Monthly Archives: October 2013

Jack Sheldon: Supper Club Hipster Saint

Jack Sheldon

Some scenes stick with you like a stamp on a picture postcard.

In March, 1989 the Chicago Sun-Times sent me to Los Angeles to cover the Grammy awards. After I filed my story I searched out Jack Sheldon, who was playing trumpet in a smoky North Hollywood supper club called Money Tree. I liked to find unusual and mostly unknown characters for my readers.

Special coins.

At the time Sheldon was best known as the Doc Severinsen/Paul Shaffer-like sidekick on “The Merv Griffin Show,” on which he appeared between 1970 and 1986. He had played on Tom Waits’ 1977 album “Foreign Affairs,” including the noir solo at the end of “Burma Shave.”

Dressed in blue jeans and an untucked black sport shirt, Sheldon sat with trumpet in hand on a stool behind a stand-up bassist, rhythm guitarist and a pianist at the Money Tree. His material was cut for the cocktail crowd, and yes there were supper clubby folks like Red and Susie from Portage, Wis., who were celebrating their 20th wedding anniversary. Sheldon sang a scat-drenched “Lover, Come Back to Me” for them. The tones from his horn were soft, yet declared.

The sound of a good marriage.

A couple of weeks ago after an appearance for my supper club book I stopped at Strictly Discs in Madison, Wis.

For $10 I picked up a vinyl copy of Sheldon’s “Playin’ It Straight” which featured Johnny Carson “Tonight Show” band members Tommy Newsom (alto and flute),  Ed Shaughnessy (drums) and Joel DeBartolo (electric bass, although he plays acoustic on the 1981 Sheldon album.) Wasn’t the conversation, warmth and chatter of late night television in the 1970s just an extension of a heartland supper club?

While listening to “Playin’ It Straight” I went back to the cool shade of that night at the Money Tree.

Sheldon will turn 82 on Nov. 30.

The good old Internet had reported his death from complications of a stroke in June, 2011. The story was picked up by Jazz Times, which apologized and said he was living in Los Angeles.

He has done a lot since we talked in 1989.

Jack Sheldon, 2011

Sheldon  was the subject of an award winning 2008 documentary “Trying To Get Good: the Jazz Odyssey of Jack Sheldon” (which features interviews with Billy Crystal, Clint Eastwood, Merv Griffin and others) and in 1996 provided voices on “The Simpsons.”

In 2000 and 2001 he did voices for the animated “Family Guy” television series. He was the train engineer on the “Schoolhouse Rock!” grammar song “Conjunction Junction” and later on “Family Guy” parodied himself on a sex-education skit by singing “Vagina Junction.”

Sheldon has five children and has lost two of them: daughter Julie died in a 1979 airplane crash and son Kevin died of cancer in 2003.

I was interested in seeing Sheldon in 1989 because I knew he had worked the Playboy Club circuit with Mort Sahl and Lenny Bruce and during the mid-1950s he appeared at Mister Kelly’s in Chicago.

Hugh Hefner has told me the Playboy Club was a supper club and I would consider Mister Kelly’s an urban supper club. At Mister Kelly’s Sheldon played the comic foil between sets by singer Julie London and pianist Bobby “Route 66” Troup at Mister Kelly’s, now the site of Gibson’s steak house.

I love Route 66 as much as I love supper clubs.

5580225263_778b0522a1_o
London always would stop in the middle of her act and ask Sheldon for a cigarette. He’d grab a cigarette for himself, get a second cigarette for London and stick both of them in his mouth. After he lit them, London would say how Sheldon looked like a walrus.

It was that oddball style of understated humor that got Sheldon his Griffin gig.

Sheldon knew little of the 1989 Grammy festivities when I talked to him between sets.

He did know that his mentor, Dizzy Gillespie, was being honored with a Lifetime Achievement Award. Sheldon said Gillespie and singer Sarah Vaughan  occasionally stopped by the Money Tree to catch his act.

“I was working at a candy store at the Central Market in downtown Los Angeles when I met Dizzy,” Sheldon recalled.  “It was 1947. I was 14 years old. I had just come to town from Jacksonville, Fla. and Dizzy sounded strange to me. He hit those funny notes. I was used to (the more conventional styles of) Roy Eldridge and Bunny Berigan.

“Then I saw Dizzy’s Things to Come Big Band at the Million Dollar Theater. It was a brand-new sound. My whole life changed. He wore a beret and dark glasses and had a goatee. I did all that stuff. I carried my horn in a bag.

“I wanted to be hip at all costs.”

Dizzy_Gillespie
Sheldon made some timely moves. He grew up with “cool-school” trumpet player Chet Baker, who blew horn in a light and lyrical style. Baker died in 1988 after falling from a hotel window in Amsterdam.

“We had a little rhythm section and we’d drive around Los Angeles in a big Pierce-Arrow hearse,” Sheldon said. “We bought that so we could fit the bass in it. Every time we’d go out at night to play somewhere, the cops would stop and search us. It became a ritual. We looked so suspicious.”

Sheldon went on to play with the small big bands of the 1950s. He gigged with Stan Kenton in 1958 and Benny Goodman in 1959. “With Stan, there would be five horns playing as loud and as high as we could play,” he said. “He’d be standing out there going, `More, more,’ and guys would be passing out.

“I always said Stan Kenton held the record of sidemen suicides. (Trombonist) Frank Rosolino shot himself. Bud Brisbo shot himself. (Singer and former Mrs. Kenton) Ann Richards shot herself. Art Pepper kept shooting himself over and over again. It’s kind of a little act.”

Sheldon gave a gentle tweak, as we call it today. A  bold jaw offset his squinty eyes and he had a dab of grease in his jet-black hair.

Sheldon credited the mid-’50s comedy at Mister Kelly’s for opening the door to his television career. Sheldon enjoyed bit parts on “I Spy,”  and “The Edie Adams Show.” In 1966, he starred in his own television program, “Run Buddy Run,” a spoof of “The Fugitive.”

In 1989 he was also playing Sunday night gigs with  Ross Tompkins, the “Tonight Show” piano player,  at a Los Angeles club.

I asked him what sparked the sudden activity.

“A lot of drinking got in the way of my playing,” he answered in soft tones.  “When I stopped drinking in 1985, it helped a lot. I always worked when I drank and I never drank when I worked. Merv put up with a lot of my stuff – like drunks and hangovers. One time, I was drunk in Las Vegas and (singer) Leo Sayer was sitting on a couch. I fell off the stage and knocked him off the couch. He wasn’t going to do the show. But Merv was supportive of me.

“I think I drank to get rid of feelings. I’d start drinking and stop feeling things. I had to give it up, go through the feelings and learn how to live sober. It’s not easy, but it’s better than living drunk. I go to (Alcoholics Anonymous) meetings each day. The fog is really just starting to lift.”

th
In 1988 Sheldon began studying trumpet again under former MGM first trumpeter and symphony instrumentalist Uan Rasey. “I’m slowly getting better,” he said. “Wynton Marsalis really inspired me to do both great jazz and symphonic stuff.  I wanted to play better and more efficiently. I got a certain spark that I can do good. But I want to do more.”

Sheldon was always an evolving jazz musician who, without compromising his pacing, played with adventure. His searing tones have an authenticity and sense of sincerity, and that’s most certainly a supper club sound.

A Toast to a new Old Fashioned

IMG_9293ES

 

There is a new twist to the Old Fashioned.

 
You can take it with you.
Like beer. Cheese
Or any other iconic components of Wisconsin food culture.

 
The Brandy Old Fashioned is a staple of the Wisconsin Supper Club landscape.  Timothy Pappin and his nephew Ryan Mijal have now rolled out the barrel with “Arty’s,”  an Old Fashioned in a bottle.

 

They came up with the zany motto “It’s not a party without Arty’s!” although there is no real Arty.
The imagery works.

 
I had my first Arty’s over the summer at a Wisconsin Timber Rattlers Midwest League baseball game outside of Appleton. I pictured an old frosty dude named Arty making the concoction in the basement of his Wisconsin home. The name Arty’s comes from the “R” in Ryan’s name and the “T” in Tim’s name.

8276

“You don’t know any Arty’s today but I knew there was enough Wisconsin Old Fashioned drinkers to make the drink convenient,” Pappin said in a late summer interview. “Instead of having to muddle, slice, carry fruit, having bitters and all that. If somebody was going to a Packer tail gate or camping, they could grab a six pack of Old Fashioneds. It’s an alternative to flavored and regular beers.”

 

Arty’s markets three flavors: Brandy Old Fashioned Sweet, Whiskey Old Fashioned Sour, and Whiskey Old Fashioned Sweet.

 
Pappin, 49, grew up in the sweet supper club environment

 
During the mid-1970s his parents Richard and Margaret Pappin owned the Embers Supper Club in downtown Clintonville, Wis.

 

“My Dad had a regular job as materials manager for Seagrave Fire Truck,” Pappin said. “They had the supper club on the side. So Friday nights after work he would bartend and my Mom would hostess. I would ride my bike there, go behind the bar and wash glasses and eat all the cherries.

 
“This was when people smoked and it was just all the supper club feel. My Dad wore turtlenecks and sport coats. The fire truck corporation was a large employer for the town and a colorful bunch of workers would frequent the supper club. I was 12 years old and I’d watch everyone  getting happy and my Mother would always order a Brandy Old Fashioned. I thought, ‘Wow, that’s interesting,’.”

 

Pa Pappin at his supper club (Courtesy of Tim Pappin)

Pa Pappin at his supper club (Courtesy of Tim Pappin)

 

Everyone has a thought on why the Old Fashioned is the Wisconsin state cocktail.
Here is Pappin’s theory:
“It had to do with the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair. Korbel Brandy came there. People from Wisconsin brought that brandy back and created that cocktail. It hooked itself into Wisconsin lifestyle. I don’t know if it has anything to do with German heritage. It is very similar to the Mint Julep in Kentucky, the Hurricane in New Orleans or Margaritas in the Southwest. But once anybody drinks an Old Fashioned, they go ‘This is delicious’.”
This is what happened in the summer of 2010 when Pappin and Mijal were hanging out at the family’s lake property about 45 miles Northwest of Appleton, Wis.

“We would spend our free time there on the lake,” he said. “Or hanging around the taverns around the lake. In 2010  I was with my nephew, who was then in his mid-twenties.  I didn’t feel like having a beer that evening so I ordered a Brandy Old Fashioned. He had never had one before.”
Gave it a shot, so to speak.
He loved it. “So we made an evening out of it,” he said. “It was a weekend and came out into the living room of the cottage the next day. We were getting the cobwebs out and I looked at him and said, ‘Let me grab another Old Fashioned out of the refrigerator.’ That was the a-ha moment, like ‘This would be something kind of simple’.” We figured somebody had to be doing this. This is Wisconsin.”

411760_449423211771410_815419263_o

The young men recreated that old fashioned night a couple weeks later that summer.

“We were on a pontoon boat and elbowed each other and said, ‘What a great place for a quick Old Fashioned.’ It evolved into ‘This is making too much sense’.”
Research was done and it was found no one was making a ready to drink Old Fashioned.
“There are plenty of mixes out there,” Pappin explained. “My formative years were in Wisconsin and I moved out of the state when I was 14.” He has since lived in 12 different states and cities like Kansas City, Mo. and Los Angeles.
“I never heard anybody order an Old Fashioned,” he said. “Or if I tried to in later years, you’d get a real nasty Manhattan.”

At the age of 30 Pappin opened a sports bar and grill in Tucson, Az. He recalled, “I thought I’d bring a little bit of Wisconsin to Arizona. So I had brats and I had the Old Fashioned. Down there you would get  people from Wisconsin and other people would ask about them. I got a following in that bar and I knew there was something unique. First it’s a delicious drink if you drink cocktails. I’m a beer guy, but I knew there was this tradition of the Old Fashioned from people who wintered into Arizona.”
Pappin grasped the old fashioned fascination for  marketing purposes

He said, “The idea was to put it in a glass bottle and our motto is ‘Tip Your Bottle Once or Twice, Always Better Over Ice,’ but one of the biggest surprises is that people put them in their cooler and would drink them straight out of the bottle. I never even thought about that. I probably see as many people drinking them straight out of the bottle as I do over a cup of ice.”
Pappin has been astonished by the response.

Lambeau Field tailgating with Arty's, Sept. 2013 (Courtesy of Arty's)

Lambeau Field tailgating with Arty’s, Sept. 2013 (Courtesy of Arty’s)

“We hodge-podged this process together because I wasn’t sure if it would be accepted,” he explained. “With the tradition, ‘You can’t put an Old Fashioned in a bottle, in Wisconsin it has to be muddled. And there’s still some people who say that.”

Arty’s strongest market is the Appleton-Green Bay area, although it is spreading out through Wisconsin.

The Chicago area may be coming.

“We’ve all seen malt beverages, but nothing has ever been made that is liquor based like this for an Old Fashioned in Wisconsin,” said Andy Kriz, Non-alcohol and liquor brand manager for Lee Beverage, which distributes Arty’s. “It’s important to be the first one of a new idea or concept in the market. Nobody remembers who came in second.”

Arty’s retails at $8.99 for a six pack of 7-0unce bottles.

Pappin said, “Retailers didn’t know where to put us. Some of them have us in the beer aisle. Some have us in the liquor aisle. Some have us in the ready-to-drink aisle. Because there’s nothing else out there like it.”

Kriz was sold on the quality. “It is spot on for flavor,” he said. “It is real whiskey and brandy. Its real bitters. And real 7-up and Squirt. And carbonated in a seven ounce bottle.”

It took time to put Arty’s in motion.

Pappin visited a couple of micro distilleries. They were supportive but they didn’t have the equipment to bust out a cocktail.

“They were all equipped to do their vodka or whiskey in 750 millliiters –not in a ready to drink 7 ounce bottle,” he said. ” I found a couple Midwest bottling operations but you had to have a half a million bottle run or $100,000 order, but we were nowhere near that. We were just the little guy starting out.
“So I thought, ‘Heck with it, let’s do it ourselves.”
The two-man Arty’s team rented the gutted Last Chance Cafe in Clove Leaf Lakes, Wis. for six months .

“I needed an address just to start all the legalities to get into the distilled spirits industry,” Pappiin said. “There was no toilet, no running water in there. By April 2012, we got all our approvals.”

Pappin and Mijal spent 2010-12 experimenting with formulas  and recipes, before arriving at a genuine Wisconsin Old Fashioned with “a minor secret,” according to Pappin. “It came after six months of three Old Fashioneds a night,” he said. “Because you can’t do more than that because they all start tasting good.”

 

20130915_110500_resized

Friends and neighbors were the happy test group.

Kriz said, “It is more than popular. We will do over 10,000 cases of the item this year, just set out of an office in Oshkosh and another one in the western part of the state near Eau Claire. It is one thing to get the product out of the shelf for people to try it. The proof is the re-buys and brand loyalty. If the liquor wasn’t good, we wouldn’t be seeing all the re-buys.”
Pappin said one of the first product names was The Old Fashioned Old Fashioned.

But that doesn’t do justice to the new wave of heartland drinking.

Hot Times at the Fire House Supper Club

 

 

Hostesses who were matches at the Fire House

Hostesses who were matches at the Fire House

 

 

Now, this had to be a smokin’ supper club.

The Ruth Culver Community Library, 540 Water St. in Prairie du Sac, Wi. is in the former location of the Fire House Supper Club. Want more bang for your bite?
The Blue Spoon Cafe’, next door to the library at 550 Water St. in downtown Prairie du Sac is the only restaurant created and owned by the Culver’s franchise that isn’t a Culver’s. The soup-sandwich-wine cafe overlooks the Wisconsin River.
I will be talking about the Supper Club Book and showing book photos at 6 p.m. Oct. 18 at the Culver library. Joining me will be Rex and Bette Boss, the former owners of the Fire House Supper Club. Cheese spread and crackers, veggies and dip will be served with iced tea and lemonade.
Admission is free.

BYOB (Butter)

 

Prairie du Sac is about 30 miles northwest of Madison, off the Highway 60 on 90/94 towards the Dells.
For my Madison friends, expect a post-talk-talk at Genna’s, 105 W. Main St. near the state capitol building.
I’m sure I will soon know more about the Fire House Supper Club, but I did find a commemorative Facebook page that also placed the Fire House down the road in Janesville between 1972-75. The pictures reminded me of the Gaslight clubs in Chicago.

26326_489129964486017_349032681_n

Apparently, there was also live music, a staple of 1970s supper clubs: dining music from The John K. Duo.
Should be a fun getaway trip.
Ruth and George Culver opened the first Culver’s Frozen Custard and Butter Burgers in July, 1984 on U.S. Highway 12 in Sauk City, Wis. Today there are 475 Culver restaurants across the United States.

But there were only one–or two–Fire House Supper Clubs.





 

 

Detroit’s Downtown Supper Club

$T2eC16JHJHcFFj-mMwvOBSUOJ8TRm!~~60_3
I came into Detroit a night before my book signing at Cliff Bell’s because I like the city.
Things seem so rock bottom, I feel a new slate of creative expression emerging–even though the vapor rising from the grates along Woodward Avenue still gives Detroit an apocalyptic  feel.

You can’t go far in downtown Detroit without someone mentioning the city’s bankruptcy. It’s the same way everyone in Chicago harps about the Bears.
After catching a Tigers game I was sitting at a bar next to the Fox Theater.
A stranger looked me in the eye and asked, “Is this city worth saving?”
I’ve been from Fairbanks, Alaska to the Guatemalan fishing village of La Barrona (pop. 900) where I spent a New Year’s Eve on a mattress on a dirt floor. Adriana and I still question if we saw a black rat scurry across the floor to bring in the new year.
But no one has asked me, “Is this city worth saving?” on any visit.
I could not answer that question objectively about Detroit.
“Of course,” I said over a Blue Moon at the Detroit bar. I elaborated that maybe Detroit should no longer think of itself as a major metropolitan area but as a boutique urban destination like Baltimore (pop. 619,000).

Cliff Bell at work

Cliff Bell at work

But what do I know?
I do not know what it is like to live day to day in Detroit.
“It’s daunting,” said Paul Howard, one of the founding partners who brought Cliff Bell’s back to life in downtown Detroit. I had told him about my previous evening’s encounter. He said,  “It’s tough getting things done daily.”
Howard, 39, is a Detroit native.

Book party appetizers, fresh baked flatbread with tomato, basil and mozzarella

Book party appetizers, fresh baked flatbread with tomato, basil and mozzarella

I loved  Cliff Bell’s history and wanted to veer off the predictable rural supper club path to include them in my book.

Howard and I had a couple long talks while I was researching the book. I closed the Cliff Bell’s chapter with his remark about Detroit that still gives me chills. He reflected, “Maybe a good analogy would be the people who held out in the Dust Bowl. They had the same sense of pride and would be happy to tell you about their lives.
“I guess I’m one of them.”
You find that in Detroit.
I go to Detroit a couple times a year and I’ve consistently noticed the majority of people make an extra effort to talk to you, give you directions or share a story. And there is no argument that Detroit’s Eastern Market is more exciting and cross cultural than any Farmer’s Market in Chicago. After all, I found Mountain Dew jelly at the the Eastern Market.
The book signing turnout at Cliff Bell’s was unlike any other of the half-dozen appearances I did this summer. There weren’t many older supper club regulars.
Cliff Bell’s has been reinvented into an upscale urban destination. They are using Chicago’s iconic Green Mill night club  as a dark, visual template for live music. On a Thursday evening I saw  Tigers fans (Cliff Bell’s is just a couple blocks from the balllpark) and Wayne State students. Alissa Jenkins is studying journalism at Wayne State. Her friend Steve Duttine is a photographer from England who was documenting Detroit.

We talked a lot about the presumed deaths of Detroit and print journalism.

DSCN5615

Thanks to my friend Susan Whitall for this comprehensive write- up in the Detroit News.

Find her 2011 book “Fever: Little Willie John, A Fast Life, Mysterious Death and the Birth of Soul (Titan Books). The former Creem editor does justice to the precursor to James Brown and Stevie Wonder.

Grits ain’t groceries.


So when you go travel to Detroit, and please do, also find a room at the Inn on Ferry Street.
Ironically, the first time I stayed at Inn on Ferry was when I went to see Bruce Springsteen’s “Wrecking Ball” tour last spring in suburban Auburn Hills. The Inn on Ferry is actually four restored Victorian homes and two carriage houses just north of downtown Detroit. Both times I have stayed at Inn on Ferry I was in The Scott House, built in 1886 by Detroit architect John Scott. Locally roasted Great Lakes coffee is served 24/7, which is always a plus for me.
The Inn was developed by Midtown Detroit, a non-profit planning and economic development agency. The group partnered with the Detroit Institute of the Arts (DIA), which owned the property and had been using some of the homes for storage. The Inn opened about a week after 9/11. All the buildings comprising the Inn are on the local, state and the National Register of Historic Places.
After the Tigers game and the Blue Moon beer I stopped for a sandwich at the Magic Stick on Woodward. I had called the Inn on Ferry for a briefing on where to turn. It was just before midnight when I rolled into The Inn. A parking attendant was waiting for me on the driveway. I was not a stranger in this struggling town.
Sometimes the wounded heart is the most passionate heart.

DSCN5595