IN THE FOG WITH MEL TORME This story was published, in somewhat different form, some years ago in Not So Modern Drummer magazine. Im posting it here because the subject of the story--Mel Torme--is rarely spoken of these days. And thats a crime as, possibly along with Sammy Davis, Jr., Mel Torme was the most talented individual in the history of show business. He brought an artistic intellect and sensibility to everything he did, which is something I dont believe others did. On a personal basis, he gave me credibility via his contributions to my books and videos through the years, and thats something you dont forget. There should be a book written about this man. Maybe there will someday and maybe this piece will be a part of it. I hope those of you who knew and loved Mel Tormes work will take the time to go through this. More than 20 years after this happened, its still hilarious. After my first video on Gene Krupa came out via Warner Bros, and did, so they told me, very well, the next logical choice for the subject of a video was Buddy Rich. Choosing a narrator for this project was obvious. Mel Torme’ had been one of Buddy Rich’s closest friends for almost 40 years. Additionally, Torme had written the introduction to my first book on Gene Krupa, and was very complimentary about the newspaper and magazine stories I wrote about him through the years. The problem was that Torme’, at the time, was not getting along with one of the principals involved in our prospective production. I took my issue to him personally, during one of his then-annual appearances at Michael’s Pub in New York City. After his show, while he was quickly going through a box of jelly doughnuts, I asked him what I should do. “You’re the only guy for this, Mel, but you don’t get along with one of our people, so what do I do?” “Kid, this has to be done, and you’re the one to do it. I’ll do it.” And like Steve Allen, he did it for a $500 “honorarium.” I started writing the script for what would turn out to be a two-volume set on Buddy Rich, with participation of the Rich family and some of the legendary drummers—old and young—in the business. I called Mel Torme’ when the script was ready, and came up with an idea for a cost-cutting measure. Trying to avoid the costs of traveling to Beverly Hills, I figured that a guy of Torme’’s stature and artistry would surely have a state-of-the-art recording set-up in his home. And remember, this was only a voice recording, so it was no big deal. Or so I thought. I was correct, according to Mel, who proudly detailed all the high-end recording equipment he had in his home. I called him when I believed he had received the script and asked him when he could start. Though he said he loved my script--Ive always tried to write in the voice and the attitude of the narrator--he voiced concern about the whereabouts of his 500 bucks. “We sent it out two weeks ago,” I told Torme’. “Wait, kid,” he said. “Hold on.” I waited a good six minutes holding the phone while Mel Torme’ rooted around his Beverly Hills mansion for a $500 check. He finally found it and let me know he intended to start recording his narrative right away. Ten or so days later, all of us—DCI Music Videos Rob Wallis, Paul Siegel and an editing genius and Oscar nominated Phil Fallo—were at the NVI production studios in New York, and we were eagerly anticipating delivery of Mel Torme’s narration, recorded at his state-of-the-art home studio. The envelope, with several other names and addresses crossed out on it—including that of Jimmy Stewart—finally arrived. Within was one of those made-in-Mexico, nickel tape cassettes that used to be sold at ten for a dollar at Woolworth’s. My heart was sinking. Rob, Paul and Phil were giggling. Phil took the tape and inserted it into one of NVI’s truly state-of-the-art tape machines. My suspicions were confirmed. Torme’s narration sounded as if it was recorded in a “make your own record” booth at a carnival. It was not usable, and my colleagues were now in gales of laughter. I had to come up with a plan. How do you tell a big time celebrity that his work, for which he was paid a tiny amount, is no good? The answer was to play on the ego of Mel Torme’, which was enormous. I called Torme’ in Beverly Hills and told him we received the tape. “Mel, I said, “Your narration is so emotional and so heartfelt that you had all of us in tears up here. It’s a remarkable performance that cries out to be recorded on an MGM sound stage.” “You’re right, kid,” he said. I was off the hook and in a few days, found a good recording studio near Torme’s home. The time was booked and was seemingly okay with Mel. Strangely, he asked me to call him at home and wake him up an hour before the studio was booked. He cancelled three times, but finally got a superb Mel Torme’ performance on tape. Several months later, the two volume video set, “Buddy Rich: Jazz Legend” was released. I consider it my finest work. Buddy was the idol of everyone who ever played, or wanted to play the drums. Technically, what he could do on a drum set was simply inhuman. I loved the man, and to have the opportunity to work with his family, friends and colleagues was, to me, a dream. I only wish Bud could have lived to see it. I once asked Buddys daughter, Cathy, an integral part of this whole project, what her father would have thought of it. He would have loved it, she said. Shortly after the videos were released, my friend Louis Bernstein called me at home. Louis and I have been friends since we were kids. Not only is he a great drummer, but at the time, knew more about Buddy Rich than anyone. He was also acquainted with Mel Torme’, as Louis often provided Mel’s drummer, Donny Osborne, with his own, Buddy Rich-type set of Rogers drums. On the phone, Louis told me that Mel Torme had called him, asking him to tell me to call him. Got that? “Why is he calling you to call me to tell me to call him?” I asked. “Figure it out, Bruce,” Louis said. “He called me at work because we have a toll-free, 800 number.” Hoo boy. I got Mel on the phone. He said he was out on the road and wanted ten copies of each volume of “Buddy Rich: Jazz Legend” and he wanted them overnighted. I told him I’d take care of it, although I wasn’t sure how. I reached the offices of our distributor, Warner Bros. Publications, in Miami, and let them know this absolutely had to be done. They balked a bit because of cost—each video sold for $39.95 back then—but when I stressed the importance of this favor, they went for it. Two days later, Louis Bernstein called me again, and told me in no uncertain terms that I had to call Mel Torme’ immediately, and that Mel “was not happy.” This was not good. I called Mel and he was ballistic. “I got this box up here from Miami and I counted only nine copies of one of the video volumes. I specifically asked for ten of each. I am not happy. I am not happy. I am no happy. He wasn’t. I carefully explained how difficult this was to put together for him on such short notice, that Warner Bros., not me, was responsible for the error, and told him how much his friendship and support meant to me personally and professionally over the years. I told him he was responsible for my career. I told him he was a genius. He finally calmed down. And yes, we did overnight him the missing volume. Though he did not drink or smoke,Mel Torme’ had a debilitating stroke in 1996 which ended his performing career. He died in 1999. It’s a shame he passed when he did. He was singing better than he ever had, and by way of his appearances on the popular television show, “Night Court” and the commercials he did for Mountain Dew, he was finally beginning to get the national attention and recognition that he craved, without ever compromising his high musical standards. Was he eccentric? Certainly. But I think a man of his talents was entitled to be. Years later, I met up with his son, Steve March Torme’, who was on tour, performing a singing tribute to his father. We met up after the show, which was a very good one, and traded some Mel stories. “You know what my father’s favorite phrase was?” Steve said, and then launched into an impression of Mel Torme’s speaking voice that was startling. Mel’s favorite phrase: “I want that cheesecake. Now.” The video is of Mel Torme, the drummer, playing with the Basie band under the leadership of Frank Wess. https://youtube/watch?v=MNfdiwWpxEw
Posted on: Tue, 21 Oct 2014 15:44:17 +0000
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