The Orchestra Augmented

Just as we began to believe we knew all there was to know about "The March of Time," MGM's unreleased follow-up to the studio's 1929 "Hollywood Revue," there comes more to learn --- more to consider.

Seeing as there doesn't seem to be a single comprehensive study of the film in one place (bits of information are as scattered as the celluloid husk of the production that remains today) these pages seem as good as any to serve as a depository for information. An imperfect research venue to be sure, but far better than none at all.


A good deal of what we know today about "The March of Time" was painstakingly pieced together by Jonas Nordin, a Stockholm sound-engineer who, not unlike myself, considers himself something of an Entertainment Archaeologist. Jonas was instrumental in fine-tuning much of what I've written about "The March of Time," and, via a recent communication, provides us with additional insight:

"Apparently, 'The March of Time' was indeed complete when shooting finished in February of 1930. After that, (director) Harry Rapf or someone else wasn't happy with the result and decided to make what seems to be random alterations. I think this decision had very much to do with the musical genre suddenly falling out of fashion. MGM simply didn't know what to do with a big budget musical that no one was interested in. So, they tried to make something else out of the $750,000 spent, but failed. I am quite convinced that the finished product that Rapf presented to MGM early in 1930 was much of an artistic disappointment, apart from some good production numbers."

We also learn a bit more of what Marie Dressler's contribution to "The March of Time" likely consisted of: A Comic Ballet, and two beautiful parodies of 1890's sentimental ballads --- the titles of which are enough to conjure up the most fantastic mental images: "That's How It's Done On the Stage" and "But Father Mustn't Know I'm Going On the Stage -- He Thinks I'm A Shoplifter."

Jonas also relates the heart-breaking account of an employee who worked in the Technicolor vault on several occasions in the 1970's and actually saw much of what was then left of the doomed musical revue:

"'March of Time' was in fragments or sections in the vault. There were two-color matrices for certain scenes, and black and white fine grains for others. They also had various variable-density track negatives. (It was) surmised that there was approximately eighty to ninety minutes of basically unedited footage. Yet, we also discovered edited (finished) sections in another area of the vault. (However,) I don't believe that (the film) was finished or 'locked' before the studio pulled the plug on the project before they generated additional expenses. There was a script for the production with the studio legal department too."


"Technicolor was, at the time, going through a major purge of their vaults to make room for new materials. So, many two and three-color matrices, optical track negatives, trims, outs and dailies, black & white negatives and fine-grains were being sent to a company in Burbank, California for stripping. They would remove the emulsion and 'repaint' the stock in 1000' lengths for editorial purposes. By the time the footage reached this facility, it was too late to save any product. The owner of the facility showed me hundreds of boxes of film slated for destruction. Many of the boxes were under working titles and I had no idea what they contained, but the time period for other recognizable titles was the late-twenties to mid-thirties."


Bleak though the outlook is for additional footage for "The March of Time" turning up any time soon --- or ever, more about the film can be gleaned via the paper trail it left behind --- and that's a story that remains to be told. The University of Southern California is said to hold a box of documents that, it is believed, contains a shooting script and a wealth of other ephemera related to the film, including performer contracts. Brittle paper stacked within a pasteboard box --- all too often the final destination for the Entertainment Archaeologist, student of film and the amateur film historian. Surely "The March of Time" will again surface within these pages!

Abilene, Texas audiences attending the far more fortunate predecessor to "The March of Time" in November of 1929 were successfully lured to the theater with the promise of a "Ziegfeld, Earl Carroll and George White show rolled into one with many deft motion picture touches," and doubtless impressed by Metro's selfless charity in making such a grand show available to all: "Because it is a motion picture, many cities and towns of the country are witnessing a great revue of revues for the first time."

Even today, "Hollywood Revue" is oftentimes an exciting film to watch, and that in spite of the few sequences where it all seemingly all but grinds to a halt. But, magically, when seen with a receptive audience, the creaks and groans tend to vanish --- the long stretches of silence and leaden pauses filled with applause or laughter, and the myriad layers of age dissolve away as some of the biggest names in Hollywood step forward to enter new and largely unknown motion picture territory.

Here's one of the brightest melodies from "Hollywood Revue," one that wouldn't have anywhere near the longevity of "Singing in the Rain," but which seems somehow far more firmly attached to the film instead.

"Low Down Rhythm" (1929) Lloyd Keating & His Music

At the same time that Fox's "7th Heaven" (1928) was shimmering from screens across the country, accompanied by a synchronized Movietone score and sending exiting patrons scrambling for sheet-music and phonograph recordings of its theme song, "Diane," the film was being given no less a grand reception and presentation by theaters that hadn't as yet invested in the Movietone - or Vitaphone - or both systems for their venue.

Masterful though the music and effects score for "7th Heaven" is, it's lovely to contemplate seeing the film for the first time --- in sparkling, pristine condition --- with music provided by not just a full orchestra, but a specially "augmented" one, as detailed in the full page ad to the left: "The management has added to the orchestra and this attraction will be made stronger than ever."

"Those who heard the orchestra in the great British-made picture, 'Second to None,' were delighted in the stirring numbers rendered, and those who attend the magnificent presentation of '7th Heaven' will be charmed by the lovely music accompanying the picture, special arrangements for which are being made."

As we're left to wonder precisely which musical selections so stirred those attending 'Second to None,' we have no less a stirring rendition of "Diane," the theme song from "7th Heaven," performed here by vocalist Franklyn Baur.

"Diane" (1927) Franklyn Baur

Indeed, as a reviewer for the New York Graphic noted in mid-1928, "What a picture! It is all that the most extravagant praises from the West Coast have it, and more. There's life and love in every reel." And, at twelve reels, that was --- and is, a lot of living and loving. It's fun to realize that 1928 audiences were apparently quite a bit more technical savvy than we might suppose today, being readily able to understand the length of time that twelve reels translated into!

The great one, Paul Whiteman... standing at the feet of George Washington's statue at Federal Hall, in New York City's Wall Street --- participating in what amounts to a live street performance in the early 1920's, decades before such events would be regular fodder for "Good Morning America" and "Today Show" cameras. Details of the event are largely lost to time, but clearly the Weber Piano Company didn't lose the chance to secure a bit of free publicity, and in the image to the left we see Whiteman apparently awaiting his cue on a warm summer morning while an unseen speaker --- or speakers --- addresses the crowd. (Prompting the wonderful posture of the seated fellow, doubtless!)

While Paul Whiteman's arrangements and recordings would, by the end of the decade, often become somewhat indulgent and over-inflated affairs --- each one aspiring to become a 78rpm miniature extravaganza --- his work on Victor at this point was straightforward, comparatively simple and just magnificent.

"I'm Just Wild About Harry" (1922)


"I'll Build A Stairway to Paradise" (1922)

Listen to the above recording, then see if you can't imagine that music reverberating through the Wall Street canyons, across that sea of straw hats!

Interesting to note, too, that among the faces peeking out of the open windows of the building overlooking Federal Hall, all seem to be exclusively workmen (in caps and overalls) as opposed to office workers. Subtle but evident division between the working classes, of the sort that doesn't exist today. Indeed, at similar events today, the overall clad fellows would doubtless be front and center at the performance podium, and the straw boaters pondering the advisability of elbowing forward!

"Fate" (1923)

"Way Down Yonder in New Orleans" (1923)


We again visit with bandleader Clyde Doerr, who seems less than pleased at having been pulled away from his newspaper. Despite Doerr's clipped Teutonic appearance, he hailed from Coldwater, Michigan and while a master of the violin, his work as an alto-saxophonist would bring him fame.

Hired by bandleader Art Hickman in 1916, Doerr arrived in New York in 1919 with the Hickman band, hired by Ziegfeld --- and struck out on his own shortly thereafter, forming orchestras that would serve as "house bands" for both New York City's Club Royale and Chicago's Congress Hotel.

In addition to appearing on the radio as early as 1925, Doerr and his Orchestra would also tour the country via the vaudeville circuit. One such play-date, in the Davenport, Iowa of 1924, was described thus:

"When one desires to bestow the high modicum of praise upon a vaudeville offering and on basis of two or three curtain bows, it is more or less honest to say the act stopped the show, but Columbia (theater) patrons last night participated in and witnessed a real Stopping of the Show when Clyde Doerr and his Orchestra, direct from the Congress (Hotel,) Chicago, used every device of the footlights to indicate that the act was finished -- done -- no more -- and the folks out front were equally insistent that they didn't care what happened next just so long it was the Doerr Orchestra."

"As it was, one Frank DeVoe is what happened immediately thereafter, and everyone promptly got over his disappointment, especially when DeVoe -- with a disarming frankness -- walked out and said with all sincerity, 'Say, now ain't that orchestra hot?' DeVoe faced a hard job following the Doerr Orchestra but his honest-to-goodness appreciation of that fact put him over as solidly as his very unique jazz singing."

"There have not been more than three of the whole deluge of jazz band acts that interrupted the melodies of the hour as the Doerr Orchestra. Possibly because they have spent the season in a hotel ballroom where blatant weird harmonies were not demanded, but more likely because Mr. Doerr does not incline to that style of play, the musicians never give the impression that the walls were bulging outward with the crashing syncopation. Nevertheless, every effect of the jazziest band was there with a richness of melody and harmony."

Interestingly, Clyde Doerr would participate in sound films too, and at opposite ends of the medium's technical evolution. There would be a DeForest Phonofilm in the early 1920s, "Clyde Doerr & His Sax-O-Phone Sextet" and there are newspaper references to at least one Clyde Doerr Orchestra short film making the rounds in June and July of 1930.

"I Wish I Knew" (1922) - Clyde Doerr & His Orchestra


In a previous post, the intriguing and somewhat mysterious Syncrophone device was seen in a January 1929 advertisement providing sound accompaniment (of some sort) for the film "Streets of Algiers," although whether the device was also used for "The Heart of Broadway" is a matter of doubt, as pointed out by a number of blog readers who (to my surprise and pleasure) were moved to do a bit of research of their own following my post.

Frequent contributor George Moore forwards some information on the Syncrophone device:

"The Syncrophone Company evidently produced films with the sound track on a disc. They called the discs 'Octacros.' The 'Maltese Cross' comes into it having given its name to the rotating cam that governs the transit of film through the gate of a projector."

Although the device pictured left appears to be a scaled down version of the Syncrophone (intended for home or institutional use) a general idea of the mechanism can still be gained.

As to what sort of sound accompanied "Streets of Algiers," and other titles, well... that's still a matter of conjecture. Were scores especially prepared and recorded for these Syncrophone presentations? Was there ever any attempt at providing the illusion of dialogue or sound effects?

Or, was the Syncrophone used simply as an elaborate highly amplified phonograph, to play suitable mood music for the film being flashed upon the screen?

We do know that the system lasted into the early to mid-1930's, and that it had (by then) developed to the point where it provided synchronized dialogue for one of the earliest Welsh language sound films, "The Chwarelwr," which (amazingly) was preserved and restored by the National Screen and Sound Archive of Wales! All in all, there's more to the Syncrophone saga to be told, and I invite readers with additional information to share what they may know about this shadowy technical curiosity.

Hastening back to more familiar territory, a selection of melodies from films of 1929. From "Fox Movietone Follies," (a lost film which was examined closely in a very early post which can be read here) a spirited rendition of one of its hits by Arnold Johnson & His Orchestra which really soars just a moment before it concludes: "The Breakaway" (1929)

The theme song for "Weary River" has appeared within these pages at least as many times as it can be heard in the film itself, so what's one more? Here, vocalist Jack Miller gives it his all --- and then some. Say what you will, there's just something about this tune...

"Weary River" (1929)

From "Syncopation," Del Delbridge and His Capitol Theater Orchestra plead "Do Something" (1929)...

... and Ray Miller and His Orchestra lament the fact that "Nobody's Using it Now," a temporary condition enacted on the screen in 1929's "The Love Parade."

All ends well however, as proclaimed by the Ipana Troubadours in "My Sweeter Than Sweet," from the 1929 Nancy Carroll romp, "Sweetie."

Mr. Jolson (right) may look a bit anxious (and a good deal mottled) while thumbing through "Variety," but he'd doubtless be supremely satisfied to learn that early reports indicate the forthcoming DVD release of his "The Jazz Singer" will offer the landmark film looking as though it was "filmed yesterday," and hopefully sounding as though it was recorded the day before that.

Interestingly, some early review discs contained a glitch which swapped the Technicolor swan ballet from "The Rogue Song" for the designated selection from "Gold Diggers of Broadway," giving the impression that someone's hand merely plucked the wrong tin off an archive shelf labeled "old color musical stuff." No, but really --- I wonder if any of these production-error copies will filter onto the retail market? Be sure to examine yours closely!

"Toot Toot Tootsie, Goodbye" (1922)
The Benson Orchestra of Chicago

Rounding out this post, a diverse selection of vintage music --- accompanied by appropriate visuals, and then our usual departing glimpse of various items that line the hallway leading to the exit.

The next few days will be spent transferring this blog's audio material to new file server digs --- a mind-numbing complicated task --- so once again, please be advised that some glitches may be encountered until the swap is complete. I shall be starting with the very first posts and working my way forward, so readers (old and new) might wish to re-visit some of the earliest posts in order to avoid any disappointment.

Update: All posts to date have been transferred to the new server.

"An Old Guitar and an Old Refrain" (1927)
Roger Wolfe Kahn & His Orchestra
Vocal by Franklyn Baur

"Deep Night" (1929)
The Victor Salon Orchestra (Pictured Below)


"What'll We Do On a Dew, Dew, Dewey Day?" (1927)
Jim Miller & Charles Farrell (Pictured Below)


"Carolina in the Morning" (1922)
The Bar Harbor Society Orchestra

"Muddy Water" (1927)
Harry Richman


Until Next Time!
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"Sweetie" (Paramount-1929) Lobby Card


Movietone a la Moderne 1930 Exhibitor Book Illustration


Two Years Earlier... Movietone Arrives in San Antonio, Texas January 1928

8 December 1929

"Noah's Ark" (1928)

Souvenir Programme

"Song O' My Heart" (Fox-1930) Poster

Syracuse, New York 27 October 1929

The Film that Started it All Uniontown, Pennsylvania - 21 May 1927

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"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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