Sinatra's secret

Feb 16

Ian, Regina, Edgar, Bill, Lynne, Will, Jim, Libby, Bob, Ben, Steve L, Jeanette, Andy, Ray, Joan

We were delighted to be able to greet Libby's return to the fold, in an all-too-rare visit that we all hope will be converted once again into regular appearances - with or without fur coat and wig.
Ian made a great fuss of Libby, buoyed as he was by the realization that the play he is in - The Jazz Age - has the makings of a huge success. A packed house is a packed house, however small the venue, and Ian even allowed himself the dream of accompanying it on a London run, in some edgy venue off-off West End. If only...
With less than a week to go before the Oscars, and an Academy voter (Will) in our midst, there was much talk of the chances of the nominees. Milk and Slumdog Millionaire had their devotees for best picture, Sean Penn seemed to be the local favorite as best actor and Philip Seymour Hoffman as best supporting. No broad agreement on the two actress Oscars, although it seems to be between Meryl Streep and Kate Winslet for the top female award.
The long-running question, Do We Still Like Obama?, got another airing with most people reassuring one another that, whatever he does, he will still be better than either Bush or McCain - understandably, given the way McCain still keeps putting his foot in it on the stimulus and housing rescue packages. Myself, I see the beginnings of a trimmer whose top priority is going to be survival. I think the forgiveness will have worn thin by Labor Day.
Edgar was telling Libby how his employers regularly ditch, or at least give to thrift stores, library books that are rarely read, and few borrowers choose fiction that is more than ten years old - let alone the classics. This is sad, but part of the iPhonisation of books and newspapers, where the soundbite dominates at the expense of the considered work of prose, fiction or non-fiction.
I was horrified to discover that the US, land of the free and defender of property rights, has no equivalent to the British Public Lending Right, which pays authors a small royalty every time their book is borrowed from a public library. It's not much - I've just received six pounds and thirteen pence in ye English monnie for last year, which at current exchange rates doesn't even buy me a Conrads dinner, but at least it recognises the principle that potential sales are being lost through free-at-point-of-selection libraries. Time for a campaign: are you listening, Barack
Some of us have continued to attend the Phil Spector trial, which is dragging on to its conclusion amid schoolyard name-calling by the rival attorneys. Let's hope the final speeches and the judge's summing up will make sense of it. At any rate, Judge Fidler must know more about Spector than any other man alive.
Will ended by telling a long but fascinating tale about his upclose experiences with Frank Sinatra, mainly at the Greek Theatre in the 1980s. On the third and final occasion he had the luck to be in the wings as Sinatra went into his act - and saw that the great man was reading the words off a Teleprompter! I suppose he had too many songs to remember by then, but it somehow tarnishes the effortless impression he gave. Ho hum, another god with feet of clay.

CAUGHT ON THE BREEZE
He looks gay just walking up steps
Do you know where I can get cowgirl clothing?
Some people aspire to prostitution
We don't want Will to be promiscuous, do we?
You know best - in this regard, at least
She was developing another boyfriend
We've met a lot of your old girlfriends - and they were all very nice, really they were