Where's Armand?

Good to the Last Drop

Saturday, July 12, was the first anniversary of Armand Singer's passing. I thought we'd pause from sifting through his diaries and early life this week and go back to an entry I made on July 11, 2007. There's a song at the end that's played on You Tube and every time I hear jazz like this, I see Armand dancing with glee. It's how I always want to remember him.
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July 11, 2007. Armand declared yesterday that he was done fighting and ready to go with the flow. He refused dialysis, asked to have his ventilator removed and then more than once stated that he just wanted to die. In control, as always.

Armand is surrounded by loved ones who continue to respect his every wish and so he was placed on a morphine drip to keep him comfortable for the duration.

After my initial sadness, I decided that it was now time to turn up the music so that Armand could dance! I printed a picture of him "pouring it all out", lit my Blue Candle and went searching for some Mad Mondo Music.

He once described a beautiful night that he spent, laying in his bed with a gentle breeze coming through the window and the sound of jazz playing in the dark. It lulled him to sleep after watching some late night tv. I bet he once watched and loved this Carson show with Buddy Rich playing with Doc Severinson. Turn it up for Armand!

Weighing His Worth

Do you remember being introduced to Ward Marden, author of 1001 Horny Limericks? Perhaps you are now the proud owner of one of his books.

Well it might interest you to know that there is a used copy (in "very good" condition) on sale for $95 at Amazon.com. Armand wrote the introduction to the book as editor for Ward Marden, his nom de plume:

He was born long ago in Detroit, Michigan, there attending schools that still emphasized writing. He recalled how he and his best childhood friend would compose for each other romantic tales featuring such staples as rubies pried from the eyes of sacred East-Indian statues, or daring rescues of damsels in the direst of distress.

He briefly attended the University of California at Berkeley, but finished his undergraduate education back East, under circumstances on which for some reason he declined to elaborate. He did admit to teaching college English and mathematics and to working as a fireguard for the National Park Service, among a passel (his word) of odd jobs.

He tried his hand at fiction, but poetry (not all scurrilous) remained his principal love. He was married to a charming West Virginia girl, from which union sprang one child, whereabouts and name unknown to me.

Photo:Only Gold

In His Hand

You're looking at a page from Armand Singer's college diary from 1931 to 1934, spanning ages seventeen to twenty. It is quite arresting to observe someone's personality ingrained at such a young age. The words written by Armand at seventeen sound just like Armand speaking at ninety-two.

Even as a college student, he was interested in stamps, hiking and movies (the start of his popular culture repertoire?). Consistent subjects were his mother, the ebb and flow of his meager finances and his studies. His social life was woven in between those three topics and comprise the most interesting and endearing entries.

Armand wrote a sentence or two, everyday. On rare occasion, he had nothing to report but he took the time to write "n.n." for no news.

Long-time friend, Larry Schwab, compiled these facts about Armand:

"...when he completed his journey, had traveled in 156 countries. He had walked approximately 200,000 miles. He had climbed the highest points in all 50 United States. He had scaled many of Earth's highest mountains and nearly reached the summit of Mount Everest, the highest on Earth, at an age when most mountaineers had already hung up their crampons and ice axes."

I find it hard to believe that there was ever a day in Armand's life that could be signified by the notation: "n.n."

The Collector

Armand had a collection of prints and books illustrated by Rockwell Kent. Self Portrait, left, was one of those prominently displayed on his bedroom wall.

Armand also had a collection of hundreds upon hundreds of slides taken during his travels around the earth, labeled and boxed by year and location of the shoot. The map on the wall of his study, looked as though it had been sutured together by the black lines he indelibly inked to signify every journey he made across the planet. Over in a corner, a metal filing case held a lifetime of collected memories, Armand's diaries.

Jazz albums, and books representing a wide range of genres and periods lined the walls of his apartment that overlooked the Monongahela River. Impressive as all of these were, Armand prized his stamp collection most. As philatelist and friend Geoffrey Flack describes it:

Dr. Singer's collection of Chinese-Tibet is undoubtedly the finest ever assembled. It includes early documents and seals, Chinese Imperial and Chinese Offices, both stamps and postal history. The collection also includes very rare Chinese Invasion covers, military mail and impossible to find mobile post covers. Armand Singer was one of the first exhibitors to include very rare mail relating to Kham & Amdo in Eastern Tibet.

Where's Armand? will continue to relay the collected life of Armand Singer in order to readdress our beliefs on aging. We are in search of productive and active men and women in their nineties and beyond to write about. People who plan to collect future experiences and then go after them. Just as Armand did. You know the spirit, it lies in the question, Where's Armand?

Age is no obstacle for ballet master, 93 (Chicago Tribune article)
As the World Turns Older (LA Times article).
Self Portrait by Rockwell Kent, Aaron Galleries.