Cabaret category

At the conclusion of this year's Big Easy Theatre Awards, Margot Dubos, the grande dame of Gambit Magazine, which sponsors the foundation responsible for the program, announced that a new category would be set up for cabaret. This is welcome news to the main cabaret club in the area, Le Chat Noir, named in honor of the very first Parisian cabaret that started it all. Le Chat Noir is run by Barbara Motley, a woman who so loved cabaret that she opened her own New Orleans venue over a decade ago. Motley, a charming tall glass of water is vivacious and gracious. She is generous with her time and friends and makes all who enter her doors feel welcome and at home. Her girl Friday is Su Gonczy, a brilliant lighting technician, who occassionally accompanies acts with her voice. It is my favorite bar in the city and I love the space which is typically devoted to either small plays or genuine cabaret fare. Starting this weekend and continuing through next weekend is Amanda McBroom, the well-known and talented New York actress and cabaret star. She is a terrific talent and typical of the caliber of performer that Le Chat Noir will book. While the Big Easy Awards committee only considers local acts for nominations, it is important for us to encourage people to go to Le Chat and experience what truly exceptional cabaret is all about. For more information on Amanda McBroom, call Le Chat Noir at 504-581-5812.

Losing is not easy

It's been over two and a half weeks since I started on my regimen of diet and exercise as part of the JCC's "The Biggest Loser" contest. Frankly, I have seen progress and noticed a goodly amount of weight has been shed. I was down ten pounds at one point, but as I continued weight training, I have noticed that I also added weight by building muscle. My tone is much better and I am using a lot of cardio exercise to burn more fat. Today I can show a decrease in body fat percentage too, down 3%. As part of the contest, I am expected to meet with a trainer for ten times. I met with him twice in the first week. He was on vacation last week and I saw him twice this week. That means I have three more weeks and six more sessions with him before the contest is over. He drills me like a sergeant, which is what I really wanted. I wanted someone who would demand me to extend myself to the very reaches of my ability. I have the aching muscles to prove that. I am well pleased with his impulsion to drive me to the envelope of my stamina. My only major problem is the bland food I am supposed to eat. The diet won't allow red meat more than once a week and centers about chicken, turkey and fish for most meals. I have been applying my Creole and French cuisine skills towards making the salads and entrees taste palatable. My first turkey breast yielded 30 times the amount of meat I could use in one night. I decided to use the new reusable freezer bags with the vacuum seals and handheld mini-pump to freeze half of it and to keep pre-sliced portions in the refrigerator. Isn't science wonderful? As I mentioned before in the March 23 blog titled "Nutritional Tidbits," this whole process has been complicatd by the fact I keep a kosher home. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but it has been difficult to find food items on my permitted list that are kosher. The vegetarian aspects of many meals makes it easy, but the non-dairy and meat aspects make it a bit more difficult to be compliant. Nevertheless, I feel that my core has been strengthened by the process and so I will not deviate. I will push on and when it's all over three weeks from now, I am sure to be at a better spot than I would have been were I not have elected to take this opportunity.

A heavenly concert for Mary Abbay

One of the things most disturbing about the numbers of those who perished during the Hurricane Katrina cataclysm was that everyone, no matter where dispersed, lost someone they knew or were close to someone they knew who lost someone. In that way New Orleans is like a small town where everyone knows each other's business. Several months after returning from Cleveland, I was in the main New Orleans U.S. Post Office lobby. A display on the wall showed some of the forgotten victims who drowned, suffered heart attacks, etc. There was my middle school (Eleanor McMain Jr. High School) Spanish professor, Dr. Manuel Romero and his spinster sister. Both had drowned in the home they shared for a lifetime. Invited to my Bar Mitzvah, Dr. Romero gave me a hardback Spanish-English, English-Spanish dictionary. When my son was learning Spanish at Isidore Newman School, he used that very same dictionary, which was signed to me on the inside jacket. I was so sad to learn of his demise, but ironically, the dictionary suffered the same fate, falling victim to the swirling waters of Katrina's destruction.

Last week I learned of another dear friend who had been lost and it affected me in much the same way as when I learned about Professor Romero. When I managed Smith's Record Center in the 80s and 90s, I met a number of noted classical artists. One of them was a very sweet and very talented harpist named Mary Abbay Sayle. I don't remember why, but everyone referred to her as Mary Abbay instead of Mary. She was a genteel Southern lady with a very quiet disposition. I enjoyed her company when we would meet and I helped her sell some of her tapes that she put in our store on consignment. I don't recall her actually making CDs, but I certainly would have sold those for her too would she had asked. Mary Abbay made a name for herself, playing gigs with the New Orleans Symphony Orchestra and later when it was renamed and reorganized as the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra. She loved playing chamber music, but was content to play solo recitals too. She was a music instructor and enjoyed passing the love of music to the young. Every now and then Mary Abbay would call on me to work as a disc jockey for a wedding reception. I was happy to do so. She would work at restaurants like the famous Sazerac Room at the Fairmont Hotel (formerly the Roosevelt Hotel), where she met her husband Tim, who was a chef there. He and she married and they later moved to Memphis where she continued to play at venues like the Peabody Hotel and he continued to ply his craft at famous kitchens in that city. Mary Abbay died unexpectedly on March 29, 2007.
A special memorial site can be found online at: http://maryabbaysaylegourley.memory-of.com/About.aspx
Surprisingly, a notice of her passing never was published in New Orleans' Times-Picayune. That will happen on Sunday. Mary Abbay's friends here have organized a memorial concert to benefit a fund for her three young children David, Georgeanne and Abbay. The concert to be held at St. Charles Avenue Presbyterian Church (State Street at St. Charles Avenue) on April 6 at 3:00 p.m. will feature several pieces of music by Faure, Debussy Respighi, Rutter and others, many with prominent harp solos. I urge all of my friends in New Orleans to attend the free concert to honor her memory and to consider making a donation to the fund. For more information call 504-920-0086. The address to send donations to the Mary Abbay Gourley's Children's Trust Fund is P. O. Box 111252, Memphis, Tennessee 38111-1251. Somehow, I know that the music will honor the memory of one of the most talented and loving individuals I have ever been blessed to have known. There truly is a reason that the harp is considered the instrument of the heavenly hosts. It is best played by angels.

My momentous announcement

After much deliberation and forethought, I have decided to take my blogging to the next level. I am prepared and ready to tackle the next biggest challenge in my life. So, it is with the greatest of pride that I announce my intention to throw my hat into the political ring. It is time that a man of conviction takes on the powers that be. It is time that a man of vision charts a course for the future that his electorate can take pride in. It is time for me to assume the powers that most conform to my readiness and preparation. I am ready to be emperor! Yes, I know there are some who have held the title in their own inimitable fashion through the years. There were those Caesars and the Charlemagne fellow in ancient and medieval times and in a more recent era Pu Yi in China and Hirohito in Japan. But all of them had decided to be local in their influence and hadn't fully thought through the global possibilities of absolute powers spanning nations and across continents. I am talking about emperor of the planet, something like Ming in the Flash Gordon movies. Now that's something someone can sink his teeth into! It's a role to be coveted and, best of all, it is a lifetime position. I don't have a retirement plan in existence anyway, so this should be a perfect fit. I'm sure it also comes with an excellent health plan. I probably would get a discount for maintaining a supply of able bodyguards, so it seems to me it's a win-win proposition. As emperor I promise to take care of my own business and increase my personal wealth. I would not be a tyrant, unless someone crossed me. After all, what's the good in being a man with absolute power if you can't wield it recklessly? I think this may work out to be a very good plan and I might even make today a worldwide holiday to celebrate my momentous decision. What is today's date, again?

Goodbye to Al

The most over-the-top funeral this area has seen in years took place today. It was the final ride for Al Copeland, the 64-year-old former fried chicken king and restauranteur. Parked outside the mausoleum were several of Copeland's racing cars and motorcycles, like giant sentinels calling for their former master The powerboat that he had raced to championships was there too. The funeral procession was led by his own white Bentley and white Rolls-Royce with a fleet of white limos filing right behind. Copeland died March 23 in Germany while undergoing treatment for a rare form of cancer. He lived fast and he died fast, a modern-day captain of industry, whose vision to make money and to transform his environment were never-ending. He first took a small donut shop and turned that into a huge money-maker, spinning the proceeds for the sale into what looked like an ill-fated effort, a chicken stand in St. Bernard Parish. Yet, with determination and his unstoppable persona, he carried on, ultimately figuring that spicy chicken would find favor in the land of the Cajuns and Creoles. Years later, Copeland recalled a man who purchased one of his early dinners only to return to the eatery for the pleasure of heaving the sack of the remaining chicken at him. But as that legendary sack of chicken sailed through the air, so was the legend of Al Copeland and Popeyes Famous Fried Chicken born. With the help of a jingle penned by local musician, record store manager and artist and repertoire man Tommy Morel, Copeland took his campaign to TV and radio with the inimitable Dr. John singing vocals. Everyone knew that ditty back and forth and loved its distinctly New Orleans...er uh...flavor. Even the cartoon figure of Popeye wasn't planned. It had been Copeland's original intention to honor the hero of "The French Connection" to relate to the speed at which the chicken would arrive once ordered. Anyone who has seen the famous chase scene underneath the elevated train tracks in New York could make that...er uh...connection. It was only later that he was able to secure the permission of King Features to use the likeness of the famous cartoon sailor. While Copeland amassed a personal fortune in the tens of millions, he began spending money on adult toys like speedboats, fast cars, and even faster women. He married four times and divorced four times, producing nine children with women who were striking in their looks. The last two of his weddings were notable for their sheer size and scope. The third wedding took place at the New Orleans Museum of Art with rose petals being tossed by a helicopter as the happy couple emerged from the ceremony. Following that divorce was his final eye-raising nuptials to the blonde bombshell for whom he had left his third wife. That last ceremony was especially interesting to locals who inquired, how after three previous trips down the aisle, he could have gotten married in St. Louis Cathedral. The Church quickly snapped back an answer: his first wife had died and, because it was the only previous wedding that had taken place n a church, the powers that be saw no reason to stop Copeland from going down the aisle at the official church residence of the Archbishop of New Orleans. A dashing figure, nattily attired in tight-fitting clothes, Copeland worked out tirelessly and availed himself of tanning salons, a fact that didn't escape notice when the first details of his disease were made public. Like a cyclonic disturbance, Copeland left wakes in his path. His neighbors were outraged when he took the opportunity at Christmas time to festoon his house with hundreds of thousands of Chrismas lights, creating a public nuisance and a traffic nightmare for all that lived in his sleepy Metairie area. Eventually, he was forced to take the light show to his own building and later tried to tone it down a bit after he had moved to the North shore. Even there he was a neighbor no one was anxious to have. But Copeland, a big kid himself, knew that he had captured the hearts of the young and he would be forever remembered by those who had the spirit of the season. When it came to using his money in far less worthy endeavors, Copeland didn't stop there either. When several of his top aides were investigated for possible cocaine usage, it was alleged that they were shielding their boss, but no one was able to prove those charges. On the other hand, the government was able to prove money being passed to a judge by Copeland for a satisfactory divorce settlement from his third wife. That judge, part of a wide-spread investigation codenamed "Wrinkled Robe," went to federal prison. But Copeland was never prosecuted. He seemingly was made of teflon. The only time he seemed to have lost out was when he brokered a deal to take over Church's Chicken, backed by junk bonds just prior to the collapse of that market. When Church's turned the tables and swallowed up Copeland's empire, he demanded that his spice company remain the official source for the chicken seasoning. That deal turned out be his lifesaver. His contract with Popeyes, estimated in the tens of millions of dollars, fueled his penchant to create new restaurants like Copeland's, Straya, Copeland's Cheesecake, and Sweet Fire and Ice. He may have been a hero with feet of clay and lots of small imperfections, but he was our hero. He even went out with The Chairman of the Board, Ol' Blue Eyes himself, crooning that Paul Anka classic in the background, "My Way." There never was another quite like Al Copeland and I'm positive there won't be another one exactly like him. God rest his soul, at least for a short while, because if anything is sure, Copeland will be frying up chicken with a heavenly choir behind him singing of its joys.

Cautionary tale

I've actually been victimized by identity theft criminals myself, so I was very curious when I spoke to a very close family member about an attempt to steal her identity and rip off her credit card companies. It would seem that the international criminals who are behind this well-designed scheme emanate from India, the epicenter of corporate outsizing. Thanks to the pencil pushers and bean counters who decided to send all of our important account information jobs to the sub-continent, the country has not only lost positions that could be held by out-of-work Americans, but we have now been placed at grave financial risk. There's little to be done about this when, after all, one places the fox in charge of the henhouse. Had the corporate geniuses from AOL Time Warner thought through their plan to have Travelocity staffed by people working for rupees per hour, they might have discovered that given an opportunity to steal thousands of American dollars, their "trusted" outsized employees might stray from the straight and narrow. Such was the case with this family member, who received an e-mail alert from American Express notifiying her that she had requested a change of address on her card and that a new card had been sent to her new address. The e-mail urged her to contact them right away if that was not the case. Thankfully, she was able to spring into action almost immediately because had she not been successful in reaching American Express in time, at least $800 would have been stolen by criminals in Detroit who had received the new card overnight. One would think that notifying American Express would be a simple act: just pick up the phone and notify them, right? Not so fast. These criminals had also stolen her social security number and using that and other sensitive account information available to them through the Travelocity site, they were able to disconnect her phones! If they had only been clever enough to also cancel her cell phone, they would have been able to plunder at will. But the story doesn't end there. She added security to all of her credit cards with new passwords and ordered a replacement American Express card to arrive overnight. When it didn't arrive, she called American Express to complain. They indicated to her that the criminals had cancelled the new card only a few hours after she had made her request These guys are very slick. The scheme began when calling AOL's Travelocity a few weeks back. Normally, when one calls an entity rather than receiving a call from someone, it is fairly safe to reveal personal information. When changing out an airplane ticket, she gave the person on the other end of the phone her Discover Card. After a few moments, he informed her that the charge did not go through. Rather than standing by that card and demanding it be re-run, she elected to give him an American Express card number, but not until after being placed on hold for an inordinately long period of time. It was during that period that the criminal contacted his fellow grifter and, unbeknown to my family member, it was this criminal who gathered the sensitive account information. Along with the other personal information available from the AOL Travelocity worker like the social security number and home phone and fax numbers, the criminals' plan was almost perfect. Had the cell phone also been cancelled, she could not have notified American Express and her other credit card companies in time. Thank goodness for stupid criminals.

Don't take our mayor for granite

Mayor Ray Nagin is understandably upset. After all, WWL-TV had no sooner finished an investigation of his day planner and put his family "at risk," when those nosey Times-Picayune reporters started investigating his family's ties to Home Depot. It was another headache for the mayor, having that pesky Fourth Estate investigate his family ties to the giant home improvement firm. Home Depot, busy putting the finishing touches on its first location in Orleans Parish's Central City, just happens to have a firm that will supply stone countertops called Stone Age, LLC. Stone Age, LLC just happens to be run by Nagin's two twenty-something sons. The fact that Home Depot secured a number of tax incentives and abatements in its plans to move into the city run by hizzoner seems to be a mere coincidence. For his part, the mayor calls foul. He is just a "financier." The business is to be run by his boys, after all, but since he put up most of the scratch, he and his wife will naturally control a small portion of the business. Whether the state's ethics laws were violated would depend on just how high a percentage the mayor holds. Anything less than 25% will probably pass muster. But don't expect any details to be forthcoming from the illustrious leader. The mayor's mouth is mum. And now that Nagin has left his regular gig at WWL-TV to take on a weekly similar time slot at competing station Fox 8, he probably won't have to worry about being grilled by those incovenient investigative reporters.
King James dethroned? That was the New Orleans Hornets finishing off the Cleveland Cavaliers last night 100-99 in a last second thriller. Despite a very impressive 21-point performance by legendary player and Vogue cover model LeBron James, the Hornets posted another scrappy win for the leaders of the NBA West. Who woulda thunk?