My, do the kids ever grow up! It was only a year ago that Kelli Brooke Tomashoff graduated from high school was supposed to head off to Boston University. The nice girl who played herself on Bravo’s “NYC Prep,” a reality show, has found something to do this summer, however. She’s got a single called “Gave Up on Love,” which is pretty catchy. She just calls herself Kelli now. She can sing, maybe. And she’s cute. On top of that, she slashes her boyfriend’s throat in video, which can now be seen below. Kelli’s motto: If you can’t dress like an egg, you might as well kill someone. Revenge videos are in! Of course the boyfriend deserved it, he’s seeing someone else. And now (fictional) Kelli can give up on love. And start paying lawyers. The real Kelli is the daughter of wealthy New York parents who own a printing company in the city and a lavish estate in the Westhampton area. Kelli is obviously taking a page from the parents’ entrepreneurial playbook. Good for her!
“The Beaver” Big in France, Italy; Not So Much Here
Ward, we have to talk about “The Beaver”: the Jodie Foster film is still in a theater somewhere in America, perhaps forgotten by its distributor. It’s failed to hit the million dollar mark, and now stands at $958,319 in domestic ticket sales. “The Beaver” does better with foreign audiences: it has done a little–not a lot–of biz abroad. It’s made just over $1 million in France and Italy. In Spain, it’s made just under $700,000. In the U.K. Mel Gibson has not impressed: only $89,000 in the last ten days according to boxofficemojo.com. The Jodie Foster directed oddity has still not been released in Australia, Mel’s “home” country (he was born in the U.S.). Maybe they’ll embrace it. Few people went to see “The Beaver” in Finland and Lebanon, although I am impressed with the latter. Ticket holders totaling $35,000 in US dollars stopped being at war long enough to see Mel Gibson with a hand puppet. That’s better than a Q rating. He’s back! Dam(n)!
Sam Cooke Finally Gets His “Way” In Chicago
The mighty, legendary Sam Cooke died in 1964. That’s 47 years ago, and still we’re talking about him because his voice and his music are eternal. There isn’t a day that goes by when we don’t hear “You Send Me,” “Bring it On Home to Me,” “We’re Having a Party,” or “A Change is Gonna Come” on some radio station. (Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson, Nat King Cole, Marvin Gaye–-the best!) Bob Merlis sent this to me this afternoon:
Had he lived, Sam Cooke would have turned 80-years-old in January of this year. His life and legacy were celebrated with the naming of 36th Street, Chicago, Illinois as Sam Cooke Way on Saturday, June 18. The location of Sam Cooke Way in Chicago ‘s Bronzeville neighborhood, is birthplace to some of Chicago ’s most talented artists in music and the associated arts. It is where the Cooke family settled after migrating from Clarksdale, Mississippi in the early 1930’s, initially residing at 3527 Cottage Grove Avenue and later moving to 724 E. 36th Street.
Young Sam Cooke attended the neighborhood’s Doolittle Elementary School and, in 1948, graduated from Wendell Phillips High School . The unveiling of the new Sam Cooke Way street sign took place with the participation of the office of 4th Ward Alderman Will Burns, 3rd Ward Alderman Pat Dowell, Sam Cooke’s younger brothers L.C. and David Cooke as well as other Cooke family members, legendary radio personality and “Mayor of Bronzeville” Herb Kent, Cook Country Commissioner Jerry Butler (himself a soul music legend), who proclaimed June 18, 2011 as Sam Cooke Day in conjunction with the street naming ceremony), and Chicago Blues Museum CEO Gregg Parker and well over 400 Sam Cooke fans and fellow musicians.
“Get Smart” Creator Buck Henry Gets “Hot in Cleveland”
The great Buck Henry was a guest at Sidney Lumet‘s memorial service on Monday afternoon. And here’s some news–the creator of “Get Smart” as well as countless other pieces including “The Graduate,” “Catch 22,” “Heaven Can Wait” and a huge amount of classic “Saturday Night Live” is coming to the small screen. Buck, who turned 80 (I can’t believe it) last December, will play Betty White‘s boyfriend on “Hot in Cleveland.” He told he’s taped three episodes that will air in July. Of course, he’s nine years younger than Betty. And the best lines get thrown to Betty. Valerie Bertinelli, Jane Leeves and Wendi Malick. But the producers were smart enough to call Buck for the role. Hopefully they’ll have him back and use him the way “Murphy Brown” once featured Wally Shawn. 
Buck tells me so far he’s not involved with Warren Beatty‘s new Howard Hughes project, but the two are still great pals. We need to see more Buck Henry!
PS Re: “Hot in Cleveland”– Did you know that one of the producers of that hit show is none other than Rachel Sweet? Rachel, who’s now in her late 40s, was a punk pop sensation at 16, back in 1978. Her debut album, “Fool Around,” was on cutting edge British label Stiff Records. She was part of Elvis Costello‘s extended musical family. She even covered his “Stranger in the House.”
A little Lolita, Rachel had great songs and production–very smart and sophisticated, much better than any of today’s twits. Just listen “Who Does Lisa Like?” or her Carla Thomas cover, “BABY (Baby)” and you’ll get the picture. Rachel was from Akron, so the “Hot in Cleveland” thing is right up her alley.
Sidney Lumet, Famed Director, Has ‘A’ List Memorial
Al Pacino, Glenn Close, and Treat Williams were just some of the stars who turned out on Monday afternoon at Alice Tully Hall to celebrate the life of director Sidney Lumet. The man who made “Serpico,” “Network,” “12 Angry Men,” “Prince of the City,” and “Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead” died in April at age 86. Quintessentially the New York director, Lumet won a Lifetime Achievemement Oscar a few years ago after many nominations. His memorial, organized by screenwriter daughter Jenny (“Rachel Getting Married”) Lumet and long time assistant Lili Jacobs, was an elegant, moving tribute. I liked that Jenny started the event by remarking that Sidney’s “spirit is hovering over white fish section at Zabar’s”
Glenn Close sang “Bye Bye Blackbird,” Broadway legend Phyllis Newman performed “They Can’t Take That Away from Me.” There were testimonials from Christopher Walken, Lauren Bacall, Tony Walton, David Mamet, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Gene Saks, Walter Bernstein, Latanya Richardson, Marshall Brickman, James Gandolfini, ICM chief Jeff Berg, Marcia Jean Kurtz, Bobby Cannavale, and director Jonathan Demme.
There were almost as many celebrities in the audience as there were who spoke on stage. In the crowd: Pacino, Alan Alda, Bob Balaban, E.L. Doctorow (whose novel “The Book of Daniel” was made into a great Lumet film), Joan Didion, Vanessa Redgrave, Paula Deviq (from “100 Center Street”), Hannah Pakula, Lee Grant, Alexandra Schlesinger, Treat Williams (star of Lumet’s “Prince of the City”), ICM’s beloved agent Boaty Boatwright, Buck Henry, Bob Dishy, producer Leslie Holleran, Peter Matthiessen and the great Lois Smith, Lumet’s long time friend and publicist, who came all the way down from Plum Island.
Sidney’s ex wives did not attend–Rita Gam, Gail Jones Buckley, or Gloria Vanderbilt–that’s right, Sidney divorced Anderson Cooper‘s mother four years before he was born. But his wife of 30 years, Mary Gimbel, was there and received many lovely citations from the speakers.
Some highlights: Walter Bernstein, the screenwriter who was blacklisted and eventually celebrated in Woody Allen’s “The Front,” talked about how Lumet hired him in the 1950s despite being told not to. “We pioneered product placement. If you mentioned the Charlie the Tuna you got a case of scotch.” They rewrote a whole TV episode just to get new fangled inventions called blenders. “I was blacklisted,” said Bernstein. “He was a mensch, which is better than getting an Oscar.”
Marshall Brickman, who co-wrote “Annie Hall” and more recently, “Jersey Boys,” echoed many of the comments about Lumet’s quick way of shooting a film, always under budget: “He could shoot a 90 minute movie in 43 minutes.”
Chris Walken: “He liked to pull the film through his hands. He said filmmaking was tactile.”
Lauren Bacall, of course, stole the show: “He asked me to be in Murder on the Orient Express [with a lot of stars like Sean Connery, Jackie Bisset, Vanessa Redgrave]. “He said, Everyone’s getting the same amount. Don’t try bargaining.” She added: “To me, he’ll always be Bubbeleh.”
A couple of footnotes: Lumet had a great screenwriting partner in the late Jay (Jacqueline) Presson Allen, who wrote “Prince of the City,” “Just Tell Me What You Want,” and “Deathtrap”with him. They started working together in television.
And Lumet worked with both Matthew Broderick and his father, James Broderick, respectively, directing them in “Family Business” and “Dog Day Afternoon.”
Lumet made two movies with Henry Fonda, and two with Al Pacino. He directed Michael Jackson in “The Wiz”–Michael’s only starring role in a feature.
Lumet gems include “Garbo Talks” with Ron Silver and Anne Bancroft, “The Morning After” with Jane Fonda and Jeff Bridges, and “Network,” with Faye Dunaway, Peter Finch and William Holden–still one of the great classics of all time.
Sidney Lumet–he was such a lovely guy, adored by his friends and family, and missed terribly. The Film Society of Lincoln Center will have a Lumet festival next month. Don’t miss it.
Anna Nicole Smith Case May Save Billy Preston’s Legacy
They were each famous but of course didn’t know each other. Nevertheless, dead celebrity Anna Nicole Smith’s legal cases against her late billionaire husband, J. Howard Marshall and Marshall’s late son Pierce, may wind up helping deceased pop star and Fifth Beatle, Billy Preston. Both cases concern bankruptcy filings.
Preston’s estate has been embattled since his 2006 death over whether he intended to file bankruptcy in 2005. His business partner and manager Joyce Moore says he didn’t, that Preston was incapacitated and never even appeared in bankruptcy court or even had credit counseling.
The mandamus notes that the bankruptcy was filed on October 21, 2005. But on October 19th, Preston “embarked on a three day crack cocaine” binge that sent him into a three week hospital stay at the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix.
In depositions the lawyer who filed the bankruptcy, Richard Perlman, admitted that he didn’t speak to Preston when he filed the paperwork. The bankruptcy trustee, R. Todd Nielson, then changed the name on the case from William Preston Trust–which, as an entity, couldn’t file for bankruptcy–with just the name William Preston. There are serious accusations that Preston’s name was forged on paperwork.
The resulting legal cases have gotten so out of hand that Bruce Fein, the respected Washington lawyer who represents Moore, has now filed something unique in he US Appeals Court, 9th district–a writ of “mandamus.” He’s asking the court to throw the whole case out, based on a list of mistakes of law made by the court or by the bankruptcy and Judge Theodor Albert.
Fein writes: “The tragi-comedy has featured Kafkaesque and Orwellian bankruptcy scenes that this Court should bring to a close in the name of justice.”
By coincidence, Anna Nicole Smith’s estate got a shattering ruling this week by the Supreme Court. Her long running case against Marshall’s estate ended with her getting nothing. Supreme Court Chief Judge John Roberts led the majority that ruled against her and for the Marshall family.
Basically Roberts rules that the bankruptcy court exceeded its authority in Anna Nicole’s bankruptcy case, especially as it pertained to a suit filed by Marshall’s son–now also deceased–Pierce Marshall. Fein, who this week is also attempting to have Nielson’s attorneys removed in the Preston case, is said to be enthusiastic that the Supreme Court decision in Anna Nicole’s case can be applied successfully to the Preston case.
All About Lady Gaga, Michael Jackson, And Anonymity
In the old days, if you wrote a letter to the editor of your newspaper, your name would be printed. It would also be verified. The letter would be vetted for racist, hate, or inappr0priate language. But the internet has changed all that. The cloak of anonymity means that you can say whatever you like in an email comment to a story on the web. Some sites just allow the comments to appear and deal with problems later. On this site, we monitor and approve the comments before they are posted.
What seems hilarious to me is that some commenters think that writing really terrible things about me will help get them published. It will not. I never signed up for abuse. So think twice before you decide to attack this messenger. Your correspondence will be deleted. Racist, anti-semitic comments, and ad hominen attacks are unacceptable.
I am a little surprised by all the hate directed at Lady Gaga. My reporting of her declining album sales is in no way an indictment of her music, personal style, or opinions. The outpouring of hate doesn’t seem commensurate with the over 1 million albums she has sold in the last few weeks. So she dresses as an egg and wears crazy outfits. This is no reason to express such bitterness. I don’t get it. Maybe she’s overdone it. And certainly the closeness of her sound and gimmicks to Madonna isn’t helping her cause. But Stefani Germanotta is not going away. She has a great voice and can write songs–she really plays that piano. “Just Dance” and “Poker Face” are great records. Maybe it was too much with “Judas.” But Lady Gaga is for real. Once she’s confident enough not to attempt shock all the time, Germanotta should settle down as a serious pop star.
And then there’s Michael Jackson. The 2nd anniversary of his death has brought out all the crazy fans, the people who loved Michael so much –and so unreasonably–that they believe they knew “the truth” about his life, his death and everything in between. This is a weird phenomenon of fandom, but worse with Jackson. It’s extraordinary. Facts never seem to matter to these fans. There’s always some “conspiracy” only they understood. With books coming soon by Frank Cascio (who actually knew Jackson and what was going on) to siblings Jermaine and La Toya–who knew very little, especially in the last five years–we’re just going to see the fan-atics really agitated. Ironically, they’re the same ones who hurt the sales of the “Michael” album. I thought they’d embrace the last music from Michael as a tribute to him. But spurred on by ridiculous claims, Jackson’s fans actually undermined him. And they missed the real treats Michael Jackson left behind for them. I guess it’s true, you only hurt the ones you love.
Finally, Michael’s former manager and publicist, Raymone Bain, had a lot to say to me in emails sent in the middle of the night. Even though the Wall Street Journal, Forbes and other publications reported that Bain had pled guilty to not filing taxes, she’s upset that I reported it. Bain would not explain to me why she hadn’t filed taxes. She wrote:
Roger…I’ve just read your column and my response:
1) As I and my attorneys indicated a couple years back when you first
reported it… I have never spoken to, met with, or had any dealings
with a Jason Cestaro… and what you are reporting, and any
representations he has made regarding me in this regard, holding
myself out as an agent, is a damned lie…you know it, he knows
it, and you can print this response…I’ve had enough of this…
2) My “being advised” by you about the loan, etc. “for the first time” is
also a damned lie…months prior to having dinner with you, I had to issue
a press release announcing that the loan wasn’t called due to
the interest payments not having been made.
In addition, every number, every report, including a blaring headline of
your’s which read, “Michael Jackson Will Lose His Catalog in 2008”
proved inaccurate…including your facts and the numbers you arbitrarily
threw out over the years.
Back in 2004 and 2005 I was a bit coy and on June 10th, exhausted; but,
should have said what I’m saying now…then: Tom Mesereau nor anyone
else had the authority to fire me based on my Agreement, which was
signed by Michael Jackson…the reason I was flown to Europe a week
or two later by Michael Jackson. You, and others keep reporting it,
knowing it’s a damned lie.
With regards to my taxes…I pled guilty for failure to file income tax
returns for 2008, period…a misdemeanor. Let me also say this, also
in response to your column, whatever Michael J.Jackson made in Japan, or anywhere else, would be reflected on
his tax returns…not mine. You want to see my returns…I want
to see yours.
I’ll say one thing about Bain’s email: if Michael Jackson hadn’t died on June 25, 2009 it’s quite possible he would have lost the Beatles catalog and a lot more. At the time of his death, Neverland was in the hands of Colony Capital, and out of his control. Jackson was deeply in debt. For years he’d refused to do anything sensible to solve his financial problems. He was capricious and disloyal, and often acted out like a spoiled child. He went behind his advisors’ backs and made crazy deals that usually ended with lawsuits and reciminations. It’s only since Jackson died, and sensible decisions could be made, that his estate has partially recovered.
Michael Jackson’s Former Manager Didn’t File Taxes During Her Regime
Raymone Bain didn’t file taxes, federal or state, for 2008. This week in Washington DC she pleaded guilty to those charges. Long before Bain was Michael Jackson‘s publicist and then manager, she worked for the disgraced former mayor of Washington, Marion Barry. He didn’t pay his taxes either, although that was the least of his problems. Somehow Bain forgot all that: the past repeats itself.
Bain is accused by the government of not filing or paying taxes for 2006, 2007, and 2008–the years she managed Michael after his acquittal. I think everyone would like to see those tax filings. It was during those years that Jackson was AWOL and incommunicado. He lived in Bahrain, suburban Virginia, Ireland, and Las Vegas. He went to Japan for a lucrative fan fest that Bain arranged. At least 300 fans reportedly paid $3,400 to meet Michael Jackson. In other words: the magic number of $1 million. Deals were cut, money changed hands, and still Michael Jackson was broke.
As Michael Jackson’s publicist, Bain was hired and fired a few times. Michael’s lawyer, Tom Mesereau, fired her on the eve of Michael’s acquittal in 2005. It was a bad scene. But once the trial ended, Bain was back, this time as manager. I feel somewhat to blame. In the spring of 2005, Bain came and went from the trial in Santa Maria, California. One night when she returned, CNN’s Jim Moret and I took her and her associate to dinner. I drove. Along the way, I explained to Bain the nature of Michael Jackson’s financial problems–his massive loans, and debt to Sony/ATV Music, the Beatles catalog saga. It was the first time she’d heard it.
In 2008, after she’d been fired, Bain got into more hot water. http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,336991,00.html. According to investor Jason Cestaro, Bain represented herself as an agent who could sell him Jackson’s Neverland Ranch. This also happened in 2008–oh yes, the same year for which Bain now admits not having reported, paid or filed taxes.
Bain, according to reports, will be sentenced on August 31st. She faces a possible 12 month prison sentence and $105,000 in fines.
Michael Jackson: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
Two years ago this afternoon, Michael Jackson died. The only person present was Dr. Conrad Murray. He administered propofol to Michael, something the singer had done before, many times. He started using the anesthesia to “sleep” on his Dangerous tour in 1996, and never stopped. Some accounts of this will surface, I am told, in a startling and revelatory new book due early this fall from Jackson’s longtime family friend and assistant, Frank Cascio.
Back in 2005, I wrote that another longtime Jackson associate, Frank DiLeo, had visited Michael at Neverland during his child molestation trial. He found a set up in Michael’s bedroom of an IV. DiLeo told me at the time it was clear that something was being administered to Jackson. He thought it was a tranquilizer. We were too naive or clueless to think that someone was allowing Michael Jackson to be given a potent drug that no other person in the world, literally, was receiving at home — and without proper supervision.
It doesn’t matter, however, how many times Michael had propofol from different doctors. In the end, if Dr. Murray was giving it to him, and didn’t do it properly, a jury will decide if he killed the most famous person in the world. Jackson obviously knew Dr. Murray’s weakness: money. He had women and children to support. He had a lifestyle. He expected a crazy salary of $150,000 a month. Luckily, he never received it. Michael Jackson was killed before the payments could be processed.
Michael knew how to administer his own injections. In 2003 he said he had a spider bite on his ankle. But that was actually an injection that had gone wrong. I was told then that he’d done it to himself. Did he try to do this again on June 25, 2009? It’s unlikely. Injections are one thing. IV needles are another. But Michael certainly knew his way around easing his own pain. He had a sustained addiction to pills, and drank a lot. He drank wine from soda cans–“Jesus juice”– to avoid being detected. During his 2005 trial for child molestation and conspiracy–which ended in acquittal on all counts–he was zonked every day.
But who could blame him? The trial was handled expertly by Thomas Mesereau, his defense attorney, despite the legal team being saddled by an incompetent (Brian Oxman) and a local lawyer (Robert Sanger) who suggested to the judge one day that Jackson’s kids weren’t his biologically. “The circumstances that relate to the birth of the children wouldn’t be admitted for the truth of the matter,” Sanger said to a mostly drowsy, sparsely attended court on May 30, 2005. “Only his love of the children.” Oxman slept in open court. Mesereau finally fired him.
Most days, Katherine Jackson came to court. Sometimes, Joseph Jackson did, too. Michael was frightened of his father, and now he was vulnerable to him. Two years ago, Joe Jackson turned up at the BET Awards–just four days after his son had died–with a Michael Jackson imitator. Jackson told press people on the red carpet that he was starting a new record label which, of course, never materialized. In 2001, on the eve of Michael’s 30th anniversary concerts at Madison Square Garden, his father told the press (me included) that he was starting an online video company. It also never materialized. But every time Michael made news, his father showed up to exploit it. You wonder what kind of pain he was in that he constantly asking to be put to sleep.
Last month, in Cannes, Joe Jackson turned up at the Carlton Hotel. He walked the red carpet and entered a private dinner held for Sean Penn and his Haiti relief programs. Jackson had new associates with him, backers from Vietnam. They didn’t speak English except for one. Jackson’s latest scheme: a Neverland style resort hotel in Vietnam, as if Neverland, Michael’s fortress away from his father, was Joe Jackson’s idea.
Hamlet, haunted by his father, considers suicide. “To sleep, perchance to dream–ay, there’s the rub.” Michael Jackson is dreaming now. His nightmares are over.
Peter Falk, Beloved Actor, Dead at 83
Peter Falk has finally succumbed to Alzheimer’s. He had a tough time in the last ten years, particularly with his family. But Falk was not just famous for “Columbo,” but his fine acting in John Cassavetes‘ films like “A Woman Under the Influence,” Elaine May’s “Mikey and Nicky,” and as the grandfather in “The Princess Bride.” It was impossible not to like him. Here’s a little story. Maybe 20 years ago, I emerged from Penn Station as a Knicks game was getting out. Walking to Broadway and 32nd St.–this was long before Mike Bloomberg and Janette Sadik (wrath of) Khan had wrecked Broadway–I had to fight for a cab. When I finally got one, a voice said from behind me, “Can I share with you?” It was Peter Falk. So I said, yes, of course. He was on his way to Little Italy after the Knicks game. Instead of getting out in the Village, I rode all the way downtown with him. He was just great. I wish I could remember what we talked about, but it was basketball and Italian food. I dropped him off on Mott Street at one of his favorite haunts. We exchanged numbers, but that was it. Just a random meeting in New York with a huge star who was terrific and didn’t disappoint. Peter Falk, rest in peace.