Yankee Doodle Dandies

Sunday, July 4th, 2021 To all you Yankee Doodle Dandies

“Hip, hip, hurrah” to and for all of us who have a love affair with the greatest country in the history of the world, the way we believe, and pray it will remain forever. This is to the United States of America, the very grandest on Earth. Cathy and da harv will be celebrating all this day and into this evening, along with Dorothy Zukoski, Cathy’s mom, who arrived from Chicago this Wednesday last. We will spiritually be raising my most expensive pre-iced glasses of single malt scotch in honor of God, family, country, friends, to any and all who have helped to predicate, with hands clasped tightly together, simply stating who and what we stand for as Americans.         …A little da harv history as remembered by a nine-year-old patriotic realist: Born and bred, lived, and will remain thrilled by growing up when it was a good thing to root for the winning team. Always we fought for the downtrodden, or at least that was the way it was explained to me. The odd thing about most of us who began our lives as first-generation Americans, somehow never considered ourselves to be downtrodden. We were all believers in our American dream. Each and every one of my friends heard the same thing at home.

Women shipfitters working onboard the USS Nereus at the U.S. Navy Yard in Mare Island, circa 1943. (Department of Defense)

In our home on Friday nights when the sun disappeared for the day, we gathered around quietly, watching my mother light the candles. It was a time for our family—regardless of how dysfunctional we might have been—to give thanks for our blessings, and for our soldiers' and sailors’ safety. The last words of the prayer were always the same: “God bless America! Amen”.         Note: At this point, my father, if he was home from work, led us with a musical chant. That part was a tradition cultivated by him and his nine brothers and sisters when he, too, was a child like me. It was always upbeat. The translation from Hebrew to English was, “Let us happy be.” Many of the pieces I was able to play on the trumpet were the music picked up from the bible. Years later, I discovered those same musical passages were being used as background in our films.

The year was 1942. Once again, it was my father and I alone together attending a movie. It was an era when audiences felt the passion, one and all, applauding our American flag when it was shown on full screen before the film began. Everyone in the audience, one way or another had a direct attachment with World War II. My father had been exempt from the draft because the age limit for being drafted was thirty-eight, or being the parent of two or more children. Dad was age forty with three children. I had reached the ripe old age of nine.         So there we were, a forty-year-old and a nine-year-old, about to experience one of the great films of all time: "Yankee Doodle Dandy". As the story reveals, it was the life and times of George M. Cohan, a famous vaudevillian song and dance man, who was also known as one of the great composers of the era. The song “Yankee Doodle Dandy” tells within its lyrics how Cohan was born on the fourth of July (in actuality his birthday was July 3rd).         George M. Cohan was one of those individuals who left his mark on society. Immigrants from everywhere imaginable fell in love with his patriotic bent. He was the king of Broadway doing his thing. My father fell right in with the immense crowd of "Cohan followers". Like father, like son. My fire had been parentally lit.         When we walked out of the “movie house” (as my Dad referred to it) we were singing “Yankee Doodle Dandy" together, with countless others. I can’t imagine anyone other than James Cagney playing the lead role. It was lock, stock, and barrel all Irish-American! *Lock, stock, and barrel is a merism used predominantly in the United Kingdom and North America, meaning "all", "total" or "everything". HK

Lyrics to “Yankee Doodle Dandy” I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy A Yankee Doodle, do or die A real live nephew of my uncle Sam's Born on the Fourth of July I've got a Yankee Doodle sweetheart She's my Yankee Doodle joy Yankee Doodle came to London Just to ride the ponies I am a Yankee Doodle boy

When Tomorrow Comes

"That Lucky Old Sun (Just Rolls Around Heaven All Day)" was a 1949 popular song, like "Old Man River", its lyrics contrast the toil and intense hardship of the singer's life with the obliviousness of the natural world. The biggest hit version of the song was by Frankie Laine's. It first reached the Billboard magazine Best Seller chart on August 19, 1949. Source: https://www.wikiwand.com/en/That_Lucky_Old_Sun

Note about the song: “That Lucky Old Sun”, as sung by Frankie Laine in 1949, might help to sum up the life this sixteen-year-old high school kid (me) was enjoying at the time. Like many teenage boys, I had this ability to misinterpret almost anything in print or the lyrics of that day's best-selling recording as a service for my own personal edification. And as a living example, music served my mystification of almost everything bouncing my way.   "That Lucky Old Sun" lyrics: Up in the mornin' Out on the job Work like the devil for my pay But that lucky old sun got nothin' to do But roll around heaven all day Rolling around Heaven All Day         When sixteen-year-old Harvey Kalmenson awoke each and every school day, he put on his Levi’s, a clean white shirt, slipped his feet into a pair of blue suede shoes, and, of course, in order to top off his leading man existence, his pride of achievement, Dorsey High School's letterman sweater. It was the spring semester, and time for baseball. Like the song depicts, I was the "son" rising each morning—the difference being: without a care in the world!         None of my schoolwork was ever a burden. What a life… I cared about baseball, and not much else, certainly not thinking about anything like the downer lyrics being sung by some poor bastard who happened to be struggling through life. My only struggle was a minor one at best. The school wasn’t just around the corner—I hitchhiked to get there every day, both ways; some people referred to it as “thumbing, or hitching a ride”.         Baseball, and working my body until I was ready to drop, was the name of my game; it was my reason for living. By the time I got home at the end of an extremely rigorous day, there wasn’t time left for anything other than falling asleep. The only downer with regard to my dedication towards a career in baseball was the attitude of most of my buddies. Going out at night or on the weekends with friends wasn’t on my agenda.         The next two years of my life zipped by. There wasn’t a bump in the road. Hitch-hiking to school had become effortless. Folks love being associated with young athletes. Our high school baseball team had become well-known; we were the Los Angeles city champions. It was my senior year; our team established a national high school baseball record for consecutive wins at thirty-four straight.         In my final appearance as a baseball player for Dorsey High School, it was to be the high point of my term as a student-athlete. And little did I know or understand, my life’s road was about to become a somewhat bumpy road adventure. The strange thing they call mortality, I was about to experience my own.   ….And one more thing learned along my way—actually two.   Question: Two things easily remembered and almost impossible to forget?   Answer: Winning and losing! HK

Father’s Day

 

Father’s Day 2021 Ladies and gentlemen, Boys and girls Big, little, tall or short Whatever the hue God determined you’d be The masks are all gone It’s Father’s day 2021 My guy’s not around But to all, including me Fill this day up with joy and glee It’s meant for young, and even old men The meek and the gregarious souls Fellows like me!

Staying Sane...

Staying Sane By Lighting Up My World           Did you happen to notice the previous fifteen months in this less-than-rarified world of the days and nights in our own civilization right here in our very own little piece of the geography known to most as "La La Land"? If you have experienced the less than blissful association with the anguish caused to us all by Covid-19, then perhaps you too have lost the ability to punctuate properly the way I have!   Maybe I cut a bad deal somewhere along the way...

In the old days, a man like the Godfather would have cut a deal with the powers that be—wherever and whomever they were. He didn’t concern himself with the correct punctuation. His deal offerings always seemed to work out. I loved when Marlon spoke softly and with great refinement: “I offered him a deal he couldn’t refuse.”         Society, especially in our great state of California, is being made crazier by the minute—or is just me who can’t understand what in the world our politicians are trying to do with us business people?   WHAT, IN THE NAME OF HELL, ARE THEY UP TO NOW?           Without exception, the folks who were designated by us to lay down the rules we follow were, by and large, put into their position by us. We voted them into office. None of them have felt the extreme severity of the financial crises we, their employers, have been relegated to endure during the course of the last fifteen months. In my less than humble opinion, it has become scientifically effectuated. Those of us who have been vaccinated or been cured of Covid-19, are safe to fully return to participating in society the way it was before the virus struck.         For those of you who are interested in finding the truth for yourselves, examine the track record the United States citizens have been privileged to since the time of your individual birthdate. For me personally, the number of vaccines and/or curatives during my lifetime is far more than merely impressive. Google: "vaccines invented since the early thirties". It's enough to fill a book. At eighty-seven years of age, I’m considered a reasonably healthy dude. Every injection science has offered up has worked on me without a hitch, thank God. The same goes for Cathy and my two daughters.         All of us should take a deep and deserved breath. Science has worked well for us. I, for one, plan on returning to work as quickly as possible. I’ve been successfully vaccinated. That being said, here’s the absurdity of our politicians' delinquency of pure thought and misdirection: If I can’t give it, and I can’t get it, why in the name of hell should I be wearing a mask? …And one more thing.         At the top of this merciless thing, I referred to as "being sane", or better stated, "in search of sanity", isn’t an implication I have reached a state of sanity. At best, I am in constant search of it, considering I have spent an enormous part of my existence attempting to stimulate a degree of truth, emanating from the abnormal number of thespians who have inadvertently from time to time sought out the abundance of my well-disguised directorial skills.   Note: It was some fifty years hence when not yet "da harv" first discovered one or two things which were to become a constant prevalence during his lifetime in this wrongly labeled attempt at survival of those of us seemingly endowed with the uncommon attribute of creativity. In other words, I became aware of my brilliant power of observation. 1.   The theatre is a tough racket to succeed at—or in—if you can even get in in the first place. 2.   Especially when you join the less-than-elated groups of husbands and wives, who are both actors and decide to raise a family while simultaneously attempting suicide by way of mutual starvation!   Like they often say in our trade, “I couldn’t get arrested if I tried.”

da harv's "Balcony A"

The point is for all who have heard me preach it, we all are endowed with God-given unalienable rights, other than what our forefathers called attention to. We have the right to be sane during the best and worst of times. Many years ago I learned from the songs, “One Alone” and “Over The Rainbow”, and what the titles could mean for me as an individual.         It was during my time in the Army while on a one-man recon detail, high up atop a six-hundred-foot elevation in South Korea, an inadvertent skill was discovered. We all have it to some extent, I just didn’t realize it was going to become more and more of a personal sanity tool as my life progressed.         For whatever reason, the lyrics of "One Alone" being sung by Mario Lanza, and then Judy Garland singing "Over The Rainbow" came to me. For the balance of my tour of duty, regardless of the assignment, I managed to call upon what I had been endowed with: my own personal degree of serenity stimulated by the sight and sounds of the old friends I was introduced to by the movies.         It was early during 1953. I still practice recall. I still manage to recapture a certain degree of sanity. I did manage not to starve. HK

"One Alone"

All things we are...

Remaining today Recapitulations Results must become witnessed   All things yesterday, Not knowing what we seek Reprieve is sought, Remaining disconsolate  Far from our accustomed lives Fifteen months have passed While Happiness for all has become  Prior for most In a day Week  Month Without leisure All passed Time at abnormal speed It became a year Enter another, equally bleak Bearing constant uncertainty Pen poised in hand Prepared to capture what is good Without avail Cheerful platitudes offer little relief Leaders at odds Praising themselves, blaming others All are wrong, equally, they fight Their spoken words hollow Humanity's needs unquenched A new summer is upon us Where are the promised flowers Chosen pundits falter Yet they persist They jabber on like empty woks Provisions void of substance While murkiness prevails Of that, they do well! I will remember them Voting Of that, I do well!!   …and one more thing to share: While smiling, done well!           And though I was old enough to have lived during the Second World War, I had only reached the ripe old age of eight when it began, which presented two equally important news items for the world to know: to serve in our military, in 1941, in just about every branch, a kid had to be at least eighteen years old. Secondly, the most important fact of my life, I never got to meet Sir Winston Churchill.         If he was alive today, I guarantee I would find a way to say hello to him. I mean, why not? I’ve directed many so-called stars who consider themselves in the same rarified air as any of today’s world leaders. All this is not to say at age eight I had an in-depth knowledge of the magnitude of perhaps the greatest wartime leader who ever lived.

At the time, 1941, Winston Churchill was age sixty-seven. And even with all the daily stress he lived with, he managed to make it to the then very ripe old age of ninety.         And FYI, I recall the exploits of my favorite statesman today, because I was pleasantly surprised when a day or so ago I ran across an item about a Winston Churchill habit I had either forgotten about or was unaware of. While reading “The Bomber Mafia”, written by one of my favorite current authors Malcolm Gladwell, he called to attention a problem Prime Minister Churchill was having to settle during the factors which existed between the “Royal Air Force (RAF)”, and our United States Army Air Force*. *That’s what it was called during WW2. The British favored doing nighttime bombing, while the Americans on the other hand, preferred daytime. Churchill summoned the Air Force leaders from both sides, to present their points of view at a high-level meeting with him.         Now here is the part which not only struck me as funny but was an example of who the man was in his real life, whether it be war or peacetime. As follows, Malcolm Gladwell described the meeting incident in his book: The meeting was set for generals from both sides to meet with the Prime Minister the very next morning. The American Air Force leader who was set as the designate to present was Ira Eaker—extremely renowned at the time. Eaker went back to his quarters and stayed up half the night drafting a response for Churchill. Everyone knew that Churchill wouldn’t read a document longer than a page. So, the briefing had to be really brief. And convincing. And so it was.           For all of us who function with a similar beam of light shining astutely down upon them, I highly recommend the storytelling of Malcolm Gladwell. Up, down, in and out, and all-around town, The Bomber Mafia helps to stimulate a feeling of wellness.

Comparisons         Each of the days, weeks, months, and over one full year now, we have all, each and every day, had to take it on the chin whether we liked it or not. We accepted our venture together. And though masked, a smile managed its way through the bleakness and relentless pressure, unlike anything any of us had been trained to live with.         When Sir Winston Churchill walked the streets of London, often as the bombs rained down on his streets, he had men and women at his side. They took heart. His point, often raised with glass in hand, “We will never give in. We will fight on to the end”. And oh yes, you might believe me now, when I say again, I’d find a way to meet the man who gave me so many of his words of encouragement.

...and now, it's time to take Little Winnie for his walk. HK

Our Memorial Day

Our Memorial Day, 2021

It was 1953 when a very young Harvey Kalmenson raised his right hand, took the oath, and joined the military. It happened to be the United States Army—it didn’t matter what branch of the service it was. The flag was up there for me that day when I took the oath of allegiance to our Constitution, I uttered those words. The son of two immigrant parents and grandparents who had managed, bound together, and without words sharing allegiances to a country they had not yet seen but one my grandmother gravitated towards with unbending patriotism for all of her life.         Some out there may not understand what a thrilling moment it was for me, a nineteen-year-old kid. It's one of those times that often come back in memory, and now especially, as we honor all those who gave their lives for our country. I recognize without them touching our lives, whether we like it or not, whether Democrat or Republican, Christian or Jew, and regardless of the skin color only God may choose for us; we soldiers marched together as one.         Our military men and women have protected us from all the evils man has, for centuries, fostered and perpetrated upon the United States of America and the world we live in today. And so then, this is a special day for all of us to take a moment to give thanks for what our brethren have sacrificed by giving all they had to give, forever.

Arlington National Cemetery, VA Google Images

…And one more thing: On this day, no matter the passage of time, Cathy and I personally express our thanks for what our family members selflessly donated, spiritually and physically.   Once more, We arise from the doldrums Seemingly an unconquerable disaster Vague defenses at inception, Many at odds with each other   Today the world again takes notice, America might have shown some bend Yet we remain unbroken Stalwart Ready for a new game to begin Strike up the band -HK-

73 Years...

73 Years, Hard to Believe

It’s hard to believe just a quick seventy-three years ago, not yet “da harv” was a mighty fourteen years old and was in the process of making, or having, a monumental occurrence in his young life fostered upon him—whether he liked it or not. The year was 1948, WWII had been over for two years.         By way of my diligent and concerted efforts, I was able to find some blissful memories of yesteryear still influencing what I began to become.

P.S.233, Brooklyn, New York, along with a photograph of my fellow classmates. You might take note: it was January 29, 1948.   What you’re looking at, below, is the autograph album of our eighth-grade grammar school graduation class. Two of the more important pages in the album signified our eighth-grade graduates. The names of our elected officials appear on two of the pages: seven (7) “CLASS LEADERS” and four (4) “CLASS OFFICERS”.

Some of you will be amused by the fact the kids of that era considered the following seven qualities, or requisite categories, for their school leaders: brightest, wittiest, most popular, most cheerful, best athlete, best looking, and best dresser.         The brightest guy, as well as my very best friend, was right up at the top, Joe Beberman. Carl Smith was my archrival, we competed in every category grade school had to offer. To this day, I can’t figure out how Carl could have won any of it… I had him beat all the way… it had to be a rigged election. I mean, the class officers election did appear to be honest—Barbra Wolf, if she was around today she’d probably have been elected our first woman president. Elain Surgen, for sure, would become secretary of state.         And why, you wonder, do I return like the Lone Ranger… to a simpler time of life? From out of the west, he and his sidekick, Tonto, came riding back into almost all of our lives… Once a week, each and every week, they rode in and we—kids and parents alike—gathered around our radios and renewed our pleasant emotions together. It was always the same. There were the good guys and the bad ones. And each week, my dad and I rooted them on. And though dad would fall asleep before the show's climax, it really didn’t matter; we always knew everything would work out for the two of them.

Your Hit Parade

And as an aside, so many years later, I was stopped in my tracks when the former announcer on “Your Hit Parade”, was there before me as a client awaiting my directions. Andre Baruch was a known commodity for every kid in our neighborhood. (What was going through my mind was: if only my dad was alive and around to see this.) While Andre was known as a feisty Frenchman and a hard guy to work with, at this point of my career, it wasn’t often anything could scare me. And so, when I spoke, Andre did what I suggested he do.         It turned out in a matter of a week or two, Andre got a job with the help of my direction which would help him earn far more than he ever could in the old days of radio. For those of you who may remember the old Robinson's department stores, it was Andre Baruch who became their commercial spokesperson. Turned out, it was more fun for me recalling what he did on the Lucky Strike commercials. Regarding the "Robinson’s" gig, a simple word of thanks was never heard uttered from his lips. -At Age Fourteen- I've given So much thought A lot about Important things Laughing Each and every day...always Wine, women (Not yet an acquired taste) And certainly song Opening my home Where friends belong... All people belong Way back in '48 Even our army We all learned to desegregate #42 Jackie Robinson entered my life Someday soon I'll be telling you How we truly learned To cover each other's back How we began to bloom Seventy-three years have gone by Look, dad, I'm still in bloom. HK