Erin O'Riordan writes smart, whimsical erotica. Her erotic romance novel trilogy, Pagan Spirits, is now available. With her husband, she also writes crime novels. Visit her home page at ko-fi.com.
July 11, 1906: Pregnant, 20-year-old Grace Brown, a worker in the Gillette Skirt Factory, is intentionally drowned and murdered by her boyfriend Chester Gillette, nephew of the factory owner. Gillette is subsequently executed in the electric chair.
The murder inspires Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy, which in turn inspires the 1951 film A Place In the Sun. The character based on Brown is played by Shelley Winters.
July 11, 1937: George Gershwin, age 38, dies of a brain tumor.
But if you don't want George Gershwin to die, you can listen to this fictional audiobook in which he doesn't.
For fans of historical fiction and readers of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, this vampire fantasy features fictional versions of blues singer Bessie Smith and composer George Gershwin. Vampire Bessie senses that George is not long for this world and offers to pass on her dark gift to him.
May 14, 1998: Frank Sinatra dies of a heart attack. He's 82 years old.
Sinatra was born on December 12, 1915, in Hoboken, New Jersey, to parents who were both immigrants from Italy. He got a ukulele for his 15th birthday and taught himself to play it. He made his first record as a singer in 1939. In November of that year, he became the lead singer of the Tommy Dorsey Band. He recorded his first hit song, "Polka Dots and Stardust," in 1940.
On March 25, 1954, Sinatra won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for playing Maggio in From Here to Eternity.
His 1954 album Songs for Young Lovers includes Cole Porter's "I Get a Kick Out of You" and the George Gershwin song "They Can't Take That Away From Me."
He recorded Porter's "I've Got You Under My Skin," reportedly in 22 takes, for the 1956 album Songs for Swingin' Lovers.
On July 2, 1966, the #1 song in the U.S. is Sinatra's "Strangers In the Night." The melody was composed by Bert Kaempfert, who's got the mad hits. That same year, 50-year-old Sinatra marries 21-year-old Mia Farrow.
On April 15, 1967, the #1 song in the U.S. is "Something Stupid" by Sinatra and his 26-year-old daughter Nancy. Where did I first hear this song? Performed by Kelsey Grammer and Julie Kavner as Sideshow Bob and Selma Bouvier on Simpsons episode 8F20, “Black Widower,” which originally aired April 9, 1992.
Nancy Sinatra is like Mary Wollstonecraft in that mother and daughter have the same name. Frank Sinatra's first wife and eldest child are both called Nancy Sinatra.
On November 13, 1967, NBC gives him a TV special with guest star Ella Fitzgerald.
Fitzgerald, Sinatra, Count Basie, and Pat Henry's Orchestra performed a revue together on June 6th through June 18th at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas, Nevada.
Although allegedly "retired," he recorded two best-selling Duets albums, the first in 1993 and Duets II in 1994. These include the "I've Got You Under My Skin" duet with Bono.
I don't have a source for this, but I remember watching Bono talking on TV about a night of drinking that the two had together. Bono fell asleep with a glass of whiskey in his hand and spilled it on himself in his sleep. He woke up and got terribly embarrassed that the great Frank Sinatra would think he, Bono, had gotten so drunk he pissed himself.
Frank Sinatra had a good, long, musical life. He died in 1998, and his second child Frank Sinatra Jr. died in 2016. Nancy and Tina Sinatra are still with us, as is Ronan Farrow, Mia Farrow's son of whom Sinatra may be the biological father. On paper, the alleged sexual predator Woody Allen is Ronan's father, but Ronan looks a lot more like Sinatra than Allen.
You may recall from yesterday's post that I was eagerly, not-so-patiently awaiting the Hamilton performance on last night's Grammys telecast, as well as Lady Gaga's tribute to the recently deceased David Bowie. I wasn't disappointed by either of those musical moments! Here are some of my other favorites.
'Hamilton' genius creator/performer Lin-Manuel Miranda
Creative Commons image by the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation
Taylor Swift started off the program with a performance of her "Out of the Woods," the latest single from her 1989 album. Meh. Personally I think the singles peaked at "Blank Space" and have been getting steadily less interesting ever since. "Style?" Pretty good song. I like the reference to James Dean and that Vampire Academy hottie Dominic Sherwood appears in the video. "Bad Blood?" Frankly, I think the song's a little cheesy. The "Band-Aids don't fix bullet holes" line is my favorite thing about the lyrics. "Out of the Woods" - I can barely even think of any of the lyrics other than:
Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods yet?...
...You get the idea. Swift looked AMAZING, though, both in her daring two-piece red carpet ballgown and in the starlit bodysuit she performed in. (It did remind me a little of Beyonce's dark blue bodysuit on an awards show of several years ago.)
A performance I liked a lot better was Little Big Town's haunting live rendition of "Girl Crush." The song itself won 2 Grammys.
One thing I wasn't expecting to see during the Grammys was the trailer for the third Divergent Series movie, Allegiant. I found myself unexpectedly choked up by the sight of Shailene Woodley as Tris Prior.
Commercials give me feelings. I also choked up just a little bit when I saw the trailer for Tim Burton's Through the Looking Glass. Alice was following a blue butterfly, and when the butterfly spoke, it was in the voice of Alan Rickman, also recently deceased. The movie actually looks interesting - even though I don't love Johnny Depp's over-the-top Mad Hatter performance - but it's always bittersweet to see a beloved, late actor in one of their last roles. (See Also: Robin Williams in the surprisingly-good Night at the Museum 3.)
Shortly after the Through the Looking Glass spot, the Hamilton cast performed, and it was an exquisite pleasure. Equally moving, though? When the Hamilton cast recording won its Grammy, Lin-Manuel Miranda whipped out his acceptance speech and proceeded to perform it as a rap. This guy's a bona fide musical genius - to live at this moment is like being alive when George Gershwin put out Rhapsody in Blue.
Then, after I got Tit Elingtin hooked up on his dialysis machine, we could relax and enjoy Lady Gaga's David Bowie tribute. Which was amazing. The only thing I wished she'd have done differently was spend a little more time on "Rebel Rebel."
The part I really didn't think I would like, but that I ended up liking, was the tribute to Lionel Ritchie. Ritchie's music reminds me of my childhood- '80s kid here - but I can't exactly say I'm a fan. And, when I was a kid, "Hello" used to make me cry. It's not even a sad song, per say--more about longing than actual sadness. But I have some funny brain chemistry and slow-paced songs will sometimes affect me with mood contagion in a way that doesn't feel too good.
And yet! When Demi Lovato performed a fragment of "Hello," I genuinely enjoyed it.
But then, I like Demi Lovato. Maybe because she's a feminist. Maybe because she sang "Cool For the Summer," in which the heterosexual performer sounded decidedly heteroflexible for another girl*. Great, very catchy song, and she looks incredibly sexy in the video.
My girl crush on Demi Lovato is not platonic.
Some parts of the Grammys show I really didn't care for. I didn't like the song Adele performed, which she co-wrote with Bruno Mars. I haven't been enjoying Adele's latest album much at all. None of the singles have been upbeat rockers like "Rolling in the Deep." But even if she hadn't had technical difficulties with the microphone on the piano, I still wouldn't have enjoyed the overly-sentimental song with lyrics that didn't make much sense.
I also didn't like the duet between Tori Kelly and James Bay much. (Both of them lost Best New Artist to Meghan Trainor, who was adorably flustered and tearful when she won.) Kelly's half of the performance was good, but Bay seemed like he was whispering, tentative, or not trying as hard as Kelly. He may be very talented, but I wouldn't have known it based on the Grammys.
We turned off the TV and went to sleep during the Vampires of Hollywood performance. Overall, it was a Grammys telecast well worth watching.
*At that time, Lovato publicly identified as a woman. This was prior to their coming out as nonbinary.
Happy first night of Hanukkah! To celebrate the Festival of Light, who better than this member of the elite Oscar-Emmy-Grammy-Tony club?
If you are very young, you might only know her from her most recent project: playing Seth Rogen's mom in The Guilt Trip. If that is the case, go watch Prince of Tides now. Reading Pat Conroy's novel first is not a requirement.
My favorite Barbra Streisand quote? From her June 12, 1992 Women in Film speech:
"Welcome to the year of the woman. We’ve come a long way. Not too long ago we were called dolls, tomatoes, chicks, babes and broads. We’ve graduated to being called tough cookies, foxes, bitches, and witches. I guess that’s progress. Language gives us an insight into the way women are viewed in a male dominated society. Take our business for example. Though I’m sure this would hold true for women in positions of power in any field.
"A man is commanding – a woman is demanding.
A man is forceful – a woman is pushy.
A man is uncompromising – a woman is a ballbreaker.
A man is a perfectionist – a woman’s a pain in the ass.
He’s assertive – she’s aggressive.
He strategizes – she manipulates.
He shows leadership – she’s controlling.
He’s committed – she’s obsessed.
He’s persevering – she’s relentless.
He sticks to his guns – she’s stubborn.
If a man wants to get it right, he’s looked up to and respected.
If a woman wants to get it right, she’s difficult and impossible.
"If he acts, produces and directs, he’s called multi-talented. If she does the same thing, she’s called vain and egotistical.
"It’s been said that a man’s reach should exceed his grasp. Why can’t that be true for a woman?"
My favorite Barbra Streisand song evah? "Don't Rain on My Parade" from Funny Girl. I know, I know - she does so many awesome renditions of songs by my historical Hebrew crush, George Gershwin. This number is irresistible, though!
I'm still a little pissed at Fanny Brice for getting that nose job, though.
Of course, I also appreciated that RevoLucian remixed her into "Bale Out." Christ(ian Bale)mas comes a little early this year.
In reality, Barbra is saying "Shut the fuck up" to a supporter of then-president George W. Bush who heckled her during a 2006 performance. The mouth on this one!
Endlessly talented, endlessly fascinating, Barbra even wrote the book on interior design. Literally. She has a fascination with architecture.
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My historical American composer crush is George Gershwin. Still, I'm a native of the U.S. Midwest, so I have a certain Midwestern girl's affection for the composer Cole Porter. It's Porter's birthday; he was born June 9, 1891, in the small city of Peru, Indiana. This post was inspired by Cathy Day's post "For Cole Porter's Birthday, My Personal Playlist." Day is a novelist, an essayist, a professor at Indiana's Ball State University, and a Peru native.
These are my personal favorite Cole Porter songs. I would not be much of a '90s girl if I didn't harbor a certain affection for the Bono/Frank Sinatra duet of "I've Got You Under My Skin." If I look hard enough, I'm sure I could still find the CD maxi single I bought when the duet came out.
(As a matter of fact, I was such a big U2 fan, that song may have inspired a brief fascination with Frank Sinatra, which may have led me to want to read From Here to Eternity. Sinatra played Maggio, the buddy of Robert E. Lee "Prew" Prewitt.)
Nor would I be much of a '90s girl if I couldn't remember the version of "I Get a Kick Out of You" that Mel Torme recorded for a Mountain Dew commercial.
I'm not a fan of Mountain Dew, but then again, I'm not a fan of cocaine, either, which is what the real lyrics suggest might give a person a kick. Frank Sinatra sang "I Get a Kick Out of You" in the 1954 version of Anything Goes, which also starred Ethel Merman. It remains the one Cole Porter musical I've ever seen performed live on stage.
If you've ever seen Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (probably the only major Hollywood film with several scenes devoted to the worship of Kali), you may remember Kate Capshaw's version of the title song in the Mandarin language.
When I was a high school student, my local library had this book, featuring Ward Schumaker's artwork based on "Let's Do It (Let's Fall in Love)." According to Goodreads, it was published in November 1993 (and the song is from 1928). I probably checked it out five times; I adored it.
A good pop version of "Let's Do It" is by Alanis Morissette. This is from the soundtrack of De-Lovely, with Kevin Kline and my most feminist girlcrush Ashley Judd.
Another item I repeatedly checked out of my local library before I finally broke down and bought a copy (after another library patron lost the library's copy) was an album called Jazz Divas - Studio. It has two of the loveliest Cole Porter songs: Ella Fitzgerald's version of "Night and Day," and Shirley Horn's "Love For Sale."
This arrangement is upbeat, but as I listen to this song, I can't help but think about Porter trying to express some of the angst of being gay in an era of strict sexual repression.
"Love For Sale," on the other hand, can never be anything by melancholy, in a world-weary sort of way. Very Cole Porter.
Those are the essential Cole Porter tunes for me. What are your favorites?
Are you an author? Would you like to share a little bit about a current work in progress on a future WIP Wednesday? If so, please e-mail Erin O'Riordan (erinoriordan AT sbcglobal DOT net).
Today is the deadline for submitting to Vampyres: A History Written in Blood. I'll be submitting my Bessie Smith/George Gershwin vampire story, which I've decided to title "Rhapsody in Blood." Here's another short excerpt:
Bessie was glad to be inside, away from prying (blue) eyes that might accuse her and Rita of being where she had no business being. She was even happier when Rita pressed a tall glass of clear liquor into her hand. It was gin – not the shine was used to – but it would do in a pinch. It helped her make it through the round of how-do-you-dos she had to endure before her host would shut up and let her at the piano.
Taking steady sips of her drink, Bessie looked over at the piano. She didn’t recognize the white man on the bench, lazily vamping an up-tempo melody; he hadn’t introduced himself to her at the door. He had Benny’s slicked-back black hair – maybe a little longer, a few more curls tucked behind his ears. He didn’t have Benny’s milk-pale skin. He wasn’t Josephine Baker-brown like Rita, but he had a little color, like he’d just come back from vacation in Mexico. His cheeks blushed pink, and his eyes shone a vivid hazel.
The other white folks in the room, Benny included, were dressed to the nines, but not the piano player. His style was as laid-back as his piano playing, casual and flashy at the same time. The high shine of his black leather shoes said he had money, but his attitude said anything but stick-up-the-ass.
One glance at the piano player and she knew two things: he would be with her for the rest of her unnatural life, however long that would be, and he was, at the moment, slowly dying.
***
On a loosely related topic, there are some very cool sales happening now at MYHABIT. Today and tomorrow, you can still get a DODOcase for your Kindle Fire. These handmade covers, built to resemble an old-fashioned bound book, come in seven solid colors and a peacock pattern. This is the sky blue:
The other really cool thing at MYHABIT right now is the collection of wall art inspired by Andy Warhol and his unique pop art style. I've always loved Andy Warhol: his drawings of cats, that banana he designed for the Velvet Underground album cover (I have the boxed set with the peelable banana), his oft-parodied Marilyn Monroe image, his insane movies - even Lili Taylor in I Shot Andy Warhol. Warhol died when I was 9, but he remains a source of endless fascination and inspiration.
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Are you an author with a current work in progress? Share about it with us on a future WIP Wednesday. Send an e-mail to erinoriordan AT sbcglobal DOT net.
This is actually a false start, but I'm nonetheless working on writing at least 4,000 words of a speculative story in which Bessie Smith is a vampire. In this scene, she's canoodling with Benny Goodman (not just a pun on her song title; they actually toured together), but soon she will hook up with George Gershwin. She'll pass her immortal gift to him to save him from the brain tumor that, otherwise, will kill him. Its intended destination is the anthology Vampyres: A History Written in Blood.
A good man is hard to find, Bessie thought, chuckling. Leaning back against the cheap headboard, she watched Benny pour whiskey into a chipped tumbler. On the stage and in the sack, Benny was pure passion. Everywhere else, he looked so stiff and square he might’ve had a fireplace poker up his ass. Benny knew how to show a girl a good time, but this could never be a permanent thing.
“Get you another drink, doll?” he asked her.
She bristled at the overly-familiar nickname. The other boys in the band called her Miss Bessie, and she liked it that way. “Sugar, you got no idea how thirsty I am.”
He filled the other tumbler and brought it to her in bed, then sank into the uncomfortable chair in the corner. He sipped his whiskey steadily; Bessie downed hers in quick swallows. It hadn’t had an effect on her since ’29, the year she crossed over, but she could keep a secret.
Bessie had learned to keep the secret well. She hadn’t kept it from Jack, but then, Bessie’s late husband hadn’t had the decency to keep it in his own pants before he called out Bessie for her trysts. Jack had known about her back-alley fling with the Romanian, the one who’d taken her blood and given her the unasked-for “gift” of immortality. He brought it up that day – the last day of their marriage, the last moments of Jack’s life – to start one of their knock-down, drag-out fights. He hadn’t expected Bessie’s new strength…or her fangs.
She still smiled when she remembered the look on Jack's face right after she drained the life out of him. Whatever the Romanian had given her, she hadn’t passed it on to Jack. In nearly eight years, she hadn’t passed it on to anyone, as far as she could tell. She also hadn’t aged a day and hadn’t been sick once.
Benny reached over and fiddled with the knob on the radio. It crackled and groaned before he settled on a jazz station. Bessie recognized the instrumental. “Gershwin,” she said.
He bobbed his head enthusiastically. “From Girl Crazy – ‘Treat Me Rough.’ Not one of the best numbers in the show.”
“I don’t know,” Bessie said. “That one sounds truer than all those June-moon I-love-you songs I couldn’t sing with a straight face.”
As I'm researching this beautiful and immensely talented woman, I'm reading A Bad Woman Feeling Good: Blues and the Women Who Sing Them by Buzzy Jackson. It gives me more good information about the recently deceased Etta James. Part of the James chapter reads:
"For a seventeen-year-old, she certainly sounded like a woman. Just as the early blues queens such as Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Victoria Spivey had brought sexuality, humor, and sass to the new world of blues recording,Etta James was bringing the same qualities to early rock 'n' roll. Sex was always one of James's favorite topics, from 'Roll With Me, Henry' on. Like Bessie Smith's 'I'm Wild About That Thing' (1929), James's songs were evidence that women enjoyed sex and were comfortable asking for what they wanted. They also depicted sex as an integral part of the romantic experience, something to be approached with humor and passion, as opposed to something a 'good girl' denied her partner, a concept popular among mainstream moralists that had been sold to women since the nineteenth century. Up until the feminist movement of the 1960s, women's blues were one of the few sources providing a counter-argument to the idea that sexual enjoyment was reserved for men only."
There you have it - blues women are the spiritual ancestors of erotica writers.
The other women's music book I read this week was a children's book I received free of charge from the Amazon Vine program: Jazz Age Josephine by Jonah Winter (words) and Marjorie Priceman (illustrations). Marjorie Priceman's illustrations are beautiful, especially the two-page spread of the Eiffel Tower.
The words don't completely impress me. The scat-singing parts aren't easy to read. The truncated story of how Miss Baker partially overcame racism and couldn't overcome loneliness, while it may indeed be true, is not a very emotionally satisfying read. I have a hard time imagining that the intended audience of children 4-8 will care very much about jazz or about Josephine Baker. Some noble parents or educators might display this one in February for Black History Month or in March for Women's History Month, but I doubt many children will count it among their favorites.
I hope I'm wrong, though. Josephine Baker is a fascinating and inspirational figure.
At the risk of seeming a little boy-crazy this week, I can't seem to get 5 Jewish Dudes I'd Most Like to See Lewd out of my head. It feels like it won't rest in peace until I add at least one more guy - my historical Jew crush, George Gershwin, originally Jacob Gershovitz.
Some years ago, when my Catholic grade school sold off some of its withdrawn titles, my mom rescued a little volume called The Jews in America by Frances Butwin. It was published in 1969, and it's a nice book, totally pro-Jew. It says this about the prettier of the Gershwin brothers, my future baby daddy as soon as time travel is perfected:
"George Gershwin (1898-1937) first played Rhapsody in Blue with Paul Whiteman's orchestra in 1924 - the same year thatLady Be Good! opened on Broadway. His use of jazz rhythms marked a turning point in American music. Most of Gershwin's lyrics were written by his brother Ira."
He's a tragic figure, having written great and beautiful music before dying from a brain tumor at age 38. In college when I took a music course (about the same time Jake Dylan was giving me Sixth Avenue heartache), I did a little independent study by reading some huge biography of Gershwin. I discovered he was...kinky. Alas, I can't remember all the delicious details, but I do recall reports of brothels and voyeurism.
Perhaps this historical detail will surface in the as-yet-untitled movie Steven Spielberg is making about this curious George. A girl can hope. The hottie set to play the composer is Zachary Quinto, who is Irish and...Italian. Eh, he's Mediterranean. Close enough.
Now listen to Rhapsody in Blue and tell me if this jazz masterpiece doesn't make you a little wet.
by Frances Butwin. It was published in 1969, and it's a nice book, totally pro-Jew. It says this about the prettier of the Gershwin brothers, my future baby daddy as soon as time travel is perfected: