Showing posts with label Cross Promotion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cross Promotion. Show all posts

24 December 2006

A Yuletide Frolic

Christmas Day marks the three month anniversary of "Vitaphone Varieties," and I'd like to take a moment to especially thank all of it's readers and many supporters, who have been an incredible source of encouragement and inspiration for the author of these pages.

Equal thanks, however, must go to the films, performers, music and recordings explored in these pages --- all which have proven, beyond my wildest expectations, that they still possess the power to intrigue, enlighten and entertain. This, at a time when it seemed they'd been all but forgotten and that all there was to learn about them had already been written.

The early Talkies, while resigned to forever lurk in the deep shadows behind the era of the silent film and the product of the 1930's, are still very much with us --- a bit forlorn and tattered perhaps, but patiently waiting to spring to life once again, whenever given the chance to do so.

The ultimate credit, then, must go to you --- the readers of this work, for allowing these distant voices and lost chords of another day, time and place to be heard and appreciated again... and anew.

For this holiday offering, and until "Vitaphone Varieties" returns on New Year's Day of 2007, a diverse selection of what I hope will be audible cheer!


From 1932, a two-sided British 78rpm recording entitled "Gracie's Christmas Party," in which the beloved British entertainer, Gracie Fields, welcomes listeners into her home on Christmas Eve for an evocative bit of melody and mirth. Gracie's rendition of "Singing in the Bathtub," from "The Show of Shows" (WB-1929) is but one of many pleasures to be found in this lovely artifact of a more innocent time, lost beyond recall.

"Gracie's Christmas Party" (1932)








While the allure of child performer Davey Lee is difficult to appreciate today, there's no denying his place in film history as the first true child star of the sound era.

Between 1928 and 1930, Lee appeared with Al Jolson in "The Singing Fool" and "Say It With Songs," and as a supporting player in "Frozen River," "Skin Deep and "The Squealer," but in 1929 would be given his own starring vehicle "Sonny Boy." As could be expected, Lee's popularity was as tremendous as it was ultimately short lived. Before a momentarily charmed public turned its attention elsewhere, the boy was utilized for advertising campaigns, public service announcements, all manner of film cross promotional advertising, and was the feature character in a number of children's books and at least one commercial 78rpm recording.

For Christmas of 1929, the Brunswick two-sided recording of "Sonny Boy's Bear Story" was deemed an appropriate gift item for the kiddies, but as to how often they were allowed to listen to the recording on the family's phonograph is very much a matter of debate and tolerance, as you'll discover here.

"Sonny Boy's Bear Story" (1929) Davey Lee


Rather astonishing, but former child actor Davey Lee has his own small but charming web site --- surely the only such instance for any Vitaphone era performer, and well worth a visit. The link: "Sonny Boy Lives Here"




From 1931, an example of an idea that came either too late or too early in the game to be effective! Although Victor's first entry into the realm of the long-playing record was met with critical acclaim, it wasn't enough to lure the financially conscious public into the phonograph dealer's showroom. Had the device arrived four or even three years earlier, the outcome might have been rather different --- but as it was, 1931 wasn't the right time for entertainment luxury items. While the content of this demonstration disc (one side of which is offered here) is technically acceptable and certainly entertaining, it's interesting to note that most of the selections hearken back to an earlier day --- 1928, 1929 and 1930 specifically, and that despite the selling point being that this new process allows for greater "elbow room" for the performers, all that listeners heard here were, primarily, much abbreviated renditions of selections that could be heard, in full, on standard 78rpm recordings! A noble misfire.






With Frank Crumit as the Master of Ceremonies and performances by The Revelers, pianists Arden & Ohman and Nathaniel Shilkret leading the Victor Orchestra, here's a "right idea, wrong time" bit of phonograph history.


"Victor Artist's Party" (1931)

Nothing about the history of the early talking films is set in stone, and the fact that much of it seems to be badly in need of reevaluation is made apparent by the wealth of misinformation surrounding the 1928 film "My Man," which featured multi-talented entertainer Fannie Brice.

Usually cited as being largely silent with a few interpolated vocalizations (as in "The Jazz Singer") and that the film performed miserably outside of key cities that could boast audiences appropriately ethnic enough to patronize and appreciate the film, such wasn't the case.

Whether or not readers of a Lima, Ohio newspaper entered the puzzle contest to the right in order to win tickets to see "My Man" is unknown, but audiences turned out in droves nonetheless --- and not only in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles, but in small cities and even smaller cinemas throughout the States, from late 1928 to mid 1929. Period reviews of the film are limited (many "reviews" are actually prefabricated publicity placements, but these become easy to detect in time!) but almost without exception, are tremendously positive. In fact, when a negative aspect concerning the film does appear, it's invariably in connection with the fact that the film does have brief periods of silence (a musical score with inter-titles --- perhaps 20% of the film's length) and that it wasn't designed as a full talkie.

Indeed, in more than one instance, the film was "held over" for the run of another full week --- a fact in direct contrast with the usually gloomy evaluations of the film one encounters in some books.

To be fair, the fact that precious little was thought to survive of the film for decades likely played a role in it's misrepresentation, but as bits and pieces of the film's Vitaphone disc soundtrack begin to emerge (only about 20% is still absent today) and fact gradually replaces opinion, the story changes.

Unfortunately, there's no getting around the fact that absolutely nothing is known to exist of the visual elements for "My Man," but hope springs eternal --- and films have a remarkable knack for turning up when least expected and from the most unexpected of sources too. I for one can't believe that a film so infused with the spirit and vibrancy of this most remarkable of all American entertainers would allow itself to remain lost forever --- if only for the fact that Brice herself would likely want nothing more than to set the record straight, once and for all.

Two excerpts from the surviving Vitaphone disc material for "My Man."

The first, a rendition of "I'd Rather Be Blue Over You," that begins simply at a piano as Brice puts her affection for an oblivious bloke (Guinn Williams) into song, and then opens up with full yet fleeting orchestra accompaniment.

"I'd Rather Be Blue..." (1928) Vitaphone Excerpt

The second, occurring on Fannie's wedding day, begins with an orchestral reprise of the above tune (one of the film's few silent sequences) and then explodes into an unusual and delightfully joyous rendition of the usually tear-laden song "My Man."




To close this holiday edition of "Vitaphone Varieties," which will return on New Year's Day of 2007, a moment of subdued romanticism from a film not usually thought of in either term --- "The Gold Diggers of Broadway" (WB-1929,) in which Nick Lucas provides the vocal incentive for William Bakewell to tuck a reluctant Helen Foster into bed and then, gentleman that he is, leave her to her dreams!


"Go to Bed" (1929) Nick Lucas




Until January 1st, "Happy Holidays!"












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26 October 2006

The Curse of the Mean Cicero Blues

The Duncan Sisters, Vivian & Rosetta, 1929


The news items that appeared in papers around the world in July of 1924 read like something that could have, and very well may have, caught your eye over yesterday's breakfast: "Noted Celebrity in Slug Fest!," "Struck a Cop!" "Swung Vicious Left to Officer's Head!"

The celebrity involved here was Rosetta Duncan, half of a once wildly popular sister act, The Duncan Sisters... Rosetta and Vivian. Singers, dancers, comedians, musicians. Do it all and do it well actresses. Performers since childhood, stars of vaudeville, Broadway stage and motion pictures (both silent and sound), prolific recording artists spanning the acoustic, electric and LP eras. They'd entertain home front audiences during the first World War, and would still have name power enough to perform for troops during World War II. And, in the waning years of their mammoth career, they'd also appear on television, and even play Las Vegas. In other words, they had the sort of long lived and all encompassing career that most performers can only dream of.

You don't last that long without hitting a few bumps in the road, and the Duncans were no exceptions. Marriages, both successful and not, highly publicized divorce trials, spats, litigation, hospital stays, auto accidents, and all the usual events that come to most of us without being detailed in news journals. But, for all this, the Duncans always seemed to take it on the chin and bounce back, none the worse for the wear. Although their basic performing style never seemed to change (they continued to interpolate their successful "Topsy & Eva" child characters into all their performances long after it could be carried off convincingly), they appeared to escape criticism because they were always in on the joke and never pretended to offer or be anything else than what they were --- take it or leave it.

Now, let's get back to 1924. You can read all the details in the article to the right from the Lincoln Night Journal of July 5th, but in a nutshell: With Rosetta at the wheel of a car who's contents included her sister Vivian, her brother Harold, and others, they dashed across an intersection in the Chicago suburb of Cicero --- and were stopped by a traffic cop. At this point, what happened next is speculative. 4'11", 104lb Rosetta claimed she was verbally and physically abused by the policeman, who landed a blow to her face. The cop, a strapping 6'2, 225 bloke, in turn, claims it was she who struck him --- gashing his head in the process.

Then as now, there's no such thing as bad publicity, and the Duncans lost no time in inviting photographers from the Chicago Daily News to visit them while Rosetta convalesced. In the photo below, we see brother Harold Duncan (a shadowy figure in their life whom I could find little about) who also seems to have experienced injuries that went unreported in any news account I've read, Rosetta Duncan --- sporting a standard issue concussion bandage along with a bit of plaster tape to the nose, and the entirely unscathed Vivian Duncan.

The case would drag on, with each party embellishing and elaborating until the policeman faced an attempter murder charge --- while, in the interim, the initial traffic violation was dismissed with Rosetta paying a fine of $1 (plus costs) on or around July 16th of 1924.

Here, details as to the ultimate outcome are difficult to ascertain --- but the lack of any further news reports suggests the entire matter was dropped and forgotten.

Or was it?

In a highly contemporary move that would be admired today, the entire debacle was set to music and lyric, with the result being "The (Mean) Cicero Blues," published in November of 1924 and then preserved forever on shellac by the Duncans for Victor Records that same month and year.

Included in their performing repertoire while the song's newsworthy value remained, "Mean Cicero Blues" exists today as what can be considered a surprisingly forward-thinking example of celebrity exploitation --- turning an unfortunate and rather mundane incident on a quiet street in the Cicero neighborhood of Chicago, into a revenue earning non-sensation.

"Mean Cicero Blues" (1924)

Years pass --- and with them, the news story and song fade into nothingness. By the late 1950's, the Duncans performed sporadically together, but Rosetta plugged on --- the born show-biz trouper personified. Occasionally, a special play date would prompt Vivian to join the act again, as she would do in early December of 1959 at a Chicago night club that featured a nostalgia-themed floor show. The 1920's had become just distant enough as to become nostalgic, and the Duncans were there as living reminders of an earlier day and form of entertainment.

After one of these performances, as Rosetta was driving to a friend's home, she lost control of her car and it crashed into a bridge post --- with Rosetta suffering fatal injuries and dying soon thereafter without ever regaining consciousness.

Although the incident of 1924 was, by every indication, forgotten by the news services, surely Vivian Duncan couldn't help but notice the irony of that her sister's fatal car accident happened to take place in the still quiet suburb of Chicago known as Cicero.

Chicago Daily News Photo #DN-0077122, Courtesy of the Chicago Historical Society

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Addendum:

My personal favorite of all the Duncan Sisters' many recordings, "The Argentine, the Portuguese and the Greek," recorded in the U.K. for HMV in 1928. You may find the subject matter odd, or inflammatory... or both, but stick with it until the end and you just may well be as surprised as most listeners are upon hearing it for the first time:

Left: Jed Prouty and Rosetta Duncan in a scene from "It's A Great Life," (MGM-1929)


Right: Rosetta Duncan's grave marker, Forest Lawn Memorial Park, Los Angeles, California