Apologies for the less-than-broadcast quality, but this was the only clip of "I Can't Tell a Lie" anywhere on the Internet. If a cleaner copy shows up in the future, we'll try to swap it for the present version.
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We've received a response to an article in the August 2004 edition of The Bandstand, which we posted here on Feb. 14:
"Words cannot express how much I enjoyed your interview with Don Beamsley. Oh, what vivid memories of walking through the parking lot behind center field in anticipation of entering Dodger Stadium and hearing Beamsley knock out a perfect rendition of 'Sweet Georgia Brown' or 'San Antonio Rose' on the organ. It was never the same after he left and (I think) Helen Dell replaced him. Anyway, great interview. The Buzzie Bavasi anecdotes were hilarious. I put it on Twitter; I know my Dodger-fan friends will get a huge kick out of it."
Steve Polevoi
San Jose, Calif.
We're on Twitter now? OMG!!
As mentioned in the article, Don's replacement as Dodger Stadium organist for the 1972 season was a 16-year-old girl who came as part of a package deal featuring a new organ from the organ manufacturer Conn. Her name was ~ and is ~ Donna Parker. She lasted only that year, following which Helen Dell slid onto the organist's bench.
Don Beamsley passed away three years after our profile, but his widow, Jackie, continues to stay in touch with us. Jackie says that during one home game in 1972, Dodger vice president Red Patterson came to Miss Parker and asked her to play "Happy Birthday to You." She replied she couldn't ... because she didn't have the music.Despite youthful moments like that, Donna went on to a successful career as a concert and theatre organist. Her Facebook page states that she is a fan of, among other things, Uterine Fibroids.
I don't know, maybe it's the name of a band.
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We mourn the death on Feb. 12 of drummer Jake Hanna. He was 78. From small combos to big bands, Jake did it all. Of the latter, he played with the orchestras of Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Harry James and was particularly noted for his work with Woody Herman. To the general public, Jake is probably best remembered as the drummer in the house band on Merv Griffin's TV show from 1964 to '75.
On a personal note, I got to know Jake in the early '70s when I started working after school in the travel agency of my father, Milt Bernhart. Jake was a client of the agency. When he placed calls to us, Jake wouldn't begin the conversation by saying something as prosaic as, "Hello, this is Jake." I'd pick up the phone and hear a gravelly voice intone:
"Bart Varsalona."
I quickly learned this meant Jake Hanna was on the line. Aware that my father had played trombone for Stan Kenton, Jake decided to employ the name of Kenton's bass trombonist instead of using a more standard greeting. This practice extended to occasions when Jake would come up to the office in person:
"Bart Varsalona!"
Perhaps it was the historical reference that appealed to Jake, perhaps the melodiousness of the Italian surname, maybe both. But now that he and my dad have each "caught a cab," as the expression goes, I like to think Jake's greeting rang out once more as the two old friends saw each other again in Jazz Heaven:
"Bart Varsalona!!"
On a personal note, I got to know Jake in the early '70s when I started working after school in the travel agency of my father, Milt Bernhart. Jake was a client of the agency. When he placed calls to us, Jake wouldn't begin the conversation by saying something as prosaic as, "Hello, this is Jake." I'd pick up the phone and hear a gravelly voice intone:
"Bart Varsalona."
I quickly learned this meant Jake Hanna was on the line. Aware that my father had played trombone for Stan Kenton, Jake decided to employ the name of Kenton's bass trombonist instead of using a more standard greeting. This practice extended to occasions when Jake would come up to the office in person:
"Bart Varsalona!"
Perhaps it was the historical reference that appealed to Jake, perhaps the melodiousness of the Italian surname, maybe both. But now that he and my dad have each "caught a cab," as the expression goes, I like to think Jake's greeting rang out once more as the two old friends saw each other again in Jazz Heaven:
"Bart Varsalona!!"
