Love Letter to Aaron Sorkin

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I am an admitted TV junkie.  I watch ALOT.  But not all that I watch is good let alone great.  In my book, some of the greatest TV is created by a master — Aaron Sorkin.  About ten years younger (and far more successful) than I am, Sorkin writes screenplays and television series that always deliver.   This is a special talent that should be recognized beyond the entertainment industry.  Sorkin is so good at what he does that he may as well have a crystal ball. His genius series The West Wing forecasts the phenomenon of Barack Obama on the political scene.  

Barack Obama is elected to the U.S. Senate on November 2, 2004.  Eight days later on November 10 (in the episode, Liftoff) West-Wing viewers are introduced to Matthew Santos — a Latino-Texan Congressman who wants to get out of the House because he can't get anything done.  With Josh nipping at his heels, this barely known, improbable underdog candidate travels a rocky road through the primaries and the election, and two seasons later, in April of 2006, amazingly — Matt Santos is elected President of the United States.  Less than a year later, Barack Obama announces his candidacy for President of the United States and, against all odds, wins the election in 2008.  Life imitating art...created by Aaron Sorkin.  But let's go back to Aaron Sorkin's beginnings as entertainer/educator extraordinaire.

Aaron starts out in the movies with 
A Few Good Men and Malice and then, then he does The American President — a smart-talking fast-paced dramedy that takes us inside the inner workings of the White House and shows us how a president and his staff navigate politics, the presidency, and all the personalities that create the operational infrastructure it takes to legislate and move the party’s agenda.  Complicate this with competing special interests, power-grabs, and a young handsome president (Michael Douglas) recently widowed with a young daughter to raise amidst the chaos and scrutiny of the non-stop demands of holding the highest office in the United States.  Add to that a romantic entanglement with an environmental lobbyist (Annette Benning) and you’ve got classic Sorkin — a contemporary story  loaded with engaging, entertaining characters.

Sorkin's first TV series Sports Night, was an ensemble "about a fictional sports news show. It focuses on the friendships, pitfalls, and ethical issues the creative talent of the program face while trying to produce a good show under constant network pressure."  His initial offering to the TV audience only makes it for 45 episodes between 1998-2000.  It wins some awards over its short run, but this award sums it up:  2000 Winner of the TV Guide Award — category? — Best Show You're Not Watching.

But before he's dead on the tube, lucky for us, Aaron Sorkin is already at work on what will be his most exceptional, most wonderful, most engaging and entertaining work — 
The West Wing. 

I love, love, love The West Wing.  My thoughtful family gave me the complete series for Mother's Day one year and it's still one of the best presents.  This work resonates with me because Sorkin plumbs the depths of everyday ethical dilemmas in whatever context he places his stories in.  When I originally wrote about this series it was to show how teachers and parents could use television (quality television) to explore ethics and character.  I even sent a copy of the piece with a letter telling Sorkin was a great educational tool the show was, but (sad for me) my letter got returned — unopened.  [Maybe they thought I was pitching my own show without an agent?]


The West Wing with its fast-talking, wise-cracking, power-walking the halls of the White House, goes on for seven seasons and 154 episodes.  And season after season, I'm left wanting more.

So when it finally comes to an end (with Jimmy Smits as our unlikely-but-wonderful President) Sorkin follows this up with Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip a funny (short-lived) series about the making of a Saturday-Night-Live-type comedy show and again we are behind the scenes to see the people, the politics, and the pranks of life while producing television.  Though the show didn’t run more than one season, Aaron quickly follows its demise with two films:  Charlie Wilson's War in 2007 and The Social Network in 2010.




Though both were entertaining movies, I can't say either really did it for me but then, then in 2011 Sorkin comes through with a film I’m completely nuts over — Moneyball — and my entertainment hero's back in the game.   Moneyball is a movie about baseball, about a baseball manager to be exact and his quest to develop a winning team with the lowest budget imaginable.  Starring Brad Pitt as the real-life Oakland A's manager Billy Beane, this film is incredibly rich, entertaining, warm and whenever it's on TV — I stop changing channels and watch.  And I don't even like baseball! Credit Aaron Sorkin.

Before last week, we didn't have HBO, but after seeing Season One of The Newsroom on DVD, we signed up and got on board.  It's classic Sorkin — sharp, witty, sarcastic, contemporary and compelling.  News Anchor Will McAvoy (Jeff Daniels) and Executive Producer former-fiancee Mackenzie McHale (Emily Mortimer-we share the same birthday!) have managed to survive meltdowns and mistakes, stay at the network without completely crucifying each other over their broken relationship — and now we get to see if they maintain their jobs, ratings, and their newly revived engagement.  Thank God!  [As Will says after Mac accepts his proposal of marriage.  Can you tell how happy Sorkin's TV makes me?]

Given his track record maybe it’s time I check out Sports Night cause when the credits say "Created by Aaron Sorkin" — in my book, you just know it's gonna be good.

Meeting Vernon Jordan

Back in 1985, when I first started out to be a consultant, my friend Ann O'Bar, an early childhood specialist (who became like a mother to me), was very involved with the National Head Start Association, an organization of the people who advocated for Head Start.  They were looking for a more branded identity and hoped to raise funds to support their lobbying efforts. They needed help pinpointing foundations they could apply to for grants.

A somewhat fuzzy photo of
Vernon Jordan back then.

It was a great opportunity but I had absolutely no experience fundraising.  So I thought I needed to get advice from someone who did.  My childhood friend, Marilyn worked in a law firm with Vernon Jordan — the civil rights activist who had been a principal player with both the United Negro College Fund and the National Urban League. [This was quite awhile before he became a presidential advisor to Bill Clinton.] In my mind, someone like Mr. Jordan would be a perfect person to teach a novice like me. Marilyn agreed to hand deliver the letter I wrote asking to meet.  Fingers crossed.

When I got the call from Mr. Jordan I was scared out of my wits.  I offered to meet him in Washington but he said he was coming to their New York office and that would work — thank goodness — saved me the plane fare.  But now I had to get crack'in — needed to do my homework. Went to the library (yes, an actual library with books — the only place you could do research) and started reading everything I could get my hands on about Vernon Eulion Jordan, Jr.

The Park Avenue offices of Akin, Gump, Strauss & ______ were elegant and hushed — dark woods, lots of leather, very clubby and masculine — very intimidating to the likes of little me. 

"Thank you so much for seeing me Mr Jordan, I really appreciate it and I'm so glad Marilyn did me this favor, we grew up next door to each other," I dove in feeling as if every second I was sitting in his office I was taking up his valuable time. "I'm trying to help the National Head Start Association raise money — "

"I don't do that any more," he interrupted, "I did my part for the United Negro College Fund and I'm through with that." 

[NOTE: When Vernon Jordan was at the helm for UNCF, Board member Peter Weinsburg urged him to team with Young & Rubicam where they created the “A Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Waste” campaign which raised $10 million in its first year!] 

www.williamswhittle.com

"I don't want you to do fundraising. I want you to teach me how.  If you can give me some advice, get me started on the right path, I can do the work."  Fortunately, that made sense to him and he opened the door.

He explained what I'd need to say when making my pitch. Shared what the association would have to do in order to apply for funds.  And in-between the teaching, we talked about our backgrounds.  I told him I started working in my parents' drycleaners at the age of 8, by 10 I'd graduated to working the counter.  He told me he went to DePauw University in Green Castle, Indiana where he couldn't get a haircut anywhere in the town because there was no barbershop for Negroes.  I said what I hoped to achieve for NHSA and asked questions about the likelihood of being successful.

He reached for his phone, dialed a number, and began telling someone about me and what I was trying to do. He hung up, wrote something on a piece of paper, handed it to me saying, "This is _________ at the Hartford Foundation, she's expecting your call and will set-up an appointment to see you." And before I could say anything he reached for the phone again.

"Thank you!" I stammered, "Thank you SO much!"

"I'm going to call a friend of mine at the Ford Foundation..."

"NO!" I pleaded, my heart pounding. "Thank you but I'm not ready for the Ford Foundation!  Let me get through this first meeting first — please!"

He smiled that famous smile, pushed away from the phone, sat back in his chair, and lit a cigar.  I'd gotten what I came for. More than an hour had flown by.

"Before I go, there's just one last question I want to ask."

"What's that?" he said leaning forward.

"Did your grandfather ever get to go to the bathroom indoors before he died?"

He again smiled that knock-out smile, leaned back grinning, and asked, "Now how did you know about THAT?" 

"I did my homework." I replied — happy that I'd said something unexpected.

"Well, yes, he did — thankfully, I can say he did!"  

As we got up and shook hands, I gushed, "Mr. Jordan, I can't thank you enough.  For the time, for the advice, for being so kind...I'm so grateful..."  and (though I didn't say it) I was grateful I'd survived the meeting.

Standing there he towered over me in size, in experience, in authority — his parting words were — "You are a firecracker and they are lucky to have you working for them."  I left that office beaming and about a foot taller.

The next day I called my Uncle Charlie and had him recommend a really good cigar that wouldn't break my bank account; then I went and bought ten, wrapped and sent them with a thank-you note.  

It was one of my first experiences as a consultant.  Through my childhood friend, I'd gotten the appointment, successfully managed the meeting, came away with advice and an entrée to the philanthropic world.  But equally valuable, was the lesson he taught me — that  I could sit across from power and hold my own. 

Those cigars were little thanks for what meeting Vernon Jordan generously gave me that day.

Twenty Feet From Stardom

Featured on the cover is "newcomer" Judith Hill.

And the colored girls go 
Doo do doo, doo do doo, doo do doo

That lyric from Lou Reed's "Take a Walk on the Wild Side" is the perfect introduction to Twenty Feet From Stardom — a documentary film that profiles and (at long last) gives credit to the predominantly African-American women who were (and still are) the amazing and outstanding back-up singers whose voices enriched popular music over the past six decades of rock-and-roll.

Darlene Love, Claudia Lennear, Lisa Fischer, and Táta Vega, are not household names but once you meet them (and others) you'll recognize the sweet sounds of the harmonies they provided for Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Wonder and Sting — to name just a few.

This film takes us on a journey through the great groups, the great singers, and the great songs of a rich musical past that is marred by the way in which these women were taken advantage of and by-passed despite their greatness.  And try as they might, none were able to breakout of the backup line and make it as a solo artist.  Sadly.

The day after I saw this documentary, as I flipped channels on my car radio, I heard Mick Jagger's "Gimme Shelter" and broke into a smile.  I now know Merry Clayton arrived in curlers at the recording studio for that gig and it is her voice belting out the lyric that made her cringe:

Rape, murder; it's just a shot away, it's JUST A SHOT AWAY!

In the film, we hear both Jagger and Clayton recount how in 1969 she received a call in the middle of the night to come record back-up for this new British group in town called the Rolling Stones. 

And did she ever.  

Merry Clayton's exhilarating voice made that vocal, imprinted that powerful and shrill refrain on your brain and helped make that Stones song a powerhouse of pleasure.  

Too bad "Merry" was credited as "Mary" on the album cover.

If you wanna give credit where credit is due, go see 20 Feet From Stardom at a theatre near you.  You'll be dancin' in your seat.

The Big C and Me

The incomparable Linney 

Though it made me cry from a pit in my heart, I think The Big C: hereafter was a stunning production.  When the series began in August 2010, I watched because I wanted to see how television was going to handle cancer — a fact of everyone's life in some way. Not a person reading this won't have lost a family member, friend, coworker to some form of cancer and know someone or someones living with it.  

So over two years ago I began watching Laura Linney's portrayal of Cathy Jamison — a newly diagnosed cancer patient with an aggressive form of melanoma.  I love Laura Linney, always have since I saw her in Absolute Power and then You Can Count On Me and so many others, but — her performance was a tour de force.

I don't use that phrase but it's a phrase that accurately describes how the actress uses her trademark strength and vulnerability to embody Cathy as she lives the last years of her life coping with her disease, her regular work & family lives, and trying to figure out what living she needs to cram in before she can't anymore while still being winningly hopeful that she will do everything she can to beat it.

But at the end of that September, a month after the Big C started, art imitated life when  my sister-in-law was diagnosed (overnight) with a brain tumor — glioblastoma to be exact.  What Ted Kennedy had.  And in this bizarre way, while I watched the show, simultaneously Robin lived her life with her cancer.  

Amazingly, Robin managed to have two years of terrific living — she got married to a terrific guy, traveled extensively, enjoyed her lovely home, did things with family and friends, had her first grand baby — alongside two craniotomies, a gamma knife procedure, bimonthly MRIs, radiation and chemotherapies.  The last six weeks took their toll and denied her the wonderful kind of life she'd been living, but thankfully she didn't linger.

I felt the same about Cathy Jamison.  The decision to truncate the last season fit the abruptness of loss that comes when cancer takes over.   After the humor and the accomplishments of seasons 1-3, we watched Cathy get sicker and struggle with more physical disabilities as the Big C progressed.  Season 4 — The Big C: hereafter — took us through her loss of job, shrinking options, transition to the tranquility and stark reality of hospice and — when the insurance ran out — finally bedridden back at home, surrounded by family, friends, meds and a caring hospice nurse who understands it all and has no baggage to crowd how and what she gives to Cathy in her final days.

The incomparable Robin, beautifully optimistic

It was a brave and wonderful way to use TV which— for better or worse — has always been and will be — the most pervasive educator of all.  Through the realism of Linney's portrayal (supported by Oliver Platt, Gabriel Basso, John Benjamin Hickey, Gabourey Sidibe, Kathy Najimy, and even in a cameo, creator and writer Darlene Hunt), we the viewers experience Cathy's declining life filled with love, sadness, pain, humor, and closure (she had a difficult father too) and we get to see her gentle transition to whatever lies hereafter.  Television at its best.

In the most ironic of ways, The Big C so mirrored what happened to Robin that I do believe if asked to sum up her too short life, she would've said what Linney's character Cathy says  —  

Lucky me.

And the Top Five Political Films Are...

I love movies and wanted to share my top five films about politicians.  Here they are — leading up to Number One...

#5  Primary Colors (1998) takes us on the roller coaster ride of a political campaign with fictitious Governor of a southern state Jack Stanton as he runs for his party's candidacy for the Presidency.  John Travolta as the candidate is awfully close to a Bill-Clinton-act-alike — with his strategic and loyal partner of a wife (whom he deceives) and a campaign fraught with shenanigans and plenty of young naive political junkies who believe in their candidate.   Kathy Bates is especially obnoxious and strangely ethical.

#4  Take Ryan Gosling and George Clooney (not bad in the looks department) supported by Philip Seymour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti, Marisa Tomei, and Evan Rachel Wood (none bad in the acting department) as players in the Ohio Democratic presidential primary and you've got The Ides of March (2011).  In the beginning of the film, a New York Times reporter (Tomei) tells the eager, ambitious campaign press secretary Steven (Gosling) about his idol the Governor, "He will let you down.  Sooner or later."  And it's sooner not later.  This is a film where the ugly underbelly of politics is front and center and scene after scene as it gets seamier and seamier, you grimace and cringe but still — you keep watching.

#3  Early on in Meryl Streep's career, after Julia, the TV mini-series Holocaust, The Deer Hunter, and Manhattan, she did a little film written by and starring Alan Alda, The Seduction of Joe Tynan (1979) where he convincingly portrays a popular US Senator (long-married to an intelligent wife, Barbara Harris, who hates being a political spouse) who isn't just seduced by the young, beautiful lawyer Streep plays, but — as the tagline for the movie cautioned — "There are many ways to be seduced. Fame. Power. Love. Joe Tynan knows them all."

#2  Do you notice that Joan Allen always plays a really principled person in films?  It's no different in The Contender (2000) where she's Laine Hanson, a savvy Senator who is thrust into a nomination for the Vice Presidency and ends up pushed between a rock and a hard place when stories surface that cast doubt on her past and everyone is pressuring her to confirm or deny her sexual behavior but she, she holds firm and refuses to engage in the dirty politics of the day.  There are loads of villains played by Sam Elliot, William Peterson, and others but Gary Oldman is especially evil and Joan Allen exceptionally pure.

#1  Maybe it's because it all happened in my time or that I knew the story from the daily newspaper headlines, nightly newscasts, and the televised hearings, but Watergate was seminal for me and marked a huge turning point in our nation's collective psyche when we stopped trusting our government and sadly started questioning the integrity of the presidency. The number one for me is  All the President's Men (1976) — a real political thriller with Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman that drags you along on a harrowing Alice-in-Wonderland scary journey as two stylistically opposed reporters, Woodward and Bernstein, team up and famously track down the story of our century — that was all true.

Okay, so I know I've disappointed/upset/enraged some of you out there by leaving out one of YOUR favorites, so do post and let me know what I've missed! Now I KNOW I'm going to disappoint/offend/enrage some of you out there by leaving out some film-favorite of YOURS...so do feel free to post your comments on what I've missed!

Sarah Jessica Parker's First Fan?

This is starting to bother me because I know I found it once before and now I can't find it.  Maybe one of you will know. But first the backstory — 

I was shopping for a baby gift in what I think was the basement of what was then the favorite Manhattan store-of-choice 

I was in the children's department where I saw a mom and her little, maybe nine-year old daughter also shopping. I recognized the girl.

Excuse me," I said looking at the mother but speaking to the girl, "weren't you in a movie about a young Jewish girl and her older brother who were in the Warsaw Ghetto and escaped through the sewers?"

"Yes," she said clearly with a smile breaking across her face but her eyes looking to her mom, a bit shyly and politely.

"You were terrific!" I gushed, "How did you do it — crawl through that dark tunnel with those rats?!  That was so scary!"

I don't remember her reply but I asked her her name.  She seemed self-possessed and yet completely poised in a nice way.

"Are you still acting? Doing anything now?"

www.barnesandnoble.com 

She sparkled as she answered. "I've been in the chorus of Annie but I'm going to take over the lead," she said with great pride.

"Well, that is wonderful!  You're on your way — I'm very happy for you!" I remember she said she had a lot of brothers and sisters and then that was that — we all said our goodbyes and she and her mom continued on.  At the time I wondered if I was the first person to recognize her for her acting.

Years later I would see that little girl grow up and appear in films and on TV.

It was Sarah Jessica Parker.

Now tonight when my husband and I are both seeing Footloose (for the first time) I'm surprised to see her as one of the secondary characters and I want to find the name of that movie I saw her in and try to see if it's on Netflix so I can watch it again — but I can't.

It's not listed — in imdb.com, Wikipedia, or any other source I Googled — not even in her entry in the Jewish Virtual Library! Which is crazy because she was in this movie and she was phenomenal!  It had to be pre-1977; I think her character's name was Rachel and I think it was black-and-white.  I even looked on what seemed to be SJP's official (possibly?)  website  — http://www.sarahjparker.com — and it wasn't there either!  They listed no film credits before 1983 and when I tried searching to see if it was a made-for-TV-movie, that link said "Error - Page Not Found."

I may actually have been the very first person to recognize Sarah Jessica Parker  in public. Her first fan.

Anyone out there know the name of what I think was her first film ??

And wouldn't it have been great if I had asked her for her first autograph?

A Blind Date with The Stones

It was an odd situation.  I was headed out on a blind date arranged by my ex-boyfriend Jack.  

Though Jack and I were no longer dating, we'd remained friends and I trusted that Jack had my best interests at heart.  Still, a blind date?


"He's a really nice guy and he's Armenian!" was his pitch, so I said the guy could call me and when he did, he was so, so excited to tell me he had tickets to see the Rolling Stones at the recently renovated Madison Square Garden in New York. 

Being a Beatles girl, I wasn't so enthused.  Plus, it was on Thanksgiving, he'd have to pick me up from my Aunt Maddy & Uncle Johnny's house, and — it was a blind date.




"So this guy, this blind date, he's taking me to see The Rolling Stones," I complained to my friends as I slammed my locker door the next morning at school.  

              "WHAT?"

                              "The Stones?  Are you kidding me?"

                   

                            "GEEZ, you're COMPLAINING?  A blind date that's taking you to the Stones?!"

"I don't like the Rolling Stones," I continued to complain, "and it's on Thanksgiving night.  This guy is gonna have to pick me up from my Aunt's house and I'm gonna have to meet him with about 30 relatives looking on — isn't that AWFUL?" I complained hoping for sympathy.




"You better stop whining," cautioned one of my friends looking at me as if I were a complete lunatic — "YOU are getting to see THE ROLLING STONES!  Are you CRAZY?  You are SO LUCKY!"




Though I still felt cranky, I guessed I could bear it.

After a gargantuan Thanksgiving meal, I was upstairs getting ready for the big date with help from my sister and my cousin Linda.  Before he even rang the doorbell, I already felt sorry for Bob.  As far as the family was concerned, he was walking in the door with two strikes against him:

     1.  What kind of an Armenian was he?  His family name had been shortened so that it didn't have the signature "ian" at the end of it that signaled it was Armenian ("ian" means "son of"...son of the butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker).

     2.  It was Thanksgiving.  What was he doing leaving HIS family?  What kind of an Armenian was he?  

I tried to hurry along but was having trouble with my hair. Downstairs I could faintly hear this poor guy being grilled: Where was he from? What did his father do?  What was he studying in college?  Then I heard my uncle ask if he'd ever gotten a traffic ticket. I figured next he'd be asking if he ever used drugs, so I thought I better break up the interrogation.

As I came down the stairs, immediately I thought — strike three.   Bob had long hair, cut in a Beatles-bob shag with very long bangs.  Oh boy, he didn't stand a chance in this crowd.  Still, he was nice looking, in an Armenian-way, but he was squirming uncomfortably.   Every male relative in the room was staring in wait for Bob's answers to the endless stream of questions my cousin Bobby continued shooting at him.  Seeing the sweat beading down my date's face, I took pity and hustled us out of there and into the safe haven of his car.    

Madison Square Garden had unveiled its new look just a year before...the tiered brightly color-coded-by-level seating could accommodate close to 20,000 people.  We were on the side of the first tier...not bad seats compared to the rows and rows and rows above us.  It was a massive place.  As we took our seats, I was surprised that everyone around us was smoking.  Soon I realized it wasn't all tobacco.

The first act was someone I'd never heard of, Terry Reid, but he got the night off to a good start.  Next up, BB King.  Yes, BB KIng was a warm-up act for the Stones and to put it mildly, he was incredible — seated on his chair pulled close to the front of the stage with his cheek on his guitar he sang his blues and got people clapping and tapping their feet.  I was really starting to feel the music.

Then BB exited stage left and filling the stage with their pulsating "hard-driving, funked-up hybrid of soul and rock" came Ike and Tina Turner.  I kid you not.  As they skyrocketed into their set, the audience of thousands were jumpin', dancing and rockin' with a joy that soon escalated into a frenzy.  And just when you couldn't imagine it could get any better, out from somewhere in the seats down on the floor runs someone to join Tina Turner on stage and — ladies and gentlemen get ready — it is none other than in the flesh — Janis Joplin! 

Handed a mike, Janis and Tina burst into "Combination of the Two" (♪"Who-o-o-a, whoa, whoa, whoa-yeah! Whoa-yeah! WHOA-yeah!"♪) which brought everyone to their feet.  I hadn't smoked nor had Bob, but there was so much smoke all around us, you couldn't help but inhale the fumes.  I realized I was experiencing what people called a "contact high."  After the high energy rendition of that song, Janis and Tina slid into "Piece of My Heart," a heart-breaking ballad of pain (♪"Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man - yeah!  An' didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can ? I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it, take another little piece a' my heart now baby..."♪) that every female in the audience identified with.  THEY were unreal — the date was unreal — and we hadn't even gotten to the Stones!

This is the generic poster from their 1969 tour, the bottom would be filled in with venue details.  
Somewhere buried in my attic is the program from the November 27 concert I attended on my blind date.

When the Stones finally came on stage, everyone in the arena was on their feet.  Madison Square Garden was a writhing mass of humanity.  To be honest, I don't remember much about what they sang or even how they sounded.  What I do remember is Mick Jagger shirtless, strutting around the stage like a preening peacock who was being showered by screaming adoring girls (lots of girls) throwing their bras on stage — literally.   As a pretty naive 11th-grader who hid in the corner of the locker room to change clothes when it was time for gym, this act of sheer abandon, coupled with the communal consumption of dope, were startling to me.

Bob Brooke may not have lasted long in my dating life, but the impact of that date sure did.  From that exhilarating, mind-blowing-first-rock-concert-ever, came a passion for live music and — from that night on — a singular focus on saving every penny I worked for to buy tickets to Fillmore East and other music venues in Manhattan for the rest of my high school days. I would see, among others, Jethro Tull (3 times!), John Mayall, Ten Years After, BB King, The Doors, and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.

So here's a shout-out to "Telephone-Jack" (as my uncles used to call him because our communication was largely via pay phones) for introducing me to my ticket to a slam-bang unbelievable night that rocked me into rock music — and was the rock concert of an era.