Soundtracks Of My Life

Soundtracks

OfMy

Life

C O P Y R IG H T 2 0 2 0

M IC H A E L D A R D E N E LLE

SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE Prologue

Soundtracks Of My Life
Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing

Thanks for all the joy they're bringing
Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty

What would life be?
Without a song or a dance what are we?

So I say thank you for the music
For giving it to me

To me, life without music is like life without air.
Try to live without either.

I was probably born singing. If I could have, I
probably would have put on a show in the delivery room
at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Los Angeles that cold winter
night of January 22, 1947.

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE Prologue

Music has been such a critical part of my life for as
long as I can remember. I do enjoy most kinds of music,
and always have. Some of my fondest memories of my
childhood somehow revolve around music. I hope they
always do.

My grandmother, Louise Juanita Molineaux
Hutchison Axe Dardenelle (another story for another
book, trust me…) was a pianist and artist. She imparted
her talents onto her children, one of which was my
Dad…who couldn’t sing his way out of a wet paper bag,
but was a hell of an artist. I believe her musical talents
trickled down to me, though I never knew her because
she died 11 months after I was born.

Did I grow up in a musical household? Not really.
We were just an average American family. My parents
enjoyed music and listened to it. I had a propensity for
music at an early age and that fool accordion had my
mother insisting I take the accordion lessons. I was
probably 6 or 7 years old. I'm glad she made me take

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE Prologue

those lessons even though I had to practice an hour a day.
I’m glad she wanted me to do that. I would have made a
lousy baseball player.

One of the first songs I remember from early
childhood days was “Crying In The Chapel”. I
remember driving one night from Los Angeles to San
Jose to visit some relatives, up the coast on the dreaded
highway 101. I couldn’t have been more than 5. I don’t
know why it’s the first song I remember, but then I don’t
know why I remember half the things I write. Whenever I
hear that song today, it reminds me of that trip to San
Jose with my family.

Some of my favorite songs are those that were
written and sung so many years ago when my parents
were young. We usually had some form of music in our
home, so it was only natural that I would grow up liking
and remembering those old songs. I never got into the
jazz scene, or opera or hard rock - - easy listening,
mellow kind of music suits me just fine.

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When I was about 7 years old, my aunt Anita, my
dad’s older sister, gave me a 12 bass accordion that
belonged, I believe, to her mother many years before
that. I practiced and practiced, as much as one could on a
little 12 bass accordion, and begged my mother to let me
take accordion lessons. We argued about that brown
squeeze-box for a long time. I think I wore her out
because she finally relented, and after several
weeks…no, maybe months…of accordion lessons and
learning notes and other musically related things, I was
able to play my very first song. The song was called
“My Dog Towser”. I remember how tinny it sounded on
that little squeeze box, and how much richer it sounded
after I got my new accordion. I would be willing to bet
that if I was given an accordion right this minute, I could
play “My Dog Towser” without a flaw.

Here’s what it was, folks. Almost identical as best as
I can remember, what my first accordion looked like. Can
you imagine what I looked like playing that thing??

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Bass, chord chord, bass, chord chord….C, F and G.
When I was 8 years old, my parents and Grandma
Irene pooled all their hard earned bucks…about 500 of
those hard earned bucks… and brought me a bright red
120 bass accordion. How well I remember waking up
that birthday morning, and going out to the living room
to find that accordion, slightly tilted in its gray box with
the red fleece lining. It was really a sight to see, and I
was so excited I could hardly wait to pick it up and start

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playing. Speaking of which, It was so huge I could barely
handle it.

I continued my lessons at “Arnie Hartman’s School
of Accordion” in Van Nuys, where I was taught the
basics of music by his mother, whose name I cannot
remember (I guess it was Mrs. Hartman).

A search of the web (God, I love the internet) found a
picture of Arnie Hartman. I was shocked beyond belief
that one showed up...and it’s just like I remember him.

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Every Saturday morning, I would go to the music
school to play back the lessons I had learned the week

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before. As time went on, and my lessons continued, I
learned “The Clarinet Polka”, where one Saturday, I
came in, ready to go, knowing every note in the score. I
sat down, very confidently, I might add, and began to
play. Well, Mrs. Hartman sat there with me with her
accordion strapped to her hefty frame (which was not a
pretty sight), ready to play along with me. Was I
surprised when, as I began to play “The Clarinet Polka”,
she began literally pounding the notes on HER accordion
in an effort to distract me. I stopped playing and asked
her what she was doing. “You play your way, and I’ll
play mine.” Is that the way it’s supposed to work?? I
think not, and told her so. What she was trying to do was
distract me and have me hold my concentration. If that’s
what she wanted, then that’s just what she got. I
continued to play, and showed her that neither “The
Clarinet Polka” nor Mrs. Hartman were a match for me.
So there.

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All my musical life, I was somewhat of a
nonconformist. The basics were there, but I usually did
things my way (kind of like now.) Instead of reading the
music, I would play by ear, and hoped it sounded okay. It
usually did, which was frustrating, because I thought my
way sounded better than what was written. Through the
years, I continued to play the accordion, although I
stopped lessons rather early. I would usually practice
about 1/2 hour before my lesson, rather than the hour per
day like I was supposed to. One time, I remember I
didn’t know the lesson at all, and practicing 1/2 hour in
advance was not going to make Mrs. Hartman happy, so I
took one of the treble keys and bent it upwards so it
couldn’t play. It put the accordion out of commission for
a couple weeks till it could get fixed, but it relieved me
for a while. I told my mom that the key got stuck as I
was putting the accordion away.

As the years passed, I would play the accordion as I
chose, but generally enjoyed playing popular songs that

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were being played on the radio. I especially liked the
music of Connie Francis so many of her songs became
my songs. “Who’s Sorry Now” was a favorite.

When I was in the fourth grade at Hayvenhurst
Avenue School, my teacher, Mrs. Ebner, said I could
bring my accordion to school. I was really excited
because I have always enjoyed the limelight (there’s a
shocker, huh?) So when the day came, I lugged this
stupid accordion to school, and for about half an hour, I
was the star. The applause from my fourth grade peers
rang in my ears for days. I was good. I don’t remember
what I played, but I can assure you, “My Dog Towser”
was not one of the songs.

I always enjoyed singing with the class, and fondly
remember the Christmas recitals that we had in our
schools. One year, we had to make the mats we were to
sit on, out of newspapers. Each piece of paper was
folded into a strip approximately 2 inches wide by 20
inches long. Each strip was woven into another, and by

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE Prologue

time it was done, we had a mat that was about 20 x 20.
This was supposed to protect our clothes from the dirty
floor on which we sat while we were not performing.
Now that I look back, what kept the newsprint from
getting our clothes dirty? We looked like little ladies and
gentlemen in our dark pants and white shirts and bow
ties. We looked like ladies and gentlemen, but we sang
like little kids!

I credit my grandmother Louise for a lot of the
musical abilities and talents I have. She was an avid
pianist, author, artist. I wish I had known her, but she
died when I was very young. Oh, the questions I would
have for her now. I hope that she would have been very
proud of my accomplishments had she known. Maybe
she does.

My first recollection of a recorded song that I can
relate to an artist (aside from "Crying In The chapel"
where almost anyone could have sung it) was "Come
On-A My House" by Rosemary Clooney. Rosemary

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE Prologue

Clooney was very popular back in the 1950's; she had
many many hit records and a very popular television
show. Black and white. I remember she used to come
on at 10:00. starting off her show with "Tenderly"

"The evening breeze, caress the trees, Tenderly.”

I lived for that show. She was so pretty, she sang so
beautifully. I just loved her music. When she played Las
Vegas. as she often did, I would ask Grandma's husband.
who, as I mentioned, was an entertainer in Las Vegas, to
get me an autographed picture of Rosemary Clooney. I
couldn't have been much more than 4 or 5 then, but I
really enjoyed listening to her.

My taste in music has generally been pretty steady. I
like all kinds, except opera and jazz. I could never bring
myself to get into that kind of music. I detest hard acid
rock. Never liked it, never will. I will go out of my way
to avoid listening to hard rock. That is not music, it is

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noise. It's a shame these days to imagine that some of
these rock groups are as successful as they are, when all
they do is get up on stage, strip, or set themselves on
fire, or in general just make a public spectacle of
themselves. It is a disgusting display of what they
conceive music to be.

As the years went on, I became attached to Les Paul
and Mary Ford, who were the first to do multiple
recordings - that is, Les Paul would play the guitar and
Mary Ford would sing. She would then listen to the first
track she recorded, and record a second track on top of it
to harmonize with herself...multi-track recording. Then
she would listen to the two tracks, and record a third.
And so on, and so on, and so on, until 16-20 tracks were
used with her voice. The finished product was more like
a choir than a single person. It amazed me that one
person could make a sound like that. Now, as I record,
and sometimes overdub with myself, I am reminded of
Mary Ford who popularized the whole thing. The most

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tracks I have ever used was on a song called
"Chronicles", which Is the prelude to "No Other Name
But Jesus" (from the album of the same name). It had 8
tracks in harmony with myself. and as we added echo and
other sound effects to it, it became very stirring. It's the
work I am most proud of.

Along comes Connie Francis. The first love of my
life. I have no idea what ever got me started on Connie
Francis. In the late 50's early 60's, when she was just a
teenager herself, she came on the scene with "Who's
Sorry Now", a song she was forced to record by her
father, and one that became an overnight sensation. It
was an old song when she recorded it, but she redid it and
made it popular all over again. The song launched her
career into what would last over 60 years. and make her
the most popular female vocalist in the history of
recorded music.

As my grammar school days turned into junior high
school days, so did grow my infatuation with Connie

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Francis. I bought every record I could get my hands on.
It didn't matter whether or not it was a 45 (possibly
obsolete as you read this) or a 33 album. Tapes were not
invented yet for home use, to say nothing of Compact
Discs. At one time, I was the proud owner of EVERY
Connie Francis album she ever made. There were
Spanish albums, Italian. German, Jewish, even Japanese.
There wasn't an album she made that I didn't own. They
became worn and old, and eventually had to be retired - -
to the garbage bin - but I'm starting to collect them
again, getting whatever I can wherever I can.

When I was in junior high school, I had an
assignment in my journalism class. Being on the school
newspaper was a great interest to me, and I did all I could
to please Mr. Wauchope, the journalism teacher. My
assignment was to write a feature story on a musical
artist that was popular at that time. Did I dare choose
Connie Francis? You bet I did. But, as always, I was
going to do it my way. I contacted MGM records for

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whom she recorded, and got an address in New York
where I could write her. And write her I did. It was one
of those letters that wasn't supposed to sound like a fan
letter because I was doing this for class. And it started
out to be like a letter for class, but it sure didn't end up
that way. It became full of mush and was definitely
written by someone in junior high school who had a
crush on her. It sounded that way because it was written
that way.

My greatest thrill was the night I went to the Coconut
Grove at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles where we
saw Connie Francis in person. She was great, and I was
on a cloud. If I were to die tomorrow, I would die
knowing that I saw a Connie Francis concert.

Connie Francis went into seclusion in the 70s after
she was raped at knife point in the hotel where she was
appearing. She has gone downhill ever since, having
been committed to several mental institutions by her
father and herself. She now says, according to the

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National Enquirer (Yes, I still read it!), that she was
making her comeback, and based on her story in her book
"Who's Sorry Now", she will be making an album of
inspirational songs. I will undoubtedly buy it. if and
when it ever comes out, and I hope her comeback is
successful. Still number one in my book: Connie Francis.

As I continued to follow Connie, one thing led to
another and I was able to meet her and we became
friends. We spoke often on the telephone and through
emails until came the day in 2014 when I sent her my
album “When Sings The Heart” (more on that later) I got
a call from her, thinking it was a thank you for the
album. No, instead she was ranting over something she
thought I had put up on YouTube to sell. Someone by the
code name “Bandstand Mike” was the culprit but she
thought I was “Bandstand Mike” and she began yelling at
me for selling her royalties. I was taken back and said,
“Connie, what are you talking about??” She said “don’t
play innocent with me. I will contact my lawyers and

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have you arrested for piracy! I know who you are and
what you are doing.”

This pissed me off because I had NO idea what she
was talking about, but I wasn’t about to be threatened for
something I didn’t do.

“You listen to me, Connie Francis. And you listen
good: We have lawyers in California too, and if you think
for one minute you’re going to threaten me, I have news
for you. I’ll sue you. Do we understand each other,
Connie Francis??” The call ended.

I got a call back a few days later from someone who
said he was associated with her, and he apologized
profusely on her behalf, saying she got the name wrong
because she was on pain medication. He said she would
call me back personally to apologize.

Her apology came in December, 2015...18 months
later...in the form of a signed publicity picture of her in a
very nice frame.

I returned it with a little note that said, “Connie: I

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never want to hear from you again. I don’t want your
publicity picture, I don’t want the frame, and I am
throwing every Connie Francis album I own in the trash.
The trash and all of your music has been deleted from my
computer playlists. I want nothing further to do with you.
Ever.”

I never heard a word back.
Singers come, and singers go. As popular as Connie
Francis was in her day, along comes another who takes
the music world by storm. A young girl from Brooklyn,
New York, with this funny bump on her nose who looked
like the devil, but who sang like an angel. makes her
musical debut. Never, never will I ever forget the sounds
of "People" sung by a girl who, despite her looks and
funny last name, told everyone she knew that she was
going to be a star, and she would not change her name
because she wanted everyone back in Brooklyn to know
who she was. Streisand was a funny name for a
performer. but Barbara was determined to make the name

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Barbara Streisand known. As she started out in the
business and made that decision not to change her name.
she wanted to be different. Sounds a bit like me, huh?
So instead of changing her last name, she changed her
first: Barbara became Barbra. Barbra Streisand is a
legend, and by far my favorite of female vocalists. Sorry
Connie. You may have been a good singer, but you were
a lousy condescending person.

As I collected Connie Francis albums, I now have a
collection of Streisand albums, tapes and compact discs
that would rival any record store. Her movie career, both
starring in and directing. is one to be admired by any
artist. She's one of those funny funny actresses that has
more talent in her little finger than most people have in
their whole body. One of her early albums is entitled,
"Simply Streisand". It should really be titled, "Simply...
The Best" because she is.

One group that made a lasting impression on me and
those of my era, was a folk singing trio who didn't

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change their names at all. All they ever did was simply
not use their last names of Yarrow, Stookey and Travers.
They did, though, use their first names, and became the
most popular folk singing trio of all times. They were
then, and they are now, and always will be, Peter, Paul
and Mary.

"If I had a hammer, I'd hammer in the morning, I'd
hammer in the evening, all over this land.

I'd hammer out danger, I'd hammer out warning I'd
hammer out love between my brothers and my sisters.

All over this land.”

And years later, they sounded exactly the same as
they did when they first sang those immortal words so
many years ago. Peter and Paul have lost a lot of hair,
and Mary had found a lot of pounds, but their recent
album, "No Easy Walk To Freedom" takes me back to the
days of old when P P & M were strong. I hope as you
read this, you may remember the music of Peter Paul and

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Mary. It's good solid music that fills the heart with happy
and meaningful thoughts.

Mary Travers passed away from leukemia in
September, 2009. What a loss I felt since not only did I
love the music of Peter, Paul and Mary, I sang in a trio
designed after their music and their style. It was a blow.

Lest we should forget The Mamas and the Papas. Oh,
if you could have seen them in person. What a quartet of
variety. Papa John, with his beard and mustache, shoulder
length hair that never looked washed or combed, dressed
like an absolute slob. Mama Michelle, who was John's
wife, slim and trim, beatnik looking, with a voice that
was beautiful but not very strong. She had such a tiny
voice, that really had to be pushed. When she recorded,
she had to have her voice mixed with the others through
the mixing board more heavily than the rest, because she
simply couldn't be heard. I think, personally, that she was
in the group only because her husband started it. If it
wasn't for John, Michelle probably would be home

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washing dishes. Then there was Papa Denny. Denny had
this wonderfully mellow tenor voice that was music to
anyone's ears. He was rather easy on the eyes, and had
shorter hair than John. Denny Dougherty was in another
group, The Halifax Three, and added the depth and
warmth to both groups that made them sound the way
they sounded. But the one who made The Mamas and
The Papas The Mamas and The Papas was none other
than the lovely, the talented, the rotund Mama Cass
Elliott. Cass was a big one. She was beyond large.
She was fat. She was obese. But what a voice. Crystal
clear, pronouncing every note and every word with the
utmost of clarity that, left alone, would run rings around
any female singer amend. Even Connie Francis. (But
not Barbra Streisand!) Soon after the group broke up, as
most groups tend to do, Mama Cass went out on her own
and was quite successful. She was playing at the London
Palladium and after her show, was found dead in her bed
in London, rumored to be holding a ham sandwich on

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which she choked to death, but later revealed to have
died of a heart attack due to obesity.The woman was a
talent among talents. What a waste. What a loss.

John died in March, 2001 and Denny died in 2007.
And such were The Mamas and The Papas.

There are so many others - Neil Diamond is one of
the greatest singers in the world today. Simon and
Garfunkel made the kind of music that treated your ears
to something special. There are so many. I hope that
you find some singer, some artist that you will remember
throughout your lifetime as I have remembered
throughout mine.

Given the choice of going blind or going deaf, I
really think I would sooner die. Not being able to hear
the sounds of everything about me that I have grown to
love so dearly for my entire life, especially my music,
would mean the end of my world.

I can't remember when I loved music more than I do
at this point in my life. Not only do I love to listen to it,

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I love singing, as most everyone knows. But moreover, I
have come to greatly respect and admire the people
whose lives revolve around the sounds that no longer
appear to be the music I grew up on; now there's "RAP",
which for the life of me I don't know how anyone calls
music.

So that’s a brief (yeah, brief. That’s a good one)
introduction of what I am about to present to you.

I hope you enjoy it.
I just wish I could put it to music.

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE Those Pesky School Years

Those Pesky School Years
When I was in the fourth grade at Hayvenhurst
Avenue School, my teacher, Mrs. Ebner, said I could
bring my accordion to school. I was really excited
because I have always enjoyed the limelight. So when the
day came, I lugged this stupid accordion to school, and
for about half an hour, I was the star. The applause from
my fourth grade peers rang in my ears for days. I was
good. I don’t remember what I played, but I can assure
you, “My Dog Towser” was not one of the songs.
I always enjoyed singing with the class, and fondly
remember the Christmas recitals that we had in our
schools. One year, we had to make the mats we were to

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE Those Pesky School Years

sit on, out of newspapers. Remember those? Each piece
of paper was folded into a strip approximately 2 inches
wide by 20 inches long. Each strip was woven into
another, and by time it was done, we had a mat that was
about 20 x 20. This was supposed to protect our clothes
from the dirty floor on which we sat while we were not
performing. Now that I look back, what kept the
newsprint from getting our clothes dirty? We looked like
little ladies and gentlemen in our dark pants and white
shirts and bow ties. We looked like ladies and gentlemen,
but we sang like little kids!

I credit my grandmother Louise for a lot of the
musical abilities and talents I have. She was an avid
pianist, author, artist. I wish I had known her, but she
died when I was very young. Oh, the questions I would
have for her now. I hope that she would have been very
proud of my accomplishments had she known. Maybe
she does.

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE Those Pesky School Years

In grammar school, I learned to play the autoharp; a
zither-like instrument that was strummed with, at that
time, an eraser. It had buttons you could push that would
block out some of the strings, so the remaining strings
would produce this very soft strumming sound.
Whenever I could, I would practice the autoharp in class.
I could never take it home, though, because it belonged
to the school. But when it came to be my turn playing it,
I always played it better than anyone else. It was one of
the few things I could do better than anyone else.

As my school years progressed, so did my music. I
was always very conscious of the way things should
sound, musically, and was very critical of what I heard.
When I entered high school, I joined the William Howard
Taft High School A Capella Choir. I studied under the
direction of George Turner for 6 solid semesters. We
would sing religious songs, popular songs, you name it.
And our choir was good! One of the best in the district.
One of the songs we sang from the first semester was a

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song called “Oh, Lemuel”, a Negro spiritual that

accentuated the heavy bass notes and close harmony. It

was a favorite of ours, and when we sang it in concert for

the school, it was a favorite of the faculty and student

body. Given the chance, I could sing it again today:

“Oh, Lemuel my lark, Oh Lemuel my beau
I’se gwine to hab a ball tonight, I hab you fo’ to know.
But if you wants to dance, jes’ dance outside da do’
Because yoe feets so berry large, dey cover all de flo’
“Oh, Lem, Lem, Lemuel I say: Go down tode cotton fields,

and bring dem boys away.
Go down to de cotton fields, go down I say
Go down and call de’ darkie boys all
We work no mo’ today.”

“Oh, Lemuel” will long be remembered by me and

anyone else who had the pleasure of singing in the choir.

Imagine 80 voices singing about some ole’ darkie boy

going down to “de cotton fields”. Wouldn’t fly today.

Guaranteed.

We had several kids of celebrities at Taft. One was

Maggie Bannon, singing alto in the chorus. Maggie was

the daughter of Bea Benaderet, who was a popular

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE Those Pesky School Years

actress in many television shows. She played most
notably Kate in Petticoat Junction. She was Lucille Ball’s
first choice to play Ethel Mertz but she was unable to
because of contract disputes. She was also Aunt Pearl
(Bodine) in the Beverly Hillbillies. Maggie’s brother was
Jack Bannon, also a popular television start.

Maggie and I were friends but that was pretty much
it. She signed my yearbook, I signed hers.

Another child of celebrities was Julie Dickinson.
Julie’s parents were founders of the Modernaires, an
extremely popular vocal group from the 30s and 40s.
Julie’s dad was Hal Dickinson and her mom was Paula
Kelly. I loved and still love the sound of that kind of
music. When music was music and lyrics were
meaningful and understandable.

Julie and I became lifelong friends beginning in our
high school years. I kinda had a crush on Julie and one
day I bit the bullet to ask her out to a Peter Paul and

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Mary concert playing locally. She accepted and we had a
wonderful time.

Julie and I lost touch for many years after high
school, but she went on to continue the work of her mom
and dad and took over the lead with the new Modernaires
she formed, with her sister Paula Kelly Jr. Julie and I
have rekindled our friendship through social media, and
remain friends to this day.

I also developed a friendship with Jenny Cohee.
Jenny was in the choir as well, and had this wonderful
voice that I always thought soothing. She was really
cute, and had a bubbly personality. She was really
popular in school so I thought I could never get near her
long enough to say hello.

Jenny and I had a taste in music like most other
teenagers, and we could both carry a tune, and we both
liked The Mamas and The Papas. In later years as our
friendship bonded, we got together at her little studio
apartment somewhere near Coldwater Canyon, I believe,

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if memory serves. At the time I had this big ole’
Wollensak tape recorder, one of those reel-to-reel things
with speakers on either side and a port for 2
microphones. I would bring it over to her place and the
two of us would sit there for hours, it seems, singing to
The Mamas and The Papas. We did “California
Dreamin’”, “Straight Shooter”, “Creeque
Alley”...anything we thought sounded good singing.
Actually we sounded pretty good. The main thing was,
though, we were friends then, and remain friends today,
even with the 250 miles that separate us. We stay in
contact on social media and reminisce about those
“olden” days.

I spent 3 years with my high school a cappella choir.
I loved every minute of it. I loved the rehearsals, I loved
performing for the school. I knew I wanted to join some
sort of musical group when I went to college.

And so I did. When I started Pierce College in the fall
of 1964, I signed up for the mixed choir, conducted by

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE Those Pesky School Years

Marion Vree. She told us (and why I remember this so
many years later is beyond me…) “The way you
remember my name is ‘the best things in life are Vree.”
I’ll always remember that. Marion Vree was a
well-experienced choir director and demanded
perfection. When the choir sang under her direction,
that’s what she got. I often wondered how I would
manage to sing under her direction, but I did, and she was
pleased.

The concert that Christmas was Vivaldi’s “Four
Seasons” and the choir put on a performance of “Gloria
In Excelsis Deo” Thrilled everyone. To this day when I
hear that piece, I think back to those days of Pierce
College Choir and Marion Vree. I remember it fondly.

33

SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Other Three

We were not Peter, Paul and Mary. We were

Two of the 80 voices in our high school choir
became two of my closest friends: Jim Bastian and
Marla Marco. As our school years went on, so did
our friendships. The three of us became inseparable.
It was only a matter of time before we decided to put
our musical talents to good use and to pool our
voices. We thought, “Hey. If others can do it, so can
we.” So with encouraging thoughts in mind, we

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Other Three

formed our little trio that we called “The Other

Three”. A rather stupid name, but we told people

that there used to be a fourth member, but he left and

we were (you guessed it. . .) “The Other Three”. We

were copies of Peter Paul and Mary, and most of our

repertoire was taken from them. Jim sang baritone,

Marla sang soprano, and I sang tenor and played the

guitar.

Our first gig was for the City of Hope, for their

annual spring fashion luncheon. Those luncheons

since had lasted over 50 years. The Other Three”

lasted one. We sang at the Castaways Restaurant in
Burbank to 300 people. The audience loved us, and
from the applause, it was evident. We were on a
cloud. I’m proud to say that the entertainment we
provided was instrumental in that luncheon providing
a net profit that was donated to the City of Hope, of
$300. That’s like a donation of $1 per person…but
you have to remember, that was in 1964.

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Other Three

Our set finished with “He’s Got The Whole World

In His Hands.” To a crowd full of Jewish people.

We soon found our way to sing for a man in

Gardena who was running for local congress and

wanted us to sing in his weekend campaign. “The

Other Three” drove down to Gardena, where we met

this Japanese man, whose name I don’t remember,

and rode around the city of Gardena in the back of a

Cadillac convertible waving and singing to the

crowds. Peter Paul and Mary we weren’t, but good

we were, and fun we had. The job paid us $100 (not

each) and we thought we were on our way. We

opened a bank account, and after buying checks for

the checking account, (business style, 3 to a page, of

course) and some minor expenses (we had to

celebrate with dinner… in a fancy-schmancy

restaurant…in our “uniforms”), it took all the money

we had in our account. And the account never saw

another dime from that day on. Getting the money

from this guy, who lost the election, by the way, is

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Other Three

another story for another time. Marla’s dad, Norm,

was a collector, and he got involved, and as I recall,

was none too gentle with this idiot who said he’d pay

us and didn’t. Norm got us paid.

We got hired to sing for a graduating class of

1965, I believe, for their “graduation dinner” held at

the Airport Marina Hotel down by the airport. I

would have to say that that was the better of the

performances we had. We were in good voice, knew

our material, and sounded good. The kids liked us;

possibly because we were their ages and we were

singing songs we all knew and liked.

So here we are. The Other Three. Trying to

make it big in the music business, trying to compete

with Peter Paul and Mary, but to no avail. Maybe it

was because they were….what, I don’t

know….better than us?? We had a great time

entertaining other high school students, and they

enjoyed listening to songs they knew in a style they

were familiar with.

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Other Three

We sang at the Oak Room, a small dinner

restaurant in Encino, and as I began to strum the

guitar to our opening number, “When The Ship

Comes In”, I knew we were on our way. Ready.

Confident. Prepared. Sure of ourselves.

”Oh, the time will come up when the winds
will stop, and the breeze will cease to be
breathing…

Like the stillness in the wind, ‘fore the
hurricane begins; the hour that the ship comes
in. . .”
We were a-singin’ and a strummin’, knowing that
each of us had a small part to sing solo, and also
knowing that we had each other for support as
individuals and as soloists. Here comes Mike’s part:
“Oh, a song will lift as the mainsail shifts
And the boat drifts on to the shoreline. . .”

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Other Three

. . .But where’s Mike? The guitar continued, but

Mike didn’t. Oh, Mike. . .? Sing, Mike. But lo and

behold, Mike has forgotten the words to his part. To a

song that I knew backwards and forwards, right side

up and inside out. And Jim and Marla looked at me

and gave me that look that can only be left to the

imagination...the proverbial “stink eye”... But in the

true spirit of professionalism and showmanship, the

show went on. Jim remembered HIS lines, Marla

remembered HER lines, and together, we

remembered OUR lines. These things happen, I

guess, but they never happen to me. Even as I

continued to sing publicly, my mind goes back to that

day, and I pray during each song I sing, “Please.

Remember the words. Under penalty of death, or

worse, deep embarrassment.” So far, I can still hold

my head proudly when I sing.

We were taken in by one of Marla’s friends,

who wanted to manage our “career.” Jack wasn’t one

of those hot-shot musicians, but he DID have some

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Other Three

connections, and before we knew it, we were in a

recording studio down in Hollywood singing a

protest song called ”Hear The Drums”. This was the

era of protest songs, and I don’t know who wrote it

(probably our manager, Jack. . .) The tune and the

words are indelibly etched in my mind:

“Hear The Drums:

They’re pounding out a message, can't you hear.
Hear The Drums,
You’ve got to listen with an open ear…
Can’t you hear what they’re say - ing. . .”

“Hear The Drums” was nothing more than a

vocal exercise put to music with close 3-part

harmony, but what an experience to sing in a real

recording studio. It was the only recording we ever

did that was actually pressed onto vinyl (cassettes

and CDs were not invented yet). I believe Marla still

has a copy of it. How I wish I did. Marla and I are

still best of friends, well over 50 years, now with

grown children and grandchildren of our own. There

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Other Three

are times we fondly recall those days of The Other

Three and Hear the Drums.”

Marla and I recorded an album together during

this time, called “The Album”…for lack of a better

title. The cover depicts her and me with headsets on,

laughing about something, and the moment was

captured on film, probably by our engineer, and we

thought it was perfect. That album is floating around

somewhere in her possession.

Jim passed away in 1996, and I didn’t find out

about it until 2019 when for some unknown reason, I

connected with his brother, Jon. Jim’s death, even so

many years later, saddened me a lot. Jim and I grew

up together as next-door neighbors, singing partners,

and best friends. I had known Jim had a heart

ailment, so it didn’t surprise me that that’s what

caused his death. I have to say after all these years, I

have thought about him a lot. We went to school

together, cut classes together, enjoyed each other’s

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Other Three

company…plus we were just next door to each other.

Great arrangement.

I never gave up. Although the group saw a

parting of the ways, Marla and I remained very close

friends, and as I mentioned, still are. We decided to

form another group with Marla, her husband at the

time, Bruce, her cousin Elliott, Georgia, and me. We

were called “Canterbury”. Why, I don’t know, and

made The Other Three pale by comparison. Bruce

played the banjo, Elliott and I played the guitar,

Marla and Georgia alternated on the tambourine, and

we all sang, and the five of us had a really nice

harmonic blend. We covered the songs of the likes of

Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand. Their music

never sounded. . .well, so different.

Just like The Other Three, so went Canterbury.

We never played together after the first few

rehearsals. Too bad. That was a real fun time of our

lives. Rehearsals were at Bruce and Marla’s home in

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Other Three

Canoga Park, and it was a chore to get everyone

together on the same night because of schedules.

The Other Three and Canterubry will always

hold very special places in my musical heart; not so

much for the corny music we sang and how

wonderful we all thought we were, but for the

lifelong friendship of Marla Marco and the lifelong

memory of my best friend, Jim Bastian.

43

SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Valley Master Chorale

The Valley Master Chorale
Marla called one day. saying that auditions were
being held for the Valley Master Chorale, a name I did
not know, and an organization with which I was not
familiar. Sounded fancy, though, don't you think? "The
Valley Master Chorale". Kinda rolls right off the tongue.
Marla says it is a chorus that rehearses out of Pierce
College in Woodland Hills, and sings several times
throughout the year at different venues. Now, as much as
I like to sing, I couldn't picture myself with a
professional chorus. Remember earlier how I said how
never really learned to read music? Well, you had to be
able to read music... and read it well, in order to pass the
audition. Marla offered to meet me at the music building
at the Pierce campus one Monday evening two years ago.

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Valley Master Chorale

She and Bruce met me there, and I must say, I was
more anxious to see them than I was to sing for a total
stranger, not knowing what I was getting myself into.
We went to the room, where Marla tried out first. She
came out after about 5-7 minutes, not knowing any more
than when she went in. How encouraging. I went in
next, and Marla and Bruce so kindly waited for me
outside.

Inside this 7 foot square room (if that big), was a
piano, and two members of the chorale, who I don't
know, even today, who were very cordial and told me
that there were three parts to the audition:

Voice quality, range, and reading ability. Well, I
figured, it was nice while it lasted. First came the range.
The lady played the piano from low this to high that, to
determine my range, which later was classified as first
tenor. I could have told her that. Next, she had me sing
"America The Beautiful". She picked out a key that was
suitable, and away I went. The acoustics in the small

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Valley Master Chorale

room were remarkably well suited, and I felt very

comfortable singing a song I have known most of my

life.

Two down, one to go. Reading. I thought. "This is

it. This is where they'll say, “thank you, we'll be in

touch." They handed me this music with black and white

lines and notes that I couldn’t make out as quarter notes,

half notes, footnotes. She gave me the pitch and the key,

and asked me to sing what was written.

I was surprised as hell when I found that I could

actually read better than I had thought or hoped! I read

so-so, but I read. Then it came: "Thank you. We’ll be

in touch". And out I went.

Marla and Bruce asked me how it went, and I told

them. I thought, "what a waste of a perfectly good

Monday evening." Frankly, I didn't care if I made it or

not. I really didn't. Since I had never been to anything

like this before, I didn't know what to expect in the way

of acceptance or being declined. Marla was happy, I

couldn't have cared less. I put the evening out of my

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Valley Master Chorale

mind.

The next day at work, I got a message to call a Jean

Hom, whose number or name was not familiar to me at

all. I called the number, introduced myself. only to find

out that Jean was calling on behalf of the Valley Master

Chorale, and she said to me "we really appreciate your

taking the time last night to audition..." and me thinking.

"Now nice. They call you to say you didn't make it." but

instead, I get "...and we would like to invite you to

become a member of the Valley Master chorale."

Suddenly, I realized how important Monday night was to

me. I was thrilled, and found out later, honored to

become a member of this professional organization.

Marla had been invited too, and together, we accepted

their invitation, under the direction of noted director,

Gerald Eskelin. (Noted...by whom? I had never heard of

him.)

During my tenure in the VMC, I found exciting

music I loved, and even some pieces I knew. One was the

“Carmina Burana” which I had performed in the College

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Valley Master Chorale

Choir. I didn’t care for it but I was familiar with it. The

first concert I was part of with VMC was in fact, the

Carmina Burana. I asked Gerry if, since I really wasn’t

comfortable with the piece, if he’d like me to either bow

out, or remain on the risers and fake and lipsync the

words. “I need you up there with us.” So that’s where I

went: up on the risers, peas and carrots and all. (Peas and

carrots simulates knowing the words to a song, and

mouthing the words with “peas and carrots” so it looks

like you’re singing.)

Later during the course of the 2 years I was there, A

few of us were hand chosen by Gerry to appear on stage

at the Century Plaza hotel as back up singers, The Gerald

Eskelin Singers. I couldn’t believe I was one of the ones

he chose, but that experience has left an indelible

impression in my mind, even after all these years. I really

felt like a celebrity as I left the stage and so many people

came up to us and complimented us on our show. It felt

amazing. I became hard to live with, I’m sure.

In the two years that I was a member, there seemed to

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SOUNDTRACKS OF MY LIFE The Valley Master Chorale

be some political discord in the chorale, so I hadn’t gone

for a couple weeks, and it looked like I may not return.

The chorale was to soon become the responsibility of

another director from Cal State Northridge, who may

want to re-audition every chorale member, whereas only

"the best of the best" will be accepted into the Northridge

Master chorale. I don't think I even wanted to try. I wasn't

admitting defeat, but my priorities were at home, and the

chorale took more time than I was able to devote to it.

What I took away from the chorale was an experience

of a lifetime. Another vibrant memory from the Valley

Master Chorale was a song called “Dor Ye Hudi” that

was a Hebrew holiday song sung a cappella in a 4 part

“round” with all chorale voices intertwining with each

other. It was a stirring song without accompaniment that,

even though we couldn’t understand the words, left the

members feeling very touched. I credit that to the

harmony and arrangement and the direction.

Since it was a “round”, the parts were all the same, so

it was easy enough for me to take the song into the

49