Art, Thoughts and Remembrances

The Known Universe – American Museum of Natural History

admin — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 16:33:04 +0000

Ned Sherrin Obituary, The loss that changed a life

admin — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 00:55:40 +0000

Ned Sherrin, Creator of Mock News ‘Week,’ Dies at 76

C. Brownie Harris/WNET

Ned Sherrin, then with “We Interrupt This Week,” in 1978.

Because of his ubiquity as a director, author, dramatist and radio personality — or “shower-off” in his jaunty self-description — Mr. Sherrin’s death may be hard for some to accept, The Daily Telegraph of London suggested in its obituary on Wednesday.

“Every time I think Ned Sherrin is dead,” the paper quoted an unnamed reviewer as saying, “he crops up on television with some program in appallingly bad taste which proves only too conclusively that he is still alive.”

But Mr. Sherrin is indeed dead, as confirmed by his personal manager, The Associated Press reported. Thus he will be unable to do for himself what he claimed was unique among his many occupations: reviewing memorial services for The Oldie magazine, which bills itself as an antidote to youth culture.

Mr. Sherrin produced 10 films; wrote novels, musicals and plays; was host of a popular radio show; and produced other television series besides “That Was the Week That Was,” or “TW3,” the live political review. (A later one was a news-based quiz show called “We Interrupt This Week.”) He also wrote two autobiographies, a novel, a collection of theatrical anecdotes and a dictionary of humorous quotations.

But with “TW3,” which ran for just over a year beginning in November 1962, Mr. Sherrin altered the television landscape by inaugurating a new, more youthful, more irreverent strain of satire, whose prickly progeny include “Saturday Night Live” and “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.”

“Aware, pointed, irreverent, fundamentally serious, intelligently witty, outspoken in the proper sense of the word” is how Mr. Sherrin described it in a British Broadcasting Corporation memo proposing the program.

The Profumo call-girl scandal was perfect grist for Mr. Sherrin’s mill, as politics, religion and class all became objects of comedy. The show pilloried members of Parliament. Its “consumer guide to religion” ruffled predictable feathers.

David Frost, the show’s host, told viewers that the chancellor of the exchequer had ended a brief interview with a group of unemployed people with the words: “Well, I have work to do, even if you haven’t.”

When Mr. Sherrin met Princess Margaret at a party, she suggested he do a sketch about “the absurdly reverential way the press reports us,” The Telegraph reported. The next week the show did a skit about the queen’s barge sinking in the Thames.

Biting friendly hands was de rigueur. When The Times of London printed a spirited defense of the show on Saturday morning, The Times was mercilessly satirized that same evening.

The New York Times in 1963 suggested that the show “puts the sort of irreverent questions that you yourselves want to put.” As its popularity climbed, Mr. Sherrin said, it went “from a conversation to conspiracy.”

Viewership soared from 3 million to more than 12 million, comparable to that of a top soccer game, and pubs emptied at 10 p.m. so people could get home to their television sets. The studio audience had the best of both worlds: They saw the show and were provided free liquor.

Oddly, the “TW3” episode that seems to cling tightest to British memory was not funny. When President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, Mr. Sherrin scrapped his plans in favor of a shortened tribute. With tears in her eyes, Millicent Martin sang “In the Summer of His Years.”

The show was canceled in December 1963 because the governing Tories said it would interfere with the next year’s general election. Mr. Frost called the cancellation “a great compliment” but wondered whether election year was not “when it is needed most.” Harold Wilson, the Labor Party leader, protested the cancellation mightily.

On Dec. 28, Mr. Frost signed off, saying, “That was ‘That Was the Week That Was’ … that was.” In 1964 and 1965, an American version of the show attracted an enthusiastic following, drawing as it did on the subversive talents of people like Mike Nichols andElaine May; Buck Henry; and Mr. Frost himself.

Edward George Sherrin was born on Feb. 18, 1931, into a Somerset farming family and made his first theater out of a cereal box. After army service he found his way to Oxford, where he studied law, which he never used except to pass his bar exam. At Oxford he wrote a revue starring Maggie Smith.

He briefly worked for a private network, then joined the B.B.C. and quickly advanced to producer. Hugh Green, the B.B.C.’s director-general, wanted a show to “prick the pomposity of public figures.” Mr. Sherrin developed a format.

“What I have tried to do is to convert into TV terms the sort of sophisticated, intelligent conversation on current events you might find in a bar on a Saturday night,” he told The New York Times in 1963. “That’s all.”

No information was available on survivors.

In his memoirs, Mr. Sherrin, an avowed monarchist who was openly gay, admitted to paying for sex, saying some of his best friends were prostitutes. When one tried to blackmail him by threatening to talk to reporters, The Independent newspaper said his answer was quick: “I simply told him it would come as no surprise to most people.”

Bill and Jack – Australian Open 2010

admin — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 00:35:18 +0000

Enuf Said!

“Yip” Harburg and the famous Flub

admin — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 19:35:40 +0000

During the early 80′s, My friend, mentor, father, great love, Ned Sherrin and I were working on a series entitled “Song by Song.” The series was dedicated to the great lyricists, We were shooting the series in Leeds for Yorkshire television and PBS in the states. Ned (much about him to come in this blog), captured in his autobiography “Ned Sherrin, The Autobiography,” a funny moment. One that best represents the “ditzy” quality that I’m so well known for today. He writes:

“My happiest single memory of the series is playing to “Yip” Harburg in the programme we devoted to his work. He is one of my favourite lyric-writers and he was then, some three years before his death, already into his eighties. His enthusiasm was matched by his eagle-eared attention to see if any of his words had been rearranged. The occasion also had its wry side. There are those terrifying times when you know that certain subjects are taboo with a person. With Yip it was “The Wiz”. Without doubt, Yip’s best-known score s the one he wrote with Harold Arlen which provided the springboard for Judy Garland’s success in “The Wizard of Oz”. Among the colleagues in the viewing theatre was my friend David Yakir, who made a vow not to mention the black version of the Frank Baum classic, “The Wiz, which he had enjoyed, but which we both knew Harburg hated.

After Yip had enjoyed the celebration of his work we chatted happily until David and I took hi home in a cab. He lived where so many songwriters hang out in style on Central Park West. Suddenly,, out of nowhere came the “brick” which David was determined not to drop. “Mr. Harburg, how did you like “The Wiz”? The old man was civilly dismissive; David bit his tongue off.”

Two Studies of my mother Toby as a Young Woman (Yakir, 1985)

admin — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 18:05:25 +0000

Taking the Wheel, Gavin Creel

admin — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 18:49:56 +0000

A bit of inspiration here. Written by Gavin Creel and sung magnificently by David Campbell. Certainly had a great influence on me.

“Taking the Wheel”

It’s no good, it’s too pat
I can’t just sing a final song
Say so long and leave it at that
It’s alright, I’ve got time

So I didn’t hitch a ride on the rocket to the top
I’ll get there in a steady climb
What did it mean, what have I learned
Crossing the bridges before they’re burned
Leading life, instead of being lead

Using my head
What’s it about
DId I lose innocence going in, or gain experience coming out
What did it mean, what have I learned
Eating off tables, before they’re turned
Living life, instead of playing dead

Throwing down a pencil, grabbing a pen
Taking the wheel, driving again
Throwing down a pencil, writing in ink
This is how I feel, this is what I think
Dreaming again, and making those dreams real

No big deal
I hit my stride
If I’m not breaking the ribbon at the end of the race
It’s only because I haven’t tried

What did it mean, what have I learned
Taking the credit I know I’ve earned
Waking up, and flying out of bed

Throwing down a pencil, grabbing a pen
Taking the wheel, driving again
Throwing down a pencil, writing in ink
This is how I feel, this is what I think
Dreaming again, and making those dreams real

Taking the wheel

I’ve been in a back seat long enough
Tagging along for the ride
I’ve been in a back seat long enough to know
That you never get what you deserve
If you never can decide
There’s only one way to get where you want to go

Throwing down a pencil, grabbing a pen
Taking the wheel, driving again
Throwing down a pencil, writing in ink
This is how I feel, this is what I think
I’m dreaming again, and making those dreams real

Taking the wheel

Throwing down a pencil, grabbing a pen
Taking the wheel, driving again
Throwing down a pencil, writing in ink
This is how I feel, this is what I think

Dreaming again and making those dreams real

Taking the wheel

Dorian, The Musical

admin — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 22:07:53 +0000

In my youth, as a director, producer and writer, I had some great successes and even greater failures. Having started with producing and directing the award winning Off-Broadway play “Kaspar” by Peter Handke, I went on to write and develop in London the musical “Only in America” which later became the famed “Smokey Joe’s Cafe,” the Leiber and Stoller Musical. I then set off to write a musical version of “The Picture of Dorian Gray” with a friend who disappeared a long time ago. “Dorian” as it is now named has been in the making for too many years. Procrastination or “writers block” only account for part of the delay. Career, money and other interests took care of the rest. Having made my way through about half of it, I’ve recently picked it up and have found the will, the fortitude, (if a bit less talent) to attempt its finish. By sharing with you some of the work, hopefully, it will force me to completion. Here are the lyrics to “Ah Youth”, one of the five songs completed for the show. Setting: Act One, Scene One, Lord Henry (the mentor) speaking to the afflicted youth Dorian, who in his marvelous youth is having a portrait of him done by the artist Basil. Lord Henry walks to the portrait from behind Basil and from the expression in his eyes, we know he has just seen a great work of beauty. (Click the link for the song.) “AH YOUTH”

(Spoken) Ah, youth
Give way to youth Hurray for youth!
To frolics in full swing
To sunlight and to spring
When everything’s in flower.
The world is in your power.
When every sky is blue
And time means not a thing.

Huzzah for youth!
Hoopla! for youth!
When every boy’s a prince
And every girl a sprite,
a goddess just awakening.
To love’s first thrill …

Lord Henry (“You do not feel it yet”?)

Dorian: (“No, Lord Henry, I’m sorry, I don’t feel it yet”)

Lord Henry (“You Will”)

Amazing youth!
All praise to youth!
The freshness of the skin
The dimple in the eyes
Expressions of surprise
A lightness in the pace
A brightness of a face
Where sorrow’s never been.

A cheer for youth!
Here! Here! For youth!
When every day’s a life
And every life’s a dare
To do what others don’t.

You smile
Someday you won’t

But sad to say
The gods are jealous of the young
Too soon the day
When we must render payment
when our song is sung.
And beauty goes
and lust has bought the wrinkled skin
The hallow cheeks
and time is war
and senses rot and age begins
to build antiques

So live. . . Be not afraid . . . Search . . . feel

There is absolutely nothing in the world but . . .

Youth, Bravo to youth .. Picture this . . .
A show for youth with bells and tambourin
the lusty harlequin calls every wrong a right.
And much to your delight the moment, glorified
tells everything inside you to give in, give in.

Say yes to youth!
success to youth!
With nature crying “more” Let every boy and girl
be caught up in the whirl
of senses burniing for Rendez-vous
You frown? It will happen to you.
You see?

Dorian: “I see”,

Lord Henry ”It’s true!”

Perception

admin — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 21:21:20 +0000

Perception by a friend of oneself is an odd thing. We think we know ourselves, but it is through others that we gain some measure of truth of who we are. Recently I was re-reading my dear departed friend Ned Sherrin’s book “Sherrin’s Year, The sparkling diary of a master raconteur.” I’m not sure how I missed this or didn’t remember a certain passage of the book where he shared “with the world” a passage on his perception of me as a person. While perception is more “qualitative” rather than “quantitative,” it reflects a certain truth as perceived by an individual about another.

We had recently come back from a journey to South Africa, where we enjoyed the arts, the Blue Train (From Cape Town to Johannesburg), more on this later, and I continued to stay in London for a few days before flying back to NY. In his book, he writes:

Thursday 11th May

“Yakir is staying until Saturday. He has been an ideal companion. We seem to pick up where we left off. There is alway a wealth of information to convey – about his mother, the death of his father (last year), his performance at the funeral, his brother Scott. Mamma is hustling for condo in Florida, where all her friends go. David has a very intense Jewish family loyalty, stiffened by deathbed promises to his father.

Then there is the vast off-stage cast of his office. When I met him, he was feckless and 30-ish with an obsession for hanging with the glossy-model-driven clique in Manhattan, refusing to mature although there was a very definite theatrical talent as a director which he refused to pursue any further. When we split up last time, he eventually found a niche in a big adverstisiing firm in New York, N.W. Ayer, and showed a remarkable flair for organising their computer systems. Some wonderful equation balancing his emotional immaturity with his mid-30′s social experience made him perfect to lead the way in the agency in the most rapidly expanding field. Now he has his own company, Blue Marble (the astronauts’ first description of how the earth appeared to them from the moon). I have a very clear picture of the entire staff and all their squabbles and pretensions. It will be twelve months before I catch up on this everyday story of the Advertising folk”.

“FECKLESS, IMMATURE, INDEED!?

Ten Years To Old

admin — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 00:42:36 +0000

Thirty Three years ago, while dutifully exploring the world as a young man should/would, I held up in a small hotel for several months at the “Hotel de la Tour” in the village of St. Tropez, France. During that time I met a young poet living in a villa of an old vineyard as the guest of an older French Gentlemen. He was of local fame with a name I can no longer recall. He was in the midst of writing a new collection of poetry. During the month of our “tryst”, I was lucky enough to be included as one of the family and invited to stay as “long as I needed to”. Because, at the time I was a playwright, I was encouraged to find my hand at the “art” of poetry. During the many wine filled nights, I listened to the stories. The elder gentlemen talked about taking over the Vineyard from the family after living the artists life and how the last ten years of his life were where he succumbed to the inevitable. ”He was no longer the person he wished to be. He was the person that he was expected to be.

As I saw my life taking many of the same turns, I wrote this, in dedication to his life and to the one I inevitably lived.

Ten Years To Old

Falling fast down -
down an abyss of years;
Remembering all that was to be.
Lost in what is to come; Idealism, Pragmatism, Realism.

Only ten years ago I, an artist, was an artist;
about to reach heights; fully accomplished;
until age struck, and cuffed the memories of what was to be.

The life of my genitors slowly creeping within my psyche;
making me right, but mistaken for me; what shall be – will be.

Only ten years ago I walked in glitter, inconsequential, but profound.
Raised on a star, but taught otherwise; All praised a dream coming true.
Applause for being almost;

Only ten years ago;
beauty was worshipped; all that I had;
supplanting my virtuosity with veneer, the frivolous displaced by the superficial.

Ten years later I accede to the inevitable.
Body with grips – chatter, not vision.
Work that’s actual.

Benjamin Franklin’s Speech at the Conclusion of the Constitutional Convention

admin — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 21:41:48 +0000

Philadelphia, September 17, 1787

I’ve always had misgivings about the concept of “Constitutionalists” when electing our public officials or selecting our Justices. As nearly perfect as a Constitution may be, it is not infallible, nor do I believe there is an absolute in its interpretation. I had been curious if I could find a founding father that best represented a point of view that I’ve thus far been unable to articulate.

In Benjamin Franklin’s speech at the conclusion of the Constitutional Convention, he gave a speech that I think is particularly relevant now – in how we should think about our governing document.

Monday, September 17, 1787, was the last day of the Constitutional Convention. Pennsylvania delegate Benjamin Franklin, one of the few Americans of the time with international repute, wanted to give a short speech to the Convention prior to the signing of the final draft of the Constitution. Too weak to actually give the speech himself, he had fellow Pennsylvanian James Wilson deliver the speech. It is considered a masterpiece.

The following is as reported in Madison’s notes on the Convention for Monday, September 17, 1787

Mr. President

I confess that there are several parts of this constitution which I do not at present approve, but I am not sure I shall never approve them: For having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged by better information, or fuller consideration, to change opinions even on important subjects, which I once thought right, but found to be otherwise. It is therefore that the older I grow, the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment, and to pay more respect to the judgment of others. Most men indeed as well as most sects in Religion, think themselves in possession of all truth, and that wherever others differ from them it is so far error. Steele a Protestant in a Dedication tells the Pope, that the only difference between our Churches in their opinions of the certainty of their doctrines is, the Church of Rome is infallible and the Church of England is never in the wrong. But though many private persons think almost as highly of their own infallibility as of that of their sect, few express it so naturally as a certain french lady, who in a dispute with her sister, said “I don’t know how it happens, Sister but I meet with no body but myself, that’s always in the right — Il n’y a que moi qui a toujours raison.”

For full text, see: http://www.usconstitution.net/franklin.html