26th & 27th December, 2005
San Sebastian Strings
albums now available on CD! Order
now!
|
|
Photo by Edward McKuen 9/24/2005
A Thought for Today
Those who travel gentle in the world are
seldom recognized as gentlemen by others. It matters not, for gentleness
toward another human being is the thin line between personal success and
failure for each of us.
A FLIGHT FROM6THE
PAST
Following a discussion over
lunch yesterday about music in general and Nat King Cole in particular,
I was reminded of the following story which remains one of my all-time
favorite McKuen Flight Plans.
-Ken, Johannesburg, South
Africa, December 26
Extract
from Jan. 30th, 2001 Flight Plan
The name Eden Ahbez rings a lot of bells. He was one of the first songwriters I met when I came to Southern California in the 50's. Even then he looked like a wizened old man, though he was probably only in his thirties. He truly was the "Nature Boy" of his most famous song, leather-skinned from a perennial suntan, long unkempt hair, a beard of many colors that went halfway down his chest and clean but very old clothes.
In those days he was a perennial figure on Hollywood streets, much the same as Moondog who seemed to live on the streets of New York. He haunted recording studios and publishers offices seldom finding anyone who would listen to him or his songs because they were so put off by his outward appearance.
For years he had tried to get his songs published but nothing happened until Nat King Cole recorded "Nature Boy," and it became a major hit. After that the
leeches came out in force and being a truly raw talent and not very sophisticated in business he signed away rights to nearly all of his songs; something that was to haunt him the rest of his life. Alas, the success of "Nature Boy" was never to be repeated.
When I met him the royalties from his one big hit in the 1940's had long been spent. He was back to pounding the streets with little success. We would run into each other now and again as I too knocked on West Coast publisher's doors. As I became more successful I lost track of him and many of the other real characters I met on the streets of Hollywood. Like Eden, I didn't drive at the time and walked or hitched everywhere. The people I met that befriended this young songwriter were varied and many.
Fade Out. Fade in.
For a number of years my friends Robyn Whitney and Michael McDonald, have owned and run a series of recording studios called TRAX. As their reputations grew and their seemingly Mom & Pop operation expanded into one of the best and most respected studio complexes in LA, they needed more space. One of those expansions included a very visible studio complex on Sunset Blvd.
I've known and loved Robyn and Michael since I first recorded at TRAX in the eighties. The stories they tell of life in and out of the studio run the gamut from rival rap groups staging gunfights in their halls to stage parents dragging their moppets into the studio and yelling "Sing you little Bitch, Sing" as the microphone went on.
One of the sweetest stories, however, involved Eden Ahbez. One day in the mid-nineties this unkempt man (much as I described him from 40 years before) wandered into the studio reception area and introduced himself to Robyn. She didn't pay much attention to the mumbled name but being as sweet and patient as she is allowed him to go into a rambling monologue.
At one point he opened a tattered scrapbook he had been carrying under his arm, along with a sheaf of music, and Robyn began reading the faded clippings and discovered that here indeed was Eden
Ahbez the writer of
"Nature Boy".
She proceeded to congratulate him on the brand new success of his song now that Natalie Cole had recorded it in a multi-million selling tribute to her father. The song of course was "Nature Boy," the album was "Unforgettable" and had topped the charts for half a year worldwide. The quizzical expression on Eden's face informed her he had no idea of what she was talking about.
And thus, you have the very happy ending to the life story of a by then homeless and forgotten songwriter; who a few years before his death was able realize what must have seemed to him like a king's ransom in royalties, new respect and a taste of fame again. All because he stumbled into yet another recording studio and this time was greeted by someone compassionate enough to listen to him for more than a few minutes.
- RM 01/30/01
Click
on the Stanyan House logo to buy Rod McKuen books, CD's and lots more
Click on the heart logo to
subscribe to the Rod McKuen mailing list
Catch Rod McKuen live!
Click on the links below for details of
concerts and appearances.
ROD McKUEN
CONCERTS
ROD
McKUEN APPEARANCES
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
Monday
26 December
Boxing Day
1st Day of Kwanza
Steve Allen o
Charles Babbage o
Helen Brann o
George Dewey o
Carlton Fisk o
Thomas Gray o
Joyce Jillson o
Alan King o
Jared Leto o
Doris Lilly o
Henry Miller o
Donald Moffat o
Ozzie Smith o
Phil Spector o
Mao Tse-tung o
Lars Ulrich o
Maurice Utrillo o
Tahnee Welch o
Richard Widmark o
Rosemary Woods
Tuesday
27 December
John Amos o
Gerard Depardieu o
Marlene Dietrich o
'Howdy Doody' o
Tovah Feldshuh o
Sydney Greenstreet o
Rich Jones o
Michael Joseph o
David Knopfler o
Eva LaRue o
Oscar Levant o
Dr. William Masters o
Heather O'Rourke o
Louis Pasteur o
Cokie Roberts o
Roy White |
|
 |
|
Those who are dead to dreaming live within a cloud of their own making,
and so their chance of entering the stratosphere is scant.
Our country owes us nothing. We could not
pay back what she has given us already if we had two new lifetimes left
to attempt the job.
Wisdom is as slow to come as snow to melt.
|
|
MIND MINDER |
|
A butterfly flies up
inside my head,
consuming all my early years
the memory of just yesterday,
other loves and lives
I might have known or knew.
He sits and eats away
within that place I’ve lived
where he now lives.
Please remember for me
all those things
that need remembering.
Let me use your head
as mine.
I ask that you
attempt to lead me,
to carry me aloft
bend down to scoop me up,
to ferry me across my life
as you would a child
across a too deep river.
You are the end of me,
and my new beginning.
You are my brother
and my wife.
My lover and my son.
My mother and my husband
my teacher
and the one I long to teach.
The woman
that I dreamed of finding
the friend who never was.
You transcend gender,
eliminate September,
add another month of Sundays
to a calendar well worn.
I will be for you
whatever works.
I will work to make you be,
while you eliminate
the buzzing, ringing sound
that permeates my brain
of late.
A butterfly
and maybe more
is buzzing in my head.
If he should eat it all away
you’ve head enough for both of us.
If caterpillars crawl
down through my brain
you’ve brain enough
to see us both through
this thing that has seized me,
seized us both at once.
- From "The Sea Around Me, " 1976, 1977 |
|
|
|
