Tosh's Vertigo by Tosh Berman

 

Read "Tosh's Vertigo" by Tosh Berman. Here: 

Tosh's Vertigo

Wallace Berman Postcard Sent to Lawrence and Patricia Jordan

 

A Wallace Berman postcard sent to Lawrence and Patricia Jordan. At the time these were stills from my dad's unfinished film at the time "Aleph." A work-in-Progress. Here is Wallace, Louise Herms, and Larry & Patty Jordan. -

Tosh Berman

The Second Anniversary of "TOSH: Growing Up In Wallace Berman's World"

 

Today is the second anniversary of my book TOSH being released to the world. In actuality, it feels like a year ago, then two years ago, due to the Covid-19 world sort of erased 2020 for me. Still, I was fortunate to promote my book in New York, Portland, San Francisco, and Los Angeles in 2019. Also, countless interviews with all sorts of media took place as well. Thank you, City Lights, for the pleasure of being with you (and still am). -Tosh Berman

Jack Hirschman Poet Translator on Tea With Tosh

Jack Hirschman is a poet and translator.   A dear friend of the family, which means Wallace Berman.  I first met Jack as a child in Los Angeles,  but eventually, he moved to San Francisco, very close to the social world of that city, which includes the ultimate Beat Culture bookstore, City Lights.  Jack is a social activist as well as an artist. Probably one of the smartest individual I have ever met.  -Tosh Berman.  Videotaped in 1987.

"I Hate The Internet" by Jarett Kobek (We Heard You Like Books)

ISBN: 9780996421805 We Heard You Like Books

"I Hate The Internet" by Jarett Kobek (We Heard You Like Books, 2016)

San Francisco has always been an odd city to me.  There are many wonderful things about it, but then the technology internet companies moved in, and sort of changed the landscape from the literary beats with great bars to Google world.  Yet the city houses one of the great bookstores in the world, the iconic (rightfully so) City Lights, but alas, the literary tradition does continue on, which is Jarett Kobek's novel "I Hate The Internet."   Yet, the novel doesn't prowl through the streets of Dashell Hammett or Jack Spicer, but the sorry state of Google, Facebook, which is now tattooed on the image of San Francisco.  On the other hand, it can be any city in America that embraces a technology that brings riches to a few, yet can leave a greater population empty - as in desire and promises not full-filled. 

I read very little of contemporary novels, but I have to say Kobek's book is really rooted into the "now."   I have never read a book that is so now, and not only that, it is a great novel.  It is my ideal of fiction writing in which it is about ideas, culture and politics. I imagine if Guy Debord wrote fiction it would be like "I Hate The Internet."  Kobek pretty much describes the dangers of the computer world, and what it promises to be, as in opening up new worlds for the consumer/visitor, but more likely the sole purpose is to either collect your personal information, or sell you something.  It's capitalism, but taken on to another tech level.   

There are characters, that are both real and fictional, or fictional real, but what is interesting to me is when Kobek breaks down the ills which are the American world, that is basically defined by Google and other sites.  Without a doubt, the Internet is quite useful, but there is also a price that goes with it, and in many ways, it is sort of the death of a culture that was once much loved.  Or, at least those who lived a long time, or have a memory of a life before the Net.  Excellent commentary on the American 21st century. 

- Tosh Berman

August 13, 2014

August 13, 2014

San Francisco is a wonderful town full of nice people, but the hills and the architecture drive me insane.   Ever since I was a young boy I had a hard time dealing with hills or deep inclines.  If I walk up a hill, I would feel someone is pushing me to the ground.  If I was walking down the hill, I feel like I’m free-falling and I can’t control my balance.  I not only get this feeling while walking on a hill, but also in moments of great stress.  It had a profound effect on me in that I feel I have to avoid San Francisco as much as possible.  Also staircases give me a significant problem as well.  Especially if they’re grand staircase or if one has the capability to look down and see the various floors attached to the stairs.  The look of depth is a horrifying death to me.

I went with a couple of friends to San Francisco not long ago.  Elizabeth and Steven invited me to go with them, because they wanted to check out all the spots that were in the Alfred Hitchcock film “Vertigo.” They both knew about my fear issue, and they said that it was necessary to go with them because for sure they can cure my illness.  I had my doubts about that, but also I found myself being slightly attracted to Elizabeth, and I didn’t want to shame myself in front of her, so I said yes.

They picked me up in the morning and we drove up the coast, which was scenic, but also I started to feel a knot in my stomach, that wouldn’t go away.  I tried to fall asleep in the back seat of their car, but just as I was in the process of drifting into a sleep, a vision would come to my head and jolted me awake.  Yet, I kept my eyes closed during the entire trip.   When Elizabeth touched my leg, I opened up eyes and in front of me was the main character, Scottie’s apartment, located at 900 Lombard Street.  It was eerie, because the apartment hasn’t really changed at all.  Steven wanted to knock on the door, but Elizabeth tried to pull him away.   I refused to leave the car.  I was beginning to regret this trip and my stomach ache became worse.  Steven did knock on the door, where I suddenly closed my eyes.  As I peeked, I could see there was no answer, which I thought “thank God!” But then Steven tried to look through a window, and I thought “Oh no.” Luckily no one was there, and it was decided that after a late lunch we will go to Fort Point, which is underneath the Golden Gate Bridge.

At first Elizabeth and Steven wanted to walk on the bridge, but I couldn’t do it, due to the space that seemed endless to me.  It made me physically ill to assume that I would find myself in the middle of the bridge, which is 4,200 feet long, and I won’t be able to either go forward or back.  Also looking down towards the water was a no-no for me as well.  We eventually ended up at Fort Point, which is the famous scene where Madeleine (the lead female character) jumps into the waters, but is saved by Scottie.  Elizabeth wanted to be in the exact same location as Madeleine before she jumped.   I had to admit that there was something erotic about Elizabeth’s obsession over this film, and watching her play herself, yet under the influence of Madeleine was a sight to behold.   Steven was out of the car and telling Elizabeth to “jump, jump.” She didn’t. I kind of wished she did, because I want to see if Steven would jump in to save her… or not.

We stayed in a large hotel near Union Square, and I had a hard time falling asleep due to the thoughts of going to the Mission San Juan Bautista the next day.  Also I was clearly having thoughts regarding Elizabeth, and I wasn’t sure what that meant to me or anything else.  Fear and eros seem to go together in my world, and I never could figure out what’s the connection is between the two.  I also felt strange because I’m so much older than the couple, that I couldn’t imagine why they would want me to go on this trip with them.   Nevertheless I was deeply scared, but also totally turned-on at the same time.

When we arrived at Mission San Juan Bautista, I was surprised to see it looking smaller than what it is portrayed in the film.   I have heard that they re-built the mission in a Universal Studios back lot, but I’m not sure about that.  I have a hard time telling what’s real or not real.  I’m one of those people who go to a movie, and totally accepts whatever is on the big screen in front of me.  I don’t go to doubt, but I go to accept the images and narration.  It doesn’t seem proper for me to question the filmmaker’s intent, because I don’t as an audience member that is my role to do so.   I did walk into the entrance with Steven and Elizabeth to the grand winding staircase.  I couldn’t even look up, because the knot in my stomach was so painful to me.  Both of them ran up the stairs screaming their head off.  Steven was first, and kept telling Elizabeth to follow him.   They were yelling at me as well, but I could only make it to the third step, and I just felt this emotional wall in front of me where I couldn’t go further.   It seemed like it took forever till they reached the top, and Steven and Elizabeth both started to drop objects on me from that immense distance above.  I think it was a car key that hit my head. Nevertheless it sort of hurt, and I was compelled to stay in place till they came down the stairs.

I didn’t hear anything.  Then all of sudden I heard a sound of two objects hitting the ground outside the door.  I yelled out their names, but I only received silence.  I walked outside, but with my eyes closed.  I walked blindly to the car, got in with the key that they dropped on me, and sat in the back seat.  I decided to stay there till they come back.

July 1, 2014

July 1, 2014

The beauty of seeing my world outside my window is one thing, but I think everyone can agree that seeing that same view, but in the format of a 35mm projection, is much better.  I’m often disappointed with my sight, because I feel I’m missing depth of the image in front of me.  For instance, the beauty of a woman’s face, is much better photographed than actual sight.  I can’t speak for others, but I need the distance to appreciate a beauty, and that is where the camera comes in.  Actual death is never beautiful to me. The times when I have been near someone dying, it is painful to be a part of its presence. On the other hand, when Robert Mitchum kills Shelley Winters in “The Night of the Hunter, ” it's quite beautiful, especially when the corpse is floating in the bottom of the lake.  My goal in life is to separate my life from what is real and somehow turn it into a movie.  Or as I like to term it “projected life. ”

It seemed like a dream when the production of the film “The Subterraneans” came to San Francisco.  Or I should say the screenwriter and the star of the film Leslie Caron.  To soak up life in North Beach, Caron hung out at various coffee houses and bars to research her role as Mardou Fox.   My father met her at City Lights Bookstore, and brought her around to our house on Scott Street.  At the time I was four or five years old, and it was a Saturday night, and my parents wanted to go out.  They asked Leslie if she would mind to baby-sit me for the evening.  She accepted to do so.

As far as I know that was the last I saw Leslie Caron, and I have no memory of her presence and sadly there is no photograph of the two of us together.  More likely it was an unremarkable series of moments in her life.  Yet, to this day, I feel that I brushed against a time that doesn’t exist, but only in images from that place and time.  The nature of making a movie or a series of photographs is tantamount to capture what is not actually there, but what we ‘want’ to be there.  We all have our perceived idea what should be, but alas, in reality it usually comes short of our expectations.

My intention was to do good, but sometimes one meets someone down the road, or even in a train station, and that can draw one to a world not of our making.  Or perhaps it is?  I have been advised by a wise soul that there are no such things as an accident.  Everyone wanders aimlessly but eventually one confronts fate, and it is inescapable to avoid that landscape, that is pure poison.

With respect to film viewing I go back to Alice Guy, who was the first woman filmmaker, and headed her own studio as well.  One can imagine what she saw, but like a farmer who chooses what is ripe to pick, and well, the rest has to be dismissed.  Finding the image, the right image, is the art.  The fact it is in front of you, does not make it an art.  I can only cope in this world, if I have the ability to edit out certain aspects of my memory.  Leslie Caron and I spent time together.  I have no memory of Leslie Caron.

March 28, 2014

March 28, 2014

My not-so-distant relative the film producer Pandro S. Berman wanted to make a quick exploration film for MGM regarding the upcoming “Beat” scene that was happening at that time.  He just finished the production work for the Elvis Presley starring “Jailhouse Rock” and was interested in doing a film where Elvis played a ‘beatnik poet. ' For research, Elvis actually went to City Lights bookstore to pick up on the vibe of the store as well as the local North Beach scene.  He made an effort to get a job at City Lights as a book clerk, but that obviously wasn’t going to work out.  There was also talk of Berman producing a film version of Jack Kerouac’s novel “On The Road, ” with Elvis playing “Dean Moriarty” and British actor Dirk Bogarde playing Salvatore “Sal” Paradise, the novel’s narrator.

Bogarde flew out of London to meet Elvis in San Francisco.  At the time Elvis never drank, but still, he met Dirk at the bar Vesuvio, that was practically next door to City Lights.  Dirk just wanted to talk to Elvis personally without any managers around or studio people.  He had very little knowledge of the beats, and basically his understanding of that scene, for him, came from his knowledge regarding the Teddy Boys.  He knew and heard of the existentialist scene in Paris that was occurring at the time, but the beats were a totally foreign concept to him.   But he desperately wanted to make changes to his image from teen idol to a serious actor.  There was a darker side to Bogarde, and he felt he needed to express that side more.  But wasn’t sure how, and on top of that he was getting frustrated with the studios back in the U.K. He felt that this could be the role for him to change everything.  Also he had a great admiration for Elvis.  He didn’t really understand the music, or that type of culture, but he saw something that was sincere and raw in Elvis’ approach to music and image.

Elvis was a truck driver before singer, and he could identify with Dean with respect to his natural energy to go out and get going.  Also in his mind, the name “Dean’ relates to his favorite actor James Dean.  He was aware that his films were kind of lightweight, compared to the world of James Dean, and he wanted an ‘in’ as much as Dirk did.   Bogarde ordered himself a Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, thinking it was very American type of thing to order in a San Francisco bar, and Elvis, being Elvis, ordered a bottle of Coke.   They went together to City Lights and they each bought a copy of “On The Road, ” and looked and commented on each page of that novel over their beer and coke.

Sitting in the bar, in one of its small tables, Dirk was all of sudden taken back by him being there with the actual iconic Elvis, discussing what they both felt was an iconic novel that surely can be a film vehicle for the both of them.  With the help of Berman, they couldn’t possibly imagine this to be a failure.   Nevertheless, history has a way of by-passing moments like these for something that eventually will not be important.  And who knew at this point and time, that Dirk Bogarde would enter a second chance in the Briitsh film world as one of its most amazing actors.

City Lights review of Tosh Berman's "Sparks-Tastic"

A review from City Lights from Garrett Caples:

When I last wrote I was previewing Tosh Berman’s upcoming appearance at City Lights in support of his brand-new memoir, Sparks-Tastic: Twenty-One Nights with Sparks in London (A Barnacle Book, 2013). Given the exigencies of scheduling—copies wouldn’t arrive from the printer until the night of the reading—I didn’t have the chance to read the book beforehand, so I took the opportunity to quiz Tosh on its contents based on my own recently acquired knowledge of the band, combined with the experience of having caught the opening night of the US leg of their Two Hands, One Mouth tour only a week or so earlier. Anyway, Tosh gave his reading and killed it, and I longed to read the entire thing by the end. And I did and holy shit, is this a great book! Berman has done an enviable thing. In the casual guise of a pop cultural meditation—a memoir about attending Sparks’ recreation of their entire catalog, album by album, including bonus tracks as encores, over the course of 21 nights in London in 2008, culminating in the debut of their new album, Exotic Creatures of the Deep—he has written one of those great French memoirs of desire like Breton’s Nadja (1928), and the fact that the object of desire in this case is a pop group in no way diminishes or trivializes Sparks-Tastic as an example of such writing. Certainly I can relate to the intense adolescent identification with one’s favorite music, and the fact that Sparks continually evolves made the group something that carried over into Berman’s adulthood. Because they all live in L.A., Tosh eventually meets both Ron and Russell Mael of Sparks separately, by chance, and becomes their friend. Thus Sparks’ decision to spend the better part of a month in London playing their entire corpus triggers something like a mid-life crisis in Berman; he can’t afford to, but he must go, and he vows to write a book about the experience to give this irrational decision just the slightest sheen of rationality. But too this adds the burden of expectation in order to court the fear of failure, and in this he confronts the essential creative/psychological demon of his existence: being the son of a famous artist, Wallace Berman. Tosh negotiates all this with a light touch, and there’s a passage concerning his failed attempt to learn the hairdressing trade at his worried father’s insistence that’s both poignant and hysterical, and has little overt relation to Sparks; yet Sparks provide a constant parallel across the length of his life, even as other choice bands (The Doors, Them, The NY Dolls) make fleeting cameos.

Only Sparks could have provoked the crisis in him that results in this book.

In honor of Berman’s achievement, I conducted a second interview, where I probe some of his biases about the Sparks oeuvre as revealed by Sparks-Tastic and air some of my own ongoing obsessions with the group.

And you can read the rest of the interview here:
http://www.blogcitylights.com/2013/05/29/blog-that-sucker-more-on-tosh-berman-and-sparks-tastic-by-garrett-caples/

SAN FRANCISCO : Tosh Berman reads and signs "Sparks-Tastic" at the great City Lights Bookstore