the Holland or Lincoln Tunnels.

    But Mrs. Rubenstein underlined “scenic route.” So I drew my green line on the Grand Central Parkway west to the Hudson River Parkway, then North to Montreal, Canada along the Hudson River most of the way. Then west to the Palisades Parkway and South all the way on the other side of the Hudson River down to Asbury Park, NJ. This would be an overnight trip and I had suggested a nice Bed and Breakfast Inn near Montreal. This will certainly be my ticket to freedom.

     Sure enough, several days later, I was summoned into the AAA director’s office. There sat Mrs. Rubenstein, along with her chauffer.  She was in her 70’s and if eyes could kill, she had them right on me. (I had to sign all my map trips). The director, Homer Hotchkiss, recited the circumstances:  “Mr. Abel you sent this lady on a long journey overnight that would normally have taken two or three hours. How could you do this?”

     “Well sir,” I responded.  “I could see from her letter that she lived in an expensive area of Long Island and wanted to travel to her destination in New Jersey via a scenic route. So I prescribed one, in the spirit of the AAA policy for being properly responsive.”

     Mr. Hotchkiss looked at me with no sympathy; Mrs. Rubenstein just glared and tapped her gold handled cane on the floor. She said angrily, “We drove four hours North until I realized we were going out of our way. Wasted time, gas and money.”

     I apologized and was interrupted by Mr. Hotchkiss. “Clean out your locker, turn in your green marker and pick up two weeks severance pay. We’re laying you off now.”

PS I had a nice two week vacation and then went to work at Radio City Music Hall.

    

How To Go Broke Quickly!

     The PBS stations pitch products  with abandon. You're asked to adopt a kid in Africa, support a dog with a monthly contribution, take care of a serviceman with near morter wouds (for only $18 a month, deducted directly from your credit or debit card) or help the lepers in Basosutoland with a modest amount every month.
     These fund raisers are relentless with their pitches. If you subscribed to them you would be broke in six months! Would you pay $1,1800 for a pair of tickets to Andrea Borchelli's concert in New York City?  Some people would. Others are contented to watch his hour special on PBS=TV ("Portofino") for free. You can't beat that!
     QVC has made millions pitching everything from can openers to faux diamond studded dresses. Everything they sell on the air is overpriced and something you don't need. But viewers become compulsive buyers and eagerly buy the stuff. One little old maid was found in her one-room cottage deceased, surrounded by unopened boxes of irreistable goodies from QVC.
     By the time anyone has sent money to help out the homeless and the hapless, they will soon find that their bank account is being milked monthly. Small amounts at first. Then more later. Little by little. For example I had a very reasonable insurance for our auto and house, combined for a total of $90 a month from Liberty Mutual. A year later the monthly rate had climbed to $145.00!
     I am now shopping around for another insurance company, although Liberty Mutual has pleaded for another week to offer lower insurance premiums for the car and house, without any loss in the coverage. We shall see.
     Sorry to report all this bad news. But I did receive some good news in the mail today from my savings account with Bank of America. They rewarded me with $0.1 interest. Hooray!

I have nothing to say today....

     Yes. That's it. I have nothing to say today. Please try another Blog. Thanks for your compassion!

The award-winning documentary"Abel Raises Cain"

    The prestigious Aarhus Film Festival in Denmark (April 26-30, 2007) attracted filmmakers from around the world. “Abel Raises Cain,” produced, written, directed and edited by Jenny Abel and Jeff Hockett was entered in competition as a Danish Premiere.            
     At the April 30th Award Ceremony, the judges issued this unanimous statement:  “Abel Raises Cain” is a film you fall in love with right from the beginning.  It is a personal portrait of a rebel with a cause. Alan Abel’s daughter, Jenny, presents her father from an amused and compassionate perspective, with his pointed commentary on society. We have decided to give the prize for Best Documentary to the delightful film, “Abel Raises Cain.”
     Alan Abel, along with fellow prankster Paul Hiatt, represented the filmmakers and accepted a magnificently sculptured solid glass trophy by artist Mats Jonasson.  An overflow crowd of 400 responded with a standing ovation as Abel thanked everyone on the festival staff, including a cleaning lady who happened by.
     He then added: “Quite frankly I am disappointed in receiving only a glass trophy. Oprah Winfrey gives away cars to strangers!  You open a bank account and receive a TV or toaster. What is the value of this glass object? Is there an appraiser out there? How about a pawn shop in Copenhagen? Will this prize make a good doorstop? What is its purpose, besides sitting on the mantle?  I’m really flabbergasted. But delighted too for Jenny and Jeff. The documentary is a magnificent embarrassment to me.  Maybe I’ll do one called ‘Daughter Dearest.’  Meantime, I’ll leave you with one final complaint. The manufacturers of small bicycle seats in Denmark must be in collusion with the makers of Preparation H.”
     The audience stood up and applauded again for media prankster Alan Abel. He concluded this appearance with an additional hour of Q. and A. in the theatre courtyard.

I recently lost my BFF

TO: THE BEATTY FAMILY

FROM: Alan Abel

RE: Memories of the late and great Norman Beatty

     Norm Beatty and I grew up in Coshocton,OH, a small town with 12,000 people and the population never changed over the years.  The Mayor always explained this phenomenon: “Because every time a baby is born somebody leaves town.”

     Norm’s dad, Giovanni Baietti, gave music lessons from his house, Mrs. Baietti played standup bass, daughter Velma the cello and son Albert, the oboe and bass drum in the concert band. Norm was an outstanding trumpet player. He and I both banded and bonded throughout our school years. 

     We played together in his father’s summer concerts on the court square bandstand. After each concert we received either an ice cream bar or a bottle of “pop.” Mr. Baietti also formed the Coshocton Symphony Orchestra. His entire family were members, other musicians were recruited from the Columbus and Cleveland orchestras. There were four concerts a year on the stage of the 6^th Street Theater.

     The concerts were always sold out (400 people) and the 55 member orchestra played the standard classics. After the “1812 Overture”ended, the sheriff kept firing his blank pistol shots into the barrel….for cannon shot sounds….although I was waving him to stop. But he kept reloading and firing. Later we learned he had a glass eye and was hard of hearing.

     During high school Norm was always the lead trumpet player in all the musical ensembles in town. We had a dance band together….The Alan Paul Orchestra…..and played stock arrangements for school proms, dances at the Masonic Temple and at Lake Park Pavillon for summer dances. We had 3 trumpets, two trombones, 5 saxes and three rhythm.

    I always played drums and both Norm and I occasionally joined Pop Farver’s Hill Billy Band from Spring Mountain. We played square dances at Camp Gay Time, a CW dance hall about 2 miles from town. Pop had a family band: bass, accordian, violin, alto sax and clarinet.  Also Virge Lose on banjo who also drove the Owl Car from town to Camp Gay Time for young lovers. It was a beat up Ford with shades on the windows.

     Norm’s mother and father operated an Italian Restaurant, the Arcade, that was very popular for its great home cooked dishes. We ate there many times before a concert or dance with our band.

     Giovanni Baietti maintained his name, later changing to Jack Beatty. He could never obtain the high school band leader’s job because he lacked a college degree in music. But that didn’t ever stop him from teaching privately and leading the summer concert band and the symphony orchestra. Later in his life he did manage to obtain the band leader’s job at Cambridge High School.

     Every August, during summers in high school, Norm and I would spend that month in Columbus with the 300 member All Ohio State Fair Band. His father was one of eight assistant directors. Norm was brilliant as soloist playing “Carnival of Venice.” Dr. Louis E. Pete from Ashland conducted.

     During the month before graduation from C.H.S., May 1942, the school band was scheduled to play a concert for parents and others in the H.S. auditorium. Harold LeFever, the conductor, was a mild mannered person with limited talents conducting. He always had his head buried in the scores and seemed to get lost.

     A day before the final concert I learned that Tommy Dorsey’s Band would be playing a one night stand at Meyers Ballroom in Canton, about an hour away, the same night as our concert. They were featuring Ziggy Elman on trumpet and Buddy Rich on drums.

     I suggested to Norm and Frank Grandle, our lead alto sax and stellar clarinetist with the Alan Paul Band, that we skip the concert and go hear the Tommy Dorsey’Band. At first they were reluctant to  play hookey but finally agreed. We didn’t tell anyone, not even our parents. Next day I drove to Canton and we stood by the bandstand in the packed ballroom for three solid hours of great big band sounds.

     Meantime, at CHS there was a full house for the 8 pm concert. But no lead trumpet, no solo clarinet  and no solo drummer (for the stirring medley of Armed Service Marches with drum cadences and roll offs in between). Conductor LeFever was tearing out his few strands of hair on a nearly bald head. Lewis Bucklew, the other snare drummer, was heaving in the men’s room, realizing he had to play the solo parts.

     Our respective parents were worried at first; but some “whistle blower” told them where we were, and wouldn’t be playing the concert. They were all shocked of course, but sat through the concert that went on without us and seemed to play most of the wrong notes, so we heard the next day.

     Then we three traitors were called into the Principal’s office. Mr. Povenmirer sat there stone faced and was soon joined by Supt. Of Schools A.C. Pence and band leader Harold LeFever. They were  all furious and lambasted us royally. We were punished by being denied a listing in the National Honor Society.

     Norm’s parents were not terribly annoyed because they were ostracized by the school anyhow. My parents and Frank’s just expressed their dismay over attending the concert and we weren’t there to play.

But our euphoria over the experience close up in front of the Tommy Dorsey Band for three solid hours was the envy of many from the CHS band.

     Shortly after graduation from CHS Norm joined the Russ Carlyle Band from Cleveland,OH and went on tour through New England. The war draft was in full effect then and most of our CHS graduates enlisted so they  could choose their branch of service. In July 1942 I received a phone call from Norm in Fall River, MA. Their drummer was being drafted in a few days and he persuaded Russ Carlyle to hire me.

     I was on the train with my drums the next day for Fall River and fit right in the 14 piece band. Norm and I roomed together and spent the next six months on the road from the East Coast to the West Coast doing one nighters. We traveled in three cars and a panel truck with instruments, driven by the band manager.

     Between engagements we had rest stops at diners and gas stations. At least once a month we would be driving along and suddenly the lead car would stop. “Where is Norman?” He had been left behind, busy doing his toilet duty and then combing his hair. One car would back track to pick him up, always standing forlornly on the side of the road.

     At the end of the six month tour I resigned to return home and enter Ohio State University, as I promised my parents I would. Norm stayed on with the band until he was drafted a few months later. I was tapped for service in April 1943 and sent to Atlantic City for basic training, then joined the Glenn Miller Band there, followed by the Sgt. David Rose Orchestra playing for Moss Hart’s “Winged Victory” AAF Show on Broadway.

     Norm and I kept in touch by mail as he joined an army band and I tried unsuccessfully to get him transferred to the Winged Victory Orchestra. But conductor Rose said that such a transfer from army to air force was  complicated and a political situation. It just wasn’t going to happen.

     When Winged Victory completed its run in NYC and a tour of major cities, I ended up with a small band of musicians on Okinawa in September of 1945. Much to my surprise I learned that Norm was stationed on the island with an army band near Naha, the capital.

     Since I had access to a Jeep, I planned to drive down to his band and surprise him with a case of beer(24 bottles). I had managed to have a friend in Los Angeles send them to me.  A friend at the Officers’ Club gave me a special code number for flying the case over, but it had to be labeled: CHRISTMAS MUSIC FOR THE BAND. RUSH DELIVERY>

     I received a phone call from the nearby postal office advising me that the box arrived. When I told the postal clerk I would pick it up soon, he said, “You better hurry. It’s leaking.”  Sure enough one of the bottles had broken and an extra bottle was the clerk’s reward for not reporting me.

     When I showed up with the beer Norm and his fellow musicians were ecstatic. There were 20 guys drinking their first beer in months and  Norm and I were dancing around like kids.   

      Subsequently, over the years, including 1978 when I returned to the Radio City Music Hall Orchestra, Norm never forgot that magic day on Okinawa as I delivered the beer to him and his buddies. He claimed it was one of the best days in his life, along with marrying Claire and having three talented children.

     So this will not conclude my memories of Norman Beatty. I will always remember them and my love for the guy. Through all the one nighters on the road as roommates and playing at RCMH, we never had a cross word between us. Rest in peace, Norm.