Alan Alda will be presenting the Flame Challenge Prize winner during the 2013 World Science Festival, which takes place May 29–June 2.
Credit: Greg Kessler © 2012 World Science Festival

In his first memoir Never Have Your Dog Stuffed: And Other Things I’ve Learned, Alan Alda recalls that as a young child, his mother would often caution him to keep silent in public. “Don’t notice anything,” she’d admonish him. It’s no small irony that years later, he would play a universally beloved television character named Hawkeye.

Alda played that part for 11 years in the classic hit M*A*S*H and, more recently, tweaked liberal sensibilities as the Goldwater-like Arnold Vinick in The West Wing. He is a prolific writer and director with 33 Emmy nominations (six wins) plus three Tony nominations for his work on Broadway. And then there are the many memorable film roles, from Crimes and Misdemeanors to California Suite to, most recently, Tower Heist.

It’s no surprise that Alda’s perpetually in demand for films and TV, but what is surprising is where his heart is these days. His deep-rooted passion for science has evolved into a remarkable endeavor: He’s currently visiting professor at Stony Brook University’s Center for Communicating Science—a department he helped found in 2009 to train scientists to communicate more effectively with the public. As if that weren’t a sufficient departure from show biz, in 2012 Alda and the center also created the Flame Challenge, an annual international contest in which scientists are challenged to explain complex concepts to 11-year-old children. More so than any of his television, stage, or screen credits, Alda is palpably animated when conversing about these unique ventures.

Question: How did you become a visiting professor at Stony Brook University?
Alan Alda: I realized when I was doing Scientific American Frontiers for 11 years on PBS how important it was for the scientists to have really good communication skills. Science really surrounds us in our lives, and it’s at the heart of our economy. We all have to understand it better. So, in my travels, whenever I was at a university where they taught science, I would ask, did they think it would be possible to train scientists as communicators while they are training them as scientists? The only place in the country that really picked up on the idea was Stony Brook. And Howie Schneider, who runs the school of journalism, got very enthused about it and began the Center for Communicating Science. And I’ve been helping with that.

Q: This is a rather unusual move for a movie star.
AA: My relationship with science is as someone who’s curious and hungry to know, hungry to understand. So all I have to offer is my ignorance and my curiosity, which is a good combination, as long as they come together. Ignorance without curiosity is not so hot. But I actually do have something to offer, which is that I’ve spent my life communicating and thinking about how communication works.

Q: There should probably also be a center for communicating economics, public policy, law—all kinds of other disciplines, don’t you think?
AA: I can’t change the entire world [laughing]. Yeah, better communication would be terrific. I’ve often wondered what the “fiscal cliff” was [chuckling], or even what “Obamacare“ actually entails—it’s always been a little murky and could have been communicated better.

Q: And yet we’re voting on these things.
AA: I know that some members of Congress have not understood these subjects as well as they might want to. So, yeah, our lives depend on good communication. Good communication helps personal relationships, it helps bosses and employees get along better. We rely on it.

Q: Speaking of science, what’s the status of your play, Radiance: The Passion of Marie Curie?
AA: We did a wonderful production of it at the Geffen Playhouse in California. Anna Gunn played Marie, and she was fantastic and that was wonderful for me to see. I’m constantly revising it. In the car on the way over here I was making notes on a couple of scenes. It sounds stupid if I tell you how many drafts I have.

Q: I’m a writer. Please, share!
AA: How about 100. I probably will be continuing to work on it until well after I’m dead. I love the character; she is a hero of mine and I want to tell that story as well as I can.

Q: You write, act, direct. Do you sing, too?
AA: I have sung twice on Broadway—in The Apple Tree and in a musical that lasted until the end of the first act. [Laughs.] It was called Café Crown. I have to work hard at singing. I was thrown out of the glee club in high school because I had trouble staying in the same key. I have this unique ability to sing in three keys at once. Seriously, I’ve gotten a lot better over the years. I sing when I have to.

Q: Would you star in a television series again?
AA: If they asked me to do a show that I’m interested in or that I’d get to work with someone that I’d like to work with. I like to work with Laura Linney, so I did her show [The Big C] a few times. I did ER and The West Wing. They were really interesting places to act. And 30 Rock. That was fun. Tina Fey is so brilliant. I’m in this wonderful position where I can do what interests me. And whatever comes along that interests me, I do. The rest of the time I bother scientists about communicating.

Alan Alda The Saturday Evening Post

Photo credit Michael Yarish/AMC

Matt Weiner, the creator of Mad Men, has a shelf full of Emmys and Golden Globes not to mention critical raves for the hit series now in its sixth season. The retro drama about a 1960s ad agency has left its mark on everything from fashion to the way we look at gender roles. So why is Weiner the first to admit he can be a little anxious about being at the top?

Maybe because he’s hardly an overnight success. He can laugh now about all the time he spent after grad school writing scripts, while his architect wife supported the family. Along the way, he wrote the pilot for Mad Men, but received nothing but rejections.

Weiner’s break came when he started writing for The Sopranos. That show was so hot it made his reputation, but even that wasn’t enough to sell HBO on Mad Men. Eventually it was AMC that took the gamble.

Weiner is charming—a great talker—but notoriously close-mouthed about where the series is going and whether the end is in sight. He’s already made his first bid to move to the big screen writing and directing with last fall’s You Are Here starring Zach Galifianakis and Jenna Fischer.

Question: How has success changed you?
Matt Weiner: I’m less combative. Finding an audience of even a few people after being rejected for a long time kind of recalibrates your perception of humanity, believe it or not. But I’m superstitious about the word success. It took awhile to realize that this really happened after years of privation and rejection. Ironically I’m the person who wrote, ‘Happiness is the moment before you need more happiness.’ So even the premise of the question, ‘How do you feel about success?’ is terrifying.

Q: What would you rewrite about yourself?
MW: I’ve got plenty of bad qualities that have not disappeared. I’m working on being more patient. That can be difficult to be around. I am very exacting. I think I can come off seeming unappreciative of the people closest to me sometimes because I have the complete expectation that I’m entitled to their affection. That’s probably my biggest fault—impatience.

Q: Are you different at home?
MW: I’m like every dad, I’m a joke. [He has four sons.] My anger’s a joke. My dissatisfaction’s a joke. My rules are a joke. I’m always fighting to enforce my authority. I work so much that when I come home and say, ‘Hey everybody, don’t do it this way,’ they’re like, ‘If you were here you’d know this is the way we do it.’ It’s like I’m powerless. You know what, once you take physical violence out of the equation, you really have no control over another person. [Laughs]

Q: Have you tried being a diplomat around the house?
MW: I lose my temper. I’ve got a bad temper. I’ll get mad and be swearing and using the ‘F’ word in the kitchen. Afterwards I’m so embarrassed and I look over at my kids in the next room and I’m like, ‘God, I hope they didn’t hear that.’ And I see they are laughing but trying to cover it up so they won’t embarrass me.

Q: What inspired you to be a writer and to stick with that unrealistic ambition?
MW: I had a lot of support from my parents. They loved and admired writers. We have a big poster of Ernest Hemingway in our hallway. I think that that mattered to me that they thought writing could be a heroic profession and a writer could make like a valuable contribution.

Q: What made you aim so high?
MW: I was a terrible student. I had a lot of mentors, teachers who encouraged me, kind of told me whether I believed it or not that I was a late bloomer. I gave a speech at my high school graduation and a dad in my class told me that I could be a TV writer. It wasn’t just any dad, it was Allan Burns who created The Mary Tyler Moore Show. And so I had that in my hip pocket. And then I went to college and did some acting and wrote poetry. Then I went to film school and was out of work for 5 years even though I was writing all the time. I tell people the hardest part about it was not knowing that it was going to be 5 years—it wasn’t that I was going do it, it was those years of not knowing when I was going to be a success.

Q: Don Draper the main character on the show says, ‘Everyone thinks this is temporary.’ Do you think that?
MW: I am extremely aware that the end is coming but not when. I’ve always had to sweat. I never have been sure Mad Men was going to go on again. I live and die by this thing. I want people to say, ‘That was the best season of the show ever.’ I want them to progressively say during the season, ‘That was the best episode of the show ever!’ I am always aspiring to keep it new and fresh. But you’re going to lose if you’re always trying to top yourself. You end up doing something crazy.

Q: You are pretty secretive about the plots of the episodes.
MW: I’m not trying to tease people. I just don’t want to give away to viewers what’s coming because not knowing what is going to happen is part of what keeps people interested. I think fans of the show, the ones who really love it, don’t want to know. But it is hard to talk about a new season without getting specific. At the beginning of a season I’m always like, ‘I’m starting a whole new story. If you don’t like it, then it’s not for you. But it’s not because it’s not as good as last year. It’s just different.’ No matter what happens you’ll be able to understand it. It’s a TV show, it’s not War and Peace.

Q: Are there lessons that having a huge hit have taught you?
MW: At a certain point you realize that being mature in this job is not thinking that you can do it all by yourself. You can’t forget that other people have the best stuff to offer and you need to be excited when you hear something you didn’t think about. I try to remember that I don’t always give enough praise. I get so much attention for my contribution to the series, and I wish I could share the glory a little bit more. I always mention the work of my producers and co-writers but it seldom gets printed. And I want people to know that that’s not my fault. That I try to share the wealth.

Q: What’s the right way to handle fame?
MW: I remember watching Jennifer Lawrence fall on the stairs as she went up to accept her Oscar. And I just thought, ‘If I were to write an acceptance speech, it would start like that.’ That moment to me was kind of like instant humility. She recovered with such grace and good humor. That’s a hard thing for people to understand. You just don’t want to attract the evil eye, become arrogant, rest on your laurels, and take it for granted.

Q: Does the great acceptance of the show give you more creative confidence?
MW: Trying to put a dream into words is a lot of what it is at the beginning of the season. And the ship leaves the port but you still don’t know if it’s any good. That’s the thing that never goes away. You don’t even know, even when the season’s over, even when you win an award, if you like pulled it off. And you know anyone who says they’re only interested in satisfying themselves is a fool.

Meet Mad Men Creator Matt Weiner The Saturday Evening Post

Born of Hollywood royalty, the Smash star, now 61, has found a new inner confidence. Illustration by John Jay Cabuay.

When Anjelica Huston enters a room, she commands your attention just as she does on screen. She’s an imposing presence, even a little intimidating—she’s just so tall!—until she breaks into that charming, mischievous grin. It’s quickly obvious that the actress is nothing like the scheming, tough-as-nails producer, Eileen Rand, whom she plays on the NBC series, Smash.

As Huston speaks, revealing a self-deprecating sense of humor that’s thoroughly endearing, it’s hard to separate the drama in her life from the memorable characters she’s brought to life, from the mob wife in Prizzi’s Honor to Morticia in The Addams Family.

Huston was born into Hollywood royalty. Her dad was legendary director John Huston. Her mother, John’s fourth wife, was Italian ballerina, Enrica “Ricki” Soma. Houseguests ranged from Marlon Brando to John Paul Sartre and John Steinbeck. She began acting in small roles, mainly in her father’s films. Then, just as she was coming into her own, her mother was killed in a car accident. That changed the direction of her life.

She moved to New York, and as a young woman, her grace, stature, and angular good looks led her to modeling. Richard Avedon photographed her for Vogue. The big change in her life came when her father cast her in Prizzi’s Honor, a part that earned her an Oscar and made her a star. She co-starred with her longtime love Jack Nicholson. They were together for 16 years, but once she got famous there was a lot more interest in them as a couple—always talk about the ups and downs of that relationship.

Finally, they split—another big life-changer.

When she and Nicholson parted company, Hollywood watched to see if she’d ever find her Mr. Right. The answer came when she walked down the aisle with celebrated sculptor Robert Graham–known for works like the Olympic Gateway at the Los Angeles Coliseum, the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial in D.C., and the Duke Ellington Monument in New York’s Central Park. The handsome artist and the beautiful actress were a standout couple in the arenas of entertainment and art.

Graham also loved to draw beautiful women and their bodies. There was one star-studded showing of his work where people teased him about nude drawings that looked an awful lot like Anjelica. She casually deflected the questions by talking about “my fantastic husband” and playing up his many other accomplishments. The two were inseparable, so his sudden death from a heart attack four years ago left her shattered. Her many friends within and without Hollywood rallied around her, but she credits Smash—her first venture into series television—with coming at a “vital time” and finally filling a void in her life.

Question: I have known you for years. I listen to the laugh in your voice and you’ve got the greatest smile. Why do they keep casting you as these stern women like Eileen in Smash?
Anjelica Huston: [Laughing] Well, Eileen does have a good sense of humor. But it’s true, they like me to be these slightly sinister characters. It’s good to play against type, I guess.

“Sometimes I’m a wimp, and other days I think I can conquer the world.” Photo courtesy NBC Universal.

Q: And what would you say your type is?
AH: I really don’t match any stereotype. I never felt like I “fit in.” That’s probably what makes me a great observer.

Q: But doesn’t your character’s feistiness reflect you maybe just a little?
AH: I would like to be as scrappy as Eileen. I can certainly wrap my brain around her scrappiness. But sometimes I’m a wimp, and other days I think I can conquer the world. I wish I could plan it out a bit better.

Q: You get some steamy romantic scenes on the show. Do you get a kick out of that?
AH: It all depends on who with. But it certainly livens things up—particularly at my age. I remember at the very outset, two years ago, I said to the producers, ‘Please, give me a love interest.’ I think it’s important to see strong women who also have a very vulnerable side and who are allowed to have a sexy side.

Q: As the years pass, what has changed for you?
AH: The older I get, the more I look for a good time. I remember when I was in my 20s and 30s, I was always in some fight with a boyfriend or involved in some drama, something to feel bad about. I feel so the opposite of that now. I just like to have a good time, smile, and be with my friends. You know, tell a story, have a drink. I’m certainly not looking for angst.

Smash Star Anjelica Huston The Saturday Evening Post

Illustration by Jody Hewgill

Shirley MacLaine has lived a lot in her 78 years. She also famously insists that she’s lived centuries more in past lives.

Outrageously outspoken with a rapier wit, the Academy Award-winning actress, singer, and dancer is a Hollywood powerhouse. As a best-selling author, she’s fascinated us with her mystical preoccupation in everything from reincarnation to psychics and spirit guides. Even skeptics agree that her exploration of the far-out is an entertaining ride. Whether guesting on a talk show or walking the red carpet she always manages to get a gasp along with the laughs at her no-holds-barred one-liners.

MacLaine hasn’t given a thought to retiring or even slowing down—why should she? Her deliciously nasty turn as an old woman a small town loves to hate in Bernie, opposite Jack Black, earned rave reviews. Her latest book of witty observations, I’m Over All That: And Other Confessions, shows how she winks at looking back and looking forward.

And now she’s got a juicy co-starring role in the hugely popular Emmy-winning Masterpiece series Downton Abbey, as Lady Cora’s mother Martha Levinson, who arrives from New York to upset the household. That, of course, pits her against another icon of the big screen, Dame Maggie Smith, who plays the fearsome Dowager Countess Violet Crawley.

As we move forward in the new year, who better than MacLaine to give us a little perspective in her own irresistibly humorous and thought-provoking style?

Shirley MacLaine The Saturday Evening Post

See also, Shirley MacLaine’s Gourmet Lamb Stew.

Ernest Borgnine’s Italian Pevronatta The Saturday Evening Post

Rich Roasted Tomato Soup

(Makes 4 servings)

Roasted tomatoes, garlic, and dried herbes de Provence give this soup a sweet and savory flavor. Photo courtesy Shutterstock.

Ingredients

• 8 Roma tomatoes, cut in half lengthwise
• 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
• Kosher salt and freshly 
ground black pepper
• ½ cup plus 1 tablespoon water, 
divided
• ½ onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 teaspoons dried herbes 
de Provence
• 2 cups chicken or vegetable 
stock
• Sour cream or olive oil, for 
garnish (if desired)

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 275° F. Line baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. In bowl, toss tomatoes with 1 tablespoon olive oil, salt, and pepper.
3. Place tomatoes, cut side down, on prepared baking sheet and drizzle 1 tablespoon water over tomatoes.
4. Bake in oven for 1 hour. Remove from oven. Carefully peel off skins and discard.
5. Flip tomatoes over so they’re cut side up, and place back in oven until tomatoes are shriveled but not dry, another 30 to 60 minutes.
6. Remove tomatoes from oven and allow to cool slightly.
7. Meanwhile, in large saucepan, saute onion in remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil over low heat until very soft, 10 to 12 minutes.
8. Add garlic and herbes de Provence and cook until fragrant, another 1 to 2 minutes.
9. Add stock and remaining ½ cup water and bring to simmer. Simmer 15 minutes.
10. Cool slightly. In blender, puree tomatoes (including any cooking liquid on baking sheet) and stock mixture until very smooth. You may need to work in batches.
11. Strain through fine sieve if very smooth texture is desired.
12. Pour soup back into saucepan, season with salt and pepper, and heat gently.
13. To serve, ladle into cups or bowls and top with either swirl of olive oil or little sour cream, if desired.

Nutrition Facts

---

Calories:178
Total fat: 6.8g
Carbohydrate: 17g
Fiber:23g
Protein:3.8g
Sodium:291mg

Recipe Courtesy Melissa d’Arabian, as seen on Food Network’s Ten Dollar Dinners.

Melissa d’Arabian’s Rich Roasted 
Tomato Soup The Saturday Evening Post

Sweet Potato, Corn, and Kale Chowder

(Makes 6 servings)

This version of traditional chowder-style soups includes sweet potato and kale for a flavorful, filling meal. Photo by Gentl & Hyers.

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon grapeseed oil
• 1 small onion, diced
• 3 stalks celery, diced
• 3 carrots, diced
• 3 medium sweet potatoes, 
peeled and diced
• 3 cups corn, fresh or frozen
• 2 teaspoons dried thyme
• 2 cups vegetable stock
• 2 cups rice milk, plus more 
if needed
• 2 tablespoons cashew butter, 
dissolved in ¼ cup hot water
• 1 bunch kale, chopped into 
small pieces
• Water or stock as needed
• Sea salt and freshly ground black 
pepper

Directions

1. In large pot over medium heat, sauté onion in oil until soft (about 3 minutes).
2. Add celery, carrots, sweet potatoes, corn, thyme, and stock and simmer 5 minutes.
3. Add enough rice milk to cover vegetables.
4. Bring to boil, reduce heat and simmer until vegetables are soft (about 20 minutes).
5. Remove from heat, and add dissolved cashew butter. Partially puree using handheld blender.
6. Add kale, return to heat, thin with water or stock to achieve desired consistency, and cook until kale is tender.
7. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve.

Nutrition Facts

---

Calories: 245
Total fat: 7.8g
Carbohydrate: 44g
Fiber:56g
Protein: 5.6g
Sodium: 350mg

Reprinted with permission from Clean Food, Revised Edition © 2010 by Terry Walters, Sterling Epicure, an imprint of Sterling Publishing Co. Inc., Photography by Gentl & Hyers.

Terry Walters’ Sweet Potato, Corn, and Kale Chowder The Saturday Evening Post

Winter Vegetable Minestrone

(Makes 4 servings)

Curtis Stone's take on this classic Italian soup is both hearty, healthy, and easy on your wallet.

Ingredients

• ⅔ pound Coles Finest Angus beef sausages, casings removed, meat broken into large chunks
• 1 tablespoon Coles Brand olive oil
• 1 small brown onion, finely chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 1 teaspoon Coles Brand fennel seeds, lightly crushed
• 1 sprig fresh rosemary
• 2 medium carrots, peeled, cut into 1 centimeter pieces
• 2 medium parsnips, peeled, cut into 1 centimeter pieces
• 2 cups Coles Brand chicken stock
• 3 cups water
• 1 cup Coles Brand shell pasta
• 1 cup Coles Brand canned cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
• 1 cup fresh baby spinach leaves
• ¼ cup shaved Mil Lel parmesan cheese

Directions

1. Heat large heavy based saucepan over high heat.
2. Once hot, add sausage and brown on all sides, about 4 minutes.
3. Remove from pan. Strain off any fat.
4. Add oil and onion and cook for about 2 minutes, stirring occasionally until onion softens slightly.
5. Add garlic, fennel seeds, and rosemary, cook for 1 minute.
6. Reduce heat to medium. Add carrots and parsnips, and cook for 2-3 minutes until tender.
7. Season with salt and pepper. Return sausage to pan.
8. Stir in the stock and water with wooden spoon, and bring to boil.
9. Swirl back of ladle over surface of soup, pushing any fat or foam to edges.
10. Add pasta and cook, stirring often, for about 9 minutes until pasta is al dente and vegetables are tender.
11. Remove rosemary stem. Gently stir in beans and simmer for 2 minutes, until heated through.
12. Turn off heat and fold in spinach.
13. Divide soup evenly among four serving bowls and serve with parmesan cheese.

Recipe courtesy Curtis Stone.

Curtis Stone’s Winter Vegetable Minestrone The Saturday Evening Post

While every home cook can ladle out a family favorite, we invited celebrity chefs—Melissa d’Arabian, Emeril Lagasse, Ellie Krieger, Curtis Stone, and Terry Walters—to stir the proverbial pot by sharing simmering soup recipes from their kitchens.

Tomato Soup

Melissa d’Arabian’s Rich Roasted Tomato Soup

This take on tomato soup uses ripe, roasted tomatoes for a sweet, rich flavor. Add a tasty grilled cheese sandwich for a winning combination!

Caldo Verde

Emeril Lagasse’s New-Style Caldo Verde

Chef Emeril adds crispy kale to give this spicy stew, his childhood favorite, added texture and flavor.

Navy Bean Soup with Ham

Ellie Krieger’s Navy Bean Soup with Ham

Try this healthy version of a classic bean soup with chunks of ham on a cold winter night.

Winter Vegetable Minestrone

Curtis Stone’s Winter Minestrone

Curtis Stone’s take on this classic Italian soup is both hearty, healthy, and easy on your wallet.

Sweet Potato, Corn, and Kale Chowder

Terry Walters’ Sweet Potato, Corn, and Kale Chowder

This version of traditional chowder-style soups includes sweet potato and kale for a flavorful, filling meal.

Celebrity Soups The Saturday Evening Post

Navy Bean Soup with Ham

(Makes 8 servings)

Try this healthy version of a classic bean soup on a cold winter night. Photo from Comfort Food Fix: Feel-Good Favorites Made Healthy by Ellie Krieger (John Wiley & Sons).

Ingredients

• 1 pound dried navy beans
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 large onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 large carrot, diced
• 2 ribs celery, diced
• 1 tablespoon crumbled fresh 
sage
• 4 cups low-sodium beef broth
• 4 cups water
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground 
black pepper
• 4 ounces lean ham steak, cubed
• 1 cup chopped fresh parsley leaves

Directions

1. Pick over beans and discard any stones.
2. Soak beans in cold water for at least 8 hours. Drain and rinse well.
3. Heat oil in soup pot over medium-high heat.
4. Add onion and cook, stirring, until soft and translucent, about 4 minutes.
5. Add garlic and cook for 30 seconds.
6. Add carrot, celery, and sage and cook, stirring, until vegetables begin to soften, about 5 minutes.
7. Add beans, beef broth, water, bay leaf, salt, and black pepper and bring to boil.
8. Reduce heat to medium low, cover, and cook until beans have begun to soften, about 1 hour.
9. Add ham and cook, uncovered, until beans are soft and soup has thickened, about 30 minutes more.
10. Serve garnished with parsley.

Nutrition Facts

SERVING SIZE

---

Calories: 250
Total fat: 4g
Carbohydrate: 38g
Fiber: 15g
Protein: 6g
Sodium: 530mg

Recipe from Comfort Food Fix: Feel-Good Favorites Made Healthy by Ellie Krieger (John Wiley & Sons).

Ellie Krieger’s Navy Bean Soup with Ham The Saturday Evening Post

New-Style Caldo Verde

(Makes 4 to 6 servings)

Chef Emeril adds crispy kale to give this spicy stew texture and flavor. Photo by Steven Freeman from EMERIL 20-40-60: Fresh Food Fast, HarperStudio, New York, 2009, courtesy Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia Inc.

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 ½ cups finely chopped yellow 
onions
• 1 tablespoon minced garlic
• 2 pounds Idaho potatoes, peeled 
and cut into ½-inch cubes
• 7 cups chicken stock or canned, 
low-sodium chicken broth
• Salt (if desired) and freshly ground 
black pepper, to taste
• ½ teaspoon crushed red pepper
• 8 ounces kale, large stems and 
ribs removed
• 8 ounces firm (smoked) chorizo 
or other hot smoked sausage, 
diced or crumbled
• ½ cup chopped fresh cilantro
• ¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
• 2 tablespoons chopped 
fresh mint

Directions

1. Heat olive oil over medium-high heat in large soup pot, and add onions and garlic.
2. Cook until onions are wilted, 4 minutes.
3. Add potatoes and chicken stock, cover, and bring to boil.
4. Season with salt and pepper, and add crushed red pepper.
5. Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, until potatoes are tender, 20 minutes.
6. While potatoes are cooking, thinly slice kale. Set aside.
7. When soup is thick and potatoes have begun to break down, add sausage and cook for 5 minutes.
8. Stir in kale and simmer until leaves have softened but are still slightly crunchy and flavors have melded, 15 minutes.
9. Stir in cilantro, parsley, and mint, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve hot.

Nutrition Facts

---

Calories: 325
Total fat: 19.6g
Carbohydrate: 23g
Fiber: 37g
Protein: 15.3g
Sodium: 929mg

Recipe by Emeril Lagasse, photography by Steven Freeman from EMERIL 20-40-60: Fresh Food Fast, HarperStudio, New York, 2009, courtesy Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia Inc.

Emeril Lagasse’s New-Style Caldo Verde The Saturday Evening Post

Shirley MacLaine’s Gourmet Lamb Stew The Saturday Evening Post

Adoration increased with each Rudolph Valentino film. With the appearance of The Son of the Sheik in the summer of 1926, Valentino worship became feverish.

It was a quiet funeral home in a respectable part of Manhattan, but on August 24, 1926, it was the improbable scene of a near riot. The turmoil broke out among thousands of women, mourning the death of actor Rudolph Valentino, as they attempted to rush the doors at Campbell’s Funeral Church. After several women broke through a large plate-glass window, police were called to the scene.

For the next few days, as contributor Beverly Smith Jr. noted in his Post article “Farewell, Great Lover” (January 20, 1962), the police had their hands full controlling the line of women—estimates vary between 30,000 and 100,000—who waited to file past Valentino’s mortal remains. In a time of mass excitements, he wrote, the Valentino craze lasted longer than most among “the nation’s more susceptible womenfolk, from flappers to grandmothers.”

The surging crowds at Campbell’s gave America its first glimpse at the modern celebrity cult. Until then, America had known actors and musicians who could draw large crowds, but no one had been able to draw so many fans for so many days.

The crowd outside Valentino's funeral—with more men in line than one would expect. From "Farewell, Great Lover!" January 20, 1962.

The Valentino craze began 91 years ago this month, with the premier of The Sheik. Today, it seems like a prehistoric, overacted piece of melodrama. Yet it still offers a vivid reflection of American society as it entered the modern age.

It was remarkably successful, earning $1 million in its first year—five times more than what it cost to produce.

Just as reflective of the year 1921, though, is how the movie became so profitable. The Sheik didn’t work the same old melodramatic formula, offering women another charming hero in another predictable romance. Instead it gave them Hollywood’s first male sex symbol.

The paradigm-shifting flick, as advertised in the pages of The Saturday Evening Post, November 26, 1921.

Rudolph Valentino (i.e., Rodolfo Alfonzo Raffaello Pierre Filibert Guglielmi Di Valentina d’Antonguolla) was an Italian immigrant who’d worked his way across the country with odd jobs, eventually winding up as a ballroom dancer in California. His tango skills helped him land a role in The Four Horsemen of Apocalypse in 1920. The film was a hit, principally due to Valentino’s success in portraying an impulsive, fiery, headstrong “Latin lover.” Later that year, he was chosen to play another exotic lover: Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan.

Three minutes into the movie, as Valentino appeared before his tent, happily supervising the sale of wives to his tribesmen, many American women began to reconsider their choice of daydreams. Suddenly the old romantic heroes—the rugged lawman, sensitive poet, laughing cavalier, or wealthy sophisticate—were demoted by Valentino’s ability to smolder, pose, look imperious, and break into a boyish grin.

As the Sheik, Valentino’s lustful stare drove women wild in 1921.

Years later, actress Bette Davis recalled, “A whole generation of females wanted to ride off into a sandy paradise with him.” But the Sheik’s paradise wasn’t about sharing poetry and soulful looks while holding hands. It was about sex.

The novel, on which the movie was based, concerned a willful aristocrat, Lady Diana Mayo, who sets out to explore the Algerian desert with no company but an Arab guide. Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan spies her and, within a chapter, abducts her and rapes her. But apparently it’s all right because Lady Mayo falls in love with him by the end of the book.

The novel is not explicit about the rape, but it leaves the reader in little doubt. (“Her whole body was one agonized ache from the brutal hands that forced her to compliance,” chapter three, The Sheik, Edith Hull, 1919.) The movie is even more careful to avoid direct reference to sexual assault, but the implications are as subtle as a billboard:

“Why have you brought me here?” Lady Mayo demands of the Sheik in his tent.

Lady Mayo, played by Agnes Ayres, in the clutches of Valentino’s Sheik.

He replies. “Are you not woman enough to know?” (See accompanying leer at right.)

The movie played to the liberated spirit of the 1920s. It was the perfect entertainment for a carefree, reckless age. It appealed to women who were celebrating the modern freedoms, the new fashions of the Flapper, bootleg liquor, hot jazz, and the permissiveness to “pet” in the boyfriend’s roadster far in a dark lane, far from parents’ supervision.

The movie also reflected a changing attitude among American men. For the most part, they hated the new male sex symbol, having already committed themselves to the styles of Douglas Fairbanks or Tom Mix. But other men saw the future of American romance in Valentino’s polished, sensual manner and hurried to climb onto the bandwagon. They copied Valentino’s world-weary languor, his smooth manners, his passionate lovemaking, and his thoroughly oiled hair.

Lastly, but unfortunately, the Sheik represents the ambient racism that Americans had come to expect from popular entertainment of the 1920s.

In the book and movie, much is made about the forbidden love between an Arab and a “white woman.” Even love could not be allowed to overcome the social divide of Arab and European. But any plot that worked so hard to unite the lovers could find a convenient solution. The Sheik, it was revealed at last, was not “Arab” but as “white” as Lady Mayo. He had been adopted by the Ben Hassan tribe as a youngster, but was nonetheless the child of an English father and Spanish mother. The happy ending could now proceed. While some women could forgive abduction and assault in 1921, no one felt comfortable with interracial romance.

It might have been the modern age, but American society hadn’t come that far.

How Rudolph Valentino Invented Sex Appeal The Saturday Evening Post

Como died a few months later at the age of 88 on May 12th, 2001—and a few days later, I received the photo back with his signature on it. So I probably have the last autograph of Perry Como’s life—not that anyone cares. I recently bought a signed Perry Como record contract for $48 on eBay, and the people who know me know to buy me Perry Como stuff for my birthday: both because I love him and because it’s a really, really affordable gift.

2012 marks the hundredth anniversary of Como’s birth, and I would bet anything that this piece might be the only mention of it in the media. But it’s high time for a re-examination of his legacy—and a rediscovery of one of the greatest and certainly the most underrated male singers of the Great American Songbook.

Indeed it was Perry Como’s success with the Ted Weems Orchestra that played a key role in inspiring Frank Sinatra to leave the Tommy Dorsey orchestra in 1942 and embark on a solo career. “Mr. Como was with Ted Weems, a then-popular orchestra leader, and he is still such a wonderful singer,” Sinatra said. “I thought if I don’t make a move out of this band and try to do it on my own soon, one of these guys will do it, and I’ll have to fight.”

If Frank Sinatra, a man known for many things—the ease with which he was intimidated not among them, felt threatened by the prospect of a Perry Como solo career, it’s worth a second look at his work.

That is where problems begin: the greatest enemy of Como’s legacy has been, paradoxically, his greatest successes. His biggest hits mainly consisted of faddish novelty songs: “Hot Diggity Dog (Ziggity Boom),” “Papa Loves Mambo,” “Hoop-De-Doo,” and “Kewpie Doll,” and melodramatic septuagenarian pabulum ballads like “Temptation,” “Prisoner of Love,” and “If,” and his improbable 1971 comeback “It’s Impossible.”

It’s tempting to blame Como for his willingness to sing poor material, but the truth is that nearly every popular vocalist of the era did the same thing. No one talks about “Mama Will Bark”—a duet that featured Sinatra singing with Dagmar and the sound effects of a dog—because it flopped and most disc jockeys played the B-side, “I’m a Fool to Want You,” instead. But the public responded best to Como’s worst songs, and his legacy has suffered for it.

But even on his worst songs—and especially on his better album cuts, the artistry and genius of the Perry Como style is evident. It is so smooth, not in the slick, self-conscious way that Dean Martin sang but in the understated, too confident to show off manner of a true pro. Como is the dancer who is so talented and practiced that it looks effortless, while lesser performers grunt, sweat and wail their way through shows.

But one of the best parts of the Perry Como experience is that you can listen knowing that he lived his life with the same mellow warmth of his music.

He was married to one woman, Roselle Como until her death in 1998. They were together for 65 years and adopted several children together. Como did no club appearances for 26 years—the prime of his career. Instead, he focused on his TV show, recordings, and family. A 1957 Look magazine cover story asked the question: “Perry Como: Is He Really Mr. Nice Guy?”

“It is pointed out that Como is the only TV performer with a price tag of more than a million dollars a year who has no enemies and no embarrassing eccentricities and whose personal life has always been unblemished by gossip,” reporter Joe McCarthy noted.

“I’m not relaxed, I’m just tired,” Como told him.

Como was one of 13 children born to Italian immigrants in Cannonsburg, Pennsylvania. His father worked as a laborer at a tin-plate factory for $35 per week. By the time Perry was 10 years old, he was getting up at 6:00 each day to sweep the floor at a barber shop on his way to school; after class, he returned to shine shoes, heat towels, and sharpen razors. He had his own chair as a barber by the age of 13, and was a major contributor to his family’s finances.

He left the hair business to embark on a singing career. When not making progress, he returned to the barbershop for several years before he was lured back into show business with the offer of his own radio show. When a reporter suspected that the “singing barber” story was an invention of a record-company marketing department, Como responded by giving the reporter a free haircut.

In the 1950s, Como hit his stride as one of the most popular television show hosts of his era. The Perry Como Show ran in various incarnations into the 1960s, while he continued to record occasional specials.

It was during The Perry Como Show period that he recorded a series of albums for RCA/Victor. With the TV show providing Como with a built-in audience and rock and roll bumping the traditional pop vocalists off the radio, there was less pressure to focus on hit singles, and the best-recorded work of Perry Como’s career emerged.

While Sinatra was recording the concept albums that marked the rebirth of his career, Como was scoring steady sellers with titles such as So Smooth, We Get Letters (1957), Saturday Night With Mr. C (1958), Como Swings (1959), and 1961’s Young at Heart. Como’s albums provide the laidback counterpart to Sinatra’s hip Las Vegas sound.

If I could pick one song that epitomizes the Perry Como style at its best, it would be “Gypsy in My Soul,” the eighth track on Saturday Night with Mr. C. With light orchestration, Como just rolls through the song: “If I am fancy-free and love to wander, it’s just a gypsy in my soul,” he sings, letting the last word drift off into two syllables. The enunciation is understated and lilting, and the result is a song that is almost impossible to listen to without smiling.

The almost completely forgotten ballad “Toselli’s Serenade” is another of Como’s best recordings, this one from 1966. It’s a sad song (Dreams and memories/Are all that you’ve left me/Only lonely thoughts/About the one I worship and adore) out dreams and regrets is the perfect treatment for it. Mario Lanza, generally regarded as a superior vocalist, belts it into a dramatic power ballad. But Como’s version is both more enjoyable and more in sync with the lyrics.

In a business where leaving a distinct mark on each song is seen as a key to success, Como’s understated, unselfconscious performances set him apart. Ironically, it may explain why he’s forgotten; his style has been supplanted by belters. “Once you know a song too well, you start to fool around with it.” he said. “At the session, when the band’s working on the arrangement, I learn the tune right there.”

Como’s onscreen presence matched his vocals. Though his movie career at MGM was unsuccessful (his most well-known film being 1945’s Doll Face with co-stars Vivian Blaine and Carmen Miranda), his laidback manner could not have been better suited to the early days of television. With a sound and presence inoffensive and warm, Como was exactly what people wanted in their living rooms.

A 1954 12-city poll of 20-year-old women by Life magazine found that Perry Como was the most popular choice for a potential spouse even though the magazine noted, he “does not fit all the requirements nor all of the personal characteristics girls rate high. He is 5 feet 9 1/2 inches tall instead of 6 feet. His eyes are brown instead of blue and he is not 23. He almost never washes dishes.”

“I was always relaxed on camera when I sang, mainly because I’m not very high-strung or animated by nature.” he told Good Housekeeping in a 1990 profile. “Acting coaches in Hollywood were always telling me to use my hands and body more. But that was never me. I just breathe and sometimes it doesn’t look as if I’m doing that.”

One of the more interesting The Perry Como Show clips available on YouTube is a 1961 duet with 13-year-old Brenda Lee, who had recently had a major hit with “I’m Sorry.” In the video, they sing a medley including “Teach Me Tonight” and “An Apple for the Teacher”—a hit for Bing Crosby, who was Como’s biggest influence along with the long forgotten Russ Columbo. Ms. Lee appears nervous and flubs several lyrics. Como then flubs one, too, something he was not known for doing and this was, perhaps, an effort to put her at ease. Como’s posture is slightly stooped, and his manner is paternal.

When he died, RCA Records took out a full-page ad in Billboard that said simply this: “50 years of music and a life well lived. An example to all.”

Ultimately, Como’s unpretentious, warm, and light style was replaced, in some cases literally, by a more self-conscious, egocentric style of music and life: the building where he spent parts of two decades recording The Perry Como Show became Studio 54 and to the extent that he still gets any airplay at all, it comes during the holidays.

His recording of “Home for the Holidays” is still one of the more popular Christmas songs, although the less remarkable Andy Williams seems to be the crooner of choice for radio these days; Williams and Elvis Presley were the only artists to have two of the 25 Christmas songs with the most radio play in 2010, according to data from the monitoring service Mediaguide.

But Como likely wouldn’t care. An unabashed popular entertainer, he greeted his declining popularity the same way he greeted his rise to success. “I’ve done nothing that I can call exciting,” Como once said. “I was a barber. Since then I’ve been a singer. That’s it.”

On the 100th anniversary of Como’s birth, with the Great American Songbook enjoying a comeback thanks to singers like Michael Bublé and Rod Stewart, it’s time for fans of classic pop to give the best and nicest singer of the era another listen.

Why Perry Como Matters The Saturday Evening Post

By the 1920s, Norman Rockwell was a major star. And, like many other public figures before and since, he relished nothing more than the opportunity to get away from it all. He needed to escape the shackles of celebrity to stimulate his creative juices.

He found that freedom at Gibson’s Point at Louisville Landing—a town in upstate New York along the St. Lawrence River. It was a sleepy town with not much going for it aside from a small dance hall and the ferry dock where passengers boarded for the short voyage across the border to Canada.

Summering at Gibson’s Point, Rockwell shed his big-city background and fame. He retrieved drinking water from stone wells, carried firewood, and swam and fished in the river. It made him feel like a character in one of his illustrations. “This place is like a series of living Post covers—and I’m in it,” he told a young man who also visited there.

More than anything else, he enjoyed being treated like one of the local boys who sat on the porch of the general store in the evenings, listening to their elders expound on the comings and goings of the ferry. The stories told by these hard-working, honest men ignited ideas that later blossomed into Post covers. One of the themes that emerged was a return to innocence, as if the very process of quietly observing the elders of the town transported Rockwell back to his youth. It was while sitting on that porch that Rockwell was inspired to create the December 3, 1927, Post cover (pictured) celebrating the kid in all of us. The benevolent Santa is modeled on John Malone, a father figure to Rockwell and his host at Gibson’s Point.

How Norman Rockwell Escaped His Celebrity The Saturday Evening Post