January is in the books and all our New Year’s resolutions have probably been broken. We are now headed into the most miserable month of the year and we will have to endure it for a day longer than the three years that preceded and will follow it. The only bright spot about February is that those of you who had dry-January’s can now drink yourselves into oblivion until the Springtime. That, in fact, may be the way to do it. Each year I become less a fan of winter and for me, I can get through November because days in that month can be good. December is rough and January is when I really get my fill of winter. Then I have to deal with February. I find the existence of this month purely punitive so I have nothing but hatred for each and every day. Sorry if you were born on one if its hated days. Anyway, let’s get to January and who we lost. Their saving grace is they don’t have to endure this month.
Joyce Randolph, who played the role of Trixie Norton, the wife of the lovable sewer worker who was Ralph Kramden’s best friend on the Honeymooners, died at 99. She is the end of the line for living members of the cast of that classic show. I was never a fan of Jackie Gleason’s character, but Ralph Norton was lovable and I could see why Trixie would fall for him. When they made the Flintstones cartoon, they based the characters on the Honeymooners cast and you could see where Ms. Randolph’s Trixie character became Betty Rubble. The show highlighted a working class foursome struggling to get ahead in our society. A setting like that would never play today as opulence and product placement now rule the airwaves. The Nortons and Kramdens had none of the modern conveniences we take for granted today and the show would be a social media failure. All that said, it was giant and people still quote its lines (“I’ll send you to the Moon Alice, ” “core a apple,” and “address the ball”). Ms. Randolph moved to New York after high school, did some work on Broadway and snagged some television roles. Jackie Gleason saw her on a commercial for chewing gum and hired her for his show “Cavalcade of Stars,” which is where the Honeymooners skits were first performed. It then became part of The Jackie Gleason Show and in 1955 got its own half-hour slot on Saturday night. It ran for 39 episodes even though it seems like it was on for years. The show was done with very little rehearsal because Gleason didn’t want the comedy to come across as overly rehearsed. At the height of the show’s fame, Ms. Randolph made a whopping $500 per week and that’s not one of my many typos. She did other television shows at the time the Honeymooners ran but after the show, other than several revivals, she didn’t do much acting work. And why should she have? She was at the top with nowhere to go.
Charles Osgood, the host of “Sunday Morning” for 22 years (I am so old I recall Charles Kuralt being the host), and of the Osgood File on the radio, died at 91. He had a folksy charm about him and sported a bow tie on television. Someone that would be hard to dislike even if you didn’t want to embrace him full-on. A Fordham grad who worked at WFUV, which, if you are not a listener, you should be; he cut his teeth on the radio and that was always his love. He came about his television and radio success in a much different way from journalists, which is what most people took him for. He never took a journalism class and was never a reporter. That was one of the things, he said, that made him different from many of his peers. After working as an announcer, he became the general manager of a television station in Hartford Connecticut that used technology to scramble the signal and deliver it only to those who had decoder boxes. Subscribers received an array of special programming including first-run movies, cultural offerings, and live sporting events. Sort of cable before there was cable. It did poorly and Osgood told Broadcasting Magazine that “the station lost money at an alarming rate,” but that they let him down gently. “They said, your fired.” He went to work for ABC and then shifted to CBS where he anchored the first morning show when the radio station went to all news. He began doing the Osgood files, three minute blocks that told a single story, often with a human interest focus, in 1967. Those Osgood Files pieces ran until December 29, 2017. On television, he did news and anchored the CBS Sunday night news for a time. Then, in 1994, he was snagged by Sunday Morning to replace Mr. Kuralt. On the radio, it was his voice and rhymes that singled him out. On television, it was his bowtie that he was most known for. What not everyone knows is that he was an accomplished pianist and played with both the Boston and New York Pops orchestras. He could also pick the banjo. I, for one, will miss his easy going style. See you on the radio Charlie.
David Soul (David Richard Solberg), Hutch, from the popular detective show “Starsky and Hutch,” died at 80. Soul had been on television in episodes of “I Dream of Genie” (oh how I had a crush on Barbara Eden) and “Star Trek,” amongst others, but it was his pairing with Paul Michael Glaser, who played the role of Starsky (Glaser is still going at 80), that put him on the map. It was a cop show with two guys who were close and, depending on how you viewed it, closer than most guys on television in the 70’s would get. I never knew which one was Starsky and which was Hutch (Soul wanted to be Starsky when he first read the script so how can I figure it out) but I liked the show, never giving a thought to the possible signals that the show set off between them. Soul once described the show to Merv Griffen as a “love story between two men who happen to be cops.” To me, and I suspect most, they were just cops. As forward as you want to view the show for its sexuality, they still cast the black guy, Huggy Bear, (Antonio Fargas, still going at 77), as the police informant, so the typecasting bias was still going strong. Soul’s first love was music and before all the fame and fortune hoopla, when he found his young wife with another man, he left her and their son to make is name by heading to New York. He bought a ski mask and branded himself (not a bank robber) but the “Covered Man.” A quick view of this clip
, reveals why he made his fame in television. He did return to recording once he had “made it,” and had two number one hits with “Don’t Give Up On Us,” and “Silver Lady.” All I can say about his music is, I was unaware of it, so it did not have the impact on me that Detective Ken Hutchinson did. Of his life, he commented to the Sunday Times of London, “I’m happy. I’ve explored, I’ve seen, I’ve done.” That’s what we all should be able to say if we do it right.
I am not a fan of Broadway musicals, leaning heavily toward drama. I basically have a rule against attending musicals. I know, you all have the one musical I should see but I have even passed up Hamilton so forget about getting me to go to your particular “favorite.” A woman who has been in many people’s favorites, Chita Rivera (born Delores Conchita Figueroa del Rivero Anderson), died at 91. Ms. Rivera originated the roles of Anita in “West Side Story,” Rose in “Bye Bye Birdie,” and Velma Kelly in “Chicago.” She also had the lead in “Kiss of the Spider Woman.” Trained as a ballet dancer, she became a tour de force on the Broadway boards. The New York Times described her as “a flammable singer and a gyroscopic dancer. “ Newsweek crowned her “the greatest musical theatre dancer ever.” Nominated for ten Tony awards she won two (Best Actress for “The Rink,” and “Kiss of the Spiderwoman”). She was also awarded a Tony for Lifetime Achievement in 2018 making it really three Tonys. She also won two Drama Desk Awards and a Drama League Award. In 2009 President Obama awarded her the Presidential Medal of Freedom. She did some movie work (was in Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band) and television (“Will and Grace,” for instance) but it is Broadway, and her incredible performances, that she will rightfully be remembered for. “Life can be bright in America. If you can fight in America.”
Bud Harrelson, the scrappy shortstop who played for the lovable New York Mets from 1965 to 1976, died at 79. Harrelson was one of the players on the miracle team of 69. Harrelson signed with the team out of San Francisco State in 1963 and came up to the majors in 65. He was traded to the Phillies after the 76 season, but came back to coach the Mets in 82 and even managed the team for part of the 90 and the full 91 season before being relieved of his duties. For a time even worked as a Met’s broadcaster (much as I love him, he ain’t no Keith or Ronnie). Harrelson was a great fielder who won a gold glove and was on two All-Star teams. But what he is probably most noted for is a scrape he got into with Pete Rose. During the National League Championship series in 1973, the Met’s pitchers were overpowering the Big Red Machine and Harrelson, who was 5’10” and 150 pounds soaking wet, so not an offensive threat, quipped to the press that the Reds looked like him at the plate. This didn’t sit well with the hyper-competitive Rose who vowed to seek some form of retribution on the wiry shortstop. He got his chance when he was on first base in game three of the series and Joe Morgan hit a grounder to the Met’s first baseman John Milner who promptly threw to Harrelson to easily complete the first part of the double play. After Harrelson released the ball, Rose treated Harrelson like Ray Fosse, barreling into him spikes up (I know, he didn’t slide into Fosse, but barreled over him, but I had to make the comparison). Harrelson cursed him out and the two went at it with Rose probably getting the better of it, but Harrelson was not backing down a bit. Harrelson later said that his face kept hitting Rose’s fist. The benches emptied and the bullpen’s fought in the outfield. The game was at Shea and Rose, who was then playing left field, was showered with debris (batteries were not a big thing back in 73). The Reds walked off the field until order was restored but the Met’s fans were still livid that Rose would go after Harrelson in the way he did. The Mets won the game handily (9-2) and I recall that with two outs in the top of the ninth, Rose was on second base. I thought for sure that Red’s manager, Sparky Anderson, would pull Rose for a pinch runner so the fans wouldn’t storm the field and maul him, but he didn’t. Much as I hated Rose that game, I had to have some respect for him staying on second which is where he stood when the game ended. Years later when Harrelson and Rose were teammates on the Phillies, Rose gave Harrelson a picture of the fight inscribed “thanks for making me famous.” Among Harrelson’s personal achievements was being a part owner of the Long Island Ducks minor league team. He loved the continued connection with baseball, the team, its players, and its fans. He always went at the game with a childlike exuberance. He was the Met’s third base coach when the Mookie Wilson ground ball went through the legs of Bill Buckner in game six of the World Series. Not only did Harrelson wave Ray Knight around third base, he ran down the line with him and had to slow down so he didn’t hit home plate first and ruin the whole thing. That is a full life well lived.
I’m really not a soccer fan. Still trying to figure out how they calculate the overtime. That said, time has run out for Franz Beckenbauer, the famous German soccer star, who died at 78. He was so famous even I knew who he was. He was sort of the German Pele, who was his teammate when Beckenbauer accepted obscene money to play for the New York Cosmos. He was twice named European footballer of the year and is one of only three men to win the World Cup both as player, and coach. One of the other three, Mario Zagallo of Brazil, died January 5th so the third guy, Didier Deschamps (who is 55), better watch himself in the short-term. Beckenbauer was on a team (Bayern Munich) that won three consecutive European Cups (74-76) and he was the only defender to win the Ballon ‘Or, the French magazine, France Football, award, given to Europe’s best footballer, on two occasions. Beckenbauer’s team lost the World Cup in 1966 to England and in the 1970 final, dubbed the “Game of the Century,” Beckenbauer played with a dislocated shoulder and his arm in a sling because his team had exhausted its substitutions. In the 74 finals, before the home crowd, and with Beckenbauer as Captain, West Germany clinched the Cup. He ran into some tax problems with the German government, but which sports great hasn’t? Just ask Boris Becker. Beckenbauer, known as der Kaiser (the emperor), could not go unnoticed in Europe which made his Cosmos years some of his happiest because he made great money and wasn’t continuously hounded by fans. He was the very public face of German soccer but retreated when he lost his son at 46 to a brain tumor. With his wealth, he started a foundation to assist the disabled, the sick, and other people in need. He raised over 20 million Euro in furtherance f its goals. He too, was happy, he saw, he explored and lived life to the fullest. Scoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooore.
Melanie Safka, a woman who went by one name long before Madonna tumbled to the idea (even Taylor Swift hasn’t moved to a single moniker), died at 80. Like Tony Bennett and myself, she was born in Astoria, although she and her family soon high-tailed it to the Jersey shore. Don’t think it was because of Springsteen, though. Everybody seems to know her for “Brand New Key,” but I always think “Beautiful People,” when she comes to mind. She started playing music in coffeehouses while still in high school and then worked the folk circuit in the Village. She got signed to a record contract and at 22, she was one of two women (Joan Baez was the other), who performed solo at Woodstock. Playing before such a large crowd spooked her but the Woodstockers lit candles during her performance which triggered her writing the song “Candles in the Rain.” Her Big hit, “Brand New Key,” seems like a cute tune about flirting youth and certainly, like “Starsky and Hutch,” I didn’t see the hidden meaning some subscribed to it. Radio stations around the country banned it thinking that there was either some unstated sexual innuendo, or use of the work key was referring to an amount of cocaine. Melanie always held that the song was just what it appeared to be, a cute song about kids roller skating and flirting. She also wrote “The Nickel Song,” which musician’s today would analogize to streaming services, it having the line “they put in a nickel and they want a dollar song.” In all, her music always made me feel happy and as a musician, more than that is hard to ask for. Look what they’ve done to her song.
Mary Weiss, the lead singer of the Shangri-Las, who sang lead on their big hit “Leader of the Pack,” died at 75. Weiss was 15 when “Leader of the Pack” was a hit and the group had six top forty hits in the two year period from 1964-66. The Shangri-Las were formed by friends from Queens, New York, in high school and they took their name from a local restaurant. They got noticed by a talent scout and signed to Red Bird Records, where a young Billy Joel allegedly played on their demo of “Remember (Walking in the Sand).” I recall an interview with Joel where he claimed to have also been on the demo for “Leader of the Pack,” and wasn’t sure if it was his piano on the final version. Unlike other female bands of the time, the Ronettes and the Shirelles, the Shangra-Las had a tough, outer-boro attitude. They were rebels. Upon meeting Ms. Weiss, Joey Ramone told her, according the New York Times, that “without the Sangra-Las there would be no Ramones.” Amy Winehouse described the group’s song “I can never go Home Anymore,” as the saddest song in the world. Like many groups of that period, the money promised never materialized for the performers (although it did for others) and Weiss told Rolling Stone that “when we started it was all about music” and “by the time it ended it was all about litigation.” When the group broke up in 1968, Weiss gave up singing, went to California, married, and went to work for an architectural firm, ultimately getting into interior design. She said that she didn’t even sing along to the car radio but in the 70’s she did some shows with the Shangra-Las and in 2005 released a solo album that received some critical acclaim but little else. She leaves behind, a truly iconic song of teenage angst in the 60’s.
If I simply wrote that Peter Schickele died at 88, that may not resonate with many of you, as it wouldn’t with me. But if I went on to say that he was a musical satirist and five time Grammy award winning composer who brought us PDQ Bach, then you might take note. Or maybe not. But in any event, Mr. Schickele did pass and did bring his madcap classical take to the masses, or at least some of the masses. Schickele studied music at Swarthmore, and composing at Julliard, so he was no hack. He started out composing legitimately for orchestras (one of his Grammy’s was for non-PDQ compositions), and slowly came up with the character PDQ who he said was the youngest and oddest of Bach’s offspring, of which there were many. Offspring that is, not oddities. With compositions such as “Canine Canata: Wachet, Arf (Sleeping Dogs, Awake); “The 1712 Overture,” “A Little Nightmare Music,” and “Pervertimento for Bagpipes, Bicycles, and Balloons,” he made classical music accessible to the masses. In this video, he treats Beethoven’s 5th as a sporting event, complete with penalty box, official, and sportscasters (of which he is one), educating the audience on the nuances of the piece in a rather madcap manner,
. He traces some of his musical zaniness to Spike Jones, claiming to the New York Times in 1977, that he was ten years old and in a music store when he heard a soupy, sentimental ballad. Noting that to a ten your old Mr. Schickele, there was nothing worse than a soupy, sentimental ballad, there was a gunshot in the recording and then it took off in a Dixieland detour. That was a lesson in music composition he never forgot. He knew that his music might offend classical purists and in one of his program books he included an airsickness bag with the inscription “For Use In case of Cultural Discomfort.” He said that he would have liked to be known more for his serious compositions but, to the Los Angeles Times, he noted “I would be ungrateful to be too resentful. I always like doing P.D.Q. Bach, and I’ve been making a very good living on something I love doing. I’ve made my bed, and its not a bad bed.” Not bad at all. For those of you who read this rag with any regularity and care, you know that I love the obituaries of Margalit Fox. Her obit of Mr. Schickele is far better than anything I could put to paper. I commend it to you and provide the link here: https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/17/arts/music/peter-schickele-dead.html. Sorry for the paywall.
Finally, this month I lost my beach-dining partner for a few years, and Jersey Shore neighbor, Lori McKeon. She was always optimistic, gentle, and a special person. She will be missed by many, not the least of which is me.
See you when the miserable month of February is behind us.
I couldn’t agree with you more regarding your accurate Winter analysis and your disdain for February. March isn’t much better because you think Winter should be over, but it really isn’t!
I’m sorry for your loss as well.
Thanks as always for this excellent post. Very interesting tidbits about our fellow New Jerseyan, Charles Osgood. (I went to middle school with one of his daughters, back when they lived in Englewood.)
I'm sorry to hear about the passing of your friend Lori.