Fred Astaire said, “When  you dance with Cyd you stay danced with.” My “dance” with Cyd  Charisse happened when I directed her in a radio commercial some years back.

 

Lew Dawson, the AE for a product called “Arctic  Spray,”  phoned urgently without checking my credentials. “Be  in  LA next Wednesday. I want you to direct Cyd Charisse and Henry Mancini in an Arctic Spray session.”

 

That year, I voiced  a dozen nationals for Arctic Spray, an excellent muscle soreness product. Now, the client’s friends, Cyd and Henry would record one each. I had heard about Mancini, how imperious he was. Hey! I could handle him, unless he had a gun.

 

I had seen Cyd dance with Gene Kelly  and Fred Astaire years before in “Singin’ in the Rain,  and Bandwagon,” and was still in her thrall.

 

That day, Henry Mancini was up first. He entered  the studio, and fixed me with a dismissive eye, meaning, “Don’t presume to tell me how to do this.” I bought it. There was no doubt that he could read a “60” I simply made sure he had a glass of water.

 

Something horrendous happened. He drew a breath to begin, and only blabbering came out. He apparently understood the printed words, but could not read them aloud, the prime rule for doing a radio pitch.

 

“Fellows!” He cried in disbelief to his friends in the control room,” What’s happening to me?” He veiled his panic with a gallows laugh. Lew, my AE chum, smiled from the control room and shrugged like Henry’s possible stroke was only a passing aberration.

 

I was losing control of the session. “Maestro, don’t be concerned. I’m sure this is temporary, and we can fix it.” To be honest, I had not actually figured out the “fix.”

 

I decided to divert  the distraught Mancini by telling him that I had sung with Robert Shaw while in his home town of Cleveland, and that Shaw admired his phrasing.

 

“Yeah?” he said dubiously. Shaw was a God in the choral world, and it was hard for Mancini to fathom that he would even know about him. I bored on. “In fact, he loved “Moon River” so much that we often warmed up singing a few measures.”

 

He shook his head in disbelief. ”It’s hard for me to believe that Maestro Shaw warmed up on “Moon River.” He told me he had the Shaw choral performance of  “Vespers” the breathtaking collection of Russian liturgical  music adapted by Rachmaninov. It was the gold standard of phrasing. He had a point. It was better than “Moon River”

 

Challenged. I had no choice but to summon my best Robert Shaw bass baritone and sing,  the bass harmony part. in his own Mancini arrangement, “Moon River, wider than a mile. I’m crossing you in style some day. Oh Dream maker, you heart breaker. Wherever you’re going, I’m going your way.”

 

The maestro waved me off. ”Okay! Okay!. I’m sold. I’m just surprised……and delighted.” He nodded warily for us to go on with session. “All right,” I said, “In the immortal  words of Cozy Cole, ‘One more time’”

 

It was a well written script, which described how waving his arms in rehearsal and performance was like boxing ten rounds,  and that, like all athletes, he suffered from muscle fatigue and aches, and that Arctic Spray was the only cure he had ever found.

 

The final take was the worst.  I didn’t let him dangle and came to his  rescue by asking him not to try to read the script again, but  to repeat each line after me and assured him “no problem,” that we  would tie his separate lines together with the digital editing machine. He nodded, like anything you say. Great! The Director was in control again.

 

When I said. “we” would tie them together,  I meant the editorial “we.” The  control room editor would inherit the wreckage and salvage it when we left. I nodded to the editor conspiratorially. He smiled wanly, like sure anytime.

 

When Mancini  emerged from his session dripping with sweat, we all had a good nervous  laugh.

 

After making sure that Henry had retuned to his friends with his dignity somewhat intact, I beckoned to Cyd who smiled, and glided in like she was weightless. She gently took my hand, greeted me sweetly, and settled comfortably into a chair opposite me. My request for an over-stuffed chair for her had been honored.

 

Although she filled out the screen when she was on, to my surprise, she could have been no more than 5’6”. I could not help but notice that her body was still trim and tight.

 

My challenge was simple: Despite my abject awe, direct her in a “60” like she was a regular person..

 

I was under the gun. Mancini  had refused to let them call for an ambulance, so her “take” had to be literally on spot. He sat starkly in the control room waiting for his friends to take him to the hospital, yet adamant that Cyd voice her commercial before they left.

 

“Hurry!” Cyd murmured to me, without moving her lips, to avoid being “ read” in the control room. I signaled to the control board editor to stand by for a take, “Cyd Charisse. Artic Spray, take !,” I slated.

 

Cyd took a breath and spoke in a stilted Broadway clip “This is Cyd Charisse. When I was well into my dancing career, I……

 

I held up my hand. “Cut!” She looked at me, startled..

 

“Cyd,” I said. “You are speaking to middle America. There is nothing wrong with being genuinely excited about Arctic Spray. You are from Amarillo-I pronounced it

“Amarilla.”- Let ‘em know how happy you are, having found Arctic Spray, without the Texas accent, of course.”

 

The ice was broken. She  laughed outright that I knew about her Texas roots, and relaxed.

 

“Okay, let ‘er rip,” I said to this Goddess.

 

This time, she eased into a sincere one on one Chuck Bloresque ”take” that ran for about 20 seconds, then her voice began to thin as she ran short of oxygen, common for everyone. Voice pros will automatically call a halt when they need to oxygenate.

 

I quietly said, “Cut!” She looked up and smiled gratefully. “You were perfect. Relax,” I said, “Get your breath and we will “have at it” from where you left off.

 

She breathed in and began happily telling everyone conversationally how great it was to have found Arctic Spray and how it relieved  her sore muscles after two hours of daily barre exercises, pausing only once more to catch her breath, this time without my cue..

 

“That’s a wrap, Ms. Charisse.” I said, ending the session. “Thank you.” 

 

She stood and reached out for a hug. What else could I do? I encircled her tiny waist, and held her in the ballroom stance like we were going to start gliding across the studio floor.

 

When I held her right arm up, she  reflexively assumed “the position.”. Her body was as tight as a drum after a star turn on Broadway shortly before this, but I didn’t need a cymbal crash to know that this was a once in a lifetime.

 

 I moved forward and she mirrored me effortlessly like I wasn’t there. Believe me, I was..

 

 Lew Dawson “cut in” on the intercom.. “Okay, break it up, you two. We have to leave.”

 

Good thing he did cut in. A few more moves, and I would have betrayed how mismatched we were, like King Kong trying to dance with Fay Wray.

 

She was so sweet natured..When she danced the “Gotta Dance” sequence with Gene Kelly in “Singin’ in the Rain,” she stole it without intending to. Fred Astaire said that when he danced with her, time stopped.

 

Mancini’s trip to Cedars Sinai resulted in a diagnosis  of pancreatic cancer that had migrated to his brain. He  died in June of 1994, spending  his remaining months of life seated at the piano, composing the music for the Broadway version of “Victor Victoria.”.

Have you ever gone to a dance and been frozen in stop motion from one millisecond to another  in a flashing strobe light? Athletes get strobed by a special camera. Michael Jordan’s leap from the bottom of the key to the climactic basket. slam. Tony Gwinn at  bat from the initial stance- Flash! Flash! Flash!- through his full fluid swing. Tiger Woods addressing the ball while  strobed, Flash! Flash! Flash! through the perfect geometric arc to lift off.

I believe that  you can strobe a person’s entire life. Cyd Charisse has a dazzling ”life strobe” Her strobe begins when she first leaps into a tour en l’aire at age 14 in the Corps de Ballet of the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, climaxed by her heart stopping dance with Gene Kelly in ”Singin’in the Rain, or was the apex of her strobe on the occasion of that magical pairing with Fred Astaire “Dancing in the Dark” in “Bandwagon:” regarded by many as the greatest pure dance scene ever?

Cyd’s strobe lit up Broadway in a series of  stardoms including “Grand Hotel” in 1992.  She often teamed with her esteemed husband, Tony Martin, in major night clubs.

 

In her 80’s she was feted internationally, given the most prestigious awards for her contribution to the dance art.  They say she was the greatest  all-around dancer in Hollywood history. Cyd danced off the stage last week at age 86

 

Last Thursday, The L.A. Times devoted their usually restricted Editorial column to her memory. The editor wrote, “It was Cyd Charisse’s remarkable gift to move though  the hall of mirrors that is the American musical and never be caught glancing at herself.”

I vividly recall that “dance” with her years ago, when time stopped.  

Chuck Blore has a blinding strobe. Add John Rook, Sam Hale, Al Heacock, Specs Howard, Larry Lujack, Chuck Dunaway, Jack Woods, Roger Carroll, Wink Martindale, Kent Burkhart, Claude Hall, Peter Lund, Murphy Martin, Paul Drew,  Bill Kaland, Ron Jacobs, and Bill Drake, and who else? Send me your suggestions.

Next week: My “take” on how Tim Russert  maintained his robust  spirit  in the Washington pressure cooker. It  wasn’t entirely from Big Russ. And, the never before  told story of how  Hillary escaped the clutches of Ken Starr, freeing her  to run for the U.S. Senate. This all ties together when I describe how I performed in a national television  pilot in New York. Hint: My Production Assistant was named Maura.

 

 

You never tell yourself that you’re too old. Others tell you….

                                                                                  Mike Scott, fine PD, deceased