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.

    

Lies, Lies and More Lies

     The Internet is a wonderful tool for scammers. Whether it be a major company or someone selling bananas out of his garage, they all scam relentlessly. And since their business is on the Internet, that makes cheaters and swindlers selling their crap on a world stage. Certainly not a roadside stand of fruit and vegetables.
     Daughter Jennifer and son-in-law Jeffrey were prey to a scammer, and they recited their tale of woe over our Valentine Day dinner. The ad in their paper, The Hartford Daily Disappointment, urged all dog owners to submit their animals in a contest to find the most attractive and smartest dog . They entered a photo of Cecil, a Wonder Dog who brings his leash when he wants to do his duty outside.
     Cecil was rescued a day away from extinction at the animal shelter in LA by Jen's college roomate who worked there. Nikki saw his beautiful eyes and laughed when he stood up on two legs to beg. He was a runaway mixed breed.....cocker spaniel and maltese terrior.....captured along the Hollywood Freeway, all matted, shivering, wet, hungry and scared. Jen fell in love with him at first sight.
     So, Cecil's photo and a video were sent into the newspaper ad's address and he was accepted. He had to sit for more photos in the company's contest studio.....at no charge.....then his owners were offered an opportunity to purchase different sized photos, ranging from $300 to $1,000. Hmmmm. Sounds like a scam to me. Well, sort of. The photographer made money off the "contest" and this was his gimmick!
     I manage to defeat the scammers at every turn. For example, the telephone telemarketer offered me free dancing lessons. I claimed to have only one leg. She apologized. When I asked about pole dancing she hung up. Haha. Then I was offered a subscription to a year of TIME Magazine for only $10.00. Of course I said. "Send the first week's issue to me care of HOLIDAY INN, Columbus,OH; second week to Ramada Inn, Dallas,TX; third week to Fairmont Inn, San Francisco,CA.......because I claimed to be a traveling salesman. I'm off the sucker list!
     Netflix offered me a free month's trial. I accepted and then cancelled before the end of the free month. They had my credit card and charged me $9.95 for the second month. I complained via email and snail mail. Someone who could speak English called me to confirm the cancellation and funds returned. That procedure took too much time and was one more scam I won't fall for; i.e. once you give your credit card for Shipping and Handling or validation purposes, you might as well hand over your wallet to a stranger on the street.
     Although you are given some free bait to chew on, the scammer has his hands on your pocketbook and will help himself to your funds. It's all quite legal because YOU gave him your card numbers. For the future, don't even tell someone what time it is over the phone or on the computer.
     So, folks, this is my lesson for the day. Everybody lies to make money. And it's your money that is at risk. Don't let loose of it. Use it for your benefit and your family too. The scammers have grown in size from a few hundred to a few million. There is no hope for the future. I'm joining the French Foreign Legion to fight ISIS.

My One Night Stand With Frank Sinatra Jr.

     Several decades ago I received a phone call from Rich Szabo, lead trumpet player with Frank Sinatra, Jr.'s band playing at the Sands Hotel in Atlantic City. Rich and I were long time friends. He grew up in Livingston, NJ and became a first class musician. I hired him in 1980 to lead a small jazz band I needed when I campaigned Betty Boop for President. He was also in a pilot tape I produced for TV Channel 9, performing on the street with other musicians. They all played out of tune, displaying a sign: WE NEED MONEY FOR MUSIC LESSONS. That pitch generated enough money to buy our musicians and camera crew dinner.
     So Rich is on the phone and says that Sinatra, Jr. wants to meet me personally in Atlantic City the next night. He'll pay all expenses....travel, hotel room and meals. I'll get a front row for his soldout show and we'll hang out together in his penthouse suite afterwards. I accepted the invitation.
     For those who don't remember or were not born at the time, little Frankie was kidnapped and held for ransom. Frank Sr. paid the million dollar ransom and got him back unharmed. The kidnappers were caught, went to jail and the money never found. I suspect the criminals buried it somewhere so they could live nicely after twenty years of incarceration.
     As a result of his abduction, Sinatra, Jr. developed a phobia about being in crowds, always fearful of being kidnapped again. So he became reclusive, except for appearances on stage. His meals were always in a guarded suite and he stayed very close to home. Szabo had told him about my many adventures, especially the ones with Betty Boop campaigning in Los Angeles, Aspen, New York and Detroit. In the latter city we marched into the Joe Louis Arena with our entourage, Ms. Boop and the band playing "The  Saints." The guards surrounded us and we were thrown out. What fun that was!
     I enjoyed dinner at the luxurious Sands with Szabo, enjoyed the show afterwards and then took the elevator up to Sinatra's suite. A guard ushered me into the sunken living room and Rich Szabo introduced me to Frank Sinatra, Jr. He was delighted to meet me as was I to meet him. I accepted a diet Pepsi and noticed two stunning blondes standing in the background. The were wearing skimpy outfits that barely covered anything. (I learned later they were Penthouse Magazine models who occasionally traveled with the singer. Hmmmmmm.)
     Szabo had warned me in advance not to pose for any photos with Frank; that was always a no-no along with the crowd phobia. I always had my 35 mm Kowa camera with me. Oh well. We'll see, I thought.
     It was around 11 pm when I arrived at the penthouse. Frank and I hit it off immediately and talked and talked about everything imaginable. The phone rang once. It was Frank, Sr. I heard one side of their conversation:  "Hi dad. Everything went well. Great show, great audience and I feel fine. How about you? I'm here with Alan Abel. You remember that campaign in the 60's to clothe all naked animals for the sake of decency? Yes, that was his creation. He had Buck Henry helping him with the hoax. It fooled everybody, including Walter Cronkite. Yes, very funny. We're having a lot of laughs over that and other capers he did. O.K. I'll talk to you tomorrow night. Love you. Bye-bye."
     The hours went by with more talk and lots of laughter from Frank, Rich, the two girls and two security guards. Room service brought up a rolling table laden with sandwiches and salads for all at
4:00 am. I was getting very tired. Frank must have had his adrenaline kicking in. He showed no signs of relaxing from more talk. Around 6:00 am I told him I really had to get some sleep and he quickly apologized and agreed.
     Rich Szabo was in the bathroom and I asked Frank, "would you mind posing for a photo with me?" He paused for a moment and then said, "Sure. Why not?" One of the guards took my camera, we posed with arms around one another and Szabo appeared with a very shocked look. Until he saw Frank smiling.
     That was my my one night stand with Frank Sinatra, Jr. and I have the photos to prove it.

Oh Dear What Can The Matter Be With Brian Williams?

     I suspect that the only people happy with the bruhaha surrounding NBC Anchor Brian Williams are Bill Cosby, Kim-Jung-un and Justin Bieber. The news spotlight has certainly dimmed on those three celebrities!  Then there is Bruce Jenner and his auto accident, transformation and...oh let's just forget him and concentrate on rich Brian Williams.
     I'm sure Mr. Williams is earning more money than any three NFL football players. So he'll be shedding his tears all the way to the bank, if the NBC "suits" decide to dump him and give the job to Lester Holt. It doesn't take much flack for a thin-skinned corporation to suffer when one of their highly paid executives has created a public relations fire storm. Just consider the Ohio State University former President, Dr. E. Gordon Gee, when he uttered "damn those Catholics" on an open mike. Gee was given the boot in a matter of hours.
     But Brian Williams can be forgiven by legions of fans, probably millions who have admired his forthright news delivery and handsome persona. He is as much a fixture for the nightly news as was Walter Cronkite and Anderson Cooper and David Muir are now. The latter two often hop on a plane and travel overnight right into the heart of a breaking news event. That takes a lot of chutzpa!
     Before getting back to Brian Williams, I'm thinking of a scenario 25 years ago when ABC news anchor Peter Jennings gave me a moral boost. I was attending a convention of television news producers, directors and anchors in San Mateo, California. My invitation happened because I had appeared on "20/20" with Barbara Walters and Hugh Downs to discuss my faux New York Lottery winner, Lee Chirillo. She had graced the full front pages of the NEW YORK POST and DAILY NEWS>
     There were a thousand people at the convention. I shared a panel discussion on fake news with Emily Rooney (yes, Andy's daughter) and Richard Tuck. Emily was a TV news reporter in Boston and Tuck  was a publicity hound who once waved Richard Nixon's private train out of the Chicago station as he was delivering his speech on the rear observation car platform. Very embarrassing for "Tricky Nixon."
     Jerry Nachman, former Executive Editor of the NY POST moderated the panel discussion and he teamed up with Emily Rooney in making disparaging comments over my fooling the media with fake news stories. They didn't like me and fired away. I tried to defend my stunts as satirical, in between the serial killers and predators that dominated the news. Several hundred news people in the audience provided planty of boos and hisses when I spoke.  Some even stormed out of the conference room.
     That night at dinner in the ballroom, there were 50 tables with open seating for 12 at each one. Every table was soon filled, except for the one where I sat all alone. Nobody wanted to sit with me. Shrimp cocktail was the appetizer as I sensed the conspiracy to ignore me. Then, suddenly, Peter Jennings approached my table and sat next to me. More reporters approached and soon there were 12 diners chatting amiably with me.
     So, Brian Williams might feel badly because  close friends are boycotting him over his remarks that he was in a helicopter over Iraq taking on rocket and grenade fire. And it turns out he wasn't in that particular flying machine, rather the second one, he shouldn't be censored for his indiscretion. Especially after his apology and a promise to be a good boy hereinafter, as the legal beagles like to say.

Death Insurance Anyone?

     Why do insurance companies call it "Life Insurance" when the insured person is covered until he or she dies? That is, as long as the premiums have been paid. Any default on a premium will nullify the insurance policy. And if you're over the age of 80 you can't be insured, unless it's a renewal. But only up to the age of 89!
     So let's start from the beginning and call it DEATH INSURANCE.  I've been receiving mail from Globe Life and Accident Insurance Company in Oklahoma City for the past ten years, About once a month they include a "personal" pitch letter and a chart with the monthly premiums. There is also a Business Reply envelope with the postage paid. I always send that back with my own "personal" pitch letter pleading for helping hermaphrodites become first class citizens; i.e. allowed to vote twice, file joint tax returns and a private John in the Armed Forces. Lots of luck!
     Globe's mailing includes a small print disclaimer I can't read. Too small. Not even my magnifying glass will raise the letters sufficiently to read. Doesn't matter. I know it has to do with Globe's limitations on their coverage. You probably have to die struck by lightning while painting your house or running naked in the woods. Who knows! Who cares! I'm not buying their "protection."
     Just what does it cost for Grandpa and Grandma, both 86, to be covered by Globe for a $50,000 "Life" Insurance policy? Only $526.99 a month! They couldn't round off that premium to $527, could they? If these Senior Citizens live to be 90 they would have spent $5,270 in premiums. Thereafter, probably in an assisted living facility, they would have to turn over their policy to that institution. And you know who profits if this couple dies before reaching 100. That's not a bad investment for any "Rich House For Lepers."
     At the Waveny Retirement Center in New Canaan,CT, retired Dr. Charles Crown played piano to entertain the guests, along with yours truly on drums. Dr. Crown was a stride pianist who managed to sound like a smal band of musicians when playing popular songs from the 30's and 40's. One elderly lady who was 105 years young, pantomimed a piano keyboard at her card table and silently mouthed the words to the songs, while accompanying herself on an invisible piano.
     Afterwards, I sat at this table with the smiling lady, Helen,  and she spoke to me with great clarity. Her many years on planet earth were just as amazing to her as it was to the facility's staff. Helen had been a church pianist in Stamford, CT and outlived everyone in her family, except for six grandchildren who visited her every Sunday. She counted every day as a blessing and, except for the usual chills and pills, she had no complaints.
     I asked Helen if she carried insurance and she replied, "for whom?" We both laughed and she said goodby by humming "Great Day," and pretending to add a piano background. That really made my day!