For the Time Machine Man, the ‘60s Still Rock

I am sitting across from Hal Lifson in one of those tight booths at Musso & Frank when I suddenly get the feeling that if I went outside, it would be 1968.

Part of the sensation emerges from where we are having lunch, the quintessential Hollywood bistro where the only solid deals ever made in movies were once sealed. It is the ultimate in retro restaurants.

Part of it is also Lifson himself, a quick-thinking, deal-making celebrity manager-publicist who comes across as a sweet-natured dream salesman in a Frank Capra movie. Jack Oakie sired by Phil Silvers, but looking a little like Robert Duvall.

Words fly from his mouth like birds startled into flight, going off in every direction but mine. I have to stop him every once in awhile and tell him to slow down. He responds by saying “Rewind!” and starts over again more slowly, and then builds up speed to where he must rewind again.

He is talking nonstop about the 1960s with such passion that I am sure if I stepped out the door I would see Afro hairdos and mod clothing. He remembers names and dates and places with the accuracy of a pop historian, correcting himself--”Rewind!”--when he realizes he was off by a year or maybe just six months.

His fixation on the ‘60s, however, is more than a hobby. Lifson makes his living at it. He specializes in helping the entertainment icons of the decade make comebacks, as though trying to personally re-create a culture long buried under rap and bubble-gum ballads. Think of him as a Time Machine Man.

Nancy Sinatra is one of his three clients, the others being Jackie DeShannon and Lesley Ann Warren. Over the years, he says, he’s had others, like Raquel Welch and Julie Newmar, but they come and they go. He adds wistfully, “The more you build a client up, the less they need you. When they’re making big bucks, they go with the big-timers.” He sighs. “They bounce around a lot.”

Nancy Sinatra, whom he refers to as “My Client Nancy,” has remained with Lifson since 1994. She was everywoman’s ultimate rebel-chick when she made “These Boots Are Made for Walkin”’ in the mid-’60s. Lifson was 6 when he heard her and fell instantly in love. When the public forgot her, he didn’t.

Fast forward to 1994. Lifson is deep into show biz. He’s worked with ad agencies, talent agencies and television production companies and now is a consultant with Rhino Records. All these years, he has not lessened in his love of Nancy Sinatra. So he comes up with this idea: How about a comeback? She listens to him and says why not?

Lifson hits the phone, and pretty soon he’s got her on “The Tonight Show With Jay Leno,” in concerts with Ricky Martin and Britney Spears, in rock clubs and even nude in a Playboy magazine layout, where she doesn’t look bad at all.

“This isn’t a nostalgia thing,” he says, building up speed, “but a hip retro talented commodity who still has the sparkle. The same with Jackie. You tap into a pre-existing following to get the buzz going, then you pick up the phone and call Liz Smith.”

“It’s all me,” he says, a phrase that flashes his ego and rings with truth. Personal relationships are what “the biz” is composed of, the way deals are made, the way commodities become stars. You’ve got to like the deal-maker.

“Hey,” he says, waving a fork, “you think it was easy getting a 54-year-old woman into Playboy? I’m the real deal!”

Since then, His Client Nancy, who once had two albums out, now has 15. Jackie DeShannon heard Lifson on a radio show he created, “Radio a Go Go,” that played ‘60s music, hired him as her manager-publicist and is riding the crest of the first album she’s had in 20 years.

He markets them as icons, not oldies. They play the House of Blues and Whisky a Go-Go, not recreation rooms at retirement villages.

Jackie and His Client Nancy say they owe their new careers to Lifson, who is single-handedly trying to turn back the clock to an era that is beginning to glow in retrospect. He’s thinking about writing a book called “If They’d Only Listened,” about those ‘60s stars who have, to their detriment, ignored his comeback advice.

Meanwhile, in loyalty to a decade he loves, he eats only at restaurants that were doing business in the ‘60s, such as Musso & Frank, the Smoke House and maybe Barone’s.

His ultimate goal is to sign Jane Fonda and Bobbie Gentry, who did “Ode to Billie Joe,” and revive their careers. He’s already cranking up his time machine and rewinding his pitch. Now if he can only get them to listen.

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Al Martinez’s column appears Mondays and Thursdays. He can be reached online at al.martinez@latimes.com.