Measure of a Man: Auschwitz to the White House by Martin Greenfield

There can never be too many books about the holocaust.

Each one is a document and a testament, and another (to use anti-semite Roger Waters' term) "brick in the wall" to block out the deniers.

Documenting atrocities isn't the point of these books. It's the survival. It's the morality.

This is very well illustrated in one story Martin Greenfield tells. Martin who?

Greenfield's enough of a celebrity to get a book deal, that's who. Born in Pavlovo (once part of Czechoslovakia, now part of the Ukraine), he was 19 when he came to Brooklyn, having survived Auschwitz and Buchenwald (unlike the rest of his family). A master tailor, he would not only dress up President Eisenhower (whom he'd originally met during the liberation), but other politicians and celebrities including Bill Clinton, Gerald Ford, Patrick Ewing, Mayor Michael Bloomberg and others. His vintage designs were also used in the HBO series "Boardwalk Empire."

Naturally the most gripping part of the book involves his teen years imprisoned by the Nazis. He was not exactly wearing the heigh of couture when he was 16 and a prisoner in Buchenwald. Assigned to a work detail outside Weimar, the brutal hard work was sometimes rewarded when he could find a potato or some other edible in a field, or some discarded item he might bring back to the camp and trade for food. Repairing a building, he wandered into the cellar where he found a cage that contained some pet rabbits:

"Inside the cage were the remains of the rabbits’ dinner. I unlatched the cage and pulled out a wilted leaf and carrot nub. The lettuce was browning and slimy, the carrot still moist from the rabbits’ gnawing. Excited, I wolfed down the lettuce and tried to crack the chunk of carrot in half with my teeth. My luck was short-lived. “What are you doing?” a voice yelled."

An irate blonde, who turned out to be the mayor's wife, quickly summoned an SS soldier to punish the prisoner:

"'Down on the ground, you dog! Fast!' yelled the German. He gripped his baton and bludgeoned my back. I do not know whether the mayor’s wife watched the beating. Given her cruelty, why would she want to miss it? On the hike back to Buchenwald, I replayed the scene over and over in my mind. How could a woman carrying her own child find a walking skeleton...and have him beaten for nibbling on rotten animal food? I thought...Then and there I made a vow to myself: If I survived Buchenwald, I would return and kill the mayor’s wife."

When Buchenwald was liberated, Greenfield made his way back to the home of the mayor.

"“Remember me?!” I yelled. “Do you?!” Her blond tresses shook violently. She hid her face behind her upraised hand as if shielding herself from the sun. “You had me beaten because of the rabbits. I’m here to shoot you!” I said, sounding like an SS. “No! Please!” she quavered. “The baby, please!” I aimed the machine gun at her chest. The baby wailed. My finger hovered above the trigger."

I think the reader knows the end of this anecdote. These days, it says a lot about the Jewish concepts of mercy, compared to, say, the beheadings and beatings that are such a part of "radical" Islam.

"Never again" is a slogan that must be affirmed, and anecdotes such as Greenfield's tell us why...because we can't forget that basic goodness is foremost in our hearts. One must never forget that it takes two words, combined, to create "mankind."

Turley Richards - Blindsighted - The Hard Luck of The Greatest Singer You Never Heard

Throughout the years when he was on major labels...Kapp, Columbia, Atlantic, Warner Bros...the industry buzz was that West Virginia's good-looking 6'4" Turley Richards had the most amazing voice and was destined for superstardom.

His brightest hopes came in 1969 just when his fragile eyesight dimmed into permanent blindness. That was when a perfect storm of gospel, folk and rock fused with superb post-production (organ and strings) to create: "I Heard the Voice of Jesus."

Al Kooper was one of many rockers who praised it, and asked radio stations to play it. He says it's "the greatest vocal performance I have ever heard in my life." I'd have to agree. I had a radio show at the time, and I played it. I can't think of a track that's more breathtaking, amazing and inspiring than this one. Even if you're not Christian (and I'm not), it will bring the goosebumps and raise your spirit. It will stay with you and comfort you, too.

Why wasn't it a hit? Well...it was seven minutes. The album it was on arrived long after Turley's single, a cover of Dylan's "Love Minus Zero (No Limit)" drifted out of Billboard's Top 100. Turley recorded a second Warners album with no luck, latched onto another label...but it was just more ups and downs, hopes and frustration. Which song or style would vault him to fame...gospel, R&B, folk, rock? He tried. He tried. Depressing?

What makes this slim (162 page) book more inspiring and entertaining than depressing, is that it's loaded with stories and observations beyond what you'd expect. What you'd expect, of course, is a lot of grousing and bitterness, or Christian faith homilies infusing every page, or advice on how to deal with the adversity of blindness and finding a lot of positives about it all. No, there's very little of that in here. And if you're expecting a self-published book badly written, rest easy. Aside from an occasional name not quite right (It's Shelley Berman, not Burman) you won't be distracted by typos.

What you'll find in "Blindsighted," is a definitive depiction of what so many artists have gone through on their way to the bargain bin. Turley's book offers a primer on how difficult the entertainment world is, how capricious managers and "friends" can be, and all the complexities behind the simplicity of recording and touring. Check your record collection. Does it include albums you love and others never heard of? Then read this book by someone you never heard of.

Another reason to read it, is that it's funny and often startling. Sex and violence? It manages to get in here. This fellow was always a wiseguy, always headstrong. He had a part-time job where a guy pulled a knife on him. Another time, shots were fired at him from the stage. He could use his fists when he needed to, and also his wits...not everybody could share the stage with Richard Pryor and get off a comeback that would have the comedian shaking and laughing.

Born Richard Turley, the mischief-loving kid was literally pierced with fate's arrow before he was five. He was playing a bow-and-arrow game with his friends, including a 12-year-old, when an accident cost him sight in one eye. Fate wasn't done. Without a competent specialist to take the right action (which would've been removal of the eye...as was done with Peter Falk who lost an eye to disease) the eye remained, became infected, and ultimately spread the damage to his remaining eye. While he withstood many gruesome procedures, and managed enough sight to play sports and know a hot-looking babe when he saw one, eventually his luck ran out and he was told that blindness would be inevitable.

He made a rush to stardom while he could...signing with a local label (Fraternity) and getting up to the majors with a few singles (notably on Kapp). There were times when he gave up and went home, only to fight again thanks to his mother's encouragement. There were times when he had unlikely help thanks to his good looks. Making the "Midnight Cowboy" fantasy real, Turley found himself "kept" by many a New York City socialite (or two), and was able to gig and hang with the hot new stars of the day (including Jimi Hendrix and Richard Pryor) while living rent-free. Possessing a stubborn streak (he turned down or walked out of almost as many good deals as his managers screwed up), Turley still was prone to find himself broke. At one point he was sleeping in Central Park. At another, he rather hilariously and ingeniously was fitted with a Lone Ranger mask (and costume) so that he could make some fast cash in porn. The costume came off, but not the mask. The idea was that when he made it big, he'd never have to worry about the old loops coming back to haunt him.

As you know by now, he never did make it big. He was asked to be a regular on "The Merv Griffin Show," and his manager turned it down. As previously mentioned, Turley's Top 100 single for Warners didn't get an instant follow-up or the simultaneous release of an album. (The 45 is pictured above left...the photo is taken from his sighted side...before that eye would have to be replaced by glass).

He recorded an album for Epic but they didn't like the finished product. He had another deal, but refused because he was loyal to a producer he thought could do a better job than the one the label was providing. Mick Fleetwood was going to be helpful...but was a no-show. And on it went. It's only within the last 20 pages of the book that we get around to what, exactly, he's been doing for a living over the past few decades...a time when older artists, sighted or not, can't get record deals or put together big tours.

"I've often said that I am not a "good" blind person," Richards says. "As an artist, I had always made enough money to pay other people to do things for me, such as driving, housekeeping and grocery shopping. I never learned braille, and I didn't want to use a guide dog. Even today, I only use a cane if it is absolutely neessary...in early 1986 I reluctantly signedup at the Kentucky Department for the Blind Rehabilitation Center. The center taught me...daily living skills, and basic kitchen abilities...and how to use the computer...."

Turley's a successful teacher...offering lessons in songwriting and singing. Always able to attract the ladies, he's been through some divorces, amicable however, and has someone new in his life who helped him with the book project and supervises his Facebook page. It was from that page and his website that I learned of his book and...unusual for most reviewers...bought a copy. Listen...literally...the book comes with a bonus CD featuring several of his favorite recordings over the years. The closer is "I heard the Voice of Jesus," recorded 35 years ago. It was originally recorded with just Turley and his guitar. But, as Phil Ochs, Leonard Cohen and others have found, sometimes the right production can make for a masterpiece, and the arrangement here is perfect...the added instrumentation inspiring, not jarring.

Turley always felt his gift was in R&B. Often in his early work, he was mistaken for a black artist. Once, a single of his disappeared off the R&B charts because in reverse-racism, a photo of his white face appeared in a trade magazine, turning off black disc jockeys. "I Heard the Voice of Jesus" is the perfect meld of R&B, gospel, folk, soul and rock...as is fitting for a guy with a five octave range.

Want to hear the song? You'll find it on Google's YouTube, where copyright infringement is a way of life. But for a perfect version on CD, plus more songs, plus the fascinating story of his life...the book/music package is $20 including shipping and available at turleyrichards.com.

NRA Fans Roast Gov. Cuomo Book Through Negative Reviews

Politics makes for strange book-selling. The NY Times and other newspapers gleefully reported that Gov. Andrew Cuomo's memoir failed to attract a big crowd to Barnes & Noble for a signing.

Photos showed Cuomo sitting behind a desk, embarrassed at the paltry lines. Other photos showed the empty seats...which are usually packed for even minor celebrities and pop stars.

The N.Y. Daily News reported that Strand, conveniently located within walking distance of the flashy Barnes & Noble where Cuomo signed, was trying to unload copies under the heading: "BEST GIFT FOR THE PERSON YOU LOVE TO HATE." The Daily News neglected to mention that Strand traffics in review copies and most likely paid a few dollars for their stack of Cuomo books. Odds are they were motivated by, well, getting The Daily News to give them a plug, not by any real angst over unloading books. After all, real bookstores have the option of returning unsold copies.

Cuomo, who will easily cruise to re-election, is a fairly dull guy. His speaking voice has the nag of Al Pacino in "Dog Day Afternoon" but none of the charisma. Most think he's doing a good job. So why the hatred?

Mr. Cuomo supports gun laws.

This seems to explain the rather astonishing ratio of one-star reviews on Amazon to five star. Celeste Katz of The Daily News offered a photo of a protest that included photos of Cuomo doctored to look like Hitler. "Cuomo is a Tyrant," the protests claimed...because he doesn't want every idiot in New York blasting away with a rifle. Perhaps Cuomo's Albany office was too close to the nutjob who began firing at all his neighbors? You could look it up...but there are so many examples of "nutjob who began firing at all his neighbors" you might not find the one closest to Albany.

While it's fairly easy to get a gun in New York State, the NRA crowd don't think so, and are paranoid that it might become harder in the future. So, Ms. Katz reports, Cuomo's book has gotten 550 one-star reviews "to just 24 five-star salutes. The rage reviews appear spurred by commenters enthusiastically heeding encouragement on social media and Second Amendment sites to trash it and its author."

Gov. Cuomo's case is extreme, but it highlights a fact at Amazon...which is that "reviews" can be manipulated. A bunch of jerks who normally use the site to buy sex toys and underwear, can torpedo a book with lopsided reviews without actually buying it on Amazon, or buying it at all.

Unless people have a favorite book reviewer, or a favorite newspaper that actually runs reviews, they are more likely to instantly check Amazon for the price and the reviews. In the case of Cuomo's book, it would lead to NO SALE.

The sad truth is most books by politicians are dull and self-serving. They are written as policy statements, or "official" tomes that can be pointed to in lieu of debate or interview: "It's in my book...go read my book." That Cuomo's autograph on a book didn't excite anyone, indicates that he has a long way to go before seeming to be a viable Presidential candidate in 2016. If he does get taken seriously by then, and runs, and actually wins...well...the few autographed copies of Cuomo's book will be worth a lot of money.

America's Got Talent Winner: Landau Eugene Murphy Jr.

As "America's Got Talent" plods towards another forgettable finale, with the usual back-story sobs, inane hoopla for every magician and dance act, and votes being cast for every reason except actual entertainment value, some ask...

...who won last year? The year before? The dog act never even got a Letterman booking? The mediocre country singer got dropped after one album?

One of the more memorable winners is Landau Eugene Murphy Jr., who certainly benefitted from the novelty factor...a black guy in dreadlocks singing Sinatra-type lounge tunes. He's written a slim (128 pages, plus photo section) book that had me asking him the most basic question: "Why now?"

"I got an offer to write the book right after I won," he admitted, "but I got super-busy. I've been on tour for the past three and a half years!"

While it's doubtful most winners have done much in the years after their big splash (ventriloquist Terry Fator would be an exception, doing well in Las Vegas), Murphy has the advantage of a universal appeal (swingin' lounge music didn't die with "Old Blue Eyes") and great charm. Although the tax man took half of the million dollars, he quickly earned it back through touring and his initial album deal. "After being on the road I got back up to a million dollars again. That's not what reallly matters…it's the smiles on peoples' faces. I work a lot for charity..." That includes everything from the Heart-to-Heart Foundation to the homeless of West Virginia, where he still proudly lives. His book talks a great deal about the little town of Logan, and most of the chapters simply give the reader a vicarious thrill...imagine the excitement of appearing on the show...reaching the finals...having a parade in your honor...doing your first professional recording session...

Titled "From Washing Cars to Hollywood Star," the book does indeed mention some of the bad breaks and poverty of his early years, but it's not a sad tune heavy with strings bringing everything down. The tone is upbeat, the message more along the lines of any traditional "inspirational" volume. Landau also side-steps any vivid pictures of crime in the Detroit area (where he lived for a while) and there's even a kind of sweet take in recalling his poverty: "I learned how to make a syrup sandwich when we didn't have nuch else to eat." He doesn't swell on the problems of failed relationships that involved kids. The important thing, in the latter case, is that he was able to provide for them, and the enduring message is about the importance of family (he has a successful marriage now) friends...and even getting along with strangers. The book is, after all, dedicated not to wife, kids or parents or pales but "To the people from the great state of West Virginia (and especially the citizens of Logan).

The excitement and preparation for "America's Got Talent" had an unexpected effect on Landau Murphy. It just plain wore him out. Before his final performance, he "went to the Green Room, curled up on the couch, and went to sleep. I heard later a couple of the acts complained I was sleeping in the Green Room. Sorry guys, but I was tired." That kind of simplicity and humanity keep this admittedly slim volume moving along. It's not strong on touching moments of pathos, or vivid pictures of tragedy or triumph, as much as it's a steady account of keeping to the dream and taking some chances, as we all do, even though usually for a much lesser payday and much fewer people noticing.

It's probably not a surprise to know that most "America's Got Talent" winners simply have good memories and a decent bank account to show for their victory. It might come as a mild surprise to discover that Landau Eugene Murphy Jr. is one of the few (Michael Grimm, a "Billy Joel" to Landau's "Frank Sinatra" would be another) who can use the title "Winner" to get gigs in America and even around the world, and continue to do what they love to do. A lot of times, a book reviewer has to skim through a book due to deadline obligations, but if you do that with a 128 pager, there's something wrong...especially when the book is a pleasant, upbeat journey. You'll go from Logan to Detroit to New York to California to...well, back to Logan...and you'll enjoy the trip.

"Mixed Messages" left by The Late Arlene Martel

"T'pring" might seem like an odd ringtone to most, but to "Star Trek" fans, this was the beautiful "Bride of Spock" in a classic episode. The role was played by Arlene Martel, who had a cult following for this. She'd autograph T'pring memorabilia at many a "signing convention" in Hollywood and Las Vegas. As she sat at her table, autographing photos, fans would see she had stills from her appearances on other iconic 60's shows: "The Monkees" "Hogan's Heroes" "Wild Wild West" and "Outer Limits" among them. "Twilight Zone" fans came by to get her autograph, revelling in her iconic five words as a morgue nurse: "Room for one more, honey."

Sadly, Arlene died of a heart attack on August 12th. Until a few months ago, she'd been a Facebook regular, posting photos of herself, and offering a variety of links to health websites that involved recipes for organic foods and holistic treatments for illness. A cancer survivor for many years, she was very interested in any new vitamins or health regimens, and ways to improve both the mind and body.

Her book...self-published by one of the many "print on demand" vanity outfits now flourishing, is not about health. Despite the tag of written "with" someone else, it's not an autobiography. Just what is it? It's a peculiarly self-indulgent reprint of e-mails between the 74 year-old actress and a fan-admirer some 25 years younger (who worries his erectile dysfunction might hurt the potential of a meeting following their mutual admiration correspondence).

Yes, there could've been voyeuristic potential in a "fan gets to bed his dream idol" book, but not when there's no erotic writing and very little wit. Sadly, this 182 pager (with liberal spaces between e-mails to pad it to any kind of book length) is often boring and even embarrassing. Much of the e-mails concern mutual health concerns. Entire pages are loaded with technical details on medications: "...an Italian study done at a reputable Milan tertiary hospital showed that melatonin supplementation enhanced the effect of Arimeidex considerately...if this 9 mg dose is well tolerated, we can titrate up the 20 mg." Any typos in there...well, who at Author House would've been awake to proofread them?

The fan-man doesn't ask Arlene for details about her film and TV roles, so aside from one page where he mentions re-watching "Star Trek" and she comments on her hair and make-up, there's nothing for Trekkers or anyone wondering "what was it like to work with Bob Crane?" The e-mails reflect health-obsessed and self-involved people: "As far as your headaches go, a colonic could make a huge difference..." "...I hate much too much food. Thought about you several ties during the Thanksgiving Day."

Each e-mail is padded on the page with the time and date and who is sending and receiving. Eventually, these begin with ever more nauseating terms of endearment. "Hi Sweetheart" turns into "Hi Kalecake..." and "Hi Honey Bear" and "Hello Sweet Potato."

Arlene and Jeff's very slow ripening from mere e-mail pals to potential lovers, is sometimes ripe with cringeworthy cliches. Arlene: "I'm more of a Dapple Grey Mare who prefers being courted by a sensitive powerful Stallion." There aren't many of these Shades of Groan gaffes...not enough for "so bad it's good" page-turning. After 76 pages, the reader is alerted: "First Face to Face Encounter. To Whom it May Concern...use your imagination." In other words, you, dear reader, mare or stallion, do NOT get any real bedside reading.

At best, Martel declares, "Life is bubbling with rainbows in each bubble and just when one bursts out of its own excitement another bubble is born...so there's no depletion...only abundance. New title for our book? "Jeffrey and the Juicy Old Crone."

More often, the e-mails are duller than ones you send to your granny: "Sweetheart Happy Valentine's Day. So glad that you're in my life. Sending my love to you today (and always) Jeff." An entire page is devoted to a Rabindranath Tagore poem Jeff decided to send to Arlene. As one might scroll through e-mails to delete them, one ends up quickly scanning pages for something actually worth reading. Toward book's end, these two aren't even writing very often to each other. Arlene: "Jeff, I haven't heard from you since June 8th. I'm concerned...you might recall our conversation about your visiting for a few days...to complete the book with me..."

The book ends with no assurance that Jeff and Arlene will keep e-mailing, much less having conjugal visits. When she died, there was no posting from Jeff on Facebook, nor had their been any mention of him (as opposed to her daughters and her pet dog). She never hawked her book on Facebook, either.

Way back on page 35, this guy burbled about how beautiful she looked as T'pring, and creepily added that after watching the re-run, "I wondered what you ate for lunch...I wondered if you were in love at that point in time. If so...whether you were well-loved. I wondered if you had kissed someone that day....I wondered. And I inhaled you. And for the briefest moment...I was inside you...please excuse those figurative references...They were not to infer anything sexual." To this typical Californian pseudo-poetic overly extroverted nut, Marlene replied: "I'm not to infer anything sexual? Boy, talk about sending mixed messages."

Here and there, fans of Martel, or perhaps friends and relatives, get some glimmers of the woman's personality, and she might "live again" in the passages where she obsesses on various drugs and treatments which seem to have been a big part of her daily routine. Once in a great while there's a brief mention of her parents, her granddaughter, or growing up in the Bronx, but these are few. Perhaps she was saving all that for the autobiography that probably will never be published, and might only exist in a few manuscript pages. Considering the high list price of print-on-demand books, it's hard to recommend this to any but the most devoted Martel fans, since 80% of it is as boring as everyone else's e-mails. It's a high price to pay just to have more of a keepsake, my dear "Kalecake."

Maybe We'll Have You Back : Kramer vs Stoller

Fred Stoller's memoir, "Maybe We'll Have You Back," is largely about his career getting small roles as a "nerdy, annoying" waiter, passerby or relative on various mostly mediocre sitcoms.

Fortunately, a judge didn't say "maybe we'll have you back," after dismissing a suit foisted on Fred by the litigation-happy Kenny Kramer. In other words, she wasn't interested in hearing an appeal from a man who frankly doesn't seem to appeal to anyone but gullible tourists. Kramer, who won't let anyone forget he was vaguely an inspiration for the "Kramer" character on "Seinfeld," sued over a very minor anecdote in Fred's book.

Fred wrote of Kramer: "An admitted opportunist, he was not as innocent and goofy as the TV character…For thirty-seven dollars, he and a sidekick would take sightseers on a two-hour "Seinfeld Reality" bus tour…" The tour included having to endure Bobby, a Kramer sidekick, who would "scream out all the catch phrases...I just shook my head, amazed that a show as brilliant as "Seinfeld" could be so lamed down. In the gay-dominated Greenwich Village, I had to hear Bobby make everyone scream out, "Not that there's anything wrong with that!" Once wasn't embarrassing enough, so he'd scream it out again like some sort of deranged cheerleader…"

Kramer, very fond of getting his unpleasant face on Page Six of the NY Post any way he can, insisted this anecdote made him seem homophobic. How this could possibly be ground for any kind of money...well, it wasn't. How was Kramer damaged? He bragged that his tour was always "sold out" without ever having to pay for advertising. An irony is that while Seinfeld and Larry David seemed to distance themselves from Kramer, it was Stoller who snuck him onto the "Seinfeld" set for his only cameo during the show's entire run. Kramer had a friend post various petty complaints on Fred's Facebook page, none of them very compelling. At worst, Fred may has mis-remembered whether the use of the gay catch-phrase was screamed when some stereotypical gay couple pranced down a street or whether it was in Greenwich Village itself, but either way, no gays ever heard it; it was yelled on a bus with closed windows. And the line was rightly deemed as inoffensive, even supportive.

Being the target of a "frivolous" lawsuit is not much fun...when the frivolity can include paying legal fees and worrying that a judge might be addled enough to make the wrong decision. Perhaps the positive here, is that while the case lubed the media whore known as Kenny Kramer, it also gave publicity to Stoller's book, an entertaining insider-look at the lame underbelly of "extra" work and bit-parts in films and on TV.

Larry David characterized Stoller's persona as "the proverbial schmuck," but in stand-up and in his better acting roles, Fred's more than that. He has some wit, and a funny, obstinate streak. Petulant in his whiny voice, piercing with his owlish eyes, he'll proudly admit, "I went to a deli and ate an apple right there without washing it first." As if this idiot bravado isn't enough, he'll add, "You can't stop me! I'll do it again."

Oddly, the latter half of the gag, which I remember fondly from his stand-up act, was not quoted in his book, but it's what separates him from previous masters of sad sack-ism (such as Marvin Kaplan or Jackie Vernon). He's not a complete patsy...he possesses an aggression that is usually clueless and comical.

The book confirms that he's mostly playing himself. The anecdotes about his childhood miseries, his mother's negativity, and other agonies have a lot of pathos. How sad that Fred was such a lonely child, he almost enjoyed being bullied. When the class fall guy was out, the bullies turned to Fred:

"...when he was absent, they chose me to pick on; they chased me and pulled my string tie through the fence and threw me down. It was actually kind of thrilling. For once, I wasn't invisible. The next day, when the other kid returned, I felt a little sad it was over."

Even getting lucky isn't so fortunate. Before Kramer's litigation, the big selling point for the book was his anecdote about quickly getting in bed with grotesque comedienne Kathy Griffin, who impatiently said, "I'm wet" almost before Fred was through the door for their first date. The nightmare ended with Griffin asking if she could punch him in the face for a sexual kick...and then hollering "Don't look at my ass."

The book does spend many many pages on mild "this is what it's like" anecdotes about the various sitcom sets and which actors are or aren't supportive, but the more memorable lines are sad and sweet reflections on his lonely and passive lifestyle. He's easily rankled by the rudeness of people having a good time with friends and family:

"I usually like a place that doesn't have waitress service. I like the freedom to be able to bolt an any moment, so that's why I like paying for my food before I eat. Just last week, I needed to flee desperately. An attractive, annoying couple was sitting in the booth next to me. They did that thing where they didn't sit across from each other, but sat side by side. I suppose they sat like that because they couldn't stand the idea of not having the sides of their hips touching for thirty minutes. Then they started kissing. The only thing more sickening would've been if they took out a wad of cash and started counting and kissing that too."

At another table some idiot strted talking very loudly on his ell pone while his baby cried; and he ignored the kid…All I wanted was my check, but of course the waiter was nowhere in sight. Eating alone is not the worst way to dine…" Flipping through this neurotic, compulsively readable book isn't the worst way to spend a few days. And if you want to re-read parts of it over again...I can't stop you.

THE PAT BOONE FAN CLUB - Sue William Silverman

"The Pat Boone Fan Club...My Life as a White Anglo-Saxon Jew" is more an Anglo-Saxon "confessional" than the typical humorous Jewish-neurotic rant you'd get in short stories or memoirs from Philip Roth or Woody Allen. It does have amusing moments, but most of it touch on serious, and heartfelt issues involving the search for identity and a place to call home (she's had a few husbands and lived in several cities).

Only a few chapters are about the man who sang "white bread" pop hits in the 50's and early 60's. Most of this collection of essays (some of them award winners and previously published in literary magazines) are about Jewish jitters if not outright angst. This includes the many times Sue has been a stranger in a strange part of America. However, only a Jew is going to write an entire essay pretty much about wanting a colonoscopy to find an answer to a condition that might be colitis, or might not. That it isn't gut-funny as a stand-up whiner like Richard Lewis might've made it, is just Silverman's conversational style and sensibility. She knows anecdotes about "the human comedy" aren't all laugh out loud hilarious. So why force it on every page? Instead, her book sometimes seems like a transcript you overheard from someone on a cell phone. It gets more and more fascinating even if you don't know the person.

No doubt, a lot of readers here already know Sue from her previous books so reading an old friend's diary, or a lament about a hospital stay, would be particularly engrossing. They know all about her painful childhood via "Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You," and another memoir, "Love Sick," focusing on sexual addiction. The latter became a Lifetime made-for-TV movie.

The very serious recurring theme of this collection, is shaking off the agony of guilt and inferiority. It's difficult not to feel confusion, shame and insecurity when antisemitic remarks slip from the mouth of a trusted loved one. Sue hasn't forgotten the time her first husband complained about a project and said, "I won't let him Jew me down." She also won't forget her father, the guy who destroyed her innocence and drove her to wish Pat Boone would adopt her: "I ask you. Would you want to be Jewish if your Jewish father is a bad man? A bad, bad man?"

But just when you hope for a touch of Jewish ironic humor, or a gentle smile, she does toss in a one-liner: "I know I am Jewish…or as Jewish as a gefilte fish is Jewish."

Probably the most universal chapters of the book refer to her relationship with Pat Boone. At first these "fan notes" involve the restless yearning and anxious fears about actually meeting him. Most of us have had a stage door experience like that. Add to this, the literal counter-culture of being drawn to an exact opposite...an All-American Christian with no accent and perfect hair and a pretty darn perfect face and body, too. In alternating chapters, we get more of the main story...her subsequent encounters with Pat Boone.

Mr. Boone did not, however, supply an endorsement for the back cover, which may just be modesty on his part. He comes off well, and Silverman doesn't sugar coat any realities here, including how she rekindled her fan-appreciation at a time when the aging star was playing minor places in front of sometimes listless older crowds.

While Jewish bookstores are shrinking in number, and would be the likely place to promote a book like this, Sue told me she felt there was a wider audience for her book: "This is really in many ways an American story, about assimilation, a search for identity…it's not just for Jewish audiences. I have friends who grew up Catholic, who didn't want to be Catholic…" so some might easily read the Pat Boone segments and substitute most any star of any religion or color. (My brief talk with Sue was in interview mode. I don't know her; the "Ronald Smith" on page 121 is not me!)

In "Dixie Flyer," Randy Newman sang about what it was like to be part of a family of Jews trying to live in the South: "Christ, they wanted to be Gentiles, too. Who wouldn't down there, wouldn't you? An American Christian! God Damn!" The Jew who celebrates Christmas and finds comfort in the hymns, the Gentile who admires a smart Jewish friend and comes to a Seder...the little white kid who shyly wants the 7 foot black basketball player's autograph...the Middle Eastern girl with dreams of going to Paris and being like Gigi...Sue William Silverman writes for them all, as well as herself in this book. And maybe someday Pat Boone might cover Randy Newman's song. He just hasn't done it yet.

IDOL of the B.E.A. - The Sneer's Familiar! Billy Idol signs in...

You know that face anywhere...the sneer that launched a million sales.

One of the longer lines at BEA (Book Expo America) on opening day was for Billy Idol. Stars always seem to trump the usual authors/suspects (R.L. Stine, Mary Higgins Clark, Carl Hiaasen).

Billy's autograph (on a sampler from the book...his "Dancing with Myself" comes out in October) required not only standing in line, but standing on an earlier line to get the limited edition "ticket."

All this was very amusing to Billy, who in keeping with the masturbatory nature of his book title (and hit single), gleefully rubbed one of the sampler-chapter copies of the book against his crotch. Sorry I wasn't quite quick enough to get that shot, but you do get an evocative glower in the photo on the left.

It'll be a busy Spring, Summer and Fall for the Idol with the bright white hair...he's touring starting in June, and working on the completion of a new album to be released concurrently with the book.

Didn't know Mr. Idol was the literary type? The autobiography promises to raise eyebrows even higher than Billy likes to raise his own. As he says, in all modesty regarding himself and his book: “I am hopelessly divided between the dark and the good, the rebel and the saint, the sex maniac and the monk, the poet and the priest, the demagogue and the populist. Pen to paper, I am putting it all down, every bit from the heart. I am going out on a limb here, so watch my back.”

Patti Dahlstrom: Jesus and a car crash with Paul Williams. That's "Emotion"

"Emotion" is the name of a hit song recorded by Helen Reddy and Shirley bassey. The lyrics are by Patti Dahlstrom, who issued four critically acclaimed albums and has had other songs covered by Bobbie Gentry, Anne Murray, Patti Austin and many more. Music fans still feel a lot of "Emotion" for Patti, who was active at a time when female vocalists sung high and "pretty." She received limited radio play because her voice was lower, earthier. She was a unique hybrid of Southern roots rock and sophisticated L.A. musicianship.

Most fans know she was a close friend of Jim Croce, who died in a plane crash. But not many know that Patti herself was almost killed in a car accident, and that's the lead subject of her eBook "Traveling with Jesus."

She was actually traveling with Paul Williams (the songwriter and actor), who was behind the wheel. The car had no seat belts and when the car skidded out of control, Patti was flung high in the air and landed with a sickening crack...and seemed hopelessly maimed. Williams rushed to her side. He called to her, but she was hearing another voice. Patti writes:

"As I looked at the amazing night sky, I was surrounded by loving beings, and The Voice began to comfort and instruct me. "Do not worry, I am healing you.” I felt at this moment totally safe, completely loved and accepted, and blissfully happy. I was enveloped in a love I’ve never felt on this Earth; it was a love beyond understanding, and yet I knew. I was exactly who and where I should be, no doubt, no fear, just love. "Tell the doctors to call Steve Zax in San Francisco, and to do exactly as he tells them. I am healing you," the Voice continued.

Far away, though by my side, I heard Paul crying, "Patti, an ambulance is on the way."
"Don't worry, Paul, God is healing me."
"Oh, God," he cried.
Then The Voice continued, "Your father will call you in a few days and tell you that the odds are 50,000 to 1 that the doctors can save the left side of your face. Do not listen to him, for I am healing you." I do not remember a time in my life when I have been happier than I was that night lying in the middle of Beverly Glen Canyon with half of my face being held on by a thread, cradled in my dear friend's hands...."

Dahlstrom admits that some skeptics will insist she was merely "hearing things," and that they don't believe any story of help from beyond, but that's the point of the book...a look at faith and the power of believing.

At the moment her tome is available in eBook form only via her website, pattidahlstrombooks.com. Apparently it may eventually be sold as a traditional paperback. Ebooks, especially self-published ones, not only are free from editorial interference, but can be any length and any price. Her book is about 13,000 words (the length of three good-sized short stories). There's no padding here; it's a fast, fascinating read.

Patti's four record albums, and her best known songs, are not big on religious references, so this book does cover different terrain for fans expecting a memoir about songwriting, romance or her anecdotes about her later career as a teacher and expatriate living for a while in England. Hopefully she'll cover those topics in future books. Patti demonstrated long ago that she was excellent with lyrics, and a unique vocalist as well, and now, no surprise at all, she's proven to be an engaging, skillful writer...who can stir up both intellectual curiosity and pure emotion.

Elizabeth Warren Thinks of Jon Stewart and Vomits. Twice

Elizabeth Warren, in trying to get visibility and promote her views, had to get over her stage fright. That's just one of the non-political anecdotes in her new book, "A Fighting Chance," which makes for varied reading. In other words, the woman who helped create the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau has presented a very human view of herself as well as her causes.

Warren faced her first financial crisis at 12, when her father suffered a heart attack and the family's income sank. Her mother had to go find a minimum-wage job at Sears.

But perhaps some will find the most sympathy for this potential 2016 Presidential candidate in reading about how unsettled she became in making her debut appearance on "The Daily Show" in 2009: "I was miserable. I had stage fright — gut-wrenching, stomach-turning, bile-filled stage fright...I was having serious doubts about going through with this. I had talked to reporters and been interviewed plenty of times, but this was different. At any second, the whole interview could turn into a giant joke, and what if the joke turned on the work I was trying to do?"

Stewart's questioning style didn't help, and Warren got even more rattled when "he immediately began hurling baseballs straight at my forehead. The beginning was a disaster." But fortunately, she calmed down and has since proved to be an entertaining guest on what an often be a dull, confusing subject. Some of her best TV appearances of late have come as a guest on…no, no…as a guest on "Real Time with Bill Maher."

Mike Tyson Undisputed Truth: He Loves BARBRA STREISAND

Mike Tyson does indeed offer the "undisputed truth" in his new best-selling autobiography. He tells of his drug abuse, his orgies, and his violent childhood. He does it without bragging; he repeatedly calls himself all kinds of names, including "smuck." (It's only after you finish the book that you notice in the back, a page on "Lexicon," in which he states that "smuck" is a term he's coined for someone too low to even be called "schmuck."

Yes, we sometimes get too much information (Mike winning a championship while suffering from a painful and drippy venereal disease). More startling is how often Mike talks about being tearful...crying and sobbing over his doubts and miseries and yes...sensitivities. In what could be some kind of blockbuster revelation (after all, he's already snarled his innocence about his rape conviction, and growled about Don King) he admits...to loving Barbra Streisand and her music. That's a pretty shocking truth:

"Barbra Streisand…is very soulful and I'm not saying this from a black or an ethnic perspective. She just makes you feel good in your soul with her singing. People get jealous and put down people like her because they can't give off that kind of energy and love, they can't woo people';s hearts like Barbara can. I was enraptured the whole show. Afterwards we went back to her dressing room and took a picture with her…The next day I was still emotionally drained. It was so exciting to be around her and to have seen her sing. She's meant so much to my mother and other people in my life. I'm just happy to be alive when she's performing."

Well people who love Barbra, are the luckiest people in the world.

"Undisputed Truth" is over 500 pages, but some of it speeds along like Tyson hitting a speed bag. He hits on every topic you'd want to know about, and a lot more.

Mike says it ain't easy being in debt and a recovering alcoholic (who has relapses). He is suffering the miseries of aging, which includes a lessened libido and a greater irritation with life itself: "I thought you're supposed to get more mellow as you age but I'm getting more irritable and bitter."

He's tried various religions and isn't too keen on any of them. He doesn't believe in an after-life: "Put me in the dirt, no casket or anything..." But it seems that one way to snap him out of any anxiety or depression would be...a ticket to see Barbra. That's heaven. ""They say that only Muslims are going to be in heaven. If I go to heaven and there's only Muslims and I'm not with my friends that I know and love, I don't want to be there..."

PAUL STANLEY of KISS: Tell-All Due April 8th

The last of the original four members of KISS to write an autobiography, Paul Stanley figures the best has been saved for last.

He's not a fan of the books by Gene Simmons, Peter Criss or Ace Frehley:

"After reading some of (Gene's book) and having been present at much of what went on in that book, it just wasn't accurate so I didn't read it. In the case of Peter or Ace, there is a reason that defense attorneys don't put alcoholics or drug addicts on the witness stand."

Paul's "FACE THE MUSIC: A LIFE EXPOSED" will be out on April 8th. He has a lot of hype to live up to. After all, he says he's not a fan of most any rocker autobiography: "95 percent of the autobiographies by any of my contemporaries would be better suited on a roll of soft paper, so at least you could use it for something."