Lesley Goldstein was the voice of youth, decades before Kurt Cobain had the moniker thrust upon him by the “grunge” generation.
At 16, the young, aspiring singer (now using the surname “Gore”) pored over hundred of demos with her novice producer, Quincy Jones. The pair finally agreed on a melancholy tune about a poor birthday girl and her cheating boyfriend. The tune, “It’s My Party,” originally recorded by British pop singer Helen Shapiro, was recut by Lesley and became a number one, international hit. She followed the song with a sequel “Judy’s Turn to Cry.” “She’s a Fool” soon followed. “You Don’t Own Me,” an early feminist anthem held steady at number two, bested only by The Beatles’ “I Want To Hold Your Hand.” “That’s the Way Boys Are, “Maybe I Know,” “Look of Love” and the Marvin Hamlisch-penned, Grammy-nominated “Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows” all followed in quick succession. Noted producer Shelby Singleton turned down “Groovy Kind of Love” for Lesley. He refused to let her record a song with the word “groovy” in it.
In 1966, Lesley appeared on the final episode of The Donna Reed Show, singing her hit “We Know We’re in Love.” A year later she played one of the villainous Catwoman’s sidekicks in two 1967 episodes of Batman. Of course, she got to sing in each episode.
In the 80s, she and her brother Michael composed songs for the soundtrack of the film Fame. They were nominated for an Academy Award for the song “Out Here on My Own.” Michael won for the film’s title song.
Lesley was a vocal advocate for gay and lesbian rights and, in 2004, served as host of the PBS series In The Life that focused on LGBT issues. She came out publicly as a lesbian in 2005.
In 2015, while working on a memoir and a Broadway show based on her life and career, Lesley Gore passed away from lung cancer. She was 68 years old. Lesley’s obituary in The New York Times identified her “the voice of teenage girls aggrieved by fickle boyfriends, moving quickly from tearful self-pity to fierce self-assertion.”
The drawings and the bonuses keep coming in Inktober 2016. Maybe I’m working my way to a-drawing-a-day for next year. Maybe.
“I am alone….. I am utterly alone.” – Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice (1988)
But there’s a full moon risin’
Let’s go dancin’ in the light
We know where the music’s playin’
Let’s go out and feel the night.
Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I’m still in love with you
On this harvest moon.
Inktober 2016 continues. Here is my entry for week number three.
Poor Nancy Thompson. Is she sleeping? Is Freddy Krueger the man of her dreams?
For fifteen minutes, every Friday night, US soldiers fighting in World War II were comforted by the songs and stories of “Phyllis Jeanne, your Canteen Girl.” Broadcast on the NBC network from 1942 until the end of the war, Phyllis Creore was a friendly voice for homesick troops. She used the name “Phyllis Jeanne” because she felt her actual surname was too difficult to pronounce. She was the unofficial opponent to the propaganda delivered by Tokyo Rose. Phyllis received hundreds and hundreds of letters from servicemen over the years. Some asked for photos and others offered “thanks” for performing, what they considered, a service and a morale booster.
She worked diligently at the New York Stage Door Canteen. founded by the American Theater Wing, and a precursor of today’s USO. In addition to singing and mingling with soldiers, she donated her government-issued ration coupons for sugar and eggs.
After the war, Phyllis became a renowned sculptor. Her art was displayed in numerous galleries.
Phyllis passed away this week at the age of 100. She had lived on her own in an apartment on Fifth Avenue, filled with scrapbooks of memorabilia from her days as the Canteen Girl.
Here’s another Inktober 2016 bonus…
“Just tell it to call you Billie, you bitch!”
– Henry Northrup’s parting words to his shrewish, overbearing wife Wilma in “Creepshow” (1982)
Here’s an account of my encounter with the aforementioned “Billie.”
J. Abercrombie Glacier, the inventor of the ice cube.
When he passed away, scientists studied his extensive notes and journals, working diligently to duplicate his secret recipe.
Inktober rages on! Here is my entry for week number two. It’s Dr. Anton Phibes, as portrayed by the inimitable Vincent Price in the 1971 camp horror classic The Abominable Dr. Phibes and its sequel, Dr. Phibes Rises Again, released the following year.
Dennis Wilson was the self-proclaimed “black sheep” of the Wilson family. At his mother’s insistence, he was admitted to his brother Brian’s fledgling surf band, The Beach Boys, in 1961. Ironically, Dennis was the only member who actually surfed. Playing on the strength of a few school-sanctioned drum lessons, he recognized his own musical limitations and allowed brother Brian to supplement the band’s beat with more skilled studio musicians, most prominently Hal Blaine.
Dennis was as violent and aggressive as he was sensitive. He had a brief friendship with cult leader Charles Manson, who fancied himself a songwriter. The two collaborated on the B-side tune “Never Learn Not to Love,”but, upon its release, Dennis received sole writing credit. An incensed Manson threatened Dennis with murder. A fearless Dennis stood his ground, beating the shit out of Manson — reducing him to a blubbering, pleading mess in full view of many of his disciples. Manson and his “family,” who had taken up residence at the overly-generous Dennis’s home, were left with the house when a fed-up Dennis up and vacated the premises.
Dennis spiraled into alcohol and heroin abuse and was eventually kicked out of The Beach Boys by unanimous decision. He was preparing his first (and ultimately only) solo release and was indifferent to the band’s verdict. He had co-written (though was uncredited) Joe Cocker’s hit “You Are So Beautiful” with Billy Preston and was confident in his songwriting skills. However, he returned to the band within two weeks.
After years of hard work, Pacific Ocean Blue, Dennis’s solo effort was released to positive reviews but lukewarm reception. It sold poorly, although Dennis did perform some material from the album during Beach Boys concerts. Dennis later declared that, in his opinion, the album had no substance.
Despite his Beach Boys success, Dennis was homeless in 1983. He was also in and out of rehab. His violent temper erupted in an altercation at a hotel in Santa Monica. He admitted himself to a hospital to treat his sustained wounds and immediately began drinking upon his release. After drinking all day in late December 1983, a drunken Dennis dived into the harbor at Marina Del Rey to retrieve some items he tossed off of his yacht three years earlier. Dennis drowned. He had just turned 39. His estranged wife, Shawn Love, the daughter of his bandmate and first cousin Mike Love, insisted that Dennis be buried at sea. Although his brothers protested, Dennis was given an ocean burial under the auspices of the U.S. Coast Guard and special permission from President Ronald Reagan.
