The actors on Volume Two of Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America were recorded at the Wilder Brothers Recording Studio in West Los Angeles. As recording studios went, it was ideal. It was even a block from one of my favorite pizzerias and in yet another of my invaluable contributions to the new album, I arranged for pizza to be brought in.
Still, as fine as the Wilder Brothers' facility was, Stan paused several times to say, "Gee, it feels odd to be doing this here instead of over in the Capitol Records building." That was where he had done almost all of his previous albums but, alas, the studio there was in no shape to handle this one. (A few years later though, when I helped him edit a compilation CD set called Tip of the Freberg, he did the editing at Capitol and was very happy to be back there.)
I was present for some of the recording at Wilder Brothers but not all. One of the days, I was too busy to go. On another, everyone else was too busy to call and let me know about it until it was half over. But the main day I was there, vocal tracks (talking and singing) were done for about half the album, the orchestra having already been recorded.
I keep wanting to emphasize again here how little I contributed. This is not modesty nor was it any kind of failing on my part. This is just me reporting how Stan worked. He was God Almighty when it came to creative decisions and his wife Donna was in total charge of producing-type decisions. When I arrived, she took me aside and said, "I need your help to stop him from doing dozens of takes when three or four will do. At Capitol, Stan had an almost unlimited budget. He could have done fifty takes if he wanted and sometimes, he just about did. We don't have that luxury here. If you think a take is fine, please tell him. Help me convince him not to do twenty more." I said I would.
The session started that day by recording a song and sketch called "Madison, Jefferson, Franklin, & Osbourne," in which a four-man advertising agency plotted the marketing of America. Lorenzo Music played Madison, David Ogden Stiers played Jefferson, Stan played Ben Franklin and Peter Leeds played Osbourne. Also in that sketch — though in some cases, recorded later that day — were Stan's son Donavan, his daughter Donna (not to be confused with his wife, Donna) and another longtime Freberg player, Naomi Lewis. The cast and a few of us "helpers" sat around a table and read it a few times. Stan adjusted a couple of lines and gave relatively minor direction to the other actors.
He invited everyone in the place to make suggestions and comments. I was too intimidated to have any. Lorenzo had a few and Stan took some (not all) of Lorenzo's notes. Then the four men took their places at four microphones and in a non-excessive number of tries, recorded the speaking portion of the sketch. Before long, Stan was sure he had what he wanted.
In the engineer's booth, I turned to Donna Sr. and said, "That wasn't too many takes." She replied, "Wait. We haven't gotten to the singing yet."
As she said that, a rather small argument broke out between Stan and Peter Leeds. Peter had been a vital member of the Freberg Stock Company for years. On Stan's classic parody of Harry Belafonte's "Banana Boat," Peter played a beatnik drummer who kept interrupting Stan in the Belafonte role. He'd been on other Freberg records including Volume One of The United States of America and on Stan's 1957-1958 radio show. As Stan prepared to record the singing, it suddenly dawned on him that in all those great, highly-musical records and shows he'd done with Peter, Peter had never sung.
"You don't sing," Stan said to Peter.
"Of course, I sing," Peter said to Stan.
"When did you ever sing on any of my records?" Stan asked Peter.
"I sang on some of them. I sang on the radio show," Peter told Stan.
"When did you sing on the radio show?" Stan asked Peter.
"I sang, I sang. I don't remember what but I sang," Peter assured Stan.
Stan came over to me and asked me in my capacity as the Resident Freberg Expert, "When did Peter sing on the radio show?" I said I didn't recall that but there were plenty of group numbers he could have been in. Later on, I asked other Freberg authorities. Peter had done dozens of radio shows, records and commercials with Stan but none of us could come up with a moment on any one of them when he sang. Well, he sang a little on Volume Two of The United States of America.
Less than a year later, Peter passed away and I drove Stan to the funeral where he spoke eloquently of his friend and colleague, as did many others. On the drive home, Stan recalled the little argument with Peter about his singing and he asked me, "Did you ever figure out where Peter sang before on one of my projects?"
I said, "No. I think he was confused. I don't think he sang on anything he did for you."
"Well," Stan said wistfully. "I'm glad Peter finally got to sing on something I did." Then he added, "You know, he was pretty good. I should have had him sing on Volume One."
The other songs and sketches that day in the studio went well but when we got to a tune where David Ogden Stiers sang as Ulysses Grant, what Donna had predicted came to pass. Stan kept calling for take after take after take. I thought several of them were fine but Stan, like some sort of insatiable perfectionist, kept saying, "Let's try one more." And then after they'd tried one more, he said, "Let's try one more."
On a break, David came to me and making sure Stan couldn't hear said, "Mark, I beg of you to do me this favor. If I start and the take isn't good, stop it. My voice is beginning to go and I can't sing the entire song and then find out that Stan didn't like the first four bars." David was a consummate professional and his respect for Stan was total. He was less concerned with harming his throat than he was with being unable to perform for Stan.
So I did what he asked. I didn't stop the recording — that wasn't my job — but on the next few takes when I could see Stan wasn't 100% pleased with what he was hearing, I got him to stop right away.
In his youth, Stan had one of the most versatile and indestructible voices in the recording business. Singing or speaking, he could do a hundred takes and sound letter-perfect on every one and so could the actors of approximately the same age that he'd employed — Daws Butler, June Foray and others, including Peter Leeds. It had just not occurred to him that once performers get older, their voices often have limits.
Mr. Stiers was a fascinating, wonderful performer. I had heard but not fully appreciated that acting was his second love, his first being his work as a conductor of symphony orchestras around the country. He was neglecting work with one in his home town in Oregon that day to record for Stan because, as he put it, "When Freberg calls, you do not say no." We talked a little of his role on the TV series M*A*S*H but mostly about his work in music. I noted aloud that he had been taking direction unquestioningly from Stan about the singing and not interjecting his own opinions. He replied — and this is an approximate quote — "In a symphony, all must bow to the guidance of the conductor."
All day, people were dropping by the recording studio — friends of Stan's, associates, etc. They all loved the first album and wanted to be able to say that they were present at the historic event of its sequel. I knew how they felt.
John Crean stopped in. Mr. Crean was a man of great philanthropy and greater wealth. He'd founded Fleetwood Enterprises, at one time the world's largest manufacturer of mobile homes and trailers. You can imagine the kind of money he had and, as a good friend of Stan's, he'd invested a tiny portion of it to help make Volume Two happen. (Years later when Stan married his second wife, the ceremony took place at the Crean estate, which was about the size of a Congressional District.) Stan let his friend and benefactor not only watch some of the recording but he's on there, playing a small part.
Buddy Ebsen stopped in. The great actor, best known for The Beverly Hillbillies and Barnaby Jones, was family. Stan's daughter Donna was married to Mr. Ebsen's son, Dustin.
At heart, Buddy Ebsen was a hoofer so Stan thought to ask him about a problem that had yet to be solved for the album. For Volume One, he'd recorded the sounds of an expert dancer named Maurice Kelly tap-dancing. For Volume Two, he needed someone else in that capacity. He asked Buddy if he knew any great tap-dancers.
Mr. Ebsen said, "Well, how about me?" and he launched into a few steps. Everyone laughed and Stan said he'd find someone else. But based on that little sample, I'd say that even at age 87, Buddy could have pulled it off. Later, Stan did find someone else — the legendary Fayard Nicholas of the Nicholas Brothers. Fayard was, of course, a much younger man. He was 81.
Donna, mindful of the costs and not wanting to have to book another day in the studio for this material, kept the intrusions to a minimum. The problem came when Ray Bradbury — the great, wonderful Ray Bradbury — walked in.
Ray and Stan were tremendous friends — in the past, as close as two straight men could be. The friendship had been occasionally strained in recent years over politics. Stan remained a staunch Liberal Democrat. Ray, in a turn that surprised many around him, had gone rabidly right-wing on a few but not all issues. (Not long after when Ray asked me to become his annual interviewer at Comic-Con in San Diego, I of course agreed. One of his daughters implored me, "Please don't let him talk about politics." Ray, of course, talked about whatever he wanted to talk about, occasionally even answering my questions.)
Mr. Bradbury, as we all know, did not drive. Someone had dropped him off at the recording and that someone was coming back to pick him up in two hours…so we were stuck with him for that time. After greeting Stan warmly and telling him what an honor it was to be present for this historic recording, he began lecturing Stan that the record — to folks of Stan's and Ray's age, it was a "record," not a "CD" — absolutely had to include some slams on Bill and Hillary Clinton. This was late '96. William Jefferson Clinton held a commanding lead over Bob Dole and was soon to win a second term as president. "The only hope this country has," Bradbury insisted, "is to get someone in there who's smart enough to eliminate the Capital Gains tax."
Because of his love for Ray, Stan was terribly uncomfortable and unwilling to raise his voice much. There was zero chance he was going to do what his friend wanted. Even if he'd agreed with him politically — and he did not — it was way too late to make that kind of change. He'd already recorded 75% of the singing and talking, and 100% of the music. In fact, the recording was supposed to be completed in about four hours.
"But you have to," Ray implored. "This record is about the United States of America. There won't be a United States of America by 2000 if the Clintons aren't stopped!"
Stan awkwardly excused himself to go direct and/or perform in the next segment. Ray retired to the engineer's booth to listen…but every time there was a pause between takes, he tried to talk to Stan about the dire need for anti-Clinton material on Volume Two. Donna gave me a look: Can't you do something?
I did something. When Ray went to the men's room, I "happened to" run into him on his way back, engaged him in conversation and steered him into a little lunch room nearby. We sat there and talked for around 90 minutes, which was no grand hardship for me. When you kept him off certain political "hot button" topics, Ray Bradbury was still one of the most brilliant and fascinating storytellers and pontificators in the world. In fact, when I later interviewed him at Comic-Con, a lot of what I did was to prompt him for anecdotes that he'd told me that day in the Wilder Brothers break room.
So that was my major contribution to Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America, Volume Two. I kept Ray Bradbury out of the room for an hour and a half, almost until his ride came for him. I also contributed a few lines and jokes to the album but those bits of input were minor compared to keeping Ray occupied.
Just before he departed, an odd thing happened…one of those moments that has stayed with me until this day.
We had just wandered back into the recording studio where Stan had finished a number with Donavan. Donavan was quite experienced at performing under his father's direction and his recording did not require as many takes as others that day. Suddenly, an employee of Wilder Brothers came into the room and said, "I don't mean to interrupt but all of you…you just have to come outside and see something." Curiosity and a need for fresh air caused all of us, Stan and Ray included, to venture outside…
…and there, filling the sky to the west of us, way out over the Pacific Ocean was the most beautiful sunset that any of us had ever seen.
It was jaw-droppingly amazing…every possible color highlighting and backlighting wispy clouds. You could spend a month with Adobe Photoshop and not create anything quite that awesome. We all just stood there, mouths open, staring at it and I stole a joke from the Ziggy comic strip. I applauded and called out, "Author, author!"
There was still work to be done inside but none of us could tear ourselves from that vision; not until a few minutes later when it began to darken and lose its lustre. We felt transformed and claustrophobic as we trooped back in to the windowless studio. The recording was completed, sans Bradbury diversions, in another half-hour. In the following weeks, Stan edited it and mastered it, deciding how loud this or that should be and adding sound effects. I sat in on the last day of editing and made another of my great contributions by saying, "It's great, Stan. Stop fiddling with it!" He fiddled for another hour or so, then with a deep sigh declared it completed.
I remember that day in the recording studio with the kind of clarity your mind demands on an important day in your life. I remember Stan being fully in command of what would go on the "record" and Donna being fully committed to him getting it on there the way he wanted. I remember the other performers, all of them clearly feeling privileged to be a part of it and eager to give Stan what he wanted. I remember the visitors, Bradbury especially, and the general excitement that Stan was finally, at long last, getting Volume Two done.
And I especially remember that sunset…a magical interlude that was somehow altogether appropriate on that very magical day.