Surf's Up: on the Flight Deck with Brian Wilson

The one and only, the great Brian Wilson.

In 1994, I was being recruited for a CEO job with Luna Imaging, an L.A.-based start-up with Getty funding.  Before my visit to meet the entrepreneur, when I would stay at Shutters on the Beach and get the pitch, I first snuck out to the coast for a screening meeting during a half-day stop-over in LAX with Gary Hromadko, the VC backing the venture.

We met in the American Airlines Ambassador Lounge and sat in the big lounge chairs.  There, sunk comfortably into a huge chair ten feet away with a confidante?  Brian Wilson!

Although I'd resisted my band-mate Dave's proselytizing in college about the Beach Boys, I eventually could admit I admired Brian - much more for his ballads than for the Beach Boy surf rave-ups.  Especially because he was secure enough, whole enough (or crazy enough?) to write and sing with great emotional vulnerability about fear, and alone-ness, and crying, and doubt, and hurt - in songs like "In My Room,"  "Girl Don't Tell Me,"  "Caroline, No" and " 'Til I Die."

Brian Wilson at the Bridge - on Sunset

Flash forward to 1994 and by this point in my life, I was a confirmed fan, but had not yet developed a complete appreciation for Brian's production genius that would be fulfilled when I came late to Pet Sounds, and - finally - when SMiLE finally had its 38-years-late release.  Still I felt I had a kindred spirit in that he was the only other person I knew of who admired and openly praised the Four Freshmen - to others they were Squaresville, 'though not to me, and Brian has always honored them as his harmonic inspiration.

Perfect Pitch

Gary and I spent a little over two hours talking.  Sometime before we wrapped up, Brian and his friend stood up, shook hands and parted.  As he walked away from us, I thought of the anonymous silhouettes, receding against the day-glo horizon, in the classic key-art poster from the Bruce Brown film "Endless Summer."

I was too awe-struck, and too much captive of the interview moment, to get up and introduce myself.  But I felt the warmth of his sun* ... and knew I'd now truly been in California!

Precision Genius

 . . . "Lately, I'd been depressed and preoccupied with death...Looking out toward the ocean, my mind, as it did almost every hour of every day, worked to explain the inconsistencies that dominated my life; the pain, torment, and confusion and the beautiful music I was able to make. Was there an answer? Did I have no control? Had I ever? Feeling shipwrecked on an existential island, I lost myself in the balance of darkness that stretched beyond the breaking waves to the other side of the earth. The ocean was so incredibly vast, the universe was so large, and suddenly I saw myself in proportion to that, a little pebble of sand, a jellyfish floating on top of the water; traveling with the current I felt dwarfed, temporary. The next day I began writing "'Til I Die", perhaps the most personal song I ever wrote for The Beach Boys...In doing so, I wanted to re-create the swell of emotions that I'd felt at the beach the previous night."

'Til I Die - Surf's Up, 1971

* Something interesting here.

Julius Lester - Cupid and an Early Valentine

"We are only human. We make mistakes. We oft times do not know what we are 
doing, or why. We hurt each other out of the depths of hurts whose pain we have 
not felt. This is what it means to be human - to love each other in our 
mistakes, our hurting each other, and in the darkness that is always present."

Journal,  1978 

Remarkable Julius Lester

In Amherst, MA we have a marvelous, unique and incredibly creative man, a  man who has sought to understand human struggle - political, social, private and emotional - and documented it with force, feeling, and amazing tenderness.  He is Julius Lester.

New School professor, distinguished UMass faculty icon; folksinger, board member 1965 Newport Folk Festival; photo documentarian of the US civil rights movement (here's a great interview), Viet Nam war, and Castro/Cuba.  Pioneer in Afro-American Studies, Judaic and Near Eastern Studies.  But I admire Julius most for three things:

    
1. He wrote "Look Out, Whitey!  Black Power's Gon' Get Your Mama!" about his days (through early '68, though he must have turned the manuscript in just before April 4), as a field coordinator on the ramparts at the SNCC,
2. He wrote "Cupid," and when I heard his heart-melting reading at the Jones Library he left tears on many of our faces,
3. He occasionally reads, sings, or lay-leads at services in our lively local synagogue, the Jewish Community of Amherst.

When in Amherst, come to the back room at A. J. Hastings Newsdealer's, and search among the greeting cards for his hand-printed and signed masterpieces, including this one below ("Black American Gothic") which I presented to my wife one year on Valentine's Day.  Then walk across the street to Amherst Books and purchase a copy of "Cupid," as I did for my eldest daughter as a Valentine's Day gift when she was coming of age.

Black American Gothic  (1966)  -  (c) Julius Lester

I was lucky enough to speak with Julius recently when his photographs were on display at the JCA. Introduced myself as a reader and as the son of an old English department colleague.  We shared a few words, and I met his lovely wife.  I took a chance and complemented her that she was no doubt the blessing in his life who enables him to write so warmly about human love and vulnerability.  Then I [coarsely] quoted him this passage from "Cupid," and thanked him for the dialog his book had opened between me and my then 13 year old daughter:

"There come moments in each of our journeys when we can no longer continue our lives as they are.  But neither can we see what we will become.  We either go forward, with no idea of where we are going or what we are doing, or we remain as we are - and begin to die, though we do not realize that is the choice we have made.  This is why love is such a fearful undertaking...."

Cupid: A Tale of Love & Desire, 2007
 

Shabbat Shalom

A man who understands struggle and love, and can enlighten us on each, is someone who understands much of what life is about.


Gratefully Yours.

Fellow Breast Man Roger Ebert

Poolside: an Urgent call . . .

Roger Ebert is one of the best ever - perhaps the finest -  movie/film critics in the world over the past 50 years (Take that, Paulene Kael!).  He and partner Gene Siskel (R.I.P.) created the "thumbs up/down" rating shorthand and had true chemistry as a reviewing team. 

Roger is a fanatic, on par with Peter Bogdonovich; he's also always honest and thoughtful - and I think quite fair - in his reviewing.  I appreciated this review of Roger's.  I still disagree with RE about Ryan's Daughter, though....

Thumbs Up !

Usually treated as an amusing footnote to his bio, the young Ebert of 1970 dabbled in debauchery with my hero Russ Meyer as screenplay collaborator on Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.

Ebert Surrounded - the Gang's All Here

In the spring of 2005 I finally got to meet Roger when he was honored with a CINE Lifetime Achievement Award on M street NW in Washington DC.  A friend had invited me to the event at National Geographic TV, and after seeing the Raymonds (Patient Zero progenitors with their high-quality PBS innovation "American Family" that indirectly begat today's 'reality' sewage) honored, I caught up with Roger.

First stop (establishing shot): Men's Room.

"Porter Hall," I introduced myself.  Ebert brightened, quizzically. "We have a good, mutual friend - RM" I continued.  "How do you know Russ?" asked Roger, and we were off.

Initial exposition and plot-set-up.  Backstory.  All that rot.  Choice private anecdotes for validation (see below).  Confirmation.  Camaraderie.  Continuity.  Drama, pathos and everything else, in ten minutes chat and a stroll from the Sumner School building down to the street, round the corner and a sidewalk parting at the cab on 17th street, NW.

Ebert instantly connected the dots - he had heard Russ talk of his Washington 'insider' buddy, referring always to a "Porter Hall," whose original namesake is a shady character whom Ebert/Meyer contrived in the BVD script, played to a villainous T by Duncan McLeod.  Well, that insider is yours truly.

Two Gentlemen without Equal

Roger and I lamented RM's passing the previous September.  By his words about Rus,s it was instantly, abundantly and cantilevered-ly clear that Roger had been as genuine and devoted a friend as any man could ever have.

Now, Russ was without doubt the best raconteur I ever met, with a genius for tale-telling, a vocabulary that he could have copyrighted, and a bottomless well of incredible stories ("Hemingway rousted us out of our fartsacks and paid our way into the best whorehouse in Paris"... "I screwed Uschi all that summer on the carpet of my office at Fox!"... "Ebert got blown by the pool!" ... etc.).

On and On . . .

The bond between Roger and Russ was borne out by the hours of tales RM had spun with me about his exploits with the youthful Ebert, which are more fully chronicled and liberally sprinkled throughout RM's 19-lb., three-volume "Breast of Russ Meyer."  And RM loved to recount these hi-jinks when we were out on the town.  Once, over huge portions of liver and onions at the Daily Grill in Palm Desert, Russ referred to Ebert (with obvious gleeful affection) a "that Moravian bastard!"  Russ was a demanding friend - he had no distractions in his own life other than self-selected obsessions, and he offered little and grudging latitude to those of us whose attention he craved; yet, although he no doubt vied competitively with her for RE's attention, RM always spoke with highest regard for RE's wife Chaz.

When we met, Roger was already struggling with the cancer that would eventually ravage his larynx, shoulder, jawbone, and facial structure.  Head held high, he soldiers on un-deterred, and un-abashed, just like his best friend.

News: Roger Ebert passed away April 4, 2013.

Rest In Peace, and See You At The Movies.