We have some follow-up material on the Shangri-Las and the late Mary Weiss. The band took its name from a restaurant on Long Island. They had six top-40 hits between 1964 and 1966. Mary was only 15 when “Leader of the Pack” soared to #1. She called herself a “street singer” and said the greatest compliment she ever received was from Joey Ramone at the New York punk club CBGB. He told her, “Without the Shangri-Las, there would have been no Ramones.”
Amy Winehouse described the group’s 1965 single “I Can Never Go Home Anymore” as “the saddest song in the world,” remembering how she listened to it over and over for days after a painful breakup. Yikes — it’s wrenching. Hear it for yourself:
Ellie Greenwich, one of the writers of “Leader of the Pack,” said: “The Shangri-Las were tough girls, and I was somewhat afraid of them. They had an attitude before they made it.” Mary and her sister Elizabeth met the others at Andrew Jackson High School in Queens: sisters Marge and Mary Ann Ganser. Yup, I can see it. The Gansers look like they would tear you in half while maintaining their smiles.
“Fame doesn’t do anything for me, never did,” Mary told The NYT in 2007. “Actually, I never really liked it.” “When we started, it was all about music,” she told Rolling Stone. “By the time it ended, it was all about litigation.”
The group’s final show was a reunion “oldies” concert in NJ in 1989. Mary released a solo album in 2007, Dangerous Game, that got good reviews.
They were called a “girls group” but Mary hated the term, saying it was sexist. They have not been enshrined in the Rock and Roll HOF, although “The Leader of the Pack” is honored as a single.
Mary is survived by her niece, Tracy Kendall, her sister Elizabeth Nelson, who is now the last surviving Shangri-La; and Mary’s husband, Edward Ryan, who was, without question, the leader of the pack.
It’s a music day at Owl Chatter. The puzzle theme today was LONG JOHNS, and it took five people named John with 5-letter last names and made their last names “long” by doubling each letter. E.g., the astronaut was John GGLLEENNNN. The quarterback was John EELLWWAAYY. The civil rights leader was John LLEEWWIISS. The U.S. President was John AADDAAMMSS.
Rex noted that another theme answer could have been the singer John Prine and he shared an exquisite song of his, “Summer’s End,” twice — once by Prine himself and again via a cover by Phoebe Bridgers. I’m stealing both shamelessly for us. Brace yourselves.
1D was “Refrigerator decorations” and the answer, of course, was MAGNETS. I was able to find one of my favorite old New Yorker cartoons on the topic. It’s by Bruce Eric Kaplan (BEK).
Here’s another one of his, for no particular reason.
At 30A, “Introductory course?” was SALAD, and it opened a discussion by folks who serve the salad either after the main entree, or contemporaneously. gfrpeace wrote: ”I suppose I should carp about SALAD as an introductory course. Restaurants do it that way to give them time to cook the other courses and still get you out fast. But it is supposed to come after the meal.”
Nancy added: ”gfrpeace — I had the same reaction as you did to SALAD in that it shouldn’t be served as a first course. But at least I’ve heard of that. I’ve never heard of it being served after the meal.
“I grew up in a ‘with-the-meal, SALAD as a side-dish’ family. I sometimes think I’m the only one left in America who grew up that way. I’m always having to explain to waiters: ‘No, I’m NOT finished with my salad.’ ‘No, I DON’T want you to take it away.’ ‘Yes, I WOULD like you to bring me my entree now. Yes, I will just MOVE my salad over HERE [gesturing] and eat it with my main course when you bring it.’”
jberg chipped in: ”My family always had salads first, when we had them at all; but one day my (ex-)wife and I had dinner at a French restaurant in Norway, Maine. I ordered a Caesar salad, and they explained when they brought the entree that in France salads were served afterward, to help clear the palate for dessert. Then when the time came the waiter came in with a wooden bowl and prepared it tableside, in the old way — first rub an anchovy into the wood, then put in the lettuce and crack a fresh egg over it, which you mix in with some other things to dress it. (Illegal now, but not then.) It was so impressive that I’ve remembered it ever since; and, being a bit snobbish, we began to serve salads after the main dishes. I don’t think it affects one’s enjoyment of the meal.”
Sticking with food theme, at 15A, “Tandoori chicken accompaniment,” was the delicious Indian bread NAAN. It led egsforbreakfast the share the following: ”I love stuff from the Tandoor, so I sent away for an Indian bread-making kit. It included a packet of something I couldn’t decipher at first, so I guess it was a NAAN starter.”
13D was “Its shores have the lowest land-based elevation on Earth,” and the answer was DEAD SEA. It lead Lewis down memory lane:
“DEAD SEA brought back a funny memory I haven’t thought about in ages. Some 40 years ago, a bit out of college, and traveling, I went there on a crowded day, lots of people on the beach and standing in the water. It was a hot day, and the water looked so inviting, I couldn’t wait to get in.
“A wide stretch of sand stood between me and the sea, and I broke into a sprint toward what I envisioned as a refreshing splash and dunk.
“At this point, in my memory, everything shifts into slow motion. Suddenly, it seems, everyone in the hoards on the beach and in the water looked at me in panic, pointing toward me, then started waving their hands overhead in an effort to get me to stop, shouting ‘NOOOOOOOOOO!’
“That is what I remember most, that slow-motion cinematic moment with the panicked faces, yells, and motions. Oh, happy ending, I did stop in time, and I learned that the hyper-saline water sharply stings the eyes; it’s torture to be splashed upon. But oh, did I unite a host of humans in terror that day!”
Last on the puzzle, I made the following comment on that refrigerator magnet, above. I wrote (as Liveprof): ”Years ago, my refrigerator magnet collection was my pride and joy. I would pore over revolving magnet stands in tacky gift shops on our vacations while my family screamed at me to hurry. One of my favorites was a gorgeous one of a mission wall from a trip to San Antonio. Another one was a Churchill quote: ‘If you’re going through hell, keep going.’ I had one that was given out at a bris (circumcision) by the mohel. It was a little teddy bear with the word ‘mohel’ and his phone number on it. But then we redid the kitchen and I discovered to my horror that our new refrigerator did not hold magnets. D’oh! They are sitting in a box in the basement now, clinging to one another for comfort.”
I love when a comment of mine results in an exchange with others. My note generated two responses:
Carola wrote: ”Liveprof: – I once gave a very cute and apt MAGNET to a friend, who then told me magnets didn’t stick to her refrigerator. I can’t tell you how astonished I was. Why would they do that? Depriving people of a way to easily post a rotating array of kids’ art work, grocery lists, do-not-forget-this paperwork, postcard mementos….”
And whatsername wrote: ”Liveprof: As a fellow collector, I also enjoyed your refrigerator magnet story and can picture them pitifully huddled together in their box. I once took all mine down during a feng shui attack and put them away in a drawer. Then one day I saw them there and they looked so sad I put them all back. Non-magnet lovers wouldn’t understand, but the kitchen just feels more like home with all my friends there where I can see them.”
Thanks for dropping in! See you tomorrow.
The Wellington Files 