by Peter Cates

Barbra Streisand

Although there was a time when I was quite enthralled by certain Barbra Streisand albums, such as 1969’s What About Today; the early 70s Stoney End, and Barbra Joan Streisand (especially Michel Legrand’s The Summer Knows from the movie Summer of ’42); and 1975’s Classical Barbra, I have not found her artistry wearing well. A cassette I recently reheard, Memories (Columbia TCT 37678), is a best of grab bag anthology of sorts with the overbearing The Way We Were, the grating Enough is Enough duet with the late Donna Summer etc., but her renditions of Memory from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats and the deeply stirring You Don’t Bring Me Flowers duet with Neil Diamond still raise goosebumps.

Betsy Graves

From the anthology Maine Speaks, Past the Shallows is a short story by Orono native Betsy Graves dealing with the beginning of a week’s vacation at the family cottage on a lake accessible only by boat. The story has two teenage boys, their sister, mother and grandparents.

It depicts the mixed blessings inevitably found in such gatherings. Young Imogene is relishing”the gentle motion of the water lapping against the sides of the wharf ” upon which she is reclining, “the sun on her face…cool June day, school out…lazy and content as a sleepy cat.”

But a mean-spirited boozy grandfather wreaks havoc at lunch with everybody, especially Imogene’s brother Buddy whom the old man has singled out . The all around nastiness and the two following days of unending rain lead to a much earlier departure.

Then a beautifully written couple of sentences bring respite to both Imogene and Buddy:

“On the calm flat water in the middle of the lake, Imo saw two loons swimming, hardly moving. They spoke to each other in long, mourning cries with a rippling sound like laughter at the end.”

Lucille Ball / Desi Arnaz

Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz’s Desilu Productions launched a comedy series, Angel, in 1960 that only lasted one year. It depicted the life of a newly-married couple, the wife being a Parisian whose language barrier and inability to understand American customs lands her in difficulty.

The one-liners were lame in the second episode I sampled, Voting Can Be Fun, which originally aired October 13, 1960, but it interested me because of the guest appearance of Joseph Kearns (1907-1962), then best known as Mister Wilson, on Dennis the Menace, and whose role as the slightly cantankerous city clerk lent a humorous edge otherwise lacking.

In addition, fist fights break out at a voting station between men on opposing sides of the issues. No need to mention possible relevance to this November’s upcoming election!

The episode is on YouTube.

Connie Francis

Connie Francis’s singing could be a bit syrupy during her peak years but, when I first watched her on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand singing Who’s Sorry Now, I was smitten by her heartfelt beauty and charisma. An MGM 45 of When the Boy in your Arms is the Boy in your Heart, and Baby’s First Christmas, as arranged and conducted by the very gifted Don Costa, is an example of how two basically mediocre songs can be transformed into decent performances.

Who’s Sorry Now was also performed in 1950’s Three Little Words, which just happened to have also been produced by MGM, was a biopic of songwriters Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby, and starred Fred Astaire and Red Skelton. In addition, Kalmar and Ruby composed the Betty Boop classic I Wanna Be Loved By You.

Eugene Ormandy

An early 1930s Victor Red Seal 78 set of five 12-inch discs features music of Johann Strauss Junior (1825-1899) as performed very spiritedly by Eugene Ormandy leading the Minne­apolis Sym­phony (nowadays referred to as the Minne­sota Orch­estra) and includes the Blue Danube, Tales from the Vienna Woods, Accelera­tion Waltz, and the Overtures to the composer’s operettas, Die Fledermaus (The Bat) and the Gypsy Baron.

Ormandy was music director for roughly five years and recorded extensively for Victor before heading to Philadelphia in 1936 to lead its Orchestra for 44 very successful years. Most of Ormandy’s recordings can be accessed via YouTube.

 

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by Peter Cates

Nathaniel Hawthorne

Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864) spent a number of years as a boy in Raymond, Maine, with an uncle, Dr. Richard Manning, who built a huge mansion with lavishly expensive wallpaper, fireplaces and Belgian glass windows – local natives referred to it as “Mannning’s Folly.” It was later used as a church and tavern and is now listed as a historic site and tourist attraction.

During later years when Hawthorne attended Bowdoin College, in Brunswick, (where his classmates included former President Franklin Pierce and poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow), he often visited his uncle.

However, even though Hawthorne graduated with the class of 1825, he had a very jaundiced view of his time as a college student, as revealed in an 1850s letter to Richard Henry Stoddard:

“I was educated (as the phrase is) at Bowdoin College. I was an idle student, negligent of college rules and the Procrustean details of academic life, rather choosing to nurse my own fancies than to dig into Greek roots and be numbered among the learned Thebans.”

In his American Note-Books for July 5th, 1837, during a visit to Maine, Hawthorne describes looking out the window at the Kennebec River:

“Then there is a sound of the wind among the trees round the house; and, when that is silent, the calm, full, distant voice becomes audible. Looking downward thither, I see the rush of the current, and mark the different eddies, with here and there white specks or streaks of foam; and often a log comes floating on, glistening in the sun, as it rolls over among the eddies, having voyaged, for aught I know, hundreds of miles from the wild upper sources of the river, passing down, down, between lines of forest, and sometimes a rough clearing, till here it floats by cultivated banks, and will soon pass by the village. Sometimes a long raft of boards comes along, requiring the nicest skill in navigating it through the narrow passage left by the mill-dam. Chaises and wagons occasionally go over the road, the riders all giving a passing glance at the dam, or perhaps alighting to examine it more fully, and at last departing with ominous shakes of the head as to the result of the enterprise.”

For me, Hawthorne had a phenomenal gift of drawing the reader into any scene he was describing out of direct experience or as a result of being transformed into his novels such as, for example, the Scarlet Letter, and the Blithedale Romance, as well as such short stories as Young Goodman Brown, The Minister’s Black Veil, Feathertop, etc.

Sergio Mendes

On September 6, pianist/orchestra leader Sergio Mendes passed away at the age of 83 due to several months of the ill-effects of Covid. Back in 1970 when I was attending the University of Southern Maine at Gorham, a friend in the dormitory room next to mine in Anderson Hall introduced me to his Brazil 66 albums; I began buying my own copies, enjoying Mendes’s immensely charming soft pop/jazz/Bossa Nova arrangements and particularly relishing the lead vocalists Lani Hall and Karen Philipp.

Herb Alpert

One 1968 LP Fool on the Hill, released on Herb Alpert’s A&M label, has remained on my frequent play list. The renditions of the title song – itself superior to the Beatles own performance in my opinion; the slowly paced lyrical love ballad Canto Triste sung exquisitely by Lani Hall (She later married Herb Alpert); and the infectiously upbeat Upa Neguinho leave the album’s remaining seven very good songs in the shade.

The entire album is accessible on YouTube.

Bernard Haitink

In January, 1905, Czarist troops fired on peaceful demonstrators in front of the Winter Palace in Saint Petersburg, Russia, killing over 400. In 1957, Dimitri Shosta­kovich’s 11th Sym­phony in remembrance of that tragedy was premiered in Moscow.

It has been recorded with distinction by a number of conductors, one of them being the late Bernard Haitink (1929-2021) on a Decca/London 1985 release still in print and accessible also on YouTube. The Symphony has four movements of searing eloquent beauty and savage power.

 

 

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by Peter Cates

Clark Gable

Clark Gable (1901-1960) might not have achieved the same level of greatness as, for example, Sir Lawrence Olivier, Rod Steiger, George C. Scott and, among the living, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Emma Thompson and Kenneth Branaugh, when it came to getting inside the skin of a range of different characters; but he had an on-screen charisma in his portrayal of the same charming, arrogant character in every film I ever saw of his.

They include Call of the Wild with Loretta Young, Soldier of Fortune with Susan Hayward, Teacher’s Pet with Doris Day, Command Decision with Van Johnson and last, but far from least, Gone with the Wind with Sir Lawrence Olivier’s then-wife Vivian Leigh; I had my first viewing of it at the long gone Winslow Drive-In during the summer of 1961.

His first appearance in the now legendary role of Rhett Butler is at the foot of the long staircase at the Tara plantation. He’s staring up at Vivian’s Scarlet O’Hara and this first eye contact sows some very turbulent seeds of ballistic romance.

One critic referred to Gable’s presence as brutally masculine. He was a man among men and hunted and fished. Yet he was also a voracious reader, had a huge library of books and absolutely did not want his men friends knowing about this hobby.

Gable was married five times, including a much publicized second one to actress Carole Lombard, who perished in a 1942 plane crash in Nevada.

He died in November 1960, at the age of 59, after suffering two heart attacks over a ten-day period. His widow was pregnant with his only biological son John Clark Gable, born four months later. Gable also fathered a daughter in 1935 during a brief affair with actress Loretta Young while filming Call of the Wild.

William F. Buckley Jr.

A 1988 biography, William F. Buckley Jr. Patron Saint of the Conservatives, by John B. Judis, proved a fascinating book to browse in. Buckley (1925-2008) brought a wit and intellectual brilliance to conservative thinking via the weekly magazine he founded in 1955, National Review, and his television show Firing Line. His nice guy debating skills both thrilled and terrified those on the other side of a given issue.

In 1965, Buckley ran as an independent in a three-way race against Democrat contender Abe Beame and Republican winner John Lindsay. Buckley wrote the following sardonic quote about Lindsay:

“For some people, politics is the ultimate concern. Of them, it can be said that they are serious about politics, in the sense in which Mr. John Lindsay is serious about politics. He is as serious about politics as, for instance, a flagpole-sitter is serious about flagpoles. Politics sustains Mr. Lindsay, even as the flagpole sustains the flagpole-sitter. Others care less for politics than for the end of politics. We climb flagpoles, but only in order to look at the horizon.”

Alma Gluck

A 12-inch acoustic shellac disc (Victrola Red Seal 88434) from 1914 features soprano Alma Gluck (1884-1938) in a collaboration with her husband, violinist Efrem Zimbalist (1889-1985), and pianist Eugene Lutsky performing Braga’s Angel’s Serenade, a frequently recorded concert piece during the World War I years. Gluck had one of the most beautiful voices of that era and sang a wide range of music including opera, hymns and folk songs.

They were the parents of actor Efrem Zimbalist Jr. and the grandparents of actress Stephanie Zimbalist.

This very fine record can be heard via YouTube.

 

 

 

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by Peter Cates

Charles Munch, Walter Bruno, Pierre Monteux

Continuing with my on-going fascination with the great conductors of the past, I encountered a group photo of Charles Munch (1891-1968), Bruno Walter (1876-1962), and Pierre Monteux (1875-1964), who established the still existing Domaine School in Hancock for conducting students just over 80 years ago. The occasion for this get together at Carnegie Hall’s green room was all three maestros conducting the NBC Symphony in a 1958 memorial concert for its former music director Arturo Toscanini (1867-1957), each of them featured in one piece.

Youtubes of each of the three conductors guesting with the NBC include a very good late ‘30s Mahler 1st Symphony, with Walter ; a 1953 Beethoven 7th with Monteux; and a Ravel Le Tombeau de Couperin with Munch also from 1953, along with several others.

The NBC Symphony was created as a radio orchestra in order to lure Toscanini back to the United States from his native Italy where he was living since resigning as music director of the New York Philharmonic in 1936 after seven brilliant years there. The NBC broadcasts have never been surpassed for long-term popularity.

However, by 1954, Toscanini, although still in good shape, was pressured to resign and his last three years would see a decline in health.

According to Monteux’s daughter, Toscanini and her father admired each other’s art; while Walter and Toscanini had been friends for decades, the older man once stated that “whenever Walter conducts a piece, he melts all over the place.” Munch appeared several times with NBC at Toscanini’s invitation.

I recently listened to a Columbia Masterworks cassette, MYT 38473, of Bruno Walter conducting the Columbia Symphony Orchestra in Mozart’s Linz and Prague Symphonies. This orchestra was a studio group assembled around 1959 to 1960 and consisting of Los Angeles Philharmonic musicians when Walter was living out his remaining years in Beverly Hills.

The Linz, #36 among the 41, is a sweetly melodic and graceful work suited nicely to Walter’s “melting” music making; the more perky Prague, #38, receives a decent performance but lacks the perky excitement of a 1960 London Symphony recording conducted by Peter Maag. Still, this is a very enjoyable pair of performances that have worn well.

A highly recommended performance from Pierre Monteux is a Brahms Second Symphony, the first of four different recordings, in which he led the San Francisco Symphony in a 1945 Victor Red Seal recording. This symphony has a sunny outdoorsy quality and Monteux drew out its beauties with a very exquisitely phrased spontaneity.

A favorite Munch recording from the mid-’60s is a Nonesuch LP featuring two different Iberias, the first by French composer Claude Debussy (1862-1918) and the second by a native of Spain’s Catalonia, Isaac Albeniz (1860-1909). Munch conducted the Debussy Iberia with a special flair for its pulsating rhythms and colorful instrumental effects and achieved a similar magic with Albeniz . As far as I know, Albeniz and Ernesto Halffter are the only two Spanish composers Munch ever conducted.

The album jacket mentions that Albeniz composed his Iberia in Paris whereas Debussy only spent a few hours in Spain to witness a bullfight, but the Spanish composer Manuel de Falla adored Debussy’s Iberia because its music evoked the Spain he knew so well.

I own many Toscanini recordings of outstanding merit and one I have returned to often during the last 40 years is a 1947 broadcast of French composer Hector Berlioz’s complete Romeo and Juliet Symphony which RCA Victor Red Seal first issued in 1967 and, as far as I know, still available on CD and accessible on YouTube.