People

Old-fashioned values

Marsha Boulton February 25 1980
People

Old-fashioned values

Marsha Boulton February 25 1980

Old-fashioned values

People

While on a West Coast tour earlier this month, violinist Yehudi Menuhin made a stop at the federal government’s Regional Psychiatric Centre in Abbotsford, B.C., where he played for 16 mentally disturbed inmates and visiting VIPs. “Music is therapy,” said the 63-year-old maestro. “The vibrations put us in touch with the whole of creation.” Menuhin feels that the music of Corelli, Haydn, Bach and Bartók is the most therapeutic. However, the centre’s medical director, Dr. Chuni Roy, finds the inmates prefer something that “has an impact on their emotions.” Adds Roy: “Tchaikovsky is their hero.”

It is getting harder and harder to find a girl-next-door type in Hollywood, but former Ice Capades star Lynn-Holly Johnson fits the bill with her perfect teeth and old-fashioned values. Johnson’s first film, Ice Castles, was a tear-jerker on blades but her latest work finds her skateless as the fantasy daughter of Bette Davis in the occult thriller The Watcher in the Woods. Currently Johnson, 21, is back on the ice for a Burl Ives TV special with a routine choreographed by Toronto’s Brian Foley, 34, who has worked with such skating luminaries as Dorothy Hamill and Toller Cranston. As far as movies go, Johnson’s career shows no letup and she is signed to work on at least three films, but they are bound to be family entertainment. “I’d like to make a film with Dustin Hoffman,” she says, “but I won’t do any lovemaking or bedroom scenes, because I’m too shy.”

When Henry Winkler’s brown leather Happy Days jacket was installed at the Smithsonian Institution last week it took a place of honor somewhere between Archie and Edith Bunker’s chairs and Irving Berlin’s piano. Later, when asked what the Fonz will wear in future, Winkler improvised: “I thought I would go into something in lavender velour.”

f git’s a campaign song, so there are no I references to assassination or Chappaquiddick,” explains George David Weiss, who composed Senator Edward Kennedy’s campaign song, Teddy, which includes such lyrics as: Teddy how the years have flown . . . how the boy I used to know has grown. Weiss, who is best known for his Elvis Presley ballad Can’t Help Falling in Love, has also been commissioned by Ronald Reagan’s campaign and the result is in a Sousa-like march called Ronnie. “The Republicans are tired of their sombre, bland reputation so I tried to reverse the image with a bouncy, lighthearted song,” explains political agnostic Weiss,

been crooning with his wife and the Silver Rain band for 10 years at Atlantic dance halls and social events such as the Goose Bay Winter Carnival. Their dream-come-true of a Nashville break came when they met expatriot weepytwanger Ray Griff at the Nova Scotia Fisheries Exhibition last summer. He whisked them off to the same studio frequented by Mac Davis, Dr. Hook and England Dan and John Ford Coley. Griff composed most of the songs on the soonto-be released record Wait Till the Sun Comes Up, and the Venos are hoping that it will turn into gold just like everything else Griff has touched—be£ cause they have mortgaged a house they 2j own to finance his confidence in them.

? ^he bottom line on Illinois singing ï I sensation Wazmo Nariz is that his I real name is Lawrence Grenin. Nariz made up his name in the kitchen of his £ parents’ home in a suburb outside of

who wrote: Ronnie Ray-gan, the man we put our faith in /Ronnie Ree-gan, the man we all believe in. In the meantime, President Jimmy Carter was recently serenaded by 60 jazz musicians in New York, including Cab Calloway and Teddy Wilson, who improvised such tunes as I Can’t Get Started.

{ (|’m going from the blackboard to the Istage,” says Kelli Veno, 29, a former schoolteacher from Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, who recently returned from a recording session in Nashville. Husband Jim Veno, 31, a real estate agent turned country and western singer, has

Chicago. “I was pummelling a beef brisket to tenderize it,” he recalls, “and as it slithered into the pan it belched out ‘wazmo.’ Nariz was child’s play after that.” Once a lamp salesman, Nariz decided the only way to break into the recording business was to do it himself, and he produced his first album, Things Aren’t Right, for just $2,500. Songs like Checking Out the Checkout Girl and Germ Proof Cleaners were written by “Tha Naz” as a “lampoon against the pomposity of some ’70s rock bands,” and he also wears two cheap ties to confirm

his disdain for the conventional. “We like to consider ourselves the leader in economy entertainment,” says the 25year-old off-the-wave musician. “My personal credo is: ‘Never rise above K-Mart.’ ”

The latest model to roll off the British rock and pop assembly line is 21year-old Gary Numan, who specializes in machine-age New Muzik. Numan reflects his technological convictions in songs such as Are Friends Electric?, Me! I Disconnect From You and I Nearly Married a Human. The overriding theme of most of his music is that in the future men may fall in love with appliances, and newspapers may carry the headline MAN BITES TOASTER. “I don’t think machines are bad,” he explains. “If they replaced humans, I wouldn’t be very concerned. I don’t particularly like humans anyway.”

Though Otto Preminger was able to shoot most of his latest film, The Human Factor, in the locations that au-

thor Graham Greene meticulously detailed in his 1978 novel, the enfant terrible director may not be able to provide such authenticity in his next project— the story of Dr. Norman Bethune in China. The 73-year-old film-maker plans to go to China this spring to discuss the project based on a treatment done by Sydney Gordon, who co-authored the Bethune biography The Scalpel, the Sword. “Really the only problem would be the battle scenes between Chinese and Japanese,” says Preminger of his potential change in locales. “I had hoped to use Chinese to play Japanese. But frankly, I don’t even know the difference between Chinese and Japanese.”

ÍÍThey’re straight,” says singer/acI tress Dianne Heatherington with concise conviction when she talks about the newspaper theatre critics who arrived with “their Stratford-book-ofgood-taste” firmly in hand to review noted Canadian playwright George F. Walker’s Rumours of Our Death at Toronto’s funky Factory Theatre Lab. The “straight” critics panned the play, a

quasi punk-rock parable that free-associates fairy tales with anarchy and the neutron bomb with any other bomb rumored to be impending. Children love it and since the sour reviews came out the theatre has been packed with defiant patrons who keep coming back in the tradition of the Rocky Horror Picture Show cult. The 10-member Rumours Company has now taken over co-operative responsibility for their “infectious” show and they are planning to install a Rumours telephone hotline which theatregoers will be able to use to plant their own rumors. “There’s a trend toward murky-Muzak theatre,” explains author Walker, “and I’ve never thought my job was to be part of that.”

Director John Guillermin (King Kong, The Towering Inferno) refused to show Vancouver’s Tabitha Herrington the nude screen test she did to win a schizophrenic role in the $6.8-million Canadian movie Midnight Matinee. “He said it would go to my head,” says Herrington, 27, a former model (under the name Tibby) who makes her film debut as a stitchless split personality in a psychiatric institution where James Coburn plays night nurse to both the psy£ chotics and his own psychosis. Herring5 ton doesn’t feel self-conscious about % bursting into the film world full-fron| tal: “I think I understand the psychosis ÏÏ behind the character. I think I undert stand the reason for her taking her clothes off,” she says. “There are lots of models who have freaked right out.”

Edited by Marsha Boulton