|
It’s like Nat Cole is
still alive when I remember that night in the latter 60’s at the Fox
Theater in San Diego where I had been asked to emcee a movie premiere.
Nat was there. He didn’t sing in the movie. He had a supporting
role, but he was the star to me.
Backstage, his manager prepped me on Nat’s stage appearance. ”Mr. Cole
will come out and just wave to the crowd. Then leave. Don’t ask him to
sing. Ok?” I nodded, and then he brought Nat over, introduced him and
left us. Nat had a regal bearing combined with a sincere warmth.
Flashing that big Nat Cole smile, he shook my hand and there was an
instant rapport.
It only took me a minute to forget his manager’s admonition. “Nat,” I
said “There are two thousand fans out there who want to hear you sing.”
I pulled out a “45.” “I know you won’t actually sing, but will you
lip-synch “Mona Lisa for us?” His smile faded, “What do you think this
is?” He asked testily. “The Dick Clahk Show?”
I mumbled an apology and started to walk away. Then I felt his hand on
my shoulder and turned around to see that Nat Cole smile again, a smile
as wide as you will ever see. He pointed to a grand piano that was
standing against the wall. “Ask the stage hands to move it out on stage,
will you?”
I ran to two stage hands who were just standing there. “Will you move
the piano on stage? Nat is going to sing for us.” One muttered something
about it being against union rules. The other guy just walked off like
he was insulted.
I was incredulous and shouted after them. “Nat Cole is going to give us
a free concert and you guys won’t move a piano six feet?” Again, I felt
the hand on my shoulder.” He took off his cashmere coat and said,
“Here, Harry. Help me move this piano onstage.” I jumped to his side and
we pushed it onto the brightly lit stage in front of a stunned crowd who
soon saw what was happening and erupted into cheers and applause. I
grabbed the center stage mike and handed it to him and he sang with no
introduction.
Did he ever sing! “Straighten Up And Fly Right”. “Laura”. “They Try To
Tell Us We’re Too Young”. And, of course, “Mona Lisa”. It was a
sensory overload.
And this is my most vivid memory. He finishes amidst a deafening roar,
then walks to the side of the stage while I am at stage center bringing
him off. Then he spies a cheerleader’s baton that had been left there
for later in the show. He picks it up and flings it to me. Twenty feet
straight to my hand. I one-hand it and throw it back in one motion.
Arc’d it straight into his outstretched hand. Effortless. Can’t explain
it, Zen maybe? It’s what baseball players call “the zone.”
Couldn’t do it again.
The crowd is still manic, roaring with deafening decibels. Then, Nat
looks straight at me and shakes his head and flashes that smile again.
It seems wider than his key board. Then, he ducks backstage.
Don’t let anyone kid you about nostalgia. It is real. Mostly, it is
about remembering the first time we were in love. Nostalgia is a warm
feeling inside us, formless. and indefinable until we stimulate our
memories. Then it leaps out like some giggling spirit that we have
somehow tickled into life, a joyous living presence. My entire life has
been like this. Nostalgia welling up in one part of me and another
spirit of equal strength tugging me into new adventures and experiences.
I lean toward the future but still cherish the past. How we feel about
our youthful memories is part of the secret of a good life.
Previously ...
"Frank Sinatra, the Man and
his Music"
"How KYW's "Martin and Howard"
Saved the Beatles concert in Cleveland"
|
