"It Doesn't Have To Be Lobster"

A new season of "Vitaphone Varieties" posts --- and one which will feature a more prolific posting schedule --- must begin with apology for the delay, due entirely to file server outages that did not permit uploads, curbed downloads and refused inquiries as to why. (Indeed, if any reader can recommend a reliable file-server, do let me know?)

Kicking things off, two of the finest recordings of two melodies from a film that should seem an old friend, if not a close acquaintance, by now.

Here's Jean Goldkette & His Orchestra letting loose in richly spirited and lush renditions of: "Painting the Clouds With Sunshine," and "Tip Toe Thru the Tulips," from -- need you ask? -- "The Gold Diggers of Broadway."

Captured here by the camera lens as it looked on a random day in 1919 --- a neatly arranged and sedate phonograph store window --- at a time when the owner would be hard pressed to imagine a day when his shop, it's product line and likely the entire structure that the shop inhabited wouldn't exist as even a living memory.

It's curious then that the contents of the shop --- phonographs and recordings, should linger on so persistently, albeit in forms and in use far removed from their original purposes. Vintage phonographs are, in the best circumstances, rescued, salvaged and collected, restored, lovingly tended to and played often.

Then too, and alas, a good many of these survivors sit sadly in the corner of rooms serving as little more than a visual curiosity or decorating accent --- their wooden and iron frames silently aching to again vibrate with the music they were designed to play but instead left to harbor dust and termites --- their bodies turned into a lifeless husk that once, long ago, pulsated with music and rhythm. With life.

To kick off this new season of blog entries, and to ease our way into what I plan (or at least hope!) to be a considerably more prolific positing schedule, we have both an artist and a recording that defy the passage of time. Behold Irene Bordoni (right) jauntily perched atop an ocean liner deck fitting, circa 1927 or thereabouts. Fashions of the period, so alien and yet oddly familiar at the same time to our eyes, are here taken to new heights --- with an elaborately stitched design serving as a cryptographic monogram ("eye" + "bee" = I.B.) and stockings imprinted with both Bordoni's visage and one of another gentleman I'm hesitant to guess the identity of. Any thoughts, readers?

The tune, "Let's Misbehave" is from Cole Porter's "Paris," the 1928 stage production that would, in time, reach the screen in somewhat altered musical form as a similarly titled 1929 Warner Bros. part-Technicolor production which survives today only via Vitaphone disc sound elements.



An image, word and audio "reconstruction" of the lost 1929 film "Paris" is in preparation for these pages, and it promises to be one of the more interesting posts of this sort --- watch for it! But, in the meantime, here's Miss Bordoni accompanied by Irving Aaronson & His Commanders:

"Let's Misbehave" (1928) Irene Bordoni

"You could have a great career, and you should.
Only one thing stops you dear, you're too good!
If you want a future darling, why don't you get a past?"


Now, for some old business. An earlier post, "A Summer Idyll" (13 August 2007) lightly explored the abandoned Metro revue "The March of Time" and its participants, and focused upon the equally stirring and melancholy "Father Time" finale in particular. But what of the rest of the film? Do we know what and whom it would have contained? What it all would have looked and sounded like? Cautiously, yes --- yes we do.

Scheduled for release in September of 1930 (it was originally designed as MGM's "Hollywood Revue of 1930,") "The March of Time" would have had the interesting construction of being divided into three sections -- The Past, Present and Future. While documentation is sketchy at best --- and verification nearly impossible, "The March of Time" may have unspooled thus:

The Past:

Joe Weber and Lew Fields: "Pool Hall Sketch"
Louis Mann: "Chicken Routine"
Fay Templeton: "My Dusky Dixie Rose"
Albertina Rasch Dancers: "Hippodrome Spectacle"
Marie Dressler & William Collier: Sketch

Also appearing: DeWolfe Hopper, Barney Fagan and Josephine Sabel.

The Present:

The Dodge Twins: "The Lock Step"
Ramon Novarro: "Long Ago in Alcala"
Albertina Rasch Dancers: "Devil's Ballet"
The Duncan Sisters: "Graduation Day"
Raquel Torres: "Clocks"
"Poor Little G-String" (off-screen vocal by Bing Crosby)

Also appearing: Cliff Edwards, Benny Rubin, Gus Shy, Lottice Howell, Polly Moran, Karl Dane and George K. Arthur, and David Percy.

The Future:

"Gus Edwards Kiddie Revue"
Meyers & White "Dogville" troupe
"Robot" & "Steel" themed dance numbers
"Here Comes the Sun"
"The Merry Go Round"
"The March of Time" Finale

Surviving complete sequences and fragments such as "A Girl, A Fan and A Fellow" (which exists in the 1933 2-reeler "Nertsery Rhymes") and glimpses of a gigantic violin and snowball fight (in the 1933 feature "Broadway to Hollywood") were, I suspect, elements of the "Hippodrome Spectacle" featured in "The Past" segment --- but that, like most everything else we know about "The March of Time," is limited to conjecture, opinion and interpretation of the barest clutch of facts.

The immensely composed and comfortable looking fellow seated to the right is musician Marlin E. ("Whitey") Kaufman, who --- within a scant few years from this portrait date --- would form a moderately successful East Coast band, "Whitey Kaufman's Original Pennsylvania Serenaders" that lasted into the mid/late 1930's. It's an evocative and interesting photograph --- a lone chair pulled into the center of an empty dance-floor a short while before a performance (Kaufman is too perfectly groomed and arranged for this to have been after playing for two hours!) and there's a marvelous air of confidence and satisfaction about Kaufman that's hard to describe. He just seems so right --- so firmly attached --- to this moment in time. Unfortunately, Kaufman's banjo is difficult to discern in the following 1925 recording, but we can't move along before allowing him this chance to be heard from across a great distance indeed...

"Paddlin' Madelin' Home" (1925)

There's little I can tell you about this next offering, but items of this sort don't flit through these pages often so it's deserving of a bit of background. Provided by blog reader Gary Scott, what we have here is an excerpt of a Tri-Ergon synchronized disc transfer of the optical soundtrack for the 1930 German musical film revue "Delikatessen," these discs presumably prepared for theaters solely wired for the Vitaphone style sound-on-disc system.

The melody (which starts out sounding much like the American tune "My Blackbirds are Bluebirds Now") is titled "Es Muss Nicht Hummer Sein," which translates to "It Doesn't Have To Be Lobster."

As performed by Daniele Parola (left) it's a sprightly enough number and although my German is more than rusty, clearly the gist of the piece is that for (at least) some girls, the simple pleasures are the ones most heartily appreciated and that the need to impress is unwarranted.

The tune was popular enough at the time of the film's release ("Delikatessen" still survives, incidentally) gain recording and 78rpm release by a few German dance bands of the period and even without knowledge of the language it's easy to get caught up in the spirit of the number today. So here, sans crustacean (or mayonnaise) is:

"Delikatessen" (1930) -"Es Muss Nicht Hummer Sein"



Follow Up: The much anticipated DVD release of "Alibi" (1929,) "The Lottery Bride" (1930) and "Be Yourself" yielded not entirely unexpected results.

On the positive side, all three titles look and sound better than we'll ever likely see and hear them (and kudos to Kino Video for that!) but beyond that they're all problematic in terms of content and presentation which, for the most part, is utterly bare-bones.

"Alibi" is as it was on it's TCM airing (re-created opening titles and stray remaining frames indicating missing footage) but despite Kino's claim of restoration of the original soundtrack ("which had been recorded on disc and edited in a primitive manner") the end result is simply overly aggressive noise-filtering which clips off all highs and lows and leaves a muddy middle range where dialogue, music and sound effects all do constant battle. The film itself reigns supreme however, and "Alibi" won't disappoint on that count despite the minor imperfections and stark presentation.

"Be Yourself" is, unfortunately, the familiar truncated print that's been in circulation many a moon now (Brice is seen costuming for --- but never performing "I'm Sascha, the Passion of the Pasha") but the image and audio sparkles as never before, the latter happily escaping any attempts at "restoration."

An earlier post that explored the announcement of these titles (see: "Big Whoopee Show" - 14 July 2007) had high hopes indeed for "The Lottery Bride," but the absence of missing footage and Technicolor is compounded by careless mangling of facts in the disc's supplementary material. ("The Lottery Bride" is the only title to feature an "extra" of any sort, and here it's simply notes.) According to the DVD, the title's Technicolor footage amounted to a few frames depicting the arctic Northern Lights and a "tableau of the actors was matted into the shot." In actuality, the second half of the film's final reel was originally in the Technicolor process, and the footage (which survives intact) was made available for screening at London's British Film Institute a few short years ago.

To Kino's credit however, they do acknowledge the film's much abbreviated length for this DVD version, and the Notes section offers up the same fanciful press-release regarding the film's (seemingly only proposed) Technicolor finale that appeared in these blog's pages long before the release of the DVD itself.

In all, these are minor and ultimately unimportant quibbles. The fact remains that DVD release of material from the early sound era is, in of itself, cause for celebration and admiration for Kino's ongoing efforts to make available titles we wouldn't otherwise have with us on the DVD format. Now, where's "Puttin' On the Ritz?"

You wouldn't think it to look at him, but the youthful fellow pictured left is musician, composer and bandleader Roger Wolfe Kahn --- a name that'll be more than familiar to 20's & 30's disc collectors. What you may not know is that Kahn formed his own orchestra at the age of sixteen, in 1923. Over the coming years some of the most important names in music would be featured in Kahn's recordings, including Red Nichols, Joe Venuti, Artie Shaw and Eddie Lang --- to name just a few.

Here's Kahn's orchestra in 1928 performing "Dance Little Lady" from the Noel Coward/Charles B. Cochran revue "This Year of Grace," which had a run of 157 performances at New York City's Selwyn Theater between November of 1928 and March of 1929. (Oddly, I see that the day of this posting also marks the anniversary of Charles Cochran's 1872 birth.) The vocalist is Franklyn Baur, who's a bit lost in the swirling orchestration, don't you think?

"Dance, Little Lady" (1928) Roger Wolfe Kahn

Before moving on to our next selection, let's give Mr. Baur a bit more of a showcase for his vocal talent, this time in the form of the melody he introduced in "The Ziegfeld Follies of 1927." Accompanied by Ben Selvin & His Orchestra, Franklyn Baur steps forth with:

"Ooh! Maybe It's You!" (1927)

Klaxon voiced Irving Kaufman is seen here circa 1919, seeming quite the domestic soul and at a point in his career when he was frequently teamed on recordings with his brother, Jack. Specializing in dialect and comic songs, the pair frequently came off seeming like dime-store versions of Jones & Hare or Van & Schenck, but every now and then they'd strike out and produce a recording that's supremely original.

One such disc is the team's relatively minor but oh-so-integral vocal contribution to the Waldorf Astoria Dance Orchestra's 1919 recording of "The Vamp" --- a wildly popular tune that was recorded by just about every name band of the day. It's all pure joyful nonsense this, and the words mean even less --- but when all combined it's a musical time capsule of a nation teetering on the brink of a coming decade that would welcome and embrace such
unbridled glee as never before.

"The Vamp" (1919) Waldorf Astoria Dance Orchestra


From 1929 press material:

"It is unnecessary to travel to New York or Paris to see the dazzling stage revues that have made these cities the outstanding theatrical centers of the world."

"Those who attend Colleen Moore's newest dialogue picture, 'Footlights and Fools,' will see a brilliant revue, presented in Technicolor, with captivating melodies, as well as many of the same actors and actresses who formerly appeared in the world-famous extravaganzas."

"Max Sheck, until recently creator of the elaborate dance numbers and spectacles for the Ziegfeld Follies and the Folies Bergere of Paris, directed the stage numbers in 'Footlights and Fools' in which 72 chorus girls and men participate."

"Colleen appears in her last production for First National in the role of a plain girl who assumes a French accent and becomes the star of a musical production called 'Sins of 1930.'"

The only sin attached to "Footlights and Fools" as of this writing is that the film has seemingly vanished without a trace, with even the disc sound elements remaining elusive. Despite lukewarm critical reviews, the public turned out to hear Moore speak (and sing) in her dual role and once having done so, swiftly turned their attention elsewhere. Then too, prints supplied by the then hugely over-burdened Technicolor corporation seemed to be problematic too, as suggested by the New York Times' summary of the title as being "a film filled with scenes in color in which the characters appear as red as Indians."

The film did sport at least one popular melody, "If I Can't Have You," but by the time of the release even this featured melody was nearly a year old --- and that couldn't have helped.

"If I Can't Have You" (1928)
The Gerald Marks Tuller Hotel Orchestra


Removed from their pianos, stage and recording studio, we see Victor Arden and Phil Ohman on a crisp overcast day in the mid-1920's --- (they unofficially became a performing team in 1921) --- both doing their best to ignore the photographer and busily pretending to enact a day's outing.

The team would flourish during the decade, leading pit orchestras for such Gershwin musicals as "Lady Be Good," "Tip Toes," "Oh, Kay!" and "Funny Face" while maintaining a steady recording schedule for Brunswick, Columbia and others, with at least one Vitaphone short subject ("The Piano Dualists") lensed and recorded in 1927. Two representative examples of their fine work:

"Lucky Day" (1926)

"Dancing the Devil Away" (1930)
From the RKO musical film "The Cuckoos"



Arden & Ohman also figure in this next selection, which dates from March of 1924 but the real focus is upon the impeccably attired lady seen at the right who provides the vocal, Marion Harris. Looking vastly unlike someone who'd generate such emotion and heat on recordings like "I'm a Jazz Vampire," Miss Harris' plaintive expression here is perfectly suited though to "It Had To be You," an instantly familiar melody that is somehow difficult to equate with 1924 due to its timeless quality and use in countless films (and Warner Bros. cartoons) over decades.

Stripped of booming orchestration and instead locked into 1924 acoustics it seems quite a different melody and a product of a distant day indeed. Harris pauses to allow Arden & Ohman's pianos to emerge for a chorus, and the effect is charmingly plaintive.

(When you tire of examining Miss Harris, note instead how unbelievably clean this building entryway is!)

"It Had To Be You" (1924) Marion Harris, Arden & Ohman


Popular music of the late 'teens and early twenties ventured into foreign (or at least, "exotic") realms as often as not, and two of the biggest hits of this sort were "Dardanella" (1919) (discussed many times in these pages) and "Song of India" (1921) which would result in blockbuster recordings for, respectively, Paul Whiteman and Ben Selvin.

It's interesting that both tunes would prompt unofficial sequel or "answer recordings" of a sort --- one taking the curious position of praising the original and the other seeking to bury the omnipresent melody as swiftly as possible!

Vocalist Charles Harrison underestimates his own efforts and urges anyone within earshot of 1922 to "Play That Song of India Again," while Billy Murray and Ed Smalle point out from 1920 the various improvements contained within "The Dardanella Blues" (even though "the bass is just a little hard to play.")

Luckily, Ed Smalle (pictured right) doesn't seem the sort to harbor hard feelings, but I hasten to apologize nonetheless for not identifying his presence in a photo appearing in the previous post --- in which he can be seen at the piano in the company of Billy Murray and Aileen Stanley.

He's owed, then, this prime position of closing out this entry!

When not appearing on discs on his own, Smalle would be comfortably teamed with some of the most prolific recording artists of his day and no matter whom his partner --- Billy Murray, Vaughn DeLeath or Jerry Macy (to name but a few) it always seemed the perfect pairing --- a credit to his uncanny knack of being able to fall into step with whomever he shared a microphone with, neither overpowering them nor relegating himself to the shadows. There's not much room within a 78rpm groove, but Ed Smalle always seemed to intuitively know just how much was enough --- and that's not an unremarkable feat by any means.

One of my favorite of the many Billy Murray & Ed Smalle parings dates from 1923, but the melody took on a second life of sorts during the brief period in which it was utilized as a signature tune in Hal Roach's "Our Gang" comedies.

Heard (usually in the closing moments) of such two-reelers as "Bear Shooters," "A Tough Winter" and "When the Wind Blows" (all 1930) it becomes clear why the tune was selected when the lyrics are heard to "That Old Gang Of Mine," which laments the passage of time and mourns the changes which come to us all as we pass from youth to maturity.

1930 audiences wouldn't have been puzzled by the use of the tune, and now neither are we.

"That Old Gang of Mine" (1923) Murray & Smalle

While Smalle may seem uncharacteristically stiff on "That Old Gang of Mine" (it seems, for all the world, more like an initial run-through than a final recording) he and Murray are in perfect union --- spiritually and melodically --- on our next selection.

"Home In Pasadena" (1924) is one of many acoustic recordings that seem to cry out for the extra elbow-room that the soon-to-arrive electrical process would allow.

Despite the sonic limitations, there's so much to marvel at in this disc that to pine for improvement is quite beside the point. The voices of Murray and Smalle alternately link as one unified whole and then accent one another, while the flawless orchestration serves as a silver platter upon which to dish it all up.

Once heard, this one will linger with you long and often...

"Home in Pasadena" (1924)

The arrival of electrical recording would bring new shading and nuance to old familiar voices and it's oftentimes remarkable how startling the illusion of immediacy is within these early electrical discs.

Here, teamed with Vaughn DeLeath, is Ed Smalle in as dreamily romantic a realm as he would venture (which wasn't often) and the end product positively purrs along --- benefited by DeLeath's mellow pipes.

"Together We Two" (1927) Vaughn DeLeath & Ed Smalle

"Don't Get Up!" thoughtfully advises the armchair ensconced lady in this clever ad illustration for the Victor Orthophonic phonograph (kindly provided by blog reader Thomas Rhodes) and you're advised to take up her suggestion as well for the duration of this post's final selection.

Here, Ed Smalle is paired with Jerry Macy for a melody you've previously heard mastered by Billy Murray and Aileen Stanley. Neither better nor worse, it is --- certainly, decidedly different!

"Whadya Say We Get Together?" (1927)

Until We Get Together Next Time!

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Poster Art - "The Desert Flower" (1925)


Can the Dodge Kiddies be far behind?


"Footlights and Fools" attempts to cheer a glum theater - Late 1929


News Oddities - Early 1930


Hope Springs Eternal



Come for the short subject - stay for the feature!


"The Vamp" - Sheet Music - 1919

"Everybody do the vamp,
Vamp until you get a cramp,
Grab your tootsie, hold her tight,
Shake a wicked knee,
she will fall for it!

Vamp all night and day,
Keep vamping till you vamp
your cares away.
Ah!
Vamp the little lady,
vamp the little lady,
vamp the little lady,
vamp the little lady,
Ah!

While they're playing,
just keep swaying,
Do a little 'what-not,'
do a little fox-trot,
When you cuddle up don't fight,
Vamp and swing along,
keep a doing it!

Vamp and sing a song,
don't you ruin it,
Do a nifty step,
with lots of 'pep,'
and watch your reputation!

Do a 'bumble bee,'
buzz a round a bit,
She will like it, maybe,
she will like it, maybe,
she will like it maybe,
oh, you pretty baby,
Ah!

Make it good and snappy,
make it good and snappy,
make it good and snappy,
make it good and snappy,
Ah!"

Guess I got to go now,
guess I got to now,
everybody happy,
everybody happy,
everybody happy,
sure,
Good!"
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The Snows of Yesteryear

The "snows of yesteryear," however curiously absent of late --- and however lamented and longed for, likely only ever really existed within the apocryphal garden of one's memory.

Just as the past grows dimmer with each passing year, it also encases itself --- pearl like, within another layer of solitude that's translucent enough to allow us to barely see, feel and yearn for the contents, yet also murky enough to mask, disguise and cloud the plain truths of an earlier day.

First up, a 1930 recording entitled "20th Century Blues," from the Noel Coward stage production "Cavalcade,"which would become the magnificent film that earned the Academy Award for "Best Picture" of 1933. Vastly under appreciated, this sweeping panorama explores the onrush of social and technological change that occurred between 1900 and 1932 as mirrored through the eyes of one British family. Any reader of these pages who hasn't seen the film is urged to do so! (Incredibly, it remains one of the very few "Best Picture" films not yet commercially available on DVD, but it turns up now and again on cable.)

Performed by Henry Hall and His Gleneagles Band, the lyrics are as fitting today as they were in 1930.

"20th Century Blues" (1930)








For an aural glimpse of a New Year's Eve in the New York of 1904, quite free of cynicism yet firmly rooted in unreality, look no further than "New Year's at Old Trinity," recorded for Berliner by the Haydn Quartet. Street revelers, passing traffic, and the chimes of Old Trinity form an audible backdrop for what amounts to a miniature vaudeville sketch.

"New Years at Old Trinity" (1904)



Popular songs of the early 20th century are pocked with countless melancholy songs yearning for an earlier place and time. One of the more interesting examples, at least to a resident New Yorker such as myself, is 1925's "New York Ain't New York Any More," by vocalist Al Bernard. A rather touching homage to performance and social whirlwind George M. Cohan, the recording strikes me as not only a eulogy to a figure that ceased to be important and influential by 1925, but also an wistful acknowledgement of the fact that the audiences of Cohan's heyday were also fading, pushed aside by a culture of youth that has yet to wane, and with them the names, places and voices that once loomed so large within popular culture as the last century turned. (Vocalist Al Bernard, below left.)



"New York Ain't New York Anymore" (1925)

Even George M. Cohan himself found it increasingly difficult to recapture past glory as the 1920's dawned, innocently incapable of speaking and relating to a younger generation that had been wizened and hardened by the Great War, and who had turned their backs --- justifiably, on an earlier day they saw no point in mourning, much less preserving. One of Cohan's last noble gasps on Broadway, the musical production "Billie" of 1928, had a shamefully brief run by Cohan standards and was quickly forgotten. A recording of the title tune survives, and incredibly charming though it is, the melody is distinctly of a time other than 1928 --- infused with Heliotrope Cologne, crystallized violets, oyster stew and the waltz clog --- a bilious mixture to the bright young things Cohan tried, in vain, to attract. Listened to today, this rendition by the shows star, Polly Walker (who'd soon answer Hollywood's call), is as lovely as it is sad, somehow... a gentle and tender voice trying to be heard above the din of the late 1920's, doomed to failure. (A youthful George M. Cohan and sister Josie, pictured below.)

"Billie" (1928)

Unlike George M. Cohan, composer Joseph E. Howard wisely chose to not only acknowledge the passage of time, but to embrace and exploit it also, by forming a rather successful vaudeville act that successfully helped to nurture an embryonic form of nostalgia for the late 1800's and early 1900's that was just taking root as the 20's ended and which would fully blossom by the early 1930's, glorified in such films as "She Done Him Wrong, " "The Bowery," "From Broadway to Hollywood" and others.

Joseph Eugene Howard, composer of a myriad of tunes which have long passed into the Hall of Legends within popular music culture, "Good Bye, My Lady Love," and "I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now?" to name but a few, lived long enough (1961!) to not only partake in the revival of his own career and music numerous times (most notably in a 1940's radio series) but to also participate in that queer moment in time in which the faces and voices of early vaudeville --- most about to be lost to time and memory, would be captured (seemingly forever) by the Vitaphone process. While many of Joseph E. Howard's contemporaries who ventured before the sound camera exist today only in fragmented form, lacking voice or (more often) image, the gentleman in question is still very much with us --- as vibrant a figure in 1929 as he was in 1909, and will be in 2009.

In this Vitaphone disc audio transcription, we hear the melody "(The Waning) Honeymoon" behind the opening titles, which was written for the artist's 1907 stage production "The Time, the Place and the Girl," and then Mr. Howard ("I'm awfully glad I'm not forgotten," he plaintively comments) re-creates spot-on period authentic performances of "Good Bye, My Lady Love" (1904), "What's the Use of Dreaming?" (from the 1908 production "The Flower of the Ranch,") "Oh Gee, Be Sweet to Me Kid," (from another 1908 musical, "The Girl Question") and finally "I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now?" which was featured in both "The Prince of To Night" (1909) and "The Goddess of Liberty" (1910.)

In addition to being an unusual thrill to hear these songs of musical lore performed by their original composer, note that Mr. Howard quite literally transforms himself from composer into the original stage performer as well --- changing his vocal infliction, style, and in the case of "What's the Use of Dreaming?," there's a momentary pause between his spoken introduction and the start of his vocal in which he simply becomes the Asian-type character that first performed the song in 1908. Remarkable, really. Listen for it.

"Songwriter Joseph E. Howard" (1929)

By the time "The Time, the Place and the Girl" appeared as a Warner Bros. Vitaphone film in 1929, little was left of the original production save for the title. Difficult to evaluate today (it's a lost film despite invented database reviews claiming otherwise) via the surviving disc soundtrack, the film starts out as a college football story that then swiftly changes gears as the sports hero (Grant Withers) joins up with a corrupt Wall Street brokerage firm and uses his ape-like charm to entice wealthy society matrons into buying worthless stock.

Although often thought of as a musical film, the only melody to be heard is within the film's intricate incidental scoring that extends throughout much of the film's length, and in one curious moment --- at a society party, in which Betty Compson is seen singing (her voice is dubbed) a melody ("Honeymoon") from the 1907 Joseph E. Howard stage production of "Time, Place, Girl" which served as the opening theme of the 1929 Vitaphone Howard short. An extract of this sequence from the film is offered here, as are three period recordings of the composer's most notable (and in one case, most amusing) efforts.

"The Time, the Place and the Girl" (1929) Vitaphone Disc Excerpt

"I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now" (1909)

"I Think I Hear A Woodpecker Knocking" (1909)

"Good Bye My Lady Love" (1904)

To round out this New Year's post --- and to bring us to the period of usual focus here, let's look in on the Grand Opening of the Palace Theater in Ohio ("Lancaster's Finest Theater") in mid-March of 1929.

The film selected for this well publicized and presumably highly attended event (detailed in full page reproductions below) was the First National & Vitaphone production "Why Be Good?," which featured Colleen Moore and Neill Hamilton, and which would be Moore's final silent film --- despite the fact that the title was available to exhibitors in an elaborately synchronized version as well. (Interestingly, it isn't made quite clear which version was to be offered at The Palace theater!)

Tricked up with vocal and sound effects in addition to a wall-to-wall musical score performed by musicians that included the likes of Eddie Lang, Joe Venuti, JimmyDorsey and Phil Napoleon, the Vitaphone score for "Why Be Good?" is a late Jazz Age delight --- a sample of which can be experienced here.

The setting is a 1920's wild party to end all wild parties, and the score runs wild too --- incorporating the tunes "Who Wouldn't Be Jealous of You?," "Sweet Georgia Brown," "That's Him Now," "If You Want the Rainbow, You Must Have the Rain," "Tall, Dark and Handsome," "Give Your Little Baby Lots of Loving," and then --- after a bit of quiet repose, an explosive and perhaps ultimate rendition of "Tiger Rag" that's capped by a vocal refrain of "Doin' the Raccoon!"

"Why Be Good?" (1929) Jazz Party Sequence

In an all too rare and infrequent case of all the appropriate gears (meaning people) being in place to result in positive and relatively swift motion, word that picture elements for "Why Be Good" were languishing in an Italian archive was relayed to the folks at The Vitaphone Project (see blog sidebar) and ultimately to Warner Bros., with the end result being a scheduled sound and image restoration scheduled for 2007.

Let's hope that, when all is said and done, "Why Be Good?"--- virtually unseen and unheard since 1929, will fare better than many other similar restorations, all which invariably seem to end with the merest handful of screenings at widely scattered, poorly publicized archive and museum "events" before the film finds itself being returned to the dark isolation of a vault yet again --- awaiting what? Rediscovery in 2097?

No, there must be a level of commitment in place from the start that will ensure these films, rescued from oblivion at the last possible moment, won't die a second and, I believe, far more cruel death --- one attributed to indifference, litigation, finance and apparent ignorance of the fact that people want to see these films. Easily and often.

A single screening, on a Tuesday afternoon, at a special screening room located a vast distance away, by advance ticket purchase only, does little for the average person and even less for the film being trotted out for the first time in more than seventy-five years.

"The film looked beautiful, but the turn out was kind of small."

"Yeah --- I wonder why?"

"Well, I won't schedule this again any time soon."

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