Too Much for the Private Ruth

Ok, at the urging of all the people who want me to write a book, I opened up a little on here. That was not easy for someone as private and hermitlike as I am, but so many of my pals said oh yes, the way you write....and the wonderful and horrible things that have happened to you why that would make juicy reading we bet. It's just not gonna happen. Too much feedback from the one blog entry, which I confess I started to see how my life would look in print. So I've decided the rest of my secrets will disappear into dust. Over here in Los Angeles, keeping my own counsel, I'm Ruth Adkins Robinson.

Two Good Old Boys Named Willie & Ray

When we were working on "The Apollo at 70: A Hot Night in Harlem," I was running out of the room every hour or so to sob out in the alley on 126th St. because trying to write that tribute to Ray was killing me. I couldn't tell anyone that he was dying, sworn to secrecy as I was. Finally I told the producers Don and Suzanne because they had to know how to cut it and I had to write it so what was said would work if he were still alive or had already died. Don got Willie Nelson to drive 1,500 miles across the country to come and repeat what he had said on many occasions-- that Ray Charles had done more for country music than most anybody. Rehearsal night, Willie and I sat in the Apollo and talked about "Seven Spanish Angels," the duet Ray took down to Willie and they recorded. At the time, I didn't think it was really a duet song, but Ray never listened to anyone anyhow, so down he went and of course Willie sang it. There is a clip on YouTube now with Leon Russell, Willie and Ray singing, "Song for You," and during most of it, Willie is staring at Ray like a little brother looking up to his older sibling with rapt adoration. At one point, he seemed to have tears in his eyes. After Ray started, Leon and Willie for the most part sat out and Ray did his thing. They seemed to be just two good ole boys when they were together, in whatever smoke-filled room wherever it was. Willie's band would do little musical things to see if Ray would hear. It delighted everybody when he did and that was each and every time. Willie cried full out at the funeral. There is a line in "Song for You" that goes, "And when my life is over, remember when we were together and I was singing my song for you." I hold those memories close and I'm thinking Willie does also.

Secret Park

When Antoinette told me she was having the baby's birthday party at Kenneth Hahn Park, I said why? I had never been to the park but when we went up there today, I fell in love with the place. Can't say I like the $6 parking fee, but I was already computing how much it would cost to go there and walk the 'health trails' every day. Then I discovered those fees are only for weekends and holidays, so if you are looking for me in the daytime during the week, you might just find me at the amazing park, zipping (well, sort of) through the health trails. The baby's party today was lovely. I've decided I like Evan, I'm ever more enamored with Nakia, the Twins have some terrific friends, beautiful, nice young ladies. I walked the trail today so I'm feeling fit Ruth Adkins Robinson

My Favorite Holiday

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I'm Southern so naturally some of my preparations are going to echo the South in their preparations. There will be some green beans, cornbread, mac and cheese, candied yams and mashed potatoes, of course. But this year I'm adding some of the influences from other parts of my life's experience. Most of you who know me are aware that I was once married for six weeks and never again. But I don't talk much about that husband, but i can say he was a way better husband than I was a wife. I never wanted it and vowed I'd never do it again. I didn't. Lorenzo Flores was the handsomest man I'd ever seen, jet black curly hair, eyes just as black with a dazzling smile that I saw from across the room and went weak in the knees. Larry was born and raised in Minnesota, where his parents had migrated up from the Valley of the Moon in Mexico. At that time in my most ignorant teenage state, I didn't even know there were Mexicans in MN. What you don't know at 16 fills volumes and volumes. Ok, so when I met Larry and fell in lust it was that time in my development when I wanted to get inside the very skin of the person I loved (think back for a moment and you'll remember that time). I wanted to discover everything there was about the Mexican culture. I learned to make tortillas from scratch, to refry beans and to make tamales....and so here we come full circle. This year I'm making tamales and stuffing my turkey with those tamales. I've done it before and it's a great tasting surprise. I'm also doing Arroz Rojo (red rice), chillied corn and mango/cranberry salsa to spoon over the turkey and dressing. My mouth is over here watering. I'm the very multicultural cook and somewhat smarter Ruth Adkins Robinson

Mary Adaline Hall

Today was surreal and strange. I was contacted on Ancestry.com by someone asking me if I was the daughter of Ruth Burns whose father was William James Burns. Yes, that is true, I offered. She came back with much information about the side of my family that has been secret to me, hidden from me. I spend many years searching for my elusive wisp of a mother. There were many hours spent in dark rooms, pouring through stacks of microfische and microfilm and rusty, dusty old documents. Couldn't find her in any dimension. I found her birth certificate and her death certificate on the same horrible day, but that was all, not much info on them. So Ruth Lavida Burns remains a stick figure, no depth, no info. But my new cousin told me she has lots of information and the first thing I asked her was my grandmother's name. Her name was Mary Adaline Hall. It takes my breath away to type it. Who was she? What did she look like, who were her people. It all ties into my search to know who I am and where I'm from. I'm the searcher Ruth Adkins Robinson.

Billy Wilkerson is Spinning Like a Top

Billy Wilkerson must be spinning like a top in his grave at the news. His baby, The Hollywood Reporter is disappearing into cyberspace. I'm with you Billy, I can't imagine not holding the paper in my hands. Grabbing THR and scanning down past the red logo for my byline always took my breath away. There have been few greater thrills in my life than walking in the doors at 6715 Sunset Blvd. each morning and seeing The Hollywood Reporter and Daily Variety on my desk, fearful that Cynthia Kirk at Variety might have the same story or if I had scooped her. The ten years I spent at THR as its music editor were heady and like a rocket ride into the stratosphere where superstars sing, dance, hold your hand and take you with them. I love that publication more than anyone could imagine. Because of it, I met everyone who mattered in the music business, on their way up and on their way down. Covering the business of music, I went around the world so many times, to every European country at least once, to France and England 20 times, to Santo Domingo, to Japan, to all the Islands in the Caribbean. I once counted and checking off the countries went up to 30. I met the greatest performers in the world and some became friends, some are to this day. Everybody wanted to be in the pages of the publication that often only numbered 16 pages. What Billy Wilkerson had created when he started the FIRST entertainment trade daily was extraordinary and way more powerful than even he could have imagined. Yet Billy was a visionary, and I am certain his vision did not include seeing the paper disappear. I'm one sad Ruth Adkins Robinson.

Staying at the Dock

For those of you who appreciated my appreciation of Trains and asked what other methods of transportation I liked and didn't like, I hate cruising. I've only taken three cruises, which is two enough, thanks. The first was a trip on the Azure Seas during a shoot for some tv program or other, which I cannot really remember. It was very short, just down to Ensenada for a day or two. The other was a miserable cruise in the inside passage of Alaska. Why do I hate it so? Somebody said, being on a boat is like being in jail, only you are surrounded by water. That's about right. Jailed, trapped, can't get back to civilization. That's kinda the way I felt when I went to live in St. Thomas. Jailed, trapped and couldn't get back to civilization very easily. Funny thing, St. Thomas is not much bigger than a couple of cruise ships strung together. It's the number one port for cruise ships. People rush off the ships and run through the shopping area and head back to the ships, urged by the taximen who shout 'back to the boat' over and over again. I'll never return to the hot little atol in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, ever. My favorite cruise was down the Nile River. It was very civilized, but of course I am very fond of Egypt in general and have visited many times. Not lately of course, the last time I was there there was an event shocking enough to be considered a warning--, one day after I left the reception area in the hotel where I'd stayed was bombed. I so wish the Middle East would calm down so I could return. It's a magical place. Sometime soon I will tell you the story of me and Jermaine Jackson shopping in the Souk and other challenging events surrounding my trips to Egypt. I'm the traveler Ruth Adkins Robinson

Train Me

I like trains and have taken a train trip on every continent I've ever visited --the Bullet Train in Japan and the Blue High Speed train in France are two of the better ones and was stuck on a local milk run from Germany to Paris as punishment for making someone mad (that's another story for another time) . I used to take the train back and forth to Las Vegas every weekend and wish they would start that up again. Yesterday my friend Brenda Tyson and I rode Amtrak to San Diego to see Obba as "Sammy" at the Old Globe (he was magnificent!) It was a fantastic trip in business class that's a bit pricey but worth it. One of my favorite train rides was a while back taking the train home from New York, after my plane kinda crashed at JFK. Actually the wheels only collapsed on landing causing a bad skid narrowly missing a building that would have hurt us seriously. That was close enough to a real crash to make me reluctant to get on a plane. So the train it was. You can't take a direct train, it had to be a sleeper overnight to Chicago and change to the Southwest Chief for the rest of the trip. I had a great stateroom with a recliner and giant window to watch the world roll by, a bed made up by the lovely steward and my food delivered to the room, I was ready to be productive--writing across country was the idea. I didn't count on the scenery, the rhythm and the rocking of the train. Lulled into sweet comfort, sleep called me and called me again. A wonderful experience and the next time I have three days that I can disappear, look for me rockin to the clickety-clack. I'm Ruth Adkins Robinson

World War II

Yesterday I got a package in the mail from Joe Bonsall of the Oak Ridge Boys. It contained his book, "G.I. Joe and Lilly" along with the CD. I had bumped into the song on YouTube and sat listening and crying over this American Love Story of a soldier in WWII and his WAC bride. Since I used to know the Oaks well, I sent Joe an email and he generously sent me his book and the CD. I played the song about ten times feeling Joe's pain each time. WWII is in the forefront of the news today with the big Tom Hanks movie opening at the National WWII Museum in New Orleans, in 4-D. Hurrah, Hanks. He said what had to be captured, "without question," were the economic and human costs and the war's roots in the civil rights and women's rights movements. "We had a Jim Crow society when all that happened," Hanks said. "We still had segregated armed forces ... We asked guys to go off and risk their lives and come back home and ride in the back of the bus. There was no way that brand of injustice could continue in our country after that war." Injustice did continue and does continue, Tom, but we applaud you for your efforts. Joe's emotional tribute to his parents, GI Joe and Lilly moved me so much perhaps because my Daddy also went to War, enlisting after the bombs fell in December. He joined the Navy, a young boy of 16 when he went to War in 1942, trying to be a man. The war left him with scars on his leg, foot and soul as it did in many other American stories. Some of those wounds have not healed in the 60 odd years, perhaps they never will. Maybe so. Hope is everlasting. I'm WWII vet Estil Carl Adkins's daughter, Ruth Adkins Robinson

Getting Flayed while not Writing

Pundits say that those of us who work in entertainment are safe in a bad economy due to what is called "The Shirley Temple Effect." See, the curly-haired darling who could sing and dance was so appealing that in the darkest hours of the Great Depression, people would take their pennies to sit in the movie theatre and watch her dance up and down stairs with Bojangles and the rest. The theory is that people will spend money to be entertained, even when money is hard to come by. But those of us who live in the variety world don't know if that is really true. What seems to be the most appealing now is the reality of what's cooking. Once upon a time there was the Food Network and that was about it. No budget, not a lot of production value, but things changed. "Top Chef" sort of ushered in the craze. The extra foul mouthed Gordon Ramsey cursed everybody out regularly on BBC America and then moved to America .. The wonderful Emeril is now on Fine Living and I think there are even reruns of his old Food Network shows airing too. Why not, there's no shelf life on cooking demos. I admit food is important in my house. My daughter is a personal chef and I consider myself a great cook. But there I am glued to every cutthroat competion on Iron Chef, Hell's Kitchen, Chopped and Iron Chef America, Throwdown with Bobby Flay (at least this one is really good natured and about cooking). I'd say that at this point we have to say that the Shirley Temple effect and has been replaced by the Julia Child effect and I'm not even mad at it all. I love it, but would like a return to scripted shows (hey I need the WGA hovering around my bank account) and in that bastion of wisdom, my beauty shop, I was told yesterday that reality is about over and variety is on the upswing. Course, like a lot of people, this particular person had no idea that variety tv actually has writers. Whoa, everything has a writer, truthfully, including reality tv. I'm the writer Ruth Adkins Robinson who'd like to have a script to write, right now while I watch Bobby Flay try to make a better Mac & Cheese.

More Time Working

When do workaholics stop? It has been noted that no one, at the end of their life, ever said I wish I had spent more time at the office. But for my entire life I have worked, worked, worked often missing my family. Don't get it wrong, beginning with Larriann's first recital at two, I made all her shows and every performance the Twins gave at the Performing Arts Magnet at Hollywood High--plus all the holidays and birthdays of everybody. But I missed a good chunk of time just sitting around talking and listening. I've decided to make some changes and was very forcefully aided in this decision by my birthday celebration this week. I've had some amazing celebrations in the past and missed many celebrations by going to work in some country or the other. But this week, I had the choice of going to the reception for the Tavis Smiley driven "America I Am" exhibit at the California Science Center or staying home with my big, boisterous family to be the center of their attention. I stayed home and my daughter the chef prepared us a feast, old people drank bubbly and little kids drank bubbling apple cider. The hugs and laughter and all good feelings lasted into the night and I've resigned the title of workaholic. I'm Ruth Adkins Robinson.