"On a Clear Day You Can See Forever," revisited

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It was a perfect afternoon for a photo shoot. Warm, but not oppressive. Sunny, nothing but blue sky above. The wind from the ocean in repose. Fall, 2013.

Up until then, I'd usually planned shoots in advance, around weather reports, but this was a spontaneous undertaking fueled by the pristine day and the unexpected good news that I'd gotten the rest of the week off of work (on a Monday, no less). As people toiled away in home offices and restaurants and high rises, I headed out to explore my urban playground with bike and camera.

I started at the peak of Noe Valley, a section of San Francisco with breathtaking vistas that I'd been to many times since I attended my first writing workshop there, in 1997. 

But it felt different that day. Maybe it was the weather, or the knowledge that I had several days of free time ahead of me, or perhaps it was the livewire sensation of all of the above synergized by the ginkgo biloba I swallowed before I left my apartment, but my camera eye was finding rich images in places and spaces that had felt fallow before.

I swept northwest toward the magnetic pull of the mighty Pacific, from Noe Valley to the Castro District to the Haight to the inner Sunset, where I stopped. Faced with the creeping fog line, I retreated back the way I had come. 

I felt good about the day's shoot when I got home, but had no idea what the final production

would look like; at this point, the experience was nothing but a hundred-odd digital images on a SanDisk card the size of a postage stamp.

Over several days I culled the best photos, cropped and re-sized them as necessary, and sifted through the grouping of images until a narrative emerged. I then spent several more days adding and subtracting words until it felt right.

With the help of my friends at Lost San Francisco, the resulting photo essay,"On a Clear Day You Can See Forever," received unexpectedly heavy traffic and reader appreciation, including kind words from the main passenger of the vintage Jetstar 88 that made an appearance in the piece. 

From that moment on, I approached each photo shoot-into-essay less like a predetermined storyboard and more like a free-form process of discovery.
  

                                                 Other Truth and Beauty photo essays:

"It Starts with your Heart and Radiates Out" includes street art, 

eye-catching architecture, and miscellaneous city scenes 

in a stroll from the Mission to South of Market to downtown

"Crystal Blue Persuasion" is a walking photo tour of San Francisco from the Bay to the Ocean (and a golden sunset) on a pristine sunny day just before Xmas

"Gone but not Forgotten" is a tribute to a friend who left this world all too soon 

"A Sunny* Monday in San Francisco" is a day tour of the city, 

from Mission Street to the Pacific Ocean

"Random San Francisco" has 46 photos which range from 

ornate architecture to vistas to murals to sidewalk messaging

"California in November" captures deep fall natural splendor

"The Golden Gate Bridge as seen from the Marin Headlands" 

 *Follow Dan Benbow on Pinterest and Twitter

A magical house in Ashbury Heights

  

A noirish door mural in the Mission District

Truth and Beauty photo essays:

"It Starts with your Heart and Radiates Out" includes street art, 

eye-catching architecture, and miscellaneous city scenes 

in a stroll from the Mission to South of Market to downtown

"Crystal Blue Persuasion" is a walking photo tour of San Francisco from the Bay to the Ocean (and a golden sunset) on a pristine sunny day just before Xmas

"Gone but not Forgotten" is a tribute to a friend who left this world all too soon 

"A Sunny* Monday in San Francisco" is a day tour of the city, 

from Mission Street to the Pacific Ocean

"On a clear day you can see forever" explores Noe Valley, Ashbury Heights, 

the Inner Sunset district, microclimates, and street art on a pristine September day 

"Random San Francisco" has 46 photos which range from 

ornate architecture to vistas to murals to sidewalk messaging

"California in November" captures deep fall natural splendor

"The Golden Gate Bridge as seen from the Marin Headlands" 

"The Wrecking Crew"

"The Wrecking Crew" is an insider account of a dozen-odd Los Angeles studio musicians who put their stamp on some of the biggest pop hits of the 1960s. 

Like the session players profiled in "Muscle Shoals," "Standing in the Shadows of Motown," and "Twenty Feet from Stardom," most members of the Wrecking Crew are unknown to the general public: you've heard their handiwork countless times but would not recognize their names.   

In the mid-to-late '50s and '60s a clean division of labor was common in pop music production. Professional songwriters wrote arrangements, a name act (Elvis Presley, Connie Francis) laid down the lead vocal, and studio musicians did the rest. While the media coverage and public focus was exclusively on the pop star, a good deal of the creative work was done by musicians who received no songwriting credit and no financial compensation other than union scale wages. 

The Brill Building in mid-town Manhattan exemplified this compartmentalized production model. Staffed with professional songwriters who worked with New York studio

Brian Wilson and Hal Blaine

musicians, the Brill Building generated a string of hits in the first decade of rock 'n' roll, including "Yakety-Yak," "Do Wah Diddy," "Da Doo Ron Ron," "Hound Dog,"

and "Leader of the Pack."

By the mid-'60s the pop world's center of gravity had shifted to Los Angeles. The California session players were looser than their New York counterparts. They preferred casual dress to the suit-and-tie attire customary in Manhattan. Where the New York session players tended to be faithful to the charts, the L.A. musicians were known to develop arrangements in the studio. The old guard said that the Los Angeles upstarts would "wreck" the music industry. 

The movie begins with footage from the "Pet Sounds" sessions in 1965, which were typical of the time. Brian Wilson, the Beach Boys' genius composer, was in the studio with the Wrecking Crew—while the other Beach Boys were on vacation. Other than Wilson's lead voice and the background vocals, all the tracks were filled by studio musicians. The same held true for many other Beach Boys releases of the era, including "Good Vibrations," a song crafted piece-by-piece in 25-30 sessions over three months. 

Wilson tended to work detailed arrangements out in advance, but some of the bands who used the Wrecking Crew allowed more experimentation. The Mamas & the Papas, a group of four vocalists, encouraged input from their backing musicians on the breakthrough hits "Monday, Monday" and "California Dreamin.'" 

Phil Spector, the '60s wunderkind producer of a slew of girl group hits, had another method of collaboration. Working with a small orchestra (four guitars, four pianos, two bass players) famously known as The Wall of Sound, Spector made the bands do so many takes that individual voices eventually merged into a cohesive whole. 

Other acts left most of the work to the Wrecking Crew. Roger McGuinn recounts that he was the sole member of the Byrds who was allowed to play an instrument on "Mr. Tambourine Man," to the resentment of his bandmates. Peter Tork showed up at the first Monkees recording session with his guitar, only to discover that his services weren't needed. Like the Monkees, the Association ("Windy," "Never My Love") contributed just vocals to their recordings.  

Woven through the movie are interviews with Wrecking Crew alumni, band members who recorded with them, and Dick Clark, who provides insight into the place of the Crew within the larger pop music industry. Some of the interviews give a human face to the creative process. Carole Kaye, the lone female in the Wrecking Crew, plays the bass line from the "Mission Impossible" theme song. Plas Johnson, a jazz musician who found his way to L.A. by way of New Orleans, blows the saxophone theme to "The Pink Panther" and the playful flute introduction to "Rockin' Robin." Chuck Berghofer demonstrates his signature opening bass line to "These Boots Are Made for Walking."  

It was a rewarding professional life that demanded versatility and a strong work ethic. As one interviewee put it, to continue to get called by the studios one had to "never say no until you're too busy to say yes." Often this required "dovetailing": bouncing from one session to another and backing acts as diverse as Frank Sinatra, Simon & Garfunkel, Harry Nilsson, Herb Alpert, or the 5th Dimension. 

One trade-off was family time. Tommy Tedesco, whose son Denny made "The Wrecking Crew," frequently didn't get home until 10 or 11 at night. Plas Johnson said, "I'm a better grandfather than I was a father." 

Though there were exceptions, such as Steely Dan, reliance on studio musicians fell off in the late '60s and early '70s when most of the bands coming up featured skilled musicians who wrote their own songs. Work slowed down for the Wrecking Crew, other than Leon Russell and Glen Campbell,

Tommy Tedesco, once called
"the most recorded guitarist in history"

who pursued successful solo careers. Hal Blaine, the Wrecking Crew drummer who had played on six straight Grammy Award songs of the year (1966-1971), was working as a security guard by the early '80s. 

The contributions of these talented artists to the American pop canon would be lost to time were it not for the dogged efforts of DennyTedesco, who wrote, directed, and produced "The Wrecking Crew." 

Tedesco's labor of love began with interviews in 1996, just before his father passed away, and continued up through the dozens of individual screenings/fundraisers he held in recent years to purchase licensing rights to the songs, photos, and footage used. 

With all the bills paid, "The Wrecking Crew" is finally seeing the light of day. The little movie that could is garnering rave reviews as it brings the story of these undersold musicians to 120 screens nationwide. And not a moment too soon.

                                                         Follow Dan Benbow on Twitter  

Other "Truth and Beauty" film reviews:

       "There must be something in the water: the magic of 'Muscle Shoals"'

"Truth is in the Eye of the Interpreter:  a Review of 'Room 237'"

"Justice Delayed: 'Kill the Messenger' vindicates Gary Webb"

"Honest Abe Makes Sausage" (about "Lincoln")

"Errol Morris Strikes Again" (about "Tabloid")

"A spoiler-free review of 'Mud'" 

"Richard Linklater's 'Boyhood'" 

"First Glance:  'The Master'" 

"Searching for Sugar Man"

"The Wolf of Wall Street"

"Inequality for All"

"American Hustle"

Crystal Blue Persuasion (San Francisco, 12/23/14)

For years I imagined taking a daytime walk from the Embarcadero to the Pacific Ocean, both for the visceral experience and the bucket list feat of traversing San Francisco from one end to the other. Last Tuesday the elements conspired in my favor. 

The tour started in the viewing area of the ferry terminal, at right in the image below.

From a glance I could see 

the back of the Ferry Building, 

Four Embarcadero Center, 

the clock tower, and

the waterfront sign which

greets ferryboat arrivals,

here in isolation,

here in concert.

Not far away was this 
seasonal San Francisco treat.

Ice skating rink? Check.

Palm trees? Check.  

60 degrees with sun? Check.

Welcome to California.

I wandered from the rink to the nearby cable car turnaround. 
This was my view from the back, facing the soaring 
buildings on California Street, while 

up front a small boy gazed in wonderment at the skyscraper canyon.

Working inland, I approached the Transamerica Pyramid 
on Merchant Alley, my field of vision shifting from   
the contrast between little brown buildings
and a white tower into

a concrete bank of off-white as I

passed a catwalk, 

the Pyramid now convening,

now become one with the azure sky.

Coming back down to earth, 
I found  Glenna Goodacre's "Puddle Jumpers,"

a sculpture at the base of the Transamerica Building, and

headed west, up Sacramento Street's precipitous incline to 
a block-sized plateau at the top of the hill where 
a treasure trove of landmarks and views

surround Huntington Park. 

In short order I glanced down Taylor Street to the bay,

walked the steps of 

Grace Cathedral, 

and swung by the entrance of the world-class Mark Hopkins Hotel, before

hoofing it down this Mason Street sidewalk.

I crossed Mason and Bush and

before long was in the Tenderloin, a rough neighborhood 

given to fits of beauty like this mural (at Eddy and Taylor)
by artists Darryl Mar and Darren Acora, a mural which

reflects the magical diversity of San Francisco and

makes me feel hopeful about the multicultural tapestry of America's future.

I continued along Eddy until I reached Boeddeker Park, 

another diamond in the rough, and hooked left on 

this charming Leavenworth crosswalk.

Some blocks on, at Leavenworth and Golden Gate, I caught
"The Gifts You Take Are Equal to the Gifts You Make"
by Catalina Gonzalez and Marta Ayala. 

My next major stop was a mile west, at Alamo Square, a popular tourist 
destination. The view below, with the "painted ladies" in the center 
of the frame and the skyline in the back, is the common one.

This time, I approached the iconic location 
from down below, on Grove and Steiner.

Moving in close, I saw 716 Steiner bathing in bright sunlight.

A few strides away was the simple elegance 
of 712 Steiner's porch and

the exquisite beauty of its window frames.

Reversing the typical perspective, I sat on 712's front steps 
and viewed two of countless thousands who have 

captured snapshots of the Victorian sisters 
from the hill across the way.

After leaving Alamo Square 
I saw this sidewalk stencil from

street artist Eclair Bandersnatch,

this door mural at Scott and Fell, 

and soon found myself in the Panhandle, 
on a winding trail which

cut through abundant green space crisscrossed with

lengthening mid-afternoon shadows.

The Panhandle took me to Golden Gate Park.

 I entered Hippie Hill from the back,

breathed in the glorious expanse at the ridge,

continued west through the AIDS Memorial Grove,

under the tunnels near the Academy of Sciences,

then along JFK Drive, 
on which I passed
a waterfall, 

Lloyd Lake,

and Spreckles Lake, where 
a seagull stood in repose while 

a duck paddled through the water, 
leaving a V in its wake.

Sunset neared as I closed on the ocean, trying to
keep up with the trails of sunlight which 
refracted through tree cover, 

moving west just ahead of me.

The Pacific was, 
as ever, 
Grand.

The big ball in the sky hovered, 
its death glow growing brighter, 

casting orange as it dropped low to the water.

Going,

going,

gone.

Other Truth and Beauty photo essays:

"It Starts with your Heart and Radiates Out" includes San Francisco 

street art, architecture, and miscellaneous city scenes 

in a stroll from the Mission to South of Market to downtown

"Gone but not Forgotten" is a tribute to a friend who left this world all too soon 

"A Sunny* Monday in San Francisco" is a day tour of the city, 

from Mission Street to the Pacific Ocean

"On a clear day you can see forever" explores Noe Valley, Ashbury Heights, 

the Inner Sunset district, microclimates, and street art on a pristine September day 

"Random San Francisco" has 46 photos which range from 

ornate architecture to vistas to murals to sidewalk messaging

"California in November" captures deep fall natural splendor

"The Golden Gate Bridge as seen from the Marin Headlands" 

   Follow Dan Benbow on Twitter