Lee Grant

by Peter Cates

Lee Grant

On the basis of three different roles, I currently find Lee Grant, still alive and very sharp in her late 90s, my favorite character actress.

The emotional nuance, strength, vulnerability, anger, calm before the storm, joy, love, maturity, chaos, decorum-every ounce of one’s humanity – is channeled from her very inner self with phenomenal discipline and authenticity into the trio of characters mentioned below:

The 1964 Fugitive episode Taps for a Dead War presented Miss Grant as Millie Hallop, a widow who owns a diner, and lives with her teenage son and brother-in-law, the latter with serious PTSD issues of his own as a Korean War veteran who was grossly disfigured by an explosion from a hand grenade tossed at him by an enemy soldier.

Meanwhile Millie is stressed out by everything that could stress out a widow raising a son, running a diner, dealing with an emotionally fractured brother-in-law and experiencing her own issues of harrowing loneliness with minimal help from the people around her.

Lee Grant has spoken of how she would draw on her own life experiences of loneliness, anxiety and anger to pour into her character roles. This statement verifies her rightfully celebrated ability to convey being on the brink of some unpredictable explosion resulting from the loneliness, anxiety and anger. When her brother-in-law, portrayed by the also very gifted Tim O’Connor, brings home the Fugitive title character Richard Kimble, whom he recognizes as a war-time buddy, Millie very quietly tells Kimble to leave immediately and never ever show his face at the diner again. The look of sulphuric rage in her eyes was honed to a precisely outstanding degree.

The 1967 Oscar winning In the Heat of the Night featured her as a grief-stricken widow Leslie Colbert who spasmodically flings her hands in the air when she is informed by Sidney Poitier’s Virgil Tibbs of her husband’s murder. At that moment, one is not sure if Mrs. Colbert is going to slap Tibbs or sob uncontrollably.

In a 1970 Columbo episode, Ransom for a Dead Man, she portrayed a murderess Leslie Williams who shoots her husband cold-bloodedly yet elicits a bizarre sympathy as she charmingly interacts with Peter Falk’s socially inept but phenomenally shrewd detective with his “Just one more thing” and “Thank you very much!”; and guardedly with a very suspicious stepdaughter. If I didn’t know any better, I would have rooted for her to get away with the murder.

One very memorable scene is when Leslie, being a licensed pilot of small aircraft, takes Columbo for a daredevil ride in her own plane and she is beautifully dressed and wearing designer sunglasses.

Born Lyova Haskell Rosenthal, in New York City, to parents who were Jewish immigrants from Poland and Russia, Lee Grant caught the stage bug very early in childhood and her Wikipedia biography gives an interesting account of her career with its setbacks and successes.

She was nominated for the Oscar best supporting actress award in 1951’s Detective Story in which she played a shoplifter; was named best actress at the 1952 Cannes Film Festival; but then blacklisted as a communist from 1952 to 1964 because, even though she was never a communist herself nor was ever interested in its ideology, her first husband and scriptwriter Arnold Manoff was a communist and she wouldn’t testify against him. During the 12 years, she was ekeing out a living through a few stage and TV roles and teaching to support herself and her daughter, actress Dinah Manoff.

In her 2014 autobiography, I Said Yes to Everything, she writes :

“Dinah was my grail, my constant; nothing and no one could get between us. Dinah, and my need to support her financially, morally, viscerally, and my rage at those who had taken twelve working, acting years from my life were what motivated me.”

More about Lee Grant can also be accessed via YouTube, etc.

Jerome Kern

by Peter Cates

Jerome Kern

Great American Songbook composer Jerome Kern (1885-1945) was so captivated by reading Edna Ferber’s 1926 novel Showboat that he immediately saw its possibilities as a musical on Broad­way. But he had never met Miss Ferber and had no idea how she’d respond.

One even­ing at a theater reception, he spotted an acquaintance, the notoriously outspoken book re­viewer/­author/theater critic/­radio personality Alexander Woollcott (1887-1943) who was chatting with a woman and who could possibly arrange an introduction, given his own connections in the publishing world; Kern approached Woollcott with his request.

Woollcott replied that Ferber was very reclusive and inapproachable and could not imagine her wanting to even discuss the matter but would see what could be done. He then turned to the woman sitting next to him and said, “Edna Ferber (1885-1968), meet Jerome Kern. ”

With lyricist Oscar Hammerstein, Kern worked very quickly and the musical premiered on Broadway in less than a year. It was a huge success, it has generated at least two films in Hollywood, numerous recordings of selections have been released – I am quite fond of a 1946 Columbia Masterworks set- but Showboat had to wait until the mid-1980s for a complete recording of its three hour plus length of music and drama.

Edna Ferber

In 1980, I attended a production of Showboat at the Houston Grand Opera starring Donald O’Connor, a quite memorable evening.

Certain songs from the musical still resound – My Man Bill, Can’t Help Lovin’ That Man, and Old Man River.

A Music Treasures of the World LP from the ‘50s contains the nicely scored Showboat Symphonic Suite conducted by William Strickland (MT-31).

I recently listened to several other records here at the house of Kern compositions:

Columbia A5081 – a December 31, 1908, 12-inch shellac featuring soprano Elise Stevenson singing a very charming song, Frieda, from the 1908 Broadway musical, the Girls of Gottenberg, which closed after less than a year.

Victor 35425 – a November 24th, 1914, shellac, also 12 inch, featuring the Victor Military Band performing a medley of tunes from the Girl from Utah, which includes the classic They Didn’t Believe Me.

Victor Red Seal – a 1938 set of six 12-inch 78s, Gems from Jerome Kern Musical Shows, presenting the Victor Light Opera Company directed by Leonard Joy.

ES 10, a 1960 LP with Ed Sullivan’s written notes on Kern’s 1933 musical Roberta and selections from it performed by the uncredited vocalists listed simply as the Ed Sullivan All Star Cast, the record having sold in supermarkets for $1.69. Selections included Yesterdays, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes and Lovely to Look At, and were very nicely performed.

Book of the Month Records 41 – 7511, a 1984 three LP set with booklet, Jerome Kern Master of Melody, and containing vintage recordings of his music that range from Paul Whiteman to Perry Como.

The arranger/composer Paul Weston related an anecdote about working with Kern in Hollywood. The older composer told Weston, “Whenever you get told to do something that doesn’t make any sense, you ask why and keep asking why until you get an answer that does.”

On November 11, 1945, Jerome Kern died in a New York City hospital, at the age of 60, from a cerebral hemorrhage he had suffered six days earlier; Oscar Hammerstein was keeping a vigil in the room when Kern stopped breathing.

Richard M. Nixon

by Peter Cates

Richard Nixon

The 37th President Richard Milhous Nixon (1913-1994) would often take long walks along the beach at his San Clemente vacation house on the Pacific Coast. I vividly remember seeing photos of him taken from a distance by the journalists whom he despised and whose favor he rarely, if ever, sought.

Regardless of the pressures any president of the United States experiences even in recent years, Nixon conveyed a definite aura of mien in his bearing (During the final months of his presidency when Watergate was the most frequently reported topic, Press Secretary Ron Ziegler made the mistake of speaking to the president who suddenly lashed out at Ziegler with his arms.)

Nixon doggedly fought his way up the ladder, did well in school growing up in Whittier, California, and attending Whittier College before getting a scholarship to Duke University Law School; he was elected to the House of Representatives in 1946 and became Senator in 1950. And he wasn’t above using smear tactics in both campaigns.

In 1952, Dwight D. Eisenhower picked Nixon as his running mate, although reluctantly since he didn’t particularly like Nixon as a human being, because Nixon had strong appeal to the very conservative Midwest and California Republicans which Eisenhower lacked as a more moderate Eastern establishment candidate.

After eight years as Ike’s Veep, the defeat in 1960 for the White House and the unsuccessful California Governor’s race in 1962, Nixon bided his time until a chain of circumstances, some of them perhaps engineered by Nixon himself, led to his being chosen as the Republican candidate in 1968, with Maryland Governor Spiro T. Agnew as the running mate, in a three-way race with Hubert Humphrey and Maine’s Edmund Muskie for the Democrats and the American Independent Party’s George Wallace and Curtis Lemay. Nixon and Agnew won by a narrow margin.

Rather than getting into Nixon’s leadership legacy which is voluminously documented, I wish to share a couple of brief personal items. When Nixon attended Whittier College, he took history courses with Professor David Henley who was married to my grandmother Cates’s first cousin, and East Vassalboro native, Lila Upham.

Secondly, uncles Paul and George Cates went to a Republican rally, in Augusta, in 1964, for Congressman Clifford McIntire who ran unsuccessfully against Muskie for the Senate; Nixon came that day to drum up support .

To conclude, I found a quote from Gore Vidal in a piece he wrote about the 1968 Republican convention at Miami Beach that nominated Nixon. Vidal is describing Ronald Reagan who had thrown his own hat in the ring after being elected in 1966 as the Governor of California. Vidal is remembering Reagan at the 1964 convention in San Francisco.

“I recalled my last glimpse of him, at the Cow Palace, in San Francisco, four years ago. The Reagans were seated in a box, listening to Eisenhower. While Mrs. Reagan darted angry looks about the hall (displeased at the press?), the star of Death Valley Days was staring intently at the speaker on the platform: as the age of television progresses, the Reagans will be the rule, not the exception.”

Back during the 1960s, I really didn’t think Ronald Reagan ever had a chance of becoming president.

George McGovern

In later years, the former president did a series of interviews with Diane Sawyer and David Frost and mentioned that two of his closest friends were Ed Muskie and George McGovern, Nixon’s Democratic opponent in the 1972 race who carried only one state out of the 50.

On March 16, 1974, Nixon appeared on a Grand Ole Opry TV special in Nashville with country music legend Roy Acuff (1903-1982) who taught the president how to manipulate the yo yo and talked him into playing the piano.

Another country legend Hank Williams may have best summed up Acuff’s appeal:

“He’s the biggest singer this music ever knew. You booked him and you didn’t worry about crowds. For drawing power in the South, it was Roy Acuff, then God.”

Two ten-inch 78s here at the house feature Acuff’s uniquely down home singing and fiddling with his long time colleagues, the Smoky Mountain Boys.

Okeh 05297 from July 5 and 6, 1939, contains two sacred music selections, Drifting Too Far from the Shore, and Eyes are Watching You; Columbia 36856, recorded August 2, 1945, has Pins and Needles, and a song composed by Acuff’s business partner Fred Rose, We Live in Two Different Worlds.

Lily Pons

by Peter Cates

Lily Pons

Soprano Lily Pons (1898-1976) sang at the Metropolitan Opera at least 300 times between 1931 and 1960 and had a knack for using mass media to advance her career.

My first exposure to her was via a Columbia 45 rpm extended play album that Mother played at home and which went in one ear and out the other, since my opera musical sensibilities were pretty limited during second grade (I did give every record in the house a listen, being a record-holic since the age of two, if not earlier.).

However, in seventh grade, I was developing a love for classical music and was gifted a pile of 78s by a family friend that included her Victor shellac of Caro Nome from Verdi’s Rigoletto and a Columbia Masterworks 78 set featuring 4 Arias from Donizetti’s Daughter of the Regiment.

I played these numerous times and find them generally unsurpassed . Lily Pons sang with exquisite delicacy, her trills and high notes were technically phenomenal and she was quite knowledgeable about the history of the operatic literature.

Evidence of this is the fascinating essay she wrote about the background of the Daughter of the Regiment, the sopranos who performed it in earlier years and its technical challenges, that was included with the 78 set on Columbia.

She recorded numerous sides for Victor Red Seal during the 1930s before signing with Columbia around the time of her marriage to conductor Andre Kostelanetz (1901-1980) in 1938. As her Columbia discs were best sellers, Victor released a set of her earlier records for them in 1943 in the certainly justifiable attempt to capitalize on her success with Columbia and one in which she would also benefit.

The set, Victor Red Seal M-702, consisted of three 12-inch 78s and a 10-inch one, and very fragile; the mix of different lengths by manufacturers even in an album with cardboard insulation around the records themselves was not particularly conducive to the prevention of breakage.

The contents were a combination of arias from operas of Mozart, Rossini, Rimsky-Korsakov, Ambrose Thomas and, of course, Verdi and three semi-classical concert pieces, including a very beautiful Last Rose of Summer.

Operatic high points were an aria from Mozart’s Abduction from the Seraglio, currently my favorite Mozart opera, and duets with baritone Giuseppe De Luca (1876-1950) in Verdi’s Rigoletto and Rossini’s Barber of Seville. The other selections failed to make an impression despite her vocal prowess, especially the Rimsky Le Coq D’Or Hymn to the Sun in which her trills and gentle dynamics failed to communicate the haunting Oriental mystery of that Russian opera aria.

Pons and Kostelanetz divorced in 1958. During the ‘50s and early ‘60s, she made guest appearances on such TV shows as the Ed Sullivan Show and What’s My Line.

Lily Pons died of pancreatic cancer in a Dallas, Texas, hospital in 1976. She was 77.

Legendary saxophonist Charlie Parker once compared the lyrical beauty of fellow musician Johnny Hodges in his own playing of the soprano sax in Duke Ellington’s band to the singing of Lily Pons.

Many of her recordings and broadcasts can be heard on YouTube.