Perry Robinson: The Traveler

By Perry Robinson

The book description is included in the completed cover tiff file 115580_cover.tif

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 5, 2002
• ISBN: 9780595725502

Perry Robinson

Perry Robinson is the internationally acclaimed jazz clarinetist. Florence Wetzel is the author of various works of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry.

Book preview

Perry Robinson:

The Traveler

Perry Robinson and Florence Wetzel

Writers Club Press

San Jose New York Lincoln Shanghai

Perry Robinson: The Traveler

All Rights Reserved © 2002 by Perry Robinson and Florence Wetzel

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Writers Club Press an imprint of iUniverse, Inc.

For information address:

iUniverse, Inc.

5220 S. 16th St., Suite 200

Lincoln, NE 68512 www.iuniverse.com

Every effort has been made to credit the photographs herein. Please contact the authors if a photograph is not credited properly, and this information will be updated in future editions

ISBN: 0-595-21538-6

ISBN: 978-0-5957-2550-2 (ebook)

Contents

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

INTRODUCTION BY A FORTUNATE COLLABORATOR BY FLORENCE WETZEL

EARL ROBINSON

CHILDHOOD

JIM ROBINSON

PERRY ROBINSON

EARL ROBINSON

WOODY GUTHRIE

LEE HAYS AND LIFE AT 11 CRANBERRY STREET

JIM ROBINSON

HELEN ROBINSON

FRIENDS AND RELATIVES

MUSIC EDUCATION

TONY SCOTT

DAVID THORP

PERRY ROBINSON

THE SCHOOL OF JAZZ IN LENOX, MASSACHUSETTS

JACK MAHER

SPAIN

JON MAYER

ARNIE WISE

PERRY ROBINSON

DAUGHTER

WORLD YOUTH FESTIVAL

BILL DIXON

FUNK DUMPLING

DAN MORGENSTERN

TOM WILSON

AFTER FUNK DUMPLING

FIRST TRIP

PERRY ROBINSON

ARMY

JOHN S. WILSON

JIM ROBINSON

BONNIE (ARKIN) CORDOVA

FREE MUSIC AND THE CALL

HENRY GRIMES

ARCHIE SHEPP

OTHER ALBUMS, OTHER GIGS

ANNETTE PEACOCK

PAUL HAINES

STEVE TINTWEISS

BURTON GREENE

LATER DAVID IZENZON

GIANTS

BUDDY DEFRANCO

BUDDY DEFRANCO

REGRETS

BUSTED

STEVE TINTWEISS

MAGIC

NUMEROLOGY

RAY HAINING

PSYCHIC PERIOD

STRAIGHT LIFE

FREE LOVE

JOHN HAMMOND

MAX GORDON

DARIUS BRUBECK

DARIUS BRUBECK AND MURUGA

MURUGA

TWO GENERATIONS OF BRUBECK

DARIUS AND CATHY BRUBECK

PETER MADCAT RUTH

LOFT SCENE

JOHN FISCHER

JESSICA RICHARDSON

ALAN WATTS

EARLY ECSTASY

ALLEN GINSBERG (BOB DYLAN TOO)

GUNTER HAMPEL

GUNTER HAMPEL

BLOOD, PSYCHEDELICS AND MARRIAGE

ANOTHER SEIZURE

EUROPEAN AVANT-GARDE

MAGNANIMOUS MIND

CHRIS BRUBECK

THOUGHTS ON THE SIXTIES

THE TRAVELER AND KUNDALINI

MANAGERS

BABA GANESH

BABA GANESH

GINGER BAKER

MORE TONY SCOTT

SOHO DAYS

ROBERT PALMER

HOBOKEN

JIM HANS

JERRY BERGONZI

THE SPIRITS

SUSAN SHAFTAN PERRIN

HERSCHEL SILVERMAN

HERSCHEL SILVERMAN

FRANKIE FAME

MOM AND DAD’S DEATHS

LEE HAYS

DAD’S AFTER-DEATH AND A DIGRESSION ABOUT SHIRLEY MACCLAINE

EARL ROBINSON

JIM ROBINSON

OTHER ALBUMS, OTHER GIGS REDUX

BURTON GREENE

FREIBURG MUSIC FESTIVAL

1995 WKCR PROFILE

FLORENCE WETZEL

INVISIBLE INCIDENT

MORE PETE SEEGER

SONNY ROLLINS

SONNY ROLLINS

SMOKING (CIGARETTES, MOSTLY) AND OTHER SUBSTANCES

EMILIO ZEF CHINA

MIKE ILL (KILMER)

EYES

MICHAEL FITZGERALD

THE CLARINET

GARY GIDDINS

MILO FINE

THE PERRY ROBINSON QUARTET, PHASE ONE

ERNST BIER

ED SCHULLER

ANGELS AND ANGELOLOGY

THE PERRY ROBINSON QUARTET, PHASE TWO

LISTENING, PLAYING, WITNESSING

LEAVING HOBOKEN, FINDING JERSEY CITY

YUKO OTOMO

SELECTED DISCOGRAPHY BY MICHAEL FITZGERALD

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

END NOTES

DEDICATION

Perry dedicates this book to his brother Jimmy and his family, and all of the Robinsons, Wortises, and Arkins.

Flo dedicates this book to George Howard-Heretakis, Margarita Howard-Heretakis, Alexander Sugarman, and Flora Jane Sugarman.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Enormous thanks to the following people, who read the penultimate draft of this book and offered valuable suggestions:

Ernst Bier

Doris China

Laurence Donohue-Greene

Michael Fitzgerald

Eric Gordon

Ray Haining

Emily Hampton-Manley

Mike iLL (Kilmer)

Ed Schuller

Dan Shot

Arnie Wise

Ben Young

Also grateful thanks to:

Steven Begleiter, for permission to use his photograph.

Jerry Bergonzi, contributor, for sharing a unique Perry experience.

Ernst Bier, contributor, for recounting the origin of the Perry Robinson Quartet. Also for patiently and promptly supplying details about the Quartet, as well as photographs.

Cathy and Darius Brubeck, contributors, for their great Perry memories. Also thanks for reading over the sections on the Brubeck family and offering suggestions and corrections.

Chris Brubeck, contributor, for his wonderful piece that describes the fullmagnitude of the magnanimous mind. Chris Butler, for discographical information as well as a conversation about self-publishing where he offered encouragement and pronounced, There is no No.

Jack Carnell, for permission to use his photograph.

Doris China, designer extraordinaire, for her beautiful work, artistic vision, and infinite patience. Emilio Zef China, contributor, for his remembrance of how ears getopened.

Bonnie Cordorva, contributor, for a unique perspective of Perry, and for providing crucial information about her side of the family. Jim Cramer, for helpful conversations at the start which provided focusand direction. Andrew Cyrille, for his story about Henry Grimes. Steve Dalachinsky, for printing part of this book in his publication

Intervals Volume 2. Bill Dixon, for permission to reprint from Dixonia. Laurence Donohue-Greene, for incredible editing as well as infectiousjazz enthusiasm. Michael Ehlers, for providing information on his work with Perry. Ross Firestone, for information about Reginald Kell.

Michael Fitzgerald, contributor and discographer, the man behind Perry’s web page and discography. Michael kindly allowed his discography to be included in this book, and he also helped by lending the WKCR interview tapes and providing essential facts on a variety of subjects. He was always patient with the many questions thrown his way, and he generously shared his experience with jazz research.

Bill Folwell, for reading over the section on the Uni Trio.

Jane Getz, for shedding light on the mystery of Henry Grimes.

Eric Gordon, for generously giving permission to quote from his book Ballad of an American, which provided countless details for this book. Also for sending a copy of Woody Guthrie’s letter, answering endless questions via email, and for his sensitive, thorough editing. Eric’s service to the Robinson family is enormous, and his work with Earl Robinson was a source of inspiration.

Bill Gotebeski and Nina Mars, for lending their WKCR tapes and for information on Volunteer Lawyers for the Arts.

Lou Grassi, for supplying dates and facts.

Burton Greene, contributor, whose piece sheds light on Perry in the sixties. Also for answering numerous questions.

Paul Haines, contributor, for his delightfully concise contribution.

Ray Haining, contributor, man of synchronicity, for his portrait of Perry as a practicing magician, as well as for his careful editing.

Gunter Hampel, contributor, for his piece on the history of the Galaxie Dream band, and for answering numerous questions.

Emily Hampton-Manley, for proofreading, legal advice, and a perpetually sympathetic ear.

Jim Hans, contributor, for his great piece that gives an overview of Perryin Hoboken. Also thanks for lending tapes of the WKCR interview. Mike iLL (Kilmer), contributor, for his soul-opened piece and his optimism about this project.

Institute of Jazz Studies, for help during many days of research, and for maintaining archives that proved invaluable to this book.

Dick Katz, for information on the Manhattan School of Music. Alex Kolpakchi, master repairman and clarinet guru, for reading the section on the clarinet and providing important details.

Izumi Kuremoto, for help contacting Annette Peacock. Harold Leventhal and the Woody Guthrie Archives, for generously giving permission to quote from Woody Guthrie’s letter to Perry, as well as Lee Hays’ memorial address for Helen Robinson. Rozanne Levine and Mark Whitecage, for patiently supplying facts, andfor reading over several sections of the book. Wayne Lopes, for providing factual information. Dan Marx, for answering questions about Funk Dumpling and grantingpermission to use the liner notes.

Jon Mayer, contributor, for his memory of Spain. Also for his help with countless details, and reading over various sections of the book. Mo Morgen, for untangling the history of Licorice Factory. Dan Morgenstern, for finding his Funk Dumpling review and answeringquestions about the fine points of quotation. Paul Motian, for shedding light on the mystery of Henry Grimes. Muruga, contributor, for his wonderful piece on his very special relationship with Perry. Also for patiently answering numerous questions.

Richie Nagan, for supplying details about a very interesting party. Margo Nash, for getting that great Sonny Rollins quote. The staff at iUniverse, for their patience and assistance in bringing thisbook to fruition.

Hank O’Neal, for permission to use his wonderful photographs, and for moving heaven and earth to provide the prints. Yuko Otomo, contributor, for her beautiful haiku. Virginia Parrott, for permission to use her photograph. Annette Peacock, contributor, for her lovely meditation on Perry. Klaus Polkowski, for permission to use his photograph, and for sending itall the way from Europe. Jordi Pujol, for providing information on Perry’s time in Spain. Patrick Regan, for printing part of this book on his great Albert Aylerwebsite.

Jessica Richardson, contributor, for her piece spanning many years of friendship with Perry. Also for providing dates and facts. Jim Robinson, contributor, for providing heartfelt memories and a perspective no one else could give. Earl Robinson divided by two equals Jim and Perry.

George Rush, for supplying contact information for Marylou Whitney. Peter Madcat Ruth, contributor, for his piece on Perry’s private dictionary, and for answering numerous questions.

Phil Schaap, for a helpful conversation on how to write a jazz biography,and for answering various factual questions. Ed Schuller, contributor, for his insightful piece on the inner workings of The Perry Robinson Quartet.

George Schuller, for reading over the section on the School of Jazz and offering important corrections.

Jeff Schwartz, for the information on his Albert Ayler web site, and also for answering specific Ayler questions.

Tony Scott, contributor, the highest of the high maestros, for his remembrance of Perry.

Susan Shaftan Perrin, contributor, for her poetic meditation on Perry and free love.

Alyn Shipton, for helping locate Tony Scott.

Dan Shot, for publishing part of this book in his magazine Long Shot, and for careful proofreading and editing.

Herschel Silverman, contributor, for his Perry language. Also for providing factual information and a copy of Cittee, Cittee, Cittee, as well as for printing part of this book in his publication Intervals Volume 2.

Matt Snyder, for his Coda article on Perry that yielded new information. Also for his great website The Jazz Clarinet Since 1945, and for mentioning the suicide cruise.

David Thorp, contributor, for coming back into Perry’s life at exactly the right moment and providing a valuable perspective on Perry’s early days.

Steve Tintweiss, contributor, for his memories of days gone by and missing tape recorders.

Volunteer Lawyers for the Arts, for answering questions about quotes and copyrights.

Dorothy Wetzel and Dan Sugarman, for generously providing two of the computers that held this book, and for always supporting the act of writing.

Marylou Whitney, for kindly taking the time to read over the section on her and her husband.

Arnie Wise, contributor, for providing a history of the New Blues Quartet as well as the only known picture of the group.

Eli Yamin, for supplying information on Perry’s work with the Solar Quartet.

Ben Young, who generously gave hours of his time for editing and educating, which helped improve the book’s prose as well as its factual accuracy. Ben’s thorough ten-hour interview with Perry on WKCR was an invaluable resource that provided direction and focus. Ben also answered endless technical questions about the index, and helped reshape the introduction. Also thanks for permission to quote from Dixonia, and for providing the elusive 10-inch record Tony Scott Quartet.

Evan Ziporyn, for information on Licorice Factory.

INTRODUCTION BY A FORTUNATE COLLABORATOR BY FLORENCE WETZEL

You have always made all of the things in your whole world and you still make them. You like to play and you like to fight and like most of all to tear up an old wore out one and make you a new one, and you like more than that to take something that is all tore up and make something out of it.

Letter from Woody Guthrie to Perry Robinson, August 31, 1945. Reprinted courtesy of the Woody Guthrie Archives.

Perry Robinson is one of the most important living jazz clarinetists, one of the few players to bring the instrument into the 21st century. The clarinet was a premier instrument in the early history of jazz, but its prominence lessened in the 1940s with the advent of bebop. Tony Scott and Buddy DeFranco were among the few bebop clarinet players, and under Tony Scott’s mentorship Perry learned to play bebop as well.

But Perry didn’t stop there. He was the foremost clarinetist during the free jazz movement of the 1960s and the New York City loft scene in the 1970s. During these years Perry played with virtually all the major free jazz musicians in America and Europe, and he appears on several of the era’s seminal albums. While he was building a reputation as a free musician, Perry was also involved with other forms of jazz: he provided a distinctive voice in Dave Brubeck’s Two Generations of Brubeck, and he was one of the first musicians to create lasting and meaningful electronic and world music. Still largely undocumented is Perry’s considerable facility with jazz standards and older forms of jazz such as Dixieland and swing.

In addition to his contributions to jazz, Perry has recorded and played folk music, klezmer, blues, classical, and rock and roll. Certainly he is the only musician to have played with Bob Dylan, Allen Ginsberg, Pete Seeger, funk master George Clinton, and rock drummer Ginger Baker.

An aspect of Perry’s talent that has not been adequately appreciated is his songwriting. Like his father, the composer Earl Robinson, Perry has a gift for simple, sturdy melodies that express a wide range of feeling. From the compositions on his first album Funk Dumpling to those on his most recent album Un Poco De, Perry’s songs are gems of buoyancy, imagination, wistfulness, and mysticism. And the more one knows about music, the more one can appreciate Perry’s inventiveness with time signatures and other subtleties of composition.

Despite Perry’s talent and contributions, he has often slipped under the radar of jazz history, and there are several reasons for this. The clarinet is no longer one of the foremost instruments in jazz, and as a result clarinetists do not get the same attention as saxophonists and trumpeters. Also, although Perry has appeared on dozens of albums, he is the leader on only seven of them. This is compounded by the fact that there is a fifteen-year gap between Funk Dumpling (1962) and The Traveler (1977), and these albums as well as the first three albums of the Perry Robinson Quartet are currently out of print.

The last reason may be the most illusive, and has to do with Perry’s personality and aesthetic. As bassist Ed Schuller puts it, If you think of the King Arthur legend, Perry would be like Merlin. Merlin had all the power, but he stayed in the background and never really got involved. He didn’t fight the wars, he’d just show up once in a while and do something. Perry’s kind of like that: he doesn’t lead the men to battle, but he’s there, and in subtle ways things go in his direction. The freedom to play what he likes has always been Perry’s first priority. He has never been particularly concerned with asserting himself as a leader, nor with marketing himself. His low-key approach has kept him out of the public eye, and his versatility has made it difficult to fit him into a single musical category.

These reasons, however, are not insurmountable problems, and hopefully Perry Robinson: The Traveler will help Perry and his music get their proper recognition.

* * *

I first met Perry in 1986 at the O ROE Electric Art Space, a community-based art space in Hoboken, New Jersey. We had some interesting talks at parties, then I started going over to his apartment to hang out. While music played in the background, Perry told me stories about his life, listened to stories about mine, and lent me the right books at the right time. He was the most creative, the most encouraging, and the most rebellious person I had ever met.

Perry’s fiftieth birthday on September 17, 1988 was recognized as an occasion. Hoboken declared it Perry Robinson Day, and there was a celebration at the Jefferson Trust Bank. A few months before the party, Perry’s close friend Jim Cramer suggested that I interview Perry to commemorate the event. Perry and I met, taped our conversation, and I transcribed it into a short piece entitled Perry Talks About. The interview was available at the party, and after that it took on a life of its own: Perry and I have handed out dozens of copies, it was printed in the German magazine JazzPodium, and it can currently be found on Michael Fitzgerald’s web site http://www.eclipse.net/~fitzgera.

I moved abroad in 1990 and returned in 1995. It was at the end of 1996 that I suddenly had the idea—one of those moments when you don’t know if you’re having an idea or being given it—that I should do a fuller version of Perry Talks About. I broached the subject to Perry one day when we were walking down Washington Street in Hoboken, and I remember my great happiness when he said, Yes, let’s do it.

The first session was conducted at my apartment, but after that I always went to Perry’s place at 516A Manila Avenue in Jersey City, then to his next home at 113 Lincoln Street, also in Jersey City. We did what we always did: we sat in his apartment and talked, only now we were taping. We were often interrupted by roommates and phone calls, and once we even had to take a trip to the post office in the middle of an interview, picking up again when we came back. The interviews were always enjoyable, and the tapes contain much laughter. I laughed hardest when Perry talked about people who couldn’t adjust to the end of the 1960s hippie lifestyle; when I asked Perry how the end of the 1960s affected him, he replied, It didn’t affect me. I just never stopped living that way.

The book attempts to capture Perry’s speech patterns and storytelling gift, but for the sake of narrative flow sentences and stories have been rearranged. Perry’s speech is freer than the book implies, and he often interrupts one story to tell another. Also, Perry would seldom say so much in a constant stream; he doesn’t often initiate conversation about himself, and many stories in the book came in response to questions. It is unfortunately impossible to convey Perry’s physical appearance and mannerisms, which are part of the delight of listening to him. With his aureole of gray hair, piercing eyes, wiry frame, and straight posture, Perry is something of a modern-day wizard. He also has a tendency to end a story with an outburst of laughter, or by clapping his hands and saying, Yea!

Some readers might be surprised at Perry’s candor about sex, drugs, and other unconventional experimentation. As Perry’s story unfolds, it becomes clear that he is not afraid to break societal taboos, including the taboo against speaking honestly about one’s experiences. This type of honesty actually has a precedent in jazz autobiographies; there is a sub-genre that delves into the subject’s personal life, no matter how unflattering or shocking the truth might appear. The autobiographies of Miles Davis and Art Pepper are classic examples of this sub-genre.

The interviews were not conducted chronologically. For the first fifteen tapes, Perry told stories as he thought of them. I transcribed those tapes and put them into chronological order, and The Traveler started to take shape. I began to recognize the gaps, not only in the narrative but also in my knowledge. In order to continue asking questions, I had to educate myself on subjects ranging from folk music to psychedelics to angelology. The largest topic, of course, was jazz; I studied the music and history as well as the art form of jazz biography and autobiography.

After the first set of interviews I compiled a list of topics for Perry to discuss. But even with the list our interviews were always improvisational because we never knew where a subject might lead. And I never knew how long an interview would last: some were as short as forty-five minutes, others over two hours—it just depended on the day and our energy level. This process of taping, transcribing, and researching occurred several times, and when we were done we had over fifty taped conversations. During the taping process and for months afterwards the book went through many drafts and extensive fact checking. I had a great deal of help from Perry’s friends, who patiently answered questions on dates and spellings and helped sharpen details.

About a quarter of the way into the taping I read a book of interviews with people who had known the filmmaker-alchemist Harry Smith. I liked the format so I spoke to Perry about it, and we decided to ask people to contribute short pieces to our book. I solicited these pieces throughout the course of the book; most of the pieces were written, a few came from interviews, and one was culled from a series of emails. The contributors’ input gives The Traveler a kaleidoscopic effect: their stories reflect Perry’s stories, and vice versa. I also took material about Perry from other sources and interspersed it throughout the narrative, further adding to the kaleidoscope.

Five years later, Perry Robinson: The Traveler is finished. As the book unfolded I was struck by how insightful Woody Guthrie was about Perry when he said, [You like] to tear up an old wore out one and make you a new one. Perry takes the old forms of jazz and makes free sounds; he takes the old forms of cause and effect and makes magic shows; and through his mystic and psychedelic explorations he takes the old form of duality and makes new modes of perception.

Creating this book with Perry has been a pleasure, a journey, an honor. May Perry Robinson: The Traveler bring Perry’s music and ideas to all who need them.

EARL ROBINSON

Becoming the father of my son, Perry, was both an easy and a hard experience. My wife became sick with toxemia during the latter part of the pregnancy, and when the doctors finally, in her [seventh] month, had to induce labor, they gave the baby one in ten chances of living. When I asked about the baby, their answer was, We save Helen, the factory, before worrying about the product. So Perry came out weighing just three pounds, ten ounces and lost weight the first four days. Fed with an eyedropper at first, he began to gain an ounce a day. And he proved to be indestructible.

Excerpt from the book Fathers and Sons, page 32. Reprinted courtesy of Steven

H. Begleiter.

CHILDHOOD

I was born September 17, 1938 at Beth Israel Hospital in New York City. A few jazz books have me listed as August 17, 1938, but that’s wrong. In my dad’s book Ballad of an American: The Autobiography of Earl Robinson, he says I was named after my great-great-grandfather Perry Robinson. He lived from 1817 to 1863, and he was the start of the whole clan. But my mom said I was named for the actor Perry Bruskin, who was a very good friend of our family, and that sounds right to me because I didn’t hear about the other Perry Robinson until later.

My dad’s family was really interesting, particularly the Hawleys on his mother’s side. Hawleys were part of the early Quaker movement in the 17th century, and some of the later Hawleys were involved with spiritualism and clairvoyance. There was also the Putnam branch of the family, who were part of the Salem witch trials; some Putnams were accusers and some were witches, so we had family members on both sides of the trial! A later Putnam, Israel, was a famous hero of the American Revolutionary War. So there’s quite a background. My mother Helen’s family was interesting too, and I’ll talk about them later.

My parents met in 1936 in New York City when they were both working on the Federal Theater Project, which was part of the Works Progress Administration. My mother was designing and painting theater scenes, my dad was working with music, and they met on the Federal Theater pay line. They got married two months later on February 17, 1937; my dad was 26 years old, and my mother about a year younger.

My mother had a problem with pregnancy. After me she had five miscarriages, so I was her first child and her last. When she was pregnant with me she got blood poisoning, and I had to be induced at seven months. I weighed 3 pounds, 10 ounces, and I was so tiny I could fit in a shoebox. When I came out the nurse slapped me; I gave a big cry, and she said, We’re not supposed to say anything, but it sounds like he’s going to be okay.

The first four days I lost an ounce a day, and the doctors gave me a one in ten chance of living. I was in an incubator for three weeks; I was so tiny my mother had to feed me with an eyedropper. When I finally got out of the hospital my mother took special care of me. My cousins in Seattle told me my mother ground the best meat by hand, and she put me out in the cold to get strong; she did many different things because in those days they didn’t have much hope for premature babies.

There’s a whole psychological dynamic with birth; everyone’s birth is heavy even if you think it was normal, and if there were any problems you’re strongly affected. Technically what happens with premature babies, especially when they’re induced, is that you’re forced out before your time and you’re resentful—and at the same time I had guilt because I thought I was the cause of my mother’s sickness. In reality my mother had problems that doctors today could deal with, but in my unconscious mind I interpreted things differently, and I felt responsible. All that heavy stuff came out when I did rebirthing, which is a breathing technique that lets you reexperience your birth. These things still are heavy for me; when I get stoned I’ll often write about them, then I’ll look over what I’ve written and just go out.*

By the time I was born my dad was already establishing his reputation as a composer. In 1936 he composed the famous labor song Joe Hill; the song has been called the most famous labor song, and it took on new life when Joan Baez sang it at Woodstock in 1969. And in 1939 Paul Robeson sang my dad’s cantata Ballad for Americans on the radio, and the song and my dad became famous overnight. Dad’s also known for The House I Live In (1942), which Frank Sinatra often sang, and The Lonesome Train (1942), which was a requiem for Abraham Lincoln. His other well-known tune Black and White was written in 1954 and recorded by Three Dog Night in 1975, and in 1966 he wrote Hurry Sundown, which Peter, Paul and Mary recorded that same year. My dad wrote many other things, but those are his best known works.

My first four years we lived in New York City, then in 1943 the famous agent Charles K. Feldman invited my dad out to Hollywood. We moved to Oakhurst Drive, a neighborhood on the edge of Beverly Hills. Los Angeles was different then; the air was very clean, and there was more nature—I remember it as a very pure place. Dad was under contract to MGM to compose music, and he also freelanced for Paramount and United Artists. He wrote music for The Romance of Rosie Ridge (1945) with Van Johnson and Janet Leigh, which was her first movie; also California (1946), The Roosevelt Story (1947), and A Walk in the Sun (1945). A Walk in the Sun was by the great producer-director Lewis Milestone, who’s known for his film All Quiet on the Western Front; it was also Lloyd Bridges’ first film.

Movies and actors were definitely part of my early life. I remember going with my dad to the movie set for Blue Skies, the Irving Berlin musical with Fred Astaire and Bing Crosby. One shot shows the characters looking up at an enormous blue sky while they sing the title song Blue Skies. When you see the sky on the screen it looks real, but it was only a painted backdrop. I remember seeing that backdrop, and it made a big impression on me. And one night when I was about five my parents came back from a party and woke me up so they could give me a puppet. It was an out puppet with a big nose, a schnozzola, and they said, This is from Jimmy Durante. They’d been to a party at the comedian Jimmy Durante’s house, and he gave them a puppet for me.

At that time there were great Technicolor Aladdin films like A Thousand and One Nights (1945). Aladdin had an enormous black genie named Giant who was bald and wore a loincloth and one earring. I flipped out totally over him. In real life Giant was Rex Ingram, a great black character actor who was friends with my dad. One day Dad said, Guess who’s coming to dinner? Giant! I was excited to meet him, but I didn’t know what to expect since he was so huge on screen. Rex showed up and he was a normal guy, but at one point he pulled down his pants a bit and showed me his loincloth; he had worn it under his clothes just for me.

I also had crushes on Hollywood actresses like Rita Hayworth, Virginia Mayo, and Judy Garland. With Judy Garland I was completely out; when she got married I wrote a love poem that said, Let me cut the ties that bind them. And once when I was about seven we were at the Hollywood Bowl for one of my dad’s performances; I was sitting in a box seat with my mother, and there was this beautiful woman sitting next to me. I wouldn’t stop staring at her, so finally the guy she was with leaned over to my mom and said, Watch out, when he grows up he’s going to be a wolf! And it was Artie Shaw and Ava Gardner. So when I was young I was very aware of women.

The actors Charles Laughton and Elsa Lancaster were great friends of Dad’s. Charles won an Oscar for Best Actor in 1933 for the lead in The Private Life of Henry VIII, and he also played Captain Bligh in the 1935 version of Mutiny on the Bounty. Elsa’s known for playing the bride of Frankenstein, but she was a high actress who was twice nominated for Oscars. I remember going to their house and hanging out with them, they were a very nice couple.

Lou Bunin, one of the inventors of stop-motion animation, was friends with my dad. Lou was a great puppeteer; he directed the 1950 movie Alice in Wonderland, which used stop-motion puppets. I was very into puppets as a child, and I remember Lou gave me one, a man with a tuxedo and top hat. I also made hand puppets, and I had a little theater for them. But something out happened with my interest in puppets. We used to go to puppet shows, and I was so fascinated I used to go backstage after the shows. The puppets were amazing; they were large, larger than Charlie McCarthy-size puppets, and to me at that age they seemed life-sized. I don’t know exactly what happened, but my mother later told me that a sexual incident happened with me and one of the puppeteers. Some of the puppeteers were homosexual, and probably one of them thought I was cute and came on to me. I have no memory of it, and I can’t remember exactly what my mother told me so I don’t know if something specific happened. So that’s out.

I did a lot of drawing and painting as a child, which was a natural thing since my mom was an artist. She studied at Parsons in New York and was trained in art; she painted watercolors, and drew still lives and cartoons. Later she went back to school and got a job at Hanna Barbera doing technical drawing. She never went all the way with her art, but she always had little projects going on, and she always encouraged me in my artwork. I had my own little workspace at home, and I used to stay in there for hours. I was doing clay modeling when I was three years old, and as I got older I got into different kinds of painting; at age seven I studied oils with Sam Kennedy, a wild leftist Irish painter who was a friend of the family’s. I did a lot of work over the years, and then when I was about eight a maid threw out all my portfolios, which was a terrible blow. We still don’t know exactly what happened. I think she must have seen these cardboard things with paper sticking out, and she didn’t know what they were so she threw them away. I was very traumatized, and I didn’t draw much after that, only sporadically through the years.

I was also into acting, and I was even in a short movie—unfortunately I can’t remember the name. The movie was supposed to raise money for Russian War Relief, which was a relief effort in World War II to aid Russia when they were still our allies. I had a scene with Jack Gilford, a famous actor who was later blacklisted; his best-known movies are Save the Tiger and Cocoon. In the movie he was coming home from the war, and I played his son. I remember I said, Oh, Dad! and then he fell on the couch and I jumped on him.

I also went to the Young Actors Company with my cousin Alan Arkin. My mother’s sister Bea Wortis married David Arkin, and they had three children, Alan, Bob, and Bonnie. Their family moved out from New York to California in 1946, and Alan and I became very close. He was born March 26, 1934 so he’s four and a half years older than me; Bob was born in 1943, and Bonnie in 1947. The Arkins had about three-quarters of an acre in the hills of Highland Park, which was about a half-hour from our house in Hollywood. They had two houses on their property, and our grandparents lived in the second house. There was also a fish pond, lots of trees, and terraces made with granite walls; it was a unique place, and I loved going over there.

The Young Actors Company was run by a woman named Viola Spolin. She later became a famous writer; her best-known books are Improvisation for the Theater and Theater