Harvey Kubernik is a music history savant who’s written numerous books on such topics as Laurel Canyon, the Beatles and the Summer of Love. He has dedicated his entire life to rock and roll, and his memory is extraordinary. Harvey experienced it all firsthand, this is his story.

https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/9ff4fb19-54d4-41ae-ae7a-8a6f8d3dafa8/episodes/821207cb-203f-43b7-915d-a39039de3d3b/the-bob-lefsetz-podcast-harvey-kubernik

https://www.stitcher.com/show/the-bob-lefsetz-podcast/episode/harvey-kubernik-303688137

1

She was a has-been. And Ike didn’t get any respect either.

This was the sixties. The era of one-hit wonders, the British Invasion and then album rock. Where did Ike and Tina Turner fit in?

They didn’t. They were an inside act. With hits on the R&B charts, but virtually no action on Top Forty, the main career driver of the era. And it’s not like the nascent FM rock was going to play them either. Sure, the deejays had their pick, it was free-form radio, but the acts were all white, except for Jimi Hendrix, and maybe Richie Havens, but they didn’t really play him either, not until after the Woodstock movie.

And then the Stones took Ike & Tina out as the openers on their ’69 tour.

The Stones knew the act, the British acts knew their history, and “River Deep, Mountain High,” was actually a hit across the pond, it went all the way to #3, whereas in America, it peaked at #88. In other words almost no one ever heard it. And this was back in the era when if it wasn’t on the radio you had to buy it to hear it, and people didn’t, buy it that is.

This was going to be the big breakthrough, Phil Spector’s last hurrah, his crowning achievement. It was weird to read the rock press in the late sixties and early seventies because writers always cited the transcendent excellence of “River Deep, Mountain High,” but I never heard it. And I must admit when I ultimately did I didn’t think it was all that.

Most white rock fans knew who Ike & Tina were, but they were perceived to be relics of a bygone era.

And then the “Gimme Shelter” movie played.

You had to see it. Sure, it was ultimately about Altamont, but this was back in the era when you hungered for any scrap of information about your favorite acts, and video footage was hard to come by, and when there was a film, you went to see it. And Tina Turner stole the movie. It was the way she stroked the microphone during “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long,” we’d never seen anything like it. Sure, back then people had sex, but it was still behind closed doors, underground, you couldn’t Google it. For the rock acts it was a big thing to swear on your record, or stick out the middle finger in a photograph, both of which were ultimately airbrushed by the company when it found out. But something so overtly sexual? It was JAW-DROPPING! Just like James Brown owned the “T.A.M.I. Show,” Tina Turner owned “Gimme Shelter.” At this point everybody could sing, in this era before tapes, hard drives and Auto-Tune. But performing? Tina made the Stones look quaint. She was a bundle of energy. But she could go nice and slow too. She was an adult when her competitors were children. You were instantly hipped, you knew who Tina Turner was.

And Ike was in the background. I mean he played guitar, so what? It took years to find out he arguably created the first rock and roll record. His accomplishments are still overshadowed by the abuse. But Tina was the star. Yet she could never create a solo hit.

But before that, running on the momentum of the Stones tour and the ultimate movie, Ike & Tina had success with a cover of “Proud Mary.” But this was not long after the iconic Creedence Clearwater version. Forget the statistics, people were aware of Ike & Tina’s version of “Proud Mary,” but it wasn’t ubiquitous. And unlike Marvin Gaye’s reimagining of Gladys Knight & the Pips’ hit “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” the Ike & Tina cover of “Proud Mary” was not radically different. It looked like Ike & Tina couldn’t write their own hit, which was the key to credibility and longevity back then. Furthermore, “Proud Mary” was heard on AM in an era when most rock fans had moved on to FM. Oh, you’d see Tina performing “Proud Mary,” you’d get it, but the average rock fan thought the act was running on fumes.

And then in 1976 Tina left Ike. This was a big story. Covered at length not in the gossip pages, but the music magazines. She was rebirthed. In the wake of her sensational appearance in the “Tommy” movie as the Acid Queen in 1975.

And then…nothing.

Now you’ve got to know, eras went by. Corporate rock, disco, the reign of Supertramp’s “Breakfast in America” and Pink Floyd’s “The Wall.” Steve Dahl blew up disco records in Comiskey Park and not only did it put a dent in that format, but the entire business.

And then came MTV.

At first very few people could see it. And the acts featured were all white. The brass famously said MTV was programmed like an AOR radio station, and those were all white. Ultimately Walter Yetnikoff forced the crossing of the color line by insisting they play Michael Jackson, saying if they didn’t he would pull all the company’s videos, but…

Tina Turner had nothing to do with all this. She released solo records that sank immediately. She was the aforementioned has-been.

And then along came John Carter.

2

Carter, he’s gone now too. He passed in 2011.

Carter worked at Capitol, a lame record company. Of course they had the Beatles and the Beach Boys and the Band, but as soon as all those acts were out of contract, they bolted. Ultimately after going to Warner Brothers and then coming back to Capitol, Bob Seger had success, he broke through with a live album, but you didn’t want to be on Capitol, better than to have no deal, but even RCA could have hits, with David Bowie and Hall & Oates. MCA was pretty lame. It got to the point where you could only consider it a major based on Elton John and its catalog, corporate refused to spend any money, ultimately bringing Irving Azoff in to resuscitate the label essentially from scratch.  But Capitol was trying. And constantly failing.

Of course there was the Knack, but they ended up being one-hit wonders.

As for John Carter? He was a meat and potatoes guy, he signed and produced Sammy Hagar, who made some really good albums after playing with Montrose, but Sammy didn’t get big until he decamped to Geffen.

Not that this affected Carter’s self-worth. At times he could let his guard down and be fun, act like your equal, but usually he acted superior. You didn’t want to hang with him, but it didn’t really matter, because he didn’t want to hang with you.

And then he signed Tina Turner.

TINA TURNER? Not only was she history, Carter had no background in Black music, his claim to fame was writing the lyrics for “Incense and Peppermints.”

This was back when you had to have a deal to play. And now six figures were spent on most albums. It was big business. And with MTV…you could be rocketed into the stratosphere, known all around the world. I’d say no one thought fortysomething Tina Turner could be on MTV, but we never ever got that far, because everybody firmly believed this was a folly, she’d had her shot, she was done.

And the album took YEARS to make. Carter kept talking about it and you’d roll your eyes, you thought it would never come out.

And then it did.

3

“You must understand how the touch of your hand

Makes my pulse react”

There she was, on MTV. In that jean jacket and a rooster haircut that put Rod Stewart’s to shame. Tina didn’t look old, she looked wise, experienced, a step above the girls featured on the channel. Furthermore, Tina was SEXY! She was not only comfortable in her body, she knew how to use it. She was beyond charismatic, she was magnetic and knew it.

And we were floored.

EVERYBODY WAS FLOORED!

As a result of the “I Want My MTV” campaign and the ability of the channel to make hits, with Culture Club, Duran Duran and then Michael Jackson, MTV WAS culture. To the point where every act had a video, they wanted a chance to play the lottery, to win big.

Not only kids were tuned in, but adults too. It was the new thing. You think AI is a big deal? MTV was far beyond that. The only thing that has equaled it since is the internet, which ultimately killed it.

But for a good ten years there, closer to twenty, MTV was it. It not only made songs hits, it made the singers of those songs stars, on a level far beyond today. And it changed fashion. It was the Kardashians on steroids. You’d go to the mall and see a zillion Pat Benatars.

But Tina Turner was something else. She was confident. She didn’t seem to need it, and therefore she became an even bigger star.

But it wasn’t only that one track. “What’s Love Got To Do With It” was followed up by the energetic “Better Be Good To Me.” If you hadn’t purchased the album “Private Dancer” by then, you were now incentivized. Obviously it had depth.

“What’s Love Got To Do With It” isn’t so easy to explain, its rhythms and chorus were not conventional, which drew you to it. But “Better Be Good To Me” was more traditional, it may have started out somewhat slow but then it started to march, you were pulled right in, you were hooked, and then came the chorus…

“Why can’t you be, good to me”

It wasn’t like “Better Be Good To Me” was a new song, the Holly Knight/Mike Chapman composition had been on Knight’s group Spider’s debut back in ’81, but went unheard. And you can listen to the original online, but Tina turned the song into a classic, she not only turned up all the faders on the board, she turned up all the faders inside herself!

WHY CAN’T YOU BE

GOOD TO ME

WHY CAN’T YOU BE

GOOD TO ME

WHY CAN’T YOU BE

GOOD TO ME

WHY CAN’T YOU BE

GOOD TO ME

She was right in your face. Overwhelmingly. Tina was employing all the talents she had displayed for decades, but now she had the right vehicle and people were primed, they were paying attention.

“‘Cause I don’t have no use

For what you loosely call the truth

And I don’t have the time

For your overloaded lines

So you’d better be good to me”

Talk about girl power. This was beyond Gloria Steinem and “Ms.” magazine. Turner took the concept and ran with it. She embodied liberation. She was free of Ike and she rose from near-obscurity to dominate this new paragon MTV.

You’d be driving in your car and you couldn’t help sing along.

And MTV had changed the radio landscape. AOR was eclipsed by new Top Forty stations on FM, playing the hits that were on the TV channel.

But wait, THERE’S MORE! Next Tina quieted down and delivered the subtle, haunting “Private Dancer.” She was a triple-threat, she could do it all.

They don’t make albums like “Private Dancer” anymore, that everyone knows, EVERYONE! Not only her name, but the tracks, Tina was ubiquitous, worldwide royalty, because that was the reach of MTV.

This was her moment.

4

And having succeeded in the rock world, Tina dove deeper. She did a duet with the white hot Bryan Adams on “It’s Only Love,” the two of them emoting with all their powers, but as good as Bryan’s throaty voice is, Tina came in and put the track over the top, sprinkled her magic, pouring lighter fluid on an already burgeoning fire. This wasn’t a cash-in, this delivered. Listen to it today, with the slicing guitar riff and the exclaiming vocals…they don’t even make rock music like this anymore, never mind what’s in the Spotify Top 50.

And this was back when movies still meant something.

“Mad Max” was a cult favorite. But “Mad Max 2” in 1981 was a phenomenon. The audience was waiting with bated breath for another installment. And it got one in 1985, with “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome.” But in this case the pre-controversy Mel Gibson was not the only star, Tina Turner did not just do a cameo, she had a full role, and sang the theme song to boot, “We Don’t Need Another Hero,” which transcended the usual soundtrack schmaltz yet still sounded like it was movie music. And when you listened to it, you felt powerful. Still do.

“Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome” was a gargantuan hit, everyone saw it, it was part of the culture.

As was Ms. Turner. She was a cut above all the rest, she was the best. And unlike today, she never boasted, finally her talent was enough, people got it. Willie Nelson and Tina Turner, two people who’d been working in the trenches for decades who ultimately broke through. But Tina was even bigger than Willie, there was no one bigger than Tina, never mind that big. And since she cut across generations, and musical styles, when she went on tour it was an event, and it wasn’t about production, it was about HER!

5

And then Tina retired. She told us, but we didn’t believe it. Starting with Frank Sinatra, our modern stars never do call it a day. Even after signing a retirement document in blood. They can’t get that hit of adrenaline, that jolt, that love that they get on stage anywhere else.

But Tina Turner retreated to Switzerland and…

Really retired. Not forgotten, but not in view.

It wasn’t until today that we were fully aware of all her health problems. To us it looked like she’d taken her victory lap and gone out on top. Needed no more.

Now I can’t speak for the younger generations, the millennials, their younger brethren, but if you were alive and conscious in the twentieth century you’re not only aware of Tina Turner, you know her, AND ABOUT HER! Yes, when Tina came back, so did her complete history, the records, Ike, she’d paid her dues, far more than 10,000 hours, the artifacts were all there, and through the magic of the internet are now available to all 24/7.

Tina became even more than her success. She represented persistence. And she showed you could leave an abusive husband and thrive.

Yet she stayed the same.

There was so much information at this point, so many clips, so many articles, that it was ultimately revealed that Tina Turner was quite normal. Not living an extravagant life, buying ten houses and twenty cars, she wasn’t drunk in public, but when she was on stage…

She came alive.

She could do it. Tina Turner had it.

And we all knew it.

And still do.

She’s gone, but we still remember her impact, her talent.

She was good to us.

We were in thrall to her.

She was our public dancer. All the way from Nutbush.

You didn’t feel like her best friend, but you knew her. Which is one of the reasons her death is so devastating. She didn’t O.D., she lived on, she did it, she entertained us. And so far no one has come along to challenge her.

She was just that good.

From: Lindsay Berra

To: Bob Lefsetz

Subject: It Ain’t Over Doc

Hi Bob, Lindsay Berra here, Yogi’s granddaughter. A dozen or so friends forwarded me the post you did on Grampa’s documentary today. First, I’m so glad you enjoyed the film, and second, thank you so much for taking the time to write something about it! We made this film independently, and getting folks to the theaters nowadays is a Herculean task, so I so appreciate your kind words about the film and the memories you shared!

Thank you, thank you!

Lindsay B.

_______

From: Bob Lefsetz

To: Lindsay Berra

Subject: Re: It Ain’t Over Doc

I think the film will do great streaming, hard to get the older audience out to the movie theatre, hopefully when it streams there will be another round of publicity.

Bob

_______

From: Lindsay Berra

To: Bob Lefsetz

Subject: Re: It Ain’t Over Doc

From you lips to God’s ears! We could not have done more from a press and marketing perspective, but no one goes to the theater any more. As Grampa said, “If people don’t want to come to the ballpark, how are you going to stop them?” Just sub “theater” for “ballpark.”

_________________________________

From: Paul Zullo

Subject: Re: The Yogi Berra Movie

A case of Yoo Hoo sustained us for 4 days at Woodstock

PZ

_________________________________

Subject: Re: AI

Tell it Bob! An drum machines are an interesting example: Yes, they replaced humans as timekeepers and monotonous dance groove producers, but the fact that they could be programmed by non-drummers led to beats no drummer would have imagined, but later many would mimic. Example: non-drummer programmers’ lack of knowledge led them to replace complicated fills with a bit of silence to delineate song sections. This proved equally, if not more, dramatic and was soon copied by some  live drummers. Also, when early AI was pitted against a player of the immensely complicated Chinese board game of Go, it beat him consistently. But the player learned new moves from his AI opponent and was then able to consistently beat other human opponents.

What I do fear is the way it could amplify the already toxic world of misinformation. In the 90s, when I got my first computer, one of the first emails I received was a piece of misinformation, unmasked by a quick Yahoo check. I thought, “Great. Now that people can check anything on the Internet there will soon be no point in trying to deceive them.” Well, we all know how that worked out.

 

Like social media, AI will provide a new world of possibilities. Whether that world is a Utopia or a Dystopia is ultimately up to us.

Michael Ross

_________________________________

From: Craig Anderton

Subject: Musicians being replaced by drum machines etc.

When a musician’s union guy was complaining to me that synthesizers were going to put musicians out of work, I said “Who do you think plays synthesizers? Accountants?”

Craig

_________________________________

Subject: Ivan Neville

Bob,

Congratulations on your thrilling conversation with Ivan Neville.

 

Ivan takes his anointing as seriously as the swamp water that courses through his veins. He can summon the barrelhouse mambo of Professor Longhair and the spidery intricacies of James Booker. He can play spooky, atmospheric chords like Dr. John. He can riff like Sly Stone with catchy, melodic chord progressions. He can throw intense, impulsive jabs when he jams with his blood brothers in Dumpstaphunk. And his new album is tough-minded but also tender — a valiant, vulnerable love letter to the Crescent City.

 

When the levees failed during Katrina in 2005 and the world’s greatest musicians were scattered to the four winds, and they wondered whether they would ever go home or would want to go home again, I felt helpless to care for the people and the city that I love. Ivan was the first person that I called to celebrate the Old Neighborhood, even if it wasn’t there anymore.

 

From the diaspora of musical genius, we found Henry Butler, who shares with Ivan the history of Crescent City piano in his fingertips. We found those Sultans of Syncopation, bassist George Porter Jr. and guitarist Leo Nocentelli, founding members of The Meters who know how to keep time in the dark. We found the irrepressible drummer Raymond Weber, who doesn’t need a watch to keep time either. Their lives were in storm-tossed transition; they wondered whether they would ever go home — or would want to go home again. For some it was a test of faith. Others saw it as opportunity to reaffirm their trust in the wisdom of the Universe.

 

Plopping a plate of paprika-spiked fried chicken on his Hammond organ, Ivan was determined to find a greasy vibe that would bring “Fortunate son,” John Fogerty’s ageless anti-war anthem, down to where it needed to be. Listening back to that Hammond humming, George blurted out,“Wat’cha gonna do with the money?!”  Everyone knew who he was talking to, in Washington and down river in New Orleans.

 

The healing came slowly, like an unspooling film, in snapshots, one frame at a time. The musicians channeled their rage and fear and frustration, their heartbreak and heartache, their defiance and devotion; over seven sleepless days, ”Sing Me Back Home” by the New Orleans Social Club was born. “Catharsis never sounded cooler,” as Entertainment Weekly said. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ARmcd0r55I

 

On a crystalline day before Jazzfest this year, Ivan made me a pot of gumbo. The family recipe is closely held; it requires a lot of attention; there are lots of details. “You gotta love the process,” he said, swaggering in front of his stove with the kinetic strut that he brings to the bandstand.

 

Aromatic, robust flavors wafted through his festive kitchen which was bathed in purple and gold. The ingredients — generously cut pieces of onion, bell pepper, garlic, celery, three different kinds of sausage, six chicken thighs and three chicken breasts, lump crab meat and shrimp — simmered and cackled in a well-worn pot. But he became a drill sergeant when he made the roux.

 

First, he blended vegetable oil, bacon fat and flour together; then, with a strong, tattooed arm, he stirred the mixture, slowly and continuously, into figure 8s with a wooden spoon. For the next 25 minutes, the colors changed from a light blond to a beige, similar to the color of peanut butter, until the roux became a deep, chocolate brown.

 

“Nutty, smoky, a little bit of a kick,” he said, blowing on a spoonful, satisfied and smiling. “Reminds me of how my Uncle Art describes it: ‘Tastes like them old people.”

 

The flavors, Ivan said, are not unlike his new album. “I compare them both to the love you get from a good bowl of chicken soup,” he said. “Very soothing for the soul.”

 

Our friendship has deepened through the years and we’re at work on his memoir. It chronicles his complicated emotional and spiritual journey as an artist, a father, a son and a man. His trials and triumphs are seen through a precious lens: the cherished gift of recovery.

 

Leo Sacks
Sunnyside, NY

_________________________________

Subject: Re: Jewish Matchmaking

So I too am watching the show and the only thing that jumped out at me was that snowboarding dude in Wyoming of all places, who said one of his requirements was someone who liked music and then he admitted that he was a Phish fan and it’d be cool if she liked Phish but obviously that’s a hard ask. That other tribe is even smaller. Then I got to thinking about how cool would be if there was a Phish matchmaking show. That one I would watch.

Leilani Polk in Seattle 

_________________________________

Subject: Re: Jewish Matchmaking

My roommate, Evan Carmusin, was on this show dating Nakysha (final episode).

Evan returned home to North Carolina basking in the glow of newfound love (not to mention tasting the allure of showbiz), and rode the high for about… a week… til Natasha laid it on the line.

She needed a man who could PROVIDE… financially that is.

Evan is a wedding DJ and grocery store manager, who struggles to pay rent most months. She wanted a man who could foot the bill for her and an eventual family… entirely.

Evan has a huge heart, and I found it sad to watch her break it off for a reason as such.

You are right that it’s the little things that count… and I think Evan dodged a big bullet getting out of that one.

– James Davy

“It Ain’t Over” trailer: https://rb.gy/04zou

1

Baseball came before music.

I know there are people who are older, who lived through the advent of not only Elvis, but Bill Haley. But I was not born, or even aware back then. By time I came of age, there were novelty songs, like “Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini,” Elvis was a has-been that we pooh-poohed and we were yet to be aware of the history of rock and roll, our eyes were opened when our heroes started to talk about their influences.

We were addicted to baseball.

Now let me be clear, we played basketball, but when the Knicks came to my summer camp, no one was excited. As for hockey…you might have a stick, but no one got up at the crack of dawn for ice time and there were only a handful of teams in the NHL and the only reason you knew anything about them was because the games were one of the few things to watch when you were home on Saturday night.

As for football… New York had a great team, the Giants, we watched the blacked-out games on a fuzzy UHF station from New Haven, but the NFL was not front of mind, the first two Super Bowls were even kind of a dud. Then came Namath and the Jets and seemingly overnight it became about football.

But before that…

Funny to think that our heroes were ballplayers. Who didn’t make anywhere near the kind of money today’s athletes do. Who were indentured servants to their teams. Mickey Mantle eventually made a 100k but that’s not what endeared him to us. It was the history, the long home runs. And the knees. And the osteomyelitis. We knew everything, even that his father was a miner.

They say that young players don’t have a sense of the history of the game. I’ve seen evidence of that, but it’s a different game. Back then, baseball players were national heroes. And baseball was like music in that it happened in the game first, and it made all the difference. Integration. The opening up of the west coast…

We couldn’t wait for the season to start. We knew that the Yankees had switched spring training to Fort Lauderdale. We hated the Red Sox, who weren’t so good anyway. Then again, when Carl Yastrzemski had his triple crown year, who couldn’t admire that? And opening day wasn’t something you overpaid to be at, but you were even more excited at home, the season had begun, spring was in the air, eventually summer, and then…

The World Series.

All the buzz is about the Miami Heat, how they’re going to make the NBA finals having barely made the playoffs. Used to be different, either you won the pennant or you didn’t. If you led the league you were entitled to go to the Series. Which was held in early October. No cold November nights. As a matter of fact, no nights at all. The World Series games were played in the afternoon, we ran home to hopefully catch the last inning or two. And you could remember who won the year before, it wasn’t an endless morass of sports playoffs to the point where it all became a wash.

We had baseball cards. They came with crappy bubblegum, I personally preferred Juicy-Fruit, and five cards. And you never knew what you would get. You wanted stars, you wanted members of your team, but you had to trade or flip for those. And we had no idea the cards had any commercial value. We kept them in a big plastic bag and would go to a friend’s house for the afternoon… Binders? Are you kidding? And sure, many wanted to keep the cards in good shape, and those who did not were looked down upon, but no card was too good to be in your pile, no card was set apart, they were all fair game, in your bag together.

And we studied them. You’d be stunned at all the baseball statistics boomers can rattle off. They were on the backs of the cards. And then there were annuals. And the programs when you went to the game. And the first game I went to was in the spring of 1961 and…

It was the five of us, my father Moe and me, and Harry Sheketoff and Michael and Alan. We sat in the lower deck of Yankee Stadium, on the first base side, you wanted to be on the first base side, on a sunny afternoon, for a game that went into extra innings. Fourteen in fact. At the bottom of that inning, with a man in scoring position, Yogi Berra came up to pinch-hit. And Yogi hit a single up the right field line, ran to first base and then straight to the dugout. I didn’t get it. Why didn’t he continue? But the man had scored, the game was over, we had to wait for the second game of the doubleheader to begin. We only stayed for a few innings, we had to meet up with “the girls,” but I was not happy, I wanted to stay to the end, and every other time we did.

I even went to the Yankee game on my birthday. You started off with big birthday parties and then boiled it down to how many could fit in a car and we all went to the game and… For a boy who grew up without brothers, it was meaningful.

And I know all of the above, but…it all came flashing back watching “It Ain’t Over.”

2

Ostensibly, “It Ain’t Over” is about making the case that Yogi Berra was a superstar and has not gotten his due. The flick starts off with footage honoring the four greatest living baseball legends and he’s not one of them. But you’ve got to know, Yogi was in a class by himself, because he was on the YANKEES! And the Yankees always won. Until they didn’t. But by then Yogi wasn’t playing anymore.

You expected the Yankees to be in the Series. And you expected them to win, which they didn’t always do.

And in addition to Mantle there was Maris, and their 1961 home run duel. But also “Moose” Skowron on first. This was back when ballplayers had nicknames, when kids had nicknames, when Robert was “Bobby” and David was “Davy” and Andrew was “Andy” and… It was loose. And the game was flooded with immigrants, or the descendants thereof, and there was a cornucopia of names and there was a sense of birth, of our time being now, that was the sixties.

And Bobby Richardson on second…

He’s in the movie. Wow! He was the clean-cut one, the choir boy, the one who caught that line drive to win the Series. He’s Bobby, but older. He’s a person. We never saw them as people, they were the other. Far different from today’s social media world that equalizes everybody. Sure, actors were movie stars, but that was all based on mystery and charisma, everybody knew they didn’t write the lines. But the ballplayers lived and died on their performance. We knew who was in a streak and who was in a slump. We read the box score every single day. We tacked up the schedule to our wall. We knew when the team was here or away. And we listened on our transistors. That was their first use. Under the pillow. Late at night. So we were ready when the Beatles arrived in ’64, we had our radios.

So what we’ve got here is blue chip footage from back in the day. When most people still watched the games in black and white. When they were aired for free in your local market. Before there was even a Game of the Week on network. And from the early days, there’s a plethora of black and white film footage, from historical games that we know about, even if we weren’t even conscious at the time.

Like the perfect game in ’56, Yogi jumping into Don Larsen’s arms.

And even the Babe and…

Wow, I go numb just thinking about it. Because those were my days, kind of like the theme song from “All in the Family,” which I barely ever saw, going to college without television and then being on the road thereafter. We were just growing up, we saw everything as natural.

We’d get gloves by the time we were five. We’d beg our parents for an upgrade. We knew the brands, the models.

And we had our own bat. Mostly Adirondack, even though the pros used Hillerich & Bradsby Louisville Sluggers.

And after coming home from school and changing into our play clothes we’d ride our bike to the diamond, where there’d be a pickup game. Sometimes there weren’t enough people for a game, so we had hitting practice or played Home Run Derby, but… We were out there, sans supervision, it was part of life.

As was Little League.

There was no t-ball. Most parents were not involved, never mind arguing with the umps. We knew it wasn’t serious, but to us it was everything.

3

Eventually they hit the Steinbrenner years, the war with Yogi. The reconciliation years later.

But now Steinbrenner is more famous for “Seinfeld.” George brought the team back but few felt good about it, many had switched their allegiance to the Mets. Upstarts featuring the great Tom Seaver. Gone now too.

And Yogi had a twenty year career, not uncommon back then. If you were good, you spent a year after high school in the minors, then you flew right up to the majors. And if you were good you lasted, and lasted… Usually traded at the end of your career, but not Yogi.

Who I also knew from Yoo-hoo. My father owned a liquor store, I could have as much as I wanted. And I remember others endorsed the drink, like Gil McDougald, who was basically done by time I came of age. Kids loved chocolate back then, we had powder we put in our milk to change the flavor. And syrup too. And honestly, Yoo-hoo didn’t taste that great, but it was still cool…

So the movie switches from Yogi’s playing days to his coaching and managing days. And you’ve got to know, back then most players fully retired. They were gone when they retired from the game. Somehow Yogi seemed entitled to continue. And he did. Until George got in the way.

And the second half of the movie is great.

But the first half, the playing days, are FANTASTIC!

A lot of time has gone by. Sixty  years, in fact. That world no longer exists. But unlike previous generations, there’s film, there’s data, history can be recalled.

And the flick makes a great case for Yogi’s greatness.

But we already knew that.

But it’s great to see Yogi get his due, for those who may not have lived in the New York area, or might have been young or unborn back then. When the Boys of Summer were baseball players, before they became the subject of Roger Kahn’s book, before they became the basis of a legendary Don Henley song.

But Henley knows. We all know. It’s part of what makes us who we are.

And it’s all there up on the screen.

It all happened.

And we were there.