They Can't Take That Away From Me

Gershwin, 9/26/1898-7/11/1937

Like many an insatiably curious egocentric adolescent, I latched on to certain celebrities. I sought personal paladins, persons I could respect and hope to emulate. I hungered to identify with genius, dedication, talent, creativity. On Saturday mornings I'd haunt the .92 Biograpahy shelves at the John Muir Branch Library at 64th and Vermont in what then was known as southwest Los Angeles. Louisa May Alcott. Maria Tallchief. Christy Mathewson. Rosa Bonheur. Cole Porter. John Steinbeck. Amelia Earhart. George Gershwin.

Earhart, 7/24/97-disappeared 7/2/37

In my egocentrism, the last two idols particularly caught my attention. Both born in the waning years of the 19th century, both departed shortly after I was born on June 28,1937. Amelia disappeared somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, en route to Howland Island from Papua New Guinea on July 2, George Gershwin of a brain tumor right in my hometown, Los Angeles, on July 11. Obsessively over the decades I've read every new article or book about either that came my way. Often I'd lament that I didn't get the chance to become a fan while they were still around.

This September has turned out to be a tumultuous one for me, peppered with many challenges. Offsetting the headaches and heartaches, though, has been the bonus that September shined a spotlight on Gershwin...all month long. So even if my Gibraltar crumbled, I still have the music. Thanks for the memories, George Gershwin. They can't take that away from me.

Early in September as I headed for Lake Swanzey, NH, I began to read a paperback I had picked up in Portland's Powells Books two years ago, Wilfred Sheed's The House that George Built, a history of the titans of Tin Pan Alley who contributed to what's commonly called The Great American Songbook. I belong to CalJas, the California Jazz Arts Society, so after the past four years I've become familiar with many of these standards that remain the favorites of current jazz musicians. What's surprising is that even now, so many of these tunes written nearly a hundred years ago, still swing. Surprisingly, many of the songs I still love were composed by Gershwin, including "Someone to Watch Over Me." Here it is, sung by the incomparable Ella Fitzgerald.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYEeAOTIQ2c

She enunciates the verse so elegantly, it's worth a listen over and over again.

My week at the Road Scholar retreat, "Birth of Cool Jazz: Jazz Steps into a New Groove," introduced me to some Gershwin jazz versions I'd not heard before, such as Charlie Parker on "Oh, Lady Be Good." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVHSQpZp8-E  This was recorded live in Los Angeles in 1946, with Dizzy Gillespsie.

September 12 I went with a group of AAUW music lovers for my annual sojourn to the Hollywood Bowl, this time for the screening of the Leslie Caron/Gene Kelly/Oscar Levant film, "An American in Paris," accompanied by the Los Angeles Philharmonic. While in the  museum, I opened a drawer and spied a copy of the original program of the Gershwin Memorial Concert staged there the week following his death. Here's the program from memorable event that featured Al Jolson, Frank Sinatra and Oscar Levant:  http://albumlinernotes.com/Memorial_Concert.html

My favorite paragraph from the liner notes:
The hit of the evening was Oscar Levant’s rendition of the Concerto in F. Levant, an intimate of George’s, had perhaps a better understanding of serious Gershwin than anyone. George had asked Levant to play the Concerto in a Lewisohn Stadium concert in 1930s, as he had taken on the chore of performing his two Rhapsodies for piano and concerto, and left a bit overtaxed to handle the Concerto as well. After that Lewisohn Stadium concert, George’s mother strolled over to Oscar, looked him straight in the eye and said, “Promise me you won’t get any better.” Promise or not promise, we are fortunate that Levant adopted the Concerto and Rhapsody in Blue in the years following George’s death, and became their supreme interpreter.

S'Marvelous

I'd enjoyed Levant earlier in his droll role in "An American in Paris," and am so glad he had remained friends with Gershwin, even though he complained that George always made him take the upper bunk when they traveled together on the train. Gershwin had explained his prerogative to his friend, "That's the difference between genius and talent."

On the 121st anniversary of Gershwin's birth, September 26, Larry Maurer, who hosts a series of retrospects on movies and music from the early years of the 20th century, returned to Bowers Museum in Santa Ana with a Gershwin retrospective. I enjoyed clips I'd never seen before, including the hilarious dance duet between Eleanor Powell and a talented sidekick, to "Oh, Lady Be Good," in the 1941 movie of the same name: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=01oV5mVFQ10

Eleanor Powell, "Lady Be Good"

 My tribute to Mr. Gershwin...yes, my love for you is here to stay.

It's very clear, our love is here to stay
Not for a year but ever and a day
The radio and the telephone and the movies that we know
May just be passing fancies and in time may go

But oh, my dear, our love is here to stay
Together we're going a long, long way
In time the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble
They're only made of clay
But our love is here to stay

In time the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble
They're only made of clay
But our love is here to stay

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: George Gershwin / Ira Gershwin