When I watch American Idol, or listen to many of the icons of our pop culture, what I hear is screaming, not singing, SCREAMING! It’s as if all the competition centers around who can wail the loudest and longest. The “song” is hard to understand as the words are elongated and screamed at you as if the “singer” has reached some high, unreachable note that only they can deliver. Not only are the lyrics unintelligible, but the cords are nauseating, and discomforting to listen to.
This was not and is still not the case with Jo Stafford. Her voice was perfect! Her intonation was perfect! The emotion that was conveyed and felt by the listener was unforgettable. When I was a kid growing up in the 50’s, I remember hearing “You Belong To Me” for the first time and falling in love with the song. It has been my favorite ever since, and I consider it a perfectly written and executed work of art. She, and other singers of her era such as Como, Crosby, and Munroe, evoke a time when we seemed more human than we are today. As a matter of fact, the movies produced prior to the development of the computer seemed to possess a better story line, and better acting. Much of the films today rely exclusively on the special 3D animation effects that are produced on a computer (story line be damned).
Jo Stafford died at the age of 90 in Century City. She was the voice listened to and loved by servicemen fighting in World War Two and Korea. The respect I have for that generation of Americans is untarnishable. I sometimes feel that I never belonged to the Baby Boom generation, but to the bygone era of Big Bands, Crooners, and love ballads. Today’s music doesn’t inspire me, and it doesn’t move me emotionally the way the music of yesteryear does. I have neither listen to nor really liked much of the music produced since the end of the 1980’s. However, I have all my favorites saved on my iPod, and these songs transport me back to a time and place that no longer exists.
I admit it. I thought I would be nominated the coolest mom in the world when I told my son that he and I were going to see Vampire Weekend at the Wiltern! This would be his first popular music concert. He's been to plenty of classical music concerts. I've taken him to Hollywood Bowl to hear the Philharmonic on the fourth of July. And, I'm sure we've been somewhere where some band was playing on some stage. But this time we would take actual tickets, stand in line and hope for a decent view of a band he loves. I was so proud of myself, so looking forward to it, I mentioned it to my co-anchor, Jeff Michael. He apparently knows what it's really like to be a cool parent. He gave me this mortified look and asked how my 14 year old felt about his mom taking him to a concert. Then, he said, can't you just drop him off with a friend? Darn it. I was really looking forward to this and now, I'm wondering if my son is just humoring me when he says, "no worries, Mom, I can't wait."
So now, I'm curious. What was your first concert experience like?
Gerry and Carmen became inseparable. Her little boy, Carlos, and Gerry hit it off very well. Gerry and Carmen were married nine months later, on June 25, 1994, at St. Monica's Church in Santa Monica.
Saint Monica Church in Santa Monica
They had a small wedding reception at Sabina's in Shangri-La, inviting Carmen's and Gerry's relatives and friends. Some of his musician buddies formed a combo and provided the music.
To everyone's surprise, Gerry converted to Catholicism before the wedding, something he did quietly on his own, without even a suggestion from Carmen. He knew it would make Carmen very happy, and it did.
Carmen followed her beliefs. She loved Gerry deeply, more and more every day, but she didn't sleep with him until their wedding night. Gerry was glad they waited, too, because he knew how much it meant to Carmen.
In early 1995, they rented their homes in Venice and Marina del Rey and bought a three-story Victorian house in Santa Monica near San Vicente Boulevard, not far from the ocean. Gerry's years of thriftiness and hard work paid off. He had saved more than enough for the down payment. The rents they collect cover the monthly mortgage payments and upkeep on the two houses and most of the mortgage payment on their new home.
Their home was built in 1892. Like other homes of that vintage in Santa Monica, the third floor was built as a ballroom with a magnificent wooden dance floor. The hardwood floor was still in good shape. Gerry converted the ballroom into his music room, adding soundproofing and a state-of-the-art stereo system. They sometimes gave parties in the ballroom. Their guests loved the great dance floor.
Gerry and Carmen had a son, Geraldo, in 1996 and a daughter, Maria, in 1999. Carmen left her full-time job with KCOP while she was pregnant with Geraldo to become a full-time mom, but she often works on special assignments on Mondays, Gerry's usual day off.
Their home is only a couple of blocks from the Santa Monica Steps, where Gerry and Carmen join many others early every morning going up and down. Gerry and Carmen take turns watching the kids as one of them walks down the steps and then climbs back up the roughly 400 steps! Each does this five times!
The beginning of the Santa Monica Steps....
Every year, Gerry and Carmen return to Shangri-La and Sabina's to celebrate their wedding anniversary. The lovely restaurant and hotel had worked its magic on them.
Gerry and Carmen never saw Renata or Lorii after the blowup at Shangri-La. After Lorii returned from her month-long video shoot, she left YogaWorks to teach at a yoga studio in Brentwood. Her video sales were slow, and her father had to sue the producers so Lorii could collect her $25,000 fee. They ended up settling for $4,000. Lorii continues to teach yoga in L.A. and has remained single. Renata left Los Angeles in 1995 to accept a full professorship at Indiana University. She oversees her parents' music store. Renata hired a full-time manager and two assistant managers to divide the work load, allowing her parents to retire. In 1999, she married a classics professor at Indiana.
In 2000, Marty West, the leader of the Nighthawks, passed away. He was 70 years old. Gerry was now 60. Marty's death hit Gerry very hard. They had been friends for more than 40 years. Gerry became aware of his own mortality more than ever before.
The band members asked Gerry to follow in Marty's footsteps. Gerry accepted. They recorded a CD, "Live from Mackay's: The Nighthawks," and dedicated it to Marty. It won a Grammy Award for best jazz CD of the year.
Elmer Bernstein and Gerry continued to work together on movie soundtracks and other projects.
Gerry felt blessed indeed. He thanked God every day for all he had given to him.
Carmen
Back In Your Own Backyard by Les Brown and His Band of Renown with Lucy Ann Polk
Gerry awoke about six o'clock Wednesday morning. He showered and shaved, put on clean sweat pants and a sweat shirt, and strapped on his wrist wallet. He left for the beach a few minutes before seven.
This week, he was only working three days at Sony Pictures: today, Thursday and Friday. Elmer Bernstein was making final touches to the movie soundtrack they had been working on for several weeks. Gerry was looking forward to being off for a little while. Elmer mentioned he had a new project coming up near the end of October and would call Gerry for it.
Gerry only had to wait a couple of minutes before he saw Carmen running toward him. She was really in great shape, Gerry thought, a vision in white sweats. Her long midnight black hair draped over her shoulders, caressing her light brown skin so very gently.
"Good to see you, Gerry," she smiled. She embraced and kissed him. "Are you working today?" she asked.
"Yes, over at Sony," Gerry replied, "but not until two o'clock, although I'd like to get there around 1:30 to set up."
"Well, then, I guess we have time for a leisurely morning and a nice breakfast," Carmen said.
"How about a walk to start off the day?" Gerry asked.
"Sure, Gerry," she said. "You'll never know who you'll meet along the boardwalk!"
Santa Monica Beach
They walked down to the Santa Monica Pier and beyond. "You know," Gerry said, "if we walk another mile or so, we could eat at Caruso's right on the beach."
"OK, Gerry. Sounds great!"
As they approached Caruso's, Gerry had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Oh! Oh! I don't think they're open, Carmen." When they reached the entrance, the sign read, "Open Daily 11-4."
"Oh, no," Carmen sighed. "I'm so hungry now."
Gerry laughed. "Don't worry, we can climb those steps on the cliff over there and go to that new restaurant, Sabina's, at Shangri-La."
They climbed the rickety steps to the top, pausing to enjoy the great ocean view. There was no fog this morning; it was sunny and clear but cold.
"Look!" Carmen said. "You can see down to Palos Verdes and up to Point Dume! That's the entire Santa Monica Bay! The sky is so clear! What a beautiful day!"
"It's fantastic, and being with you makes it even better," Gerry said.
They crossed Ocean Avenue at Arizona and entered Shangri-La. They walked down the hall to Sabina's. Before they knew it, they were seated.
Shangri-La in Santa Monica
"How do you like it here, Carmen?" Gerry asked.
"What a beautiful hotel and restaurant! Right out of the 1930s." Carmen answered.
"Well, it's certainly that," Gerry said. "Shangri-La was built in 1939. It has often won architectural awards because of its art deco design. And it has been kept up so well over the years. But until last year, when Sabina's opened, Shangri-La never had a restaurant. It's always been a fine hotel."
The waitress came by to take their order. They were in the middle of breakfast when it happened.
It was close to eight-thirty when Gerry saw them enter. Renata, Lorii and her father walked into the restaurant. The hostess seated them across the room, but Renata saw Gerry and Carmen and nudged Lorii. After they were seated, Renata and Lorii walked over to Gerry and Carmen.
"Hi, Gerry!" Lorii said. "Out for your morning walk? Looks like you wandered a little too far from home," she said, giving Carmen a dirty look. "We're here to celebrate! I'm going to do three yoga videos."
Gerry said, "Let me introduce you. Carmen, this is Lorii Kamin and Renata Thomas. They're cousins. And this is Carmen Castillo."
"Aren't you on that 11 o'clock newscast?" Lorii asked. "You know, the one that nobody watches?"
"Stop it, Lorii!" Gerry demanded. "Go back to your father's table. When you're ready, come back to apologize. Or, better yet, don't come back at all!"
"By the way, Gerry," Renata said, "forget about the note I sent you. I was just feeling blue when I wrote it. I'm sure you'll understand."
"What note was that?" Lorii demanded.
"She wanted to get together with me," Gerry said. "The note came in the mail yesterday. I've been too busy to answer it. Now there's no need."
Lorii gave Renata a dirty look. "I'll talk to you later!" she said to Renata.
"Well, Gerry, I guess you've decided to go south of the border for fun times in the sack," Lorii said to him. "Enjoy your little Chihuahua!"
Carmen had been quiet and composed, staring right through Lorii and then Renata as they talked. Lorii was talking loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear her. The hostess started walking over.
Suddenly Carmen stood up and faced them. "Enough! I don't know who you are, and I don't want to," Carmen said. "But if you know what's good for you, you'll get away from us now. And I mean now!"
Renata and Lorii glanced at each other. "Oh, we're really scared," Lorii said. In a flash, Carmen grabbed Lorii and forced both of her arms behind her back. Renata moved toward Carmen, but Carmen pushed her back and then walked Lorii out of the restaurant. Renata tried to go after them, but Gerry stopped her.
"Let them go!" Gerry said to Renata. "Lorii and you disgust me. Go back to your own table." She obeyed Gerry.
Carmen returned to the restaurant. "Let's finish our breakfast, Gerry," she said. After a few minutes, Lorii walked back inside. Her clothes were all dirty, and she had a black eye. She headed for her father's table and didn't look at Gerry and Carmen.
"Looks like she had an accident," Gerry smiled. "I'm really sorry you had to go through this, Carmen."
"Gerry," she said, "I've had to deal with bitches like them all of my life. Fortunately, my parents taught me how to take care of myself. They enrolled me in martial arts classes when I was six years old. I earned my black belt when I was seventeen. And I've been teaching self-defense classes at the Santa Monica YWCA for the past four years."
"Well, you certainly handled yourself very well!" he said. "They had no right to act the way they did."
"I don't want to know how you know them, Gerry. But if you like being with me, there's no room for those two," Carmen told him. "That's how it has to be."
Gerry paid the waitress and they left Sabina's. They decided to walk home along Ocean Avenue. Carmen held Gerry's arm tightly all the way.
After they entered Gerry's house, he made a pot of coffee. There were a few kolatchkies left from the other day. He offered them to Carmen, who loved them.
"These are super, Gerry! What did you call them?" she asked.
"Ko-latch-kies," he said. "They are a Czech-Polish pastry that you can only buy at one bakery in Southern California. It's called Pluska's, and it's out in Chatsworth. I'll take you there sometime."
"Let's go tomorrow!" Carmen said. "I bet Pluska's has great coffee cakes and bread, too!"
"Oh, they do!" he said. "We can go tomorrow morning."
"I can't wait," she said.
When it was time for Gerry to leave for Sony, he drove Carmen to her house.
"I'll stop by Mackay's after work tonight, Gerry," she said, "if that's OK with you."
Gerry left Carmen's about six o'clock so she could get ready for work. He walked along the boardwalk to Washington Boulevard, turned east to Pacific Avenue, then walked north to Rose Avenue, and finally headed home. In 25 minutes, he was there.
As he walked, he thought about the wonderful day he had spent with Carmen. She came on to him as sexy as she could be, but, in fact, she was restrained. Gerry admired her for being this way. He looked forward to seeing her later in the week. She told Gerry that her interview with him was set to air tonight. He looked forward to seeing her again.
Walking around Venice always intrigued him. The area between Venice and Washington Boulevards was built in the early 1900s and featured the canals for which the town became well-known. But Venice, California, was not Venice, Italy, not by any stretch of the imagination.
Many of the houses were built in the early decades of the 20th century. Some were Craftsmen homes, which people could order straight from the Sears Catalog and either build themselves or hire a contractor to build for them. These houses had held up well over the years, if the owners had taken care of them.
Others were built to serve as weekend beach homes for their owners. Their construction was flimsy at best. But for many years now, they have commanded high prices and high rents, in spite of their lousy construction. Gerry had his home built between two brick houses, just to be safe. He dreaded the day when Mrs. O'Leary's cow would knock over a lantern in Venice.
As he approached his house, he was grateful for the way it had been constructed. His architect was a boyhood friend from Hancock Park. They had stayed in touch over the years. Gerry trusted him. His friend didn't let him down when he designed his house.
He entered through the front gate and checked his mail once he was inside. Nothing special, he thought, until he saw a card from Renata. He hadn't seen her for a few days, and he really missed her.
Once inside, he poured a glass of lemonade Lorri had made the night before. She always did little things like that for him. Then he walked into his living room to read Renata's card.
"Dear Gerry," she wrote. "I didn't realize how much I would miss you. But I do. I'd like to talk everything over with you in person. Please call me as soon as you can." She signed it, "Love, Renata."
Gerry was tempted to call her right away, but he hesitated. He thought about his day with Carmen and how much he enjoyed himself simply being with her. She was sweet and loving. And she didn't entice him into her bed. She seemed elusive, mysterious, and he looked forward to seeing her again. Gerry decided to call Renata tomorrow or the next day.
Just before eleven o'clock, he turned on his TV and tuned in to KCOP. Carmen looked luscious, as she usually did. So did her co-anchor tonight, Keandra Oliana, the young Filipina-American from Hawaii who did the weather. Carmen usually had a male co-host, Rick, but Gerry never paid attention to his last name.
After the second commercial break, Keandra introduced Carmen's segment about Mackay's and the Nighthawks. Carmen talked about "the big bands coming back," then ran shots of the band and the dancers at Mackay's, followed by the interviews with Marty and Gerry. She wrapped up the segment by saying the Nighthawks were breathing new life into the old songs and that Angelenos were enjoying every minute of it. Carmen ran down quickly when the Nighthawks appeared at Mackay's.
"For a really fun night out," she said, "go to Mackay's and dance to the Nighthawks. You'll find the big bands aren't really coming back; they've never left! Just ask any of the Nighthawks!"
Then KCOP ran a few commercials. Keandra returned with the weather. Carmen did the sports segment. Keandra then joined her for the wrap up.
A few minutes later, Gerry's phone rang. "How'd you like it, Gerry?" Carmen asked.
"Man, what a great plug for us, Carmen. Thank you so much!" he said.
"I'm glad we did it. I wouldn't have met you if we hadn't," she said. "How about walking along the beach with me tomorrow morning?"
"I'd love to," Gerry said. "Why don't I meet you at seven o'clock on the bike path near Rose Avenue?"
"Cool!" she said.
Just Squeeze Me
by Les Brown and His Band of Renown
with Lucy Ann Polk
Gerry and Lorii spent a quiet, romantic afternoon and evening together. Before she left to teach her yoga class on Tuesday morning, she told Gerry she needed to do some errands and then she planned to have dinner with her father and Renata. She said she would call Gerry on Wednesday.
Gerry rose about seven o'clock and took his daily walk along the beach. On his way back, he saw Carmen Castillo running toward him. She smiled and slowed down as she approached him.
"Hi, Gerry," she said. "How are you today?
"I'm fine, Carmen," Gerry said. "I was planning to call you this morning."
"Sure, Gerry! Likely story!" she laughed.
"No, I mean it," he said. "I wanted to see if we could get together today."
"As a matter of fact," Carmen said, "I don't have to be at work until eight o'clock tonight. If you're free, Gerry, I'm yours until then...."
Gerry smiled. "How about if we begin with breakfast?"
"That'll be fine, Gerry," Carmen said. "I live in Marina del Rey about a mile down the beach. Let's walk to my place and I'll make you a breakfast you'll never forget!" she laughed as she took his arm.
Before he knew it, they were at Carmen's home, a beautiful two-story house right on the board walk. Like Gerry's place, it had an eight-foot high concrete-block fence around it. He saw a sign on the wall saying the property was protected by Culver Security, the same company he used.
As they went inside, Gerry asked if her son was at school. "No," she said. "He's on vacation this week with his father. They are visiting some of his relatives in Mexico."
She gave Gerry a quick tour of her house, and then they went to the kitchen. Carmen told Gerry to sit at the table while she made breakfast. She was wearing black bike shorts, tennis shoes, and a loose-fitting white top hanging low off her left shoulder, revealing just how well-endowed she was. They talked while she made breakfast.
"I hope you like my cooking, Gerry. It's nothing fancy, just things I learned from my mother when I was growing up."
In a few minutes, she placed their plates on the table, Spanish omelets with lightly seasoned fried potatoes, bacon, and raisin-bread toast.
"This is a great breakfast," Gerry said after a few bites "Fabulous!"
"I'm glad you like it, Gerry."
"Were you born in L.A.?" Gerry asked her.
"Yes," she said. "Actually, in East L.A. My parents were school teachers. When I was five years old, we moved to Pasadena. They still live there."
"You know, I've only been to Pasadena a few times, and only once or twice to East L.A. Would you show them to me sometime?" Gerry asked her.
"I'd be glad to, Gerry," Carmen said. "My favorite pizza place is still in East L.A., so that would be a good place to begin. Pasadena is only a few miles away, but it is another world."
"How did you get into broadcasting, Carmen?"
"I studied journalism at USC, specializing in radio and television. I stayed on to earn a master's degree. In the winter quarter of my second year, companies came to campus to interview us for jobs. I was very lucky, one of only three Latinas in my class. KCOP made me a very nice offer, and I really wanted to stay in L.A.
"That was only six years ago. So much has happened since then. My ex-husband and I married in 1988, and we divorced two years later, a year after Carlos was born. He's four-years-old already. That's hard for me to believe! Where does the time go, Gerry?"
He laughed. "Oh, it goes, Carmen, it sure does," he said. "You made me laugh because I have an uncle in his mid 60s who always asks the same question. So its funny hearing it from someone as young as you."
"You think I'm young, Gerry?" she smiled.
Carmen
"Oh, yes, and so incredibly beautiful, too," he said.
"I should tell you right away, Gerry, that I am not promiscuous," Carmen said. "I'd love to sleep with you, in time, but it's not going to happen right away, and certainly not today. I'll really have to feel close to you to have sex with you. I hope that doesn't upset you."
He was surprised, but he admired Carmen for her values. "Carmen, I respect you for being so upfront about it," he said, "I want to get to know you, and I'd like to take time doing that, if that's OK with you."
"That's perfect, Gerry!" Carmen said. She rose from the table, walked over to Gerry and kissed him on the cheek. "Just perfect!"
After breakfast, Carmen rinsed the dishes and pans, placed them into her dishwasher, added detergent, and turned it on. "Would you like some more coffee, Gerry? We can sit in the living room."
They spent a quiet day watching movies. Carmen snuggled closely to Gerry. She was very affectionate. Gerry knew she had wrapped him around her little finger.
Amapola
by Benny Goodman and His Orchestra
with Helen Forrest
Monday morning. Lorii was in the shower. Gerry was sound asleep. Lorii dressed, kissed Gerry softly and whispered, "See you later, Gerry." He didn't hear her.
Gerry slept until almost noon. When he awoke, he realized it was Monday, the one day of the week when he didn't work. "So I slept in," he thought. "Big deal! I'm entitled. I worked until one o’clock this morning."
Lorii didn't come back to his place after she taught her yoga class. Gerry phoned her. "Hi, Lorii," he said. "What are you doing today?"
"I was going to stop by in a little while to make lunch for you, Gerry. I have a surprise." she said. "I thought we would spend the day together."
"Sounds fine," Gerry said.
Gerry had no idea of what her surprise might be, but he looked forward to finding out. He took a shower, shaved, and dressed. On her way out earlier that morning, Lorii picked up the paper for him and placed it on his breakfast table. No sooner had he sat down to read it when she arrived.
Lorii hugged and kissed him, then held onto him for a couple of minutes. Finally, she handed him the bag.
"Here's your surprise, Gerry," she said.
Gerry knew from the aroma that Lorii had bought a bunch of kolatchkies, a pastry his mother and grandmothers loved to bake when he was a boy. Kolatchkies are small sweet rolls, usually about two-inches wide, sometimes round, sometimes square and folded over, with a lemon, prune, apricot, or cheese filling, and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Gerry only knew one place to buy them in Southern California, Pluska's, a Polish bakery in Chatsworth, about 20 miles from Venice, out in the San Fernando Valley. Lorri drove out there after Ted's ten o'clock yoga class.
"Terrific!" Gerry said. He placed some on a plate and offered one to Lorii. Then Gerry had one. "These are delicious," he added. "They really hit the spot! Thank you so much, Lorii!"
Gerry poured coffee for both of them while Lorii placed some kolatchkies on a plate. They took their mugs and the plate onto his balcony overlooking his backyard.
"I'll make you something in a few minutes," Lorii said. "I knew you would like the kolatchkies." After a minute, she asked, "Do you remember your grandparents, Gerry?"
"I have very fond, warm memories of my father's parents," Gerry said, "but my mother's parents died when I was little, so I don't remember them very well." Gerry told her that he remembered his father's parents listening to the BBC on their old Grundig-Majestic shortwave radio every night during World War Two for news about Prague, where they had been born and raised, and about other cities in Czechoslovakia. They worried about and prayed for their cousins and other family members still living in Czechoslovakia. They died in the 1960s.
"There weren't too many Czechs living in L.A. Most had settled in Chicago after the First and Second World Wars, and some had settled in Iowa. Both pairs of Gerry's grandparents were born in Prague in the 1880s and immigrated to the United States in the early 1900s, settling in Los Angeles. They met at Sokol-Tabor, a Bohemian social club.
"My parents, born during the First World War, became musicians and found plenty of work here during the late 1930s and 1940s. My mother was a cellist with the Los Angeles Symphony and my father worked for the recording and movie studios, just as I would do one day. They met in 1937 at a mutual friend’s wedding.
"By the time I entered the picture in 1940, my parents barely had any accent at all. They sometimes spoke Czech to one another, but they only spoke English around me. I learned a few Czech words while I was growing up, such as "kolatchkies," but my parents really wanted me to think of myself as an American who happened to be of Czech background, just as they thought of themselves.
"I remember my grandparents telling me that Prague was a beautiful city. I've read about it over the years, and I've seen some travelogues about it on TV. I'd love to visit it someday. I still have relatives there, and I'd like to meet them."
"Will you take me with you, Gerry? I'd love to meet your relatives there and see Prague with you," Lorii asked.
"Maybe we can do that sometime, Lorii. I'd like to take you there."
Lorii smiled. "Are you still hungry, Gerry? I'm famished. How about if I made us breakfast?"
Gerry smiled, "Maybe in a little while. Come here for a minute...."
Going Home
from Anton Dvorak's New World Symphony
performed by Captain Glenn Miller and his Army Air Force Orchestra
The second number was Glenn Miller's extended arrangement of Song of the Volga Boatmen.
Song of the Volga Boatmen
by Glenn Miller and His Orchestra
Gerry and the other musicians enjoyed playing these arrangements because they were crafted so well in the first place. Bill Finegan, for example, had arranged Volga Boatmen for Glenn Miller. He was a young man then; in fact, Miller's musicians were all in their early or mid-20s in 1939-1942, when Miller's civilian band was so popular. When Gerry met and worked with most of them in the late 1950s and 1960s, they were only in their 40s. Billy May, another Miller alum, often hired them for recording dates at Capitol Records.
Anyone visiting Mackay's for the first time would have thought they had entered a time warp. Many of the dancers and customers wore vintage clothing from the 1930s and 1940s they had picked up at used clothing shops around L.A. Some even wore uniforms. And sometimes, real soldiers and sailors stopped by, too. Mackay's had the flavor of a World War Two USO canteen. The members of the Nighthawks wore their usual dark blue suits, white shirts, and black ties. On rare occasions, they wore tuxedos. The music the Nighthawks played capped off Mackay's nostalgic ambiance.
Before he knew it, the first set ended. Gerry went outside with the other band members. He liked being a musician and working with other musicians. They loved to tell jokes, especially musicians jokes, which tended to be a little twisted, often too hip for non-musicians to get.
Marty gave the five-minute warning signal on his trumpet, and they headed back to the band stand. Marty called out the charts for the next set, all uptempo numbers. They would add some ballads in the third set, but now he wanted to keep the swing dancers happy. They began with a few Gene Krupa charts.
The third set changed the mood, adding a romantic element. One of the most requested aongs was At Last, which became hugely popular in 1988 because Etta James' recording of it was used in the Dustin Hoffman-Tom Cruise movie, Rainman. Most people didn't even know that this song was originally made famous by Glenn Miller 50 years earlier or that Etta James actually recorded it for her first album on the Chess label in 1960. The Nighthawks played an extended version of At Last by Glenn Miller; the audience loved it!
As the third set ended, Gerry saw Lorii smiling at him from the side of the dance floor. He was glad she was there and walked over to her. They hugged and kissed.
"I'm so glad to see you," Lorri said to him. "I've really missed you." She told him about spending her day with her father. "I always love seeing him," she said. "We always have fun. But during dinner tonight, I noticed he seemed sad about something. When I asked him about it, he admitted that his marriage was falling apart."
Diane worked on the news assignment desk at KCBS-TV. She loved her job. It required long, often sporadic hours. She never knew when she would get off work. Bob and Diane had been married for four years. He was 20 years older than she was. Gerry thought about this from time to time, because he was 20 years older than Lorii and Renata.
"Daddy said that Diane told him this morning she thought it was time for them to go their separate ways," Lorii said. "Daddy agreed, because he hasn't been happy being with her for a long time now. He's moving tomorrow to a condo he owns in Marina del Rey."
"You mean it's empty?" Gerry asked.
"The last tenant moved out three months ago," Lorii explained. "Daddy suspected his marriage wouldn't last much longer, so he decided not to rent the condo. He had it re-painted, he replaced the carpeting, and he had it cleaned from top to bottom. It's a large, three-bedroom condo on the Marina. He even bought new furniture for it, and he has some furniture and furnishings in storage from when he was married to my mother."
Marty gave the five-minute warning for the last set. "I have to go up," Gerry said. "We'll talk more later." He kissed Lorii and returned to the bandstand.
Marty called out the charts for the last set, a few up tempo numbers wrapped around five or six ballads, which the dancers always loved this time of evening. The last set went fast. Gerry packed his instruments while Lorii waited for him. He followed her back to his place.
Gerry arrived home about 1:30 early Sunday morning. He poured himself a Coke, sat in his easy chair in the living room, and turned on his TV set. He flipped through the channels, looking for a movie about to begin.
The Hollywood Canteen was just beginning, featuring a large cast of Warner Brothers contract players. Gerry liked old movies. This one was made in 1944 and featured Joan Leslie, one of his favorite actresses from days gone by. He remembered her from Yankee Doodle Dandy.
Gerry became engrossed by The Hollywood Canteen. He loved the opening number by Jimmy Dorsey and his Orchestra. There was a great song and dance number by Jane Wyman and Jack Carson, a favorite of Gerry's when he was little. One scene in the film was shot outdoors at the Farmers' Market on Third and Fairfax, not far from Gerry's old home. He got a real kick seeing it in the film.
Gerry fell asleep near the end of the movie. He woke up at daybreak and went to bed. He was going to sleep in this morning.
The phone rang. At first, Gerry didn't know where he was or what day it was. The phone rang again. He looked at this clock radio. It was a few minutes passed eleven. Gerry answered the phone.
"Hi, Gerry! It's Lorii! I'm going to spend the day with my father. I hope you don't mind."
"Sure, Lorii. Have a good time. Tell him I said 'Hi.' I think I'll stick around here today and just loaf. Will I see you later?"
"Probably not. My dad wants to take me out for dinner tonight," she said. "But I'll definitely see you in class tomorrow morning."
"OK," Gerry said. Then they hung up.
Gerry got up, slipped on an old pair of Levi's, a sweatshirt, and his tennis shoes. Then he went into his front yard and picked up the L.A. Times from the newspaper rack by his mailbox on the inside of his front wall. He went back inside, made breakfast, and read through the Calendar section of the paper.
Gerry thought about The Hollywood Canteen again. He liked that movie. It was great that Bette Davis and John Garfield organized the real Hollywood Canteen during the war. John Garfield had been one of his favorite actors when Gerry was a boy. He remembered feeling sad when his father told him that John Garfield had died in 1952. Garfield was only 39.
Now it was almost two o'clock. Gerry went for a walk. He loved walking along the beach to Pico Boulevard and then back to Main Street, little more than a mile north of Rose Avenue. He took his time walking home along Main, stopping at shops that caught his eye. Before he knew it, he was home. Time to practice.
Lorii called him around five o'clock. "Gerry, would you like me to meet you tonight at Mackay's?" she asked. "I could come by after I visit with my father, say around 11 o'clock. I miss being with you."
"That would be terrific, Lorii," Gerry said. "I've been restless all day, and I miss you, too."
After her call, Gerry resumed practicing. Then he stopped to make a salad for dinner. Before he knew it, it was eight o’clock, time to go to Mackay’s. The Sunday night crowds were often the liveliest of the whole week. He liked playing with the Nighthawks.
When he arrived at Mackay's, he set up his instruments. Marty walked over to him. "What shall we play tonight, Gerry? Any preferences?"
"You know, Marty, I watched The Hollywood Canteen on TV last night," Gerry said. "Why don't we play music from the 1940s, from the war years tonight? We haven't done just that for a long time. And let's use some of our extended arrangements, too. I think the dancers will love it."
"That's fine with me, Gerry," Marty said. "I'll help you pull out the charts."
At nine o'clock sharp, the band hit with their extended arrangement of Tommy Dorsey's Opus One. They followed it with Glenn Miller's version of Song of the Volga Boatmen. The crowd loved it!
Opus No. One
by Ralph Burns and His Orchestra
from New York, New York (1977)
The Nighthawks were in their third set at Mackay's. The club was packed. Dancers jammed the floor. The band was swingin'.
A crew from KCOP (Ch. 13) was videotaping the dancers and the band. Their sound engineer plugged into the band's state-of-the-art audio system. "This sounds great," he said. "Wait until you hear it on your own TV!"
From time to time, other TV crews and people in the media did stories about Mackay's or the Nighthawks. All too often, they used the same theme, "The Big Bands Are Back." Gerry and the other musicians in the band always laughed whenever this happened. They had been playing in big bands most of their lives. For them, the big bands had never gone away.
After the third set, KCOP reporter Carmen Castillo interviewed Marty West, the Nighthawks leader. They talked for awhile, and then Marty suggested she talk to Gerry as well.
Carmen Castillo was one of the best-looking newscasters in L.A. or anywhere, Gerry thought. Unlike most rail-thin female newscasters, Carmen had a great body. Because Gerry often worked at night, he seldom saw her on the 11 o'clock news, but he often saw her on KTTV's "Good Day L.A." during the 9 to 10 a.m. slot. He knew Carmen was divorced and had a young son. Gerry guessed she was in her late 20s.
Carmen
KCOP's sound engineer put a mike on Gerry's shirt, then tested the sound levels. "OK, Carmen, we're all set." he said.
"This is Carmen Castillo. We're at Mackay's in Brentwood tonight. We're talking with Gerry Pollack, a veteran Los Angeles musician who plays tenor and alto saxes and also clarinet with the Nighthawks."
"Gerry, are you a native of Los Angeles?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered. "I was raised in Hancock Park and attended Loyola High School. I started playing alto sax when I was eight years old."
"Did your parents want you to play sax?" she asked.
"Oh, no!" Gerry said. "My parents wanted me to study piano, but I preferred sax. Later, in high school, I also learned how to play tenor sax and clarinet. And piano, but I'm not a very good pianist. I use it mainly for composing and arranging."
"How old were you when you began playing professionally?" she asked.
"Sixteen. I joined the union on my sixteenth birthday," Gerry said. "My music teacher, Manny Katz, was a friend of Billy May, the musical director at Capitol Records over on Sunset and Vine. He arranged for me to audition for Billy--and Frank Sinatra, with whom Billy was recording several albums."
"How did it go?" Carmen asked.
"Well, Billy had me rehearse with the sax section for an hour," Gerry said. "I was really nervous, but the musicians worked with me, suggesting different things as we went along. They told Billy I played very well. He said to come back on Monday to go to work. And I did."
"Say, are you on those great Capitol sessions Sinatra recorded in the mid-1950s?" she asked.
"I'm on some of them," Gerry answered. "One of the first songs I recorded with him was "Witchcraft."
"Do you ever see Frank Sinatra these days," Carmen asked.
"Yes, I saw him Tuesday night at Matteo’s Restaurant."
Carmen asked him about others with whom he had worked over the years. Gerry gave her a "Who's Who" in jazz.
"You love what you do, don't you, Gerry?" she asked.
"Oh, absolutely," he said. "I've lived a very blessed life. I thank God everyday for all he has given me--and still gives me."
Then Carmen surprised him: "Are you married?"
"No," Gerry said. "I haven't been blessed that way, but I haven't given up hope. Maybe someday...."
"Anyone waiting in the wings for you," she kidded.
"Maybe," Gerry smiled.
"Do you have any advice for aspiring musicians watching tonight?" she asked.
"Practice, practice, practice!" he said. "I've been playing for a long time, and I still practice an hour every day. Everyone in this band does the same thing. You have to!"
"Thank you, Gerry Pollack. It's been wonderful talking with you."
"Thank you, Carmen. Come back again!" Gerry said.
"That's a wrap," her producer said.
Carmen chatted with Gerry for a few minutes. As she was leaving, she gave Gerry her card. "My home number is on the back, Gerry. Let's go out sometime--sometime soon."
It took Renata about 30 minutes to walk home from Louise's on Melrose Avenue. She cried all the way. Gerry had hurt her deeply. She really liked him, and she thought she could trust him.
As she walked, she realized that she only had one real date with Gerry, when they went to Matteo's on Tuesday night. "I don't have any claim on him," she thought. Her cousin, Lorii, had known him for a couple of years. "If anyone has a claim on Gerry, Lorii's the one," she said to herself. Renata also felt justified in telling Gerry she wouldn't share him with anyone. That was her right. Now she missed Gerry.
As soon as she arrived home, she phoned Lynette Fournier at Gallimaufry. "Lynette, this is Renata. I've changed my mind about the red dress. I hope you haven't made any alterations on it."
"Oh, it's all finished," Lynette said. "I was hoping you would pick it up this afternoon."
"Well, in that case, I will, Lynette. It really is a beautiful dress."
A little later, Renata drove over to pick up her new dress. She tried it on again, and she loved how it fit her. "It shows off your beautiful body in all of the right places," Lynette said. "I'm sure Gerry will love it on you," she added.
"I hope so," Renata said. She didn't say anything about Gerry.
As she drove home, Renata looked forward to a quiet, relaxing evening. She parked in her driveway and went inside.
Around six o'clock, her phone rang. "Renata, it’s Lorii. I'm so sorry.... Can I come over and talk with you?
Renata balked, but then she said, "OK, Lorii, come on over."
Lorri called Renata soon after Gerry told her what had happened. Gerry was getting ready to go to Mackay's for his Saturday night gig. Lorri arrived at Renata's in half an hour. Renata buzzed her inside.
Lorii was crying her eyes out. "I'm so sorry, Renata. I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just that Gerry means so much to me. After he spent the night with you, I didn't want to let go of him again. You made me realize how much I love him." Lorii was unable to stop sobbing. Renata tried to console her. She hugged Lorii.
"Don't worry, every thing's going to be alright, Lorii," Renata said. You and I will always be cousins. Let's never forget that. I didn't know how just much Gerry meant to you until today. When he told me that the two of you had been together for the past few days, I was angry at first, jealous, hurt.
"Later, as I walked home, I realized that when Gerry told me about the two of you, he wasn't trying to hurt me but simply telling me how much he loved you. He really does, you know."
They talked for a couple of hours, not only about Gerry, but also about themselves and their lives. They were so different and so much alike.
"Lorii, do you remember Tom Jarolim, the fella I dated for awhile when we were at Bryn Mawr?"
"Yes, of course," Lorii said. "I dated him, too."
"Well, that's what I'm getting at," Renata said. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to date the same man. Now, I met Gerry quite by accident on Sunday. I didn't even know he knew you. You had never mentioned him to me, even though we talk all the time. When you went out with Tom, you knew I was dating him. When you found out I was dating Gerry, you turned the heat up. I'm not saying you don't love him, which I believe you do. I'm just suggesting that more might be going on here."
"It's not that complicated, Renata," Lorii said. "I really love Gerry."
They talked a little while longer. It was getting late. Lorii decided to go home. "I'll walk you down to your car," Renata told her. When they reached her car, they hugged.
Gerry pulled into Renata's driveway just before eleven on Saturday morning. He looked forward to seeing her, but the new intensity of his relationship with Lorii was troubling him to no end.
He got out of his car. Renata's landlady said "Good Morning" to him when he entered the house. "She's waiting for you," she said. "Thank you," Gerry replied. He pressed Renata's doorbell. "C'mon up, Gerry," she said.
Renata was wearing her new black slacks and a new black top. "You look terrific, Renata," Gerry said. "How shall we spend our Saturday," he asked her.
"Shopping!" Renata answered. "Let's drive over to Melrose Avenue and walk around.
"Fine," Gerry said. "We could stop for brunch, too."
"Great!"
Melrose Avenue offers a mile-long stretch of small shops running west from La Brea. It is an area reminiscent of Chicago's Old Town, partly because some of the early shop owners were transplanted from there.
Gallimaufry was a dress shop owned by Lynette Fournier, who had a similar store in Old Town during the 1960s but closed it around 1970 and she moved to L.A. She opened her new store on Melrose Avenue in 1971. Lynette and her two assistants made every dress by hand. She charged handsomely for her creations.
Renata and Gerry parked down a side street around the corner from Gallimaufry. Renata noticed the parking sign and said, "We have to be back in two hours, Gerry. The meter maids keep very busy around here. It's 11:30 now."
Lynette said "Hi" to Renata and Gerry when they entered her shop. Renata had been there many times before. She introduced Gerry. "Hi, Gerry," Lynette said. "Welcome to Gallimaufry!"
It was a small shop, with tiny pieces of different fabrics scattered around the floor. Lynette's assistants operated sewing machines across from one another on either side of the store. There were two small dressing rooms behind them. Lynette's office and work area was in the rear.
Lynette showed Renata a few of her newer dresses. Renata tried them on. She liked a red creation. "Try it on, Renata," Lynette said. "I think it will look good on you." Renata loved it. "How do you like it, Gerry?" Lynette asked.
"That is HOT!" he said. "Reminds me of an old blues song, High-Heel Sneakers," he said. "Put on your red dress, baby, 'cause we're goin' out to night!"
"How do I look, Gerry?"
"Very, very sexy!" Gerry said. "You remind me of that girl in the opening scene of Born in East L.A."
Lynette laughed. "Renata would look sexy in anything," she said.
"OK, I'll take it." Renata said. "When can I pick it up?"
"Oh, there isn't much to do. Let me mark a couple of things. You can come by for it in an hour or so."
"Terrific," Renata said. "We'll stop back later."
"Nice meeting you," Gerry said, as they left the store.
"See you later, Gerry!" Lynette said.
They walked along Melrose for awhile, stopping to visit a few other shops. They walked back toward the side street where they had parked. It was near Louise's Trattoria. "Let's eat here, Gerry," Renata suggested.
Louise's was a chain throughout L.A. Gerry wasn't crazy about it, because their quality and service varied from one location to the next.
Gerry reluctantly began telling Renata about his feelings toward her and toward Lorii. Renata listened and stared at him. When he finished, she sat silently for a couple of minutes. Finally, she spoke.
"Gerry, you can't have it both ways. If you want to sleep with her, you can't sleep with me. Period! It's that simple. I won't have it any other way," Renata said.
"I thought this might happen," she continued. "I love Lorii. And I understand the two of you have been friends for a long time. But I won't share you with her, Gerry. And that's final!"
Renata was angry, but she kept cool. "Gerry, I'm going home--by myself. I'll walk it. Think this over for awhile. If you decide you can accept how I feel, call me. If not, well...."
She rose from the table and left. Gerry watched her walk down Melrose until she disappeared from his view. He felt awful. The waiter came by and asked if he wished to order. "Just bring me a shot of Jack Daniels--a double," Gerry said.
"I'm sorry, sir," the waiter said. "You'll have to order something from the food menu if you wish to sit here. You can move to our bar, of course."
"I understand," Gerry said. He skipped having a drink and left.
Gerry drove back home. He thought about the week, about Renata, about Lorii, about himself. There was only one thing to do. He locked up, walked down to Main Street and crossed Rose Avenue. He waited for the first bus to Santa Monica.
As he waited, he thought about the movie crew that had been working at this corner a few months earlier. One morning as he left for his walk, Gerry watched them blow up a bus at this very stop. A production assistant told him the movie was called Speed and starred Keanu Reeves and Dennis Hopper. Gerry knew Dennis, who lived only a few blocks away in a building that was as much of a fortress as Gerry's home.
A few minutes passed before the No. 33 bus came by. Gerry climbed aboard and dropped his fare in the box. He preferred taking the bus to Santa Monica rather than driving because parking was so difficult. The lots were often full. The bus would take him there quickly, they ran often, and he wouldn't have to worry about parking.
Fifteen minutes later, the bus stopped at Second Street and Santa Monica Boulevard. Gerry got off. He walked a block east to the Third Street Promenade. There were three theaters within the block. He looked at the names of the movies they were showing. The Pelican Brief caught his attention. He liked Julia Roberts. The next showing was in an hour and 15 minutes. He walked down to Gaucho and had lunch. It was part of another L.A. restaurant chain, offering dishes with an Argentinean flair. Many of its employees were from Argentina. Gerry ordered a Gaucho Chicken Salad.
He noticed several tables had eight or more people. Gerry couldn't recall the last time he went to a restaurant with so many people.
Gerry thought about his boyhood. He and his parents, his grandparents, his aunts and uncles, and his cousins always went out for dinner together on Mother's Day. On Thanksgiving and Christmas, Gerry and his parents usually had dinner at their home, always inviting the family and some friends and neighbors.
That was at mid-century. The 1940s and 1950s were very happy times for Gerry. He and his parents lived in a nice home in Hancock Park. Most of his relatives lived nearby, but a few moved to the Valley doing the postwar building boom. His grandparents on both sides lived in the Fairfax neighborhood, where they raised Gerry's parents, not far from where Renata lived today.
Gerry's father died in 1957, four months after Gerry's 16th birthday. His father fought a losing battle with cancer for three years. He was only a month shy of his 47th birthday when he died. They had been very close. His mother died from a heart attack in 1966. She was only 50 years old. Gerry was devastated when they died. He loved his parents and, to this day, Gerry felt fate had robbed him by taking his parents when they, and he, were so young.
Gerry stayed living at their home in Hancock Park. It was a big place, however, and he didn't like all of the work required to maintain it. Finally, in 1969, he put it on the market. To this day, Gerry wasn't sure if he made the right decision when he sold it. Whenever he drove by it, he longed to go inside. But he never did.
"Would you like anything else?" the waitress asked him. "No, thank you, just the check, please." He was surprised to see he had eaten his entire salad while thinking about days gone by.
He paid the check and walked down to see The Pelican Brief. It was a long movie, and Gerry dozed off for 20 minutes or so several times. When it was over, he really had no idea of what it had been all about. It reminded him of when he saw Three Days of the Condor some years earlier. "I should rent the video of that film," Gerry said to himself. “And I shouldn’t have a big meal just before I go to the movies or watch videos! It never fails....”
Gerry walked over to Ocean Avenue to wait for the bus. Before he knew it, he was home.
Chelsea Bridge
by Duke Ellington and His Orchestra
Lorii returned to her own apartment early Saturday morning after spending most of the week at Gerry's place. She really loved him, and she really loved making love with him. Now her cousin, Renata, was in the picture. Lorii simply didn't think her bookish cousin was any match for her. It wasn't the first time Lorii underestimated Renata; it wouldn't be the last.
When she arrived home, the first thing she did was open the windows in every room. Lorii loved fresh, ocean air, even while it was foggy. She lived a few blocks west of YogaWorks, on 14th Street, a block north of Montana Street.
She was one of the lucky ones who had a rent-controlled apartment. She only paid $400 per month for a two-bedroom apartment that would cost three times that amount anywhere else on the westside. Lorii was lucky to have found it. One of her yoga students was getting married and needed to sublet her apartment. Lorii leaped at the chance. Her father hired a cleaning crew and painters to spruce up the place. Then he sent in an interior decorator to help Lorii furnish it. Within a few weeks, Lorii's new apartment looked great.
Her father also hired the cleaning crew to come by Lorri's place on Saturday mornings at nine o'clock for three hours. They cleaned everything and even washed her clothes. Lorii's father had given her a vertical washer-dryer combo when she moved in. There was a space for it in a small nook just off the kitchen.
Lorii made a pitcher of iced tea, sat down in an easy chair on her screened-in back porch, and went through her mail. There were a couple of bills, which Lorii would give to her father. His accountant took care of these things for Lorii. She browsed through her new yoga magazines.
Then she opened a letter from a video company. Summa Video wanted to feature Lorii in a new series of yoga videos. They were offering her $25,000 for the series of three tapes. It would take about a month of her time. The tapes would be shot at the Summa Video studios in Los Angeles and on location near Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Lorii phoned her father. "Hi, Daddy! How are you?" He told her that he saw Renata yesterday and had dinner with her at Nate-N-Al’s.
“She’s falling for Gerry, Lorii,” he said. “I had always hoped Gerry and you would get together.”
“Well, Daddy, as a matter of fact, I’ve been with Gerry most of this week,” Lorii told her father. “I know he’s going to see Renata this afternoon. But I’m really not worried about her taking Gerry away from me.”
“You know I wish you only the best, Lorii,” her father said.
Lorii told her father about the letter from Summa Video. “Fax it to me,” he said. “I’ll have my guys check them out on Monday. The money sounds low to me. My guess is that’s their opening offer. But we’ll know more after we check them out.”
“OK, Daddy,” Lorii said. “I’ll fax it to your right now. I love you, Daddy. Bye.”
She went to her small office area in her second bedroom and faxed the letter from Summa Video to her father.
Lorii noticed the red message light was blinking on her answering machine. She listened to several messages. A couple of her students were inquiring about private lessons. Lorri was very careful about accepting students for private lessons. Usually, they were men in their 30s or 40s who wanted to sleep with her. For a couple of years, Lorri made an exception. She gave a man lessons in his home every morning at five o’clock. He was an executive at Paramount. He finally moved to New York City. Lorri preferred teaching classes; they were safer and often paid better.
Then Lorii listened to Gerry’s message:
“Hi, Lorii! It’s Gerry. I just wanted you to know how much I enjoyed spending time with you this week, especially the last couple of days. I’m really torn now between Renata and you. In fact, it’s tearing me apart. I don’t want to hurt either of you. I’ll let you know later how things go with Renata today.”
Lorii thought back to the first time she met Gerry three years ago. He was a new student at YogaWorks. He enrolled in Lorii’s beginning class, which she then taught at seven o’clock on Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday evenings. It was a 13-week class that YogaWorks offered at a special price to attract new students.
Not only did she know how to teach yoga, always making her students, men and women, feel comfortable and confident, but Lorii also became their friend. She genuinely liked people, and her students genuinely liked her.
Gerry was very awkward at first. He was about 50, while most of the students were in their 20s and early 30s. Gerry was physically rigid and not in the best shape.
After his first class, Gerry thanked Lorii for the lesson. “I’m not sure I’ll be back,” he said. “This is all so new to me. But I like how you teach, Lorii.”
“Oh, don’t give up!” she said. “You did fine tonight. Just remember that everyone in this class moves at their own pace. There are no bars you have to reach. Just stay with it.”
Gerry listened to Lorii’s advice and followed it. He was one of the first to arrive for her next class.
“I’m really glad you came back,” Lorii told him when she saw him waiting outside the classroom.
“I’m glad I came back, too,” Gerry said. “You talked me into it!”
“Just remember, Gerry,” Lorii said, “to go along at your own pace. When you have questions or need my help, I’ll always be here for you.” Then Lorii gave Gerry a big hug and kissed him on the cheek. "You'll be fine, Gerry. I promise."
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were Renata's busiest days at UCLA. She taught one undergraduate class at nine and another at eleven. At three o'clock on Mondays and Wednesdays, she taught a graduate seminar. She also served as an adviser to six master's candidates and two doctoral candidates, meeting with each of them at least once every two weeks on Tuesday mornings. Renata kept them busy.
Her students considered Renata a tough teacher. She made them work hard, very hard. "I want you to get your money's worth," she told her classes and students at the beginning of each quarter.
She worked on her second book of poetry whenever she could. When Gerry called her on Tuesday night to invite her out on Saturday afternoon and evening, she didn't think twice about seeing him again. Renata really liked him. She found Gerry inspiring.
On Friday afternoon, Renata left campus around two o'clock after a leisurely lunch with a couple of her colleagues in the faculty club. As she was driving home along Wilshire Boulevard, she decided to shop on Rodeo Drive, so she turned east on Santa Monica Boulevard. A few minutes later, she parked in the public lot along Santa Monica Boulevard at Rodeo Drive. It was cheaper than parking in any of the lots along Rodeo or Beverly Drive.
She walked down Rodeo and turned right on Little Santa Monica Boulevard, noticing the window displays at Boul Mich, a pricey women's store. Once she asked a Boul Mich salesgirl if she had ever been on the real Boul Mich. "No," the salesgirl said, "I didn't know there was one." Another time a different salesgirl answered the same question by saying, "No, I've never been to Paris." Renata wondered why the owners of Boul Mich didn't teach their employees that "Boul Mich" was a nickname for Michigan Boulevard in Chicago. "Maybe they don't even know," she said to herself. "Maybe they came across the name in a magazine and never even considered it was a real place...."
Renata rented a mailbox in the entrance to the Artists Building, a few feet west of the corner. The entrance door was always locked. Lorii's father, Bob Kamin, rented an office on the second floor. He arranged for Renata to have her own mailbox and gave her a key to the entrance door. "It's more private and a lot safer than having mail sent to your home address, especially if you have a nosy landlady!" he told her. She only had utility bills sent to her home address; she arranged for her royalty checks, manuscript communications, and other personal mail to be sent to the Artists Building. She stopped by two or three times a week to check her mail.
She always looked at the Directory in the lobby. Some of Hollywood's top screenwriters, including her uncle, had offices there. So did some well-known actors and actresses. The offices ran along the second floor down the length of the building for half a block to the alley.
Bob Kamin usually wrote at home or at the studios, but sometimes he wrote in his office. The main reason he kept the office was for meetings with agents, producers, directors, actors and actresses, and studio reps. His secretary, Robin Galajian, was there everyday, always able to reach him whenever necessary. She had worked for Bob for 22 years.
After Renata picked up her mail, she stopped by to see her uncle.
"Hi, Robin," she said as she entered the outer office. "Is my uncle here?"
"Yes, he is," Ranata. "Just go on in."
"Hi, Uncle Bob," she said. He smiled, stood up, and gave her a hug. "How's my favorite niece?" he asked.
They talked for awhile. Bob was expecting a producer to stop by. "If you ever think about screenwriting, Renata, I'll be glad to help you get started," he told her, not realizing he said the same thing to her every time they met. Renata appreciated the kindness of his offer and never mentioned he made it whenever he saw her.
"Maybe someday, maybe someday soon," she said. "But first I want to finish my second book of poetry. By the way, did I tell you that UCLA made me a full professor on Monday?"
"No, that's great news!" Bob said. "I'm very proud of you, Renata. That is terrific!"
They talked for a few minutes more. Then the producer arrived.
"Bye, Uncle Bob," she smiled. "I'll see you soon."
Renata walked along Rodeo Drive, stopping here and there. She bought three pairs of slacks and some new tops that she could wear to the University and on dates. Both Renata and Lorii had a way of making everything they wore look great.
About five o’clock, she stopped by her uncle's office again. He was still there, writing. "How about dinner at Nate-N-Al’s," she asked, "On me!"
"Hey, that'll be great. Diane just called to say she's working late tonight, so I'm free. And hungry!" Diane worked on the news assignment desk at KCBS-TV.
Nate-N-Al’s is a Beverly Hills landmark, an old-fashioned Jewish delicatessen that opened in 1945. It is only a couple of blocks from Bob's office, over on Beverly Drive.
"This neighborhood always reminds me of Chicago's Near North Side," Renata said. "You'll find shops like these along Michigan Boulevard and on some of the side streets that cross it."
"You really miss Chicago, don't you, Renata?" he asked.
"Yes, and at times, very much," she said. "Everyone who lives there takes it for granted. So many would trade places with us in the blink of an eye. But there is a real down-to-earth gutsiness to Chicago I love. And I think it is the most beautiful city in America."
"I wish I knew it better," he said. "I've been there a number of times, but always for short business trips. Maybe someday...."
When they arrived at Nate-N-Al’s, they were seated at a booth right away. There was often a wait, but this was Friday night, and many customers were at their synagogues. Renata and Bob ordered Rueben sandwiches, one of Nate-N-Al’s specialties.
Renata told Bob about Gerry and how much she liked him. Bob, of course, knew Gerry. "He's one of Lorii's friends. She took me to hear him play with the Nighthawks a few times. I think he's a great guy, don't you?"
"Oh, yes! But I didn't know he even knew Lorii when I met him on Sunday," Renata said. "Small world!"
"As far as I know, Renata, Lorii and Gerry are good friends, nothing more," Bob said. "I told her he would be a great catch for her, although he is somewhat older than either of you. But then I'm about the same number of years older than Diane, so I can't complain, can I?"
"I guess the age difference bothers me a little, but Gerry is a gentle, nice man and a fine musician. I admire him for that," Renata said. "And he seems young to me, almost childlike, in many ways.
"We had dinner at Matteo's Tuesday night. Guess what? No sooner were we seated when Frank Sinatra stopped by to say 'Hello' to Gerry. Turns out they've worked together many times over the years. I was thrilled to meet Frank Sinatra!"
They talked about Renata's parents and their music store. "Do they still carry LPs?" Bob asked.
"Oh, yes," Renata said. "My folks bought the store next to ours and remodeled it to handle CD display cases. Dad told me last week that he was now adding special equipment in the CD area so customers could put on headphones and listen to new CDs via a special hookup."
“Do they still have the old-fashioned listening booths?” Bob asked her.
“Yes! And rather than lamenting the demise of LPs, for some time now they have been buying used LPs and closeouts from all over the country to cater to collectors. They have really expanded their mail order business!”
“That’s good to hear, Renata,” Bob said. “I know some of the record stores around here have been closing, unable to compete with the megastores such as Tower and Virgin Records. But your folks seem to be adapting very, very well.”
“Well, I’m glad they are," Renata said. "I suspect they'll want to sell the store in a few years, and by keeping it profitable, they’ll be able to get a good price for it,” she said.
"Do you ever think about running it yourself someday?" Bob asked her.
"You know, I do," Renata said. "Suppose I took a teaching position at Indiana University. I could own the store and hire others to manage the day-to-day operation. Or, I could stop teaching and devote myself to the store, but I don't think I'll do that. When I go home for Thanksgiving, I'll talk it over with them."
After dinner, they walked back to Bob's office, where Renata had left her shopping bags. Bob walked her down to her car. "I'm glad you're here in L.A., Renata," Bob said. "You remind me so much of my first wife and your mother. And I know Lorii is happy you're living in L.A., too."
Renata smiled, then drove down the ramp, turned right on Rodeo, and then, a few blocks later, turned east on Wilshire and headed home.
Six Flats Unfurnished by Benny Goodman and His Orchestra
When they returned home from Mackay's, it was about 1:30 in the morning. Both Gerry and Lorii were really tired and went to bed right away, Lorii in the guestroom and Gerry in his own bedroom.
About 4:30 in the morning, Gerry felt Lorii crawling into bed with him. She wasn't wearing one of his T-shirts this time--or anything else. Neither was Gerry. Lorii snuggled close to him and then began stroking Gerry, ever so gently. Without opening his eyes, Gerry began stroking Lorii, first her arms, then her stomach, and then her breasts. Lorii moved her head down Gerry's body, her long, flowing black hair covering what she was now doing. Gerry was in heaven.
Before they knew it, Gerry was on top of Lorii, thrusting himself inside her, gently going back and forth, feeling her beautiful breasts, kissing her wildly. They were ecstatic. Lorii said softly, "I love it when we do it, Gerry"
It was not the first time, of course. They had been on-and-off lovers for two years, always friends first and lovers second. Now, with Renata in the picture, Gerry was confused. He didn't want to hurt her by making love with Lorii, but then he really cared for Lorii, too, and he loved sleeping with her. Gerry would have to wrestle with this.
Their lovemaking always lasted a long time, finishing slowly and warmly, just as it had started. Lorii clung to Gerry, snuggling close to him ever so tightly.
She glanced at the clock radio on Gerry's nightstand. It was almost six o'clock. She quietly slipped out of Gerry's bed and went back to her own bedroom. She showered and dressed. When she finished, she heard Gerry in the kitchen.
"Good morning, Gerry," she said. "How do you feel?" she asked, trying to hide her smile.
He walked over to Lorii, embraced and kissed her. And kissed her again.
"How do I feel?" he asked. "How do you feel, beautiful?"
"Great, Gerry," she answered. "Fabulous."
"Well, I have an idea," he said. "Come back here after your class. Let's skip Ted's class today. OK?"
"You're reading my mind, Gerry," she said.
Then Gerry poured coffee into her car mug for her. Lorii thanked him and headed down to her car, which she parked in the garage next to Gerry's.
Gerry took his morning walk along the ocean, but it was cold and foggier than usual. "Hate's California, it's cold and it's damp," he sang to himself....
In The Night
by George Shearing and His Quintet
with Dakota Staton
