"The Talkie Is Improving"

"Before the picture business went talkie," said actress Betty Compson in late 1929, "its players seldom gave a great deal of study to their roles. They arrived at the studio in the morning, made up and went on the set."

"There, a director told them to walk through a door and appear startled. They seldom had occasion to know why they were startled, who was startling them, or what they were to do next."

"The talkies have changed all this. The weeks of rehearsal before the picture goes before the cameras, attentive study of lines, and a full knowledge of the story tends to get the player more into his part than the silent film ever did. The result is better acting, better characterizations and a more convincing story."

In mid-December of 1928, Hollywood columnist Dan Thomas had this to say of Compson's first talking picture, "The Barker," --- a part talking First National Vitaphone feature that, while having survived --- remains peculiarly elusive --- in a piece titled "The Talkie Is Improving":

"A talking picture which really is worth seeing. That was my reaction to 'The Barker,' which has just opened in Hollywood. I would rank 'The Barker' next to Jolson's 'The Singing Fool' in the way of talking screen entertainment -- and it's way, way above other 'squawkies' which have been dumped on the market these last few months. "

"'The Barker,' a story of a carnival troupe, was made first as a silent picture. Then when Warner Brothers bought First National, portions of the film were remade with talking sequences. And strangely enough, the dialogue actually added to the entertainment value of the production."

"If Hollywood's great film factories would turn out more talkies like 'The Barker,' dialogue would be almost a cinch to become a permanent fixture in the movie racket. As it is -- well, let's wait until the novelty wears off and see what happens."

Publicity material for "The Barker" allows us a glimpse at a film we can't easily experience otherwise:

"The story of 'The Barker' concerns Nifty Miller (Milton Sills,) barker for a street carnival, who's young son Chris (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.) comes to visit him. Nifty leaves off cursing and drinking and 'gives the air' to the Hawaiian dancer (Betty Compson) with whom he has been living. In a fit of revenge she induces Lou (Dorothy Mackaill,) a show girl of easy virtue, to capture the affections of Nifty's son. They fall in love and leave the carnival to get married. Nifty becomes disgusted and goes off on a toot, leaving the show flat."

"Some days later, in a town where the troupe is showing to small business, Lou and Chris turn up. The Hula dancer is running a doll concession with small results and a weak barker. Suddenly, Nifty shows up and listens to his successor with disgust. He starts to reorganize and among other things learns that Chris is studying law in the office of an attorney, and is happy once more."

"The spiel of the barker before the tent of the Hawaiian dancer, the dialogue in the big scene where Nifty learns that the dancer is responsible for Chris' decision to marry Lou, the sounds of the fight between the carnival people and the villagers are given with such realism that one seems to be watching the actual flesh-and-blood characters."

Despite this glowing recommendation, whoever wrote the copy for the uniformly wonderful Lima, Ohio "Sigma" theater ads of the period found himself utterly stumped -- and says as much -- in the ad at the left, from December of 1928. But, he gathered himself enough to point out that audiences will Hear and Understand the players --- and that "over half the picture" was "synchronized with clear, concise talking sequences" --- which is more than can be said for some recent films I've viewed that would have benefited from closed captioning.

Fans of Dorothy Mackaill, Fairbanks the Junior and Milton Sills (?) notwithstanding, I lament not having ever seen and heard Betty Compson in her first appearance on the talking screen --- for I tend to think she'd have come off the best among her fellow players in the new medium, playing a role she had enacted many times before and would many times again. Actually, that's not entirely true. What I mean is that Betty Compson was --- almost always --- pretty much Betty Compson. Oh, she'd trot out an accent now and again, or affect an upper class mode of speech, but that brittle yet somehow melodic whip-crack of a voice she possessed always reigned supreme. No matter what the scenario or role, she always seemed ready to say something particularly stinging, or conclude even the most florid and impassioned of speeches with "ya get me?"

Here's a ripe bit of faux-elegant Compson from the 1929 First National film "The Time, the Place and the Girl" (Compson and co-star Grant Withers can be seen in a still from this film at the head of this post) --- an all-talkie which is now presumed to be lost, leaving behind only its audio.

In the first excerpt, Compson --- wealthy wife of a crooked investment banker --- is confronted by her husband (John Davidson) for nurturing what he deems a possibly disastrous relationship with the young college chump (Grant Withers) he hand picked to be his fall-guy in a phony stock scam.

"The Time, the Place and the Girl" (1929) - Excerpt 1

Withers discovers her husband's scheme, unloads the stock on Compson, and makes tracks for the coast with his girlfriend. Here, in the concluding moments of the film (which includes the picture's exit music --- "Honey Moon," by Joseph K. Howard) Compson and husband realize they've been had --- and how!

"The Time, the Place and the Girl" (1929) - Excerpt 2

If it can be supposed that Compson ever had a supreme moment on film --- an odd notion in of itself --- then surely it was in the role of Nita French, the aging and prickly star of "The Phantom Sweetheart" in the 1929 Warner Bros. all-Technicolor musical "On With the Show."

Helped along by a dialogue script that reads like a slang dictionary and a wonderful assortment of stock players elevated to leading roles, Compson shines as never before (and never would again.) The combination of the pastel-hued photography, a lush wall-to-wall incidental musical score and a clutch of memorable tunes all must have made this quite the special event for movie-goers in 1929 --- the merest hint of which can still be palpably felt while watching the ragged B&W print that managed to stagger through the decades and collapse at our feet today.

Two excerpts from "On With the Show." In the first, Compson suspects the theater manager has snatched the payroll and tagged it a heist --- and refuses to go on: "On With the Show" (1929) - Excerpt 1

As the film concludes, Compson's role has been taken over by Sally O'Neill --- and Betty realizes it's time to pack it in once and for all and face an uncertain future like the trouper she is.

"On With the Show" (1929) - Excerpt 2

An Oddity:

"'The Broadway Melody,' which came to the Capitol Theater last night is one of the best-looking and most entertaining films which has come this way for a long time. And Bessie Love, who is destined to become famous again, after a period of neglect by the powers that be in the film industry, gives the most
exciting performance that the talking pictures have yet recorded. She has a fine, deep voice which matches perfectly her odd charm of manner and pretty face. Anita Page, a comparative newcomer to the screen, and a lovely and intense lady of the best blonde coloring, if we may judge from the Technicolor sequence, supports Miss Love."

Have we been mistaken all these many years in thinking that "The Wedding of the Painted Doll" was the film's one color sequence when, in fact --- if this review is accurate --- it suggests that color was limited to the "Love Boat" tableaux?


Norma Terris and J. Harold Murray pose oh-so-prettily in this shot from the largely lost Fox Movietone 1929 musical "Married In Hollywood." (At least a portion of the film's concluding color reel survives, and has been trotted out for a fortunate few at sporadic archive screenings.) For those gathered here, we have the photo to look at --- and two wonderful melodies from the film to listen to, as performed by Louis Katzman's Brunswick Orchestra:

"Dance Away the Night" (1929)

"Peasant Love Song" (1929)

From a June 1930 newspaper profile of phonograph and radio vocalist Frank Munn:

"Life is full of striking paradoxes, and the radio world is as full of them as the more truly mundane spheres. Frank Munn, for example, who is known to the air as Paul Oliver, never knew his own mother -- despite the fact that his ballads dedicated to 'Mother' have endeared him to millions."

"The urge to express his soul in song was present during his entire childhood in the Bronx, New York, where he was born. After five years in a factory, when he was 25 years old, his friends prevailed upon him to give up his work and take singing lessons. Therefore, Frank changed from the largely manual labor of sharing in the manufacturing of turbines to the labor of singing scales."

"Two years brought him a contract with a phonograph company and financial reward. The 'exclusive artist' clause, however, kept him from broadcasting until he got a new contract in 1928. Having played center on his High School football team, sports have a personal interest for him. Chick Meehan, the well-known New York University coach, is among his intimates who call him both Frank and Paul, upon different occasions. Though he admires operatic music, he not only prefers the simple ballads he sings, but realizes they are better suited to his voice. Besides, when he sings them with his hand on his heart and all the feeling in his being, he lifts them to a higher level."

Indeed. Here's Mr. Munn lifting two melodies of the early synchronized film era to the heavens, where they likely still cling and reverberate brightly:

"Lady Divine" (1928)
Theme Song of "The Divine Lady" (First National)

"When Love Comes Stealing" (1928)
As Featured in "The Man Who Laughs" (Universal)

A trio of memorable melodies --- although receiving scant attention by phonograph companies swamped with material begging release in 1929 and 1930:

"Go To Bed" (1929) Eugene Ormandy & His Orchestra
From "Gold Diggers of Broadway" (Warner Bros.)

"I'll Still Belong To You" (1930) Leonard Joy's Orchestra
From "Whoopee!" (Goldwyn)

"Dust" (1930) The High Hatters
From "Children of Pleasure" (Metro)

It's always a pleasure to welcome back vocalist Franklyn Baur to these pages, and this time he returns with two melodies that present his voice in two decidedly different forms.

In 1927's "Calling," (with Roger Wolfe Kahn's orchestra,) Baur is in top form --- light, silvery voiced and lyrical.

In 1929's theme from Paramount's "The Cocoanuts," the timbre of Baur's voice is richer, more robust --- but somehow sadder and quite without the infectious spark apparent in the earlier rendition.

"Calling" (1927) Roger Wolfe Kahn & His Orchestra
Vocal by Franklyn Baur

"When My Dreams Come True" (1929) Franklyn Baur
From "The Cocoanuts" (Paramount)

We pause now for a personal message from William Fox, President of the Fox Film Corporation, from March of 1929:

"Gone are the days when talking pictures could hope to succeed on novelty alone. The talking picture has reached maturity -- its infant days are over. The public has a right to expect talking pictures of the same high quality as the outstanding successes of the fast-fading silent screen -- classics like 'The Birth of a Nation,' 'The Covered Wagon,' and 'Street Angel.'"

"Fox Films has achieved that goal. Fox Movietone, first in sound on film, now sounds the last word in talking pictures with 'In Old Arizona,' to be presented for the first time at the (INSERT THEATER NAME HERE.)"

"It represents the culmination of five years of perfecting talking film and twenty-five years of producing motion pictures. It represents the combined genius of two directors -- Raoul Walsh and Irving Cummings. It brings to you for the first time the voices of such screen favorites as Warner Baxter and Edmund Lowe, the unforgettable Sergeant Quirt of 'What Price Glory,' and Dorothy Burgess, star of many Broadway productions."
"What is it that makes 'In Old Arizona' so different from other talking pictures? First, the fact that it was made on location, actually screened in the open amid the natural splendors of the southwest. Previously, dialogue had to be recorded in sound-proof studios. But the Fox Movietone process (photographing sound on film) not only caught and reproduced with fidelity the voices of the actors in 'In Old Arizona' but actually filmed and reproduced the natural sounds of the outdoors: the whining of the wind, the braying of mules, the rustle of leaves. Thus, the techniques of the stage and screen have been combined in perfect harmony, the first time this has ever been accomplished."

"Against this perfect background is unfolded a swift-moving action-full romance of frontier days, told entirely in dialogue -- intelligently written and perfectly recorded. Every word of it comes to you as clear and natural as life itself."

"'In Old Arizona' has been pre-shown in Los Angeles, Portland and Seattle. In all three cities, it played to the biggest box-office receipts in the history of the theaters. In all three cities, the critics unanimously acclaimed it the last word in talking pictures."

"Seeing and hearing is believing. Come to the (INSERT THEATER NAME HERE) and see and hear it for yourself."

If that doesn't induce you to seek out the top-notch DVD of "In Old Arizona" that Fox unceremoniously tossed on the market some time back (with what looks to be Paint Shop Pro clip-art packaging design) then perhaps James Melton's soul-stirring rendition of the film's theme song might...

"My Tonia" (1929) James Melton
Theme Song of "In Old Arizona"

While we have Mr. Melton with us, perhaps we can persuade him to --- oh! No need, he hasn't budged from that microphone:

"Chant of the Jungle" (1929)
Theme Song of "Untamed" (Metro)

"Beautiful Love" (1931)
As Featured in "The Mummy" (Universal)



In early December of 1929, Chester Bahn, Dramatic Critic of the Syracuse Herald, had a surprisingly cozy and informative chat with his readers about Technicolor films:

"And today, ladies and gentlemen, let us take stock, checking the forecast set down in this column on another Sabbath morn in the good old summertime -- a forecast which was, in the lingo of newspaper craft, bannered 'Pictures In Natural Colors Will Feature Next Year's Production.'"

"This is no clinical discourse, but a serious attempt to weigh the accuracy of a prediction plus the seasonal announcements of Hollywood's major producers. As evidence of its timeliness, let me merely refer to the recent six weeks' run of 'Gold Diggers of Broadway' and employment of color in other past, present and future local film bookings."

"At the moment, color is used effectively in Irene Bordoni's 'Paris' at the Strand, and less so in 'Glorifying the American Girl' at the Paramount. Pictures with color already shown included 'Broadway Melody,' 'Fox Movietone Follies,' 'The Hollywood Revue,' 'Married in Hollywood,' 'The Desert Song,' 'On With the Show,' and 'Rio Rita.' On the immediate horizon, there is 'Broadway' Eckel-theater bound."

"And this, my friends, is just the beginning. Technicolor, Inc. which controls the process now in vogue, advises that 14 features entirely or partly in natural color have been completed and that it is expected the principal studios will make a total of 50. Eleven actually are in the making. Monroe Lathrop, Hollywood columnist, is authority for the statement that before this time next year, 109 productions will be shown in color -- wholly or in part."

"The number of Technicolor specials to be released by Warners during this season of 1929-30 totals eight. This means that more than one-fifth of their entire schedule of 35 Vitaphone productions for the current year are utilizing Technicolor."

"The productions in color or with color sequences that are headed for Syracuse include 'Cotton and Silk' (note- working title for "It's A Great Life",) 'Golden Dawn,' 'General Crack,' 'Pointed Heels,' 'Sally,' 'Show of Shows,' 'Son of the Gods,' 'The Vagabond King,' 'The Rogue Song,' 'Under a Texas Moon,' 'Hold Everything' and Al Jolson's next picture, 'Mammy.'"

"Other color features now on the way include 'Devil May Care,' 'Lord Byron of Broadway,' 'Happy Days,' 'Dixiana,' 'Show Girl in Hollywood,' 'Song of the Flame,' 'Lady in Ermine,' 'Bright Lights' and 'Paramount on Parade.'"

"And, augmenting that list are these: 'Cameo Kirby,' 'New Orleans Frolic,' 'King of Jazz,' 'Bride of the Regiment,' 'Dance of Life,' 'Hell's Angels,' 'Hit The Deck,' 'Mamba,' 'Melody Man,' 'Mysterious Island,' 'No No Nannette,' 'Peacock Alley,' 'Puttin' on the Ritz,' 'Radio Revels' and 'The Viking.'"

"At present, there are 34 Technicolor cameras in the movie colony, and those are being augmented at the rate of one a week. But since all are working night and day shifts, they really are doing the work of 68 cameras. When the producers definitely turned to color eight months ago as the result of the success of 'On With the Show,' there were only eight Technicolor cameras in operation. Since that time, Technicolor has increased its working capacity eight times in an effort to meet the demand for color."

"Hollywood itself is sold on natural color pictures, and while undoubtedly the first rush may be attributed to that ever-raging film malady, copycat-itis, the conversion actually has keen appreciation of the possibilities behind it. Which is scarcely surprising. It is not so long ago that the less alert moguls had a painful lesson when the cinema found its voice. You remember those superior comments that sound could never, never, usurp the place of the silent picture, of course!"

"Stars of five principals studios were asked for their opinions on Technicolor after having worked with it. Al Jolson, Dennis King, Bebe Daniels, Lawrence Tibbett and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. were among those who replied, each citing a distinct advantage which color photography brings to the cinema."

"Jolson declared that Technicolor gives an illusion of the much sought third dimension. He said: 'In a remarkable way, it gives the semblance of third dimension to a picture, without its deformities -- a combination that experts have been seeking and that we have been hoping they'd develop. No longer do we have to judge the distance an object in a picture is from us by its size alone.'"

"Dennis King asserts that Technicolor enhances virility of action more than black and white photography: 'I entered a projection room in fear and trembling to see my first tests in color. I came out a convert. My work in 'The Vagabond King' convinced me that color, instead of killing virility, develops that quantity.'"

"Lawrence Tibbett, the Metropolitan Opera star, back in New York after completing his first film, 'The Rogue Song' for Metro-Goldwyn-Mater, contributes this: 'Color and music are inseparable when it comes to entertainment. You can't produce opera without clothing your singers in colorful costumes and I think that it will be found that one can't produce satisfactory musical entertainment in sound pictures without using color photography. One thing, however, spoils my interest in Technicolor at the present day. This is the fact that so many producers try to combine Technicolor scenes with scenes filmed in black and white. To my mind this is impossible. The moment the color photography ceases and the black and white scenes are shown, the picture drops several degrees in interest.' And to that opinion, I add a hearty 'Amen!'"

Careless printing of Technicolor elements --- the result of a glut of product demanding release --- would turn a process once deemed enchanting by critics and audiences alike into something akin to an unwelcome guest by the end of 1930, as audiences reached the saturation point in both musicals and eye straining pastel hued grain and blur.

When it was all too much, there was --- as there always had been, the radio. But even there, the trend for musical films was impossible to escape entirely.

Recorded advertisements, studio sponsored broadcasts, abridged versions of film scores --- and even more than a few examples of film soundtracks being piped out of the theater and into radio studios for re-broadcast to lure anyone who might still be at home (listening to free radio) into a theater and past the ticket booth --- all made it difficult to ignore and, in effect, also likely aided in the swift about-face the public gave the musical film.

As noted in these pages numerous times, the survival rate of transcriptions of radio product from this period is even worse than many of the films they promoted and, in typical irony, what does survive is invariably dull or wholly unmemorable.

There are exceptions of course, and here's just such an example --- a presumed "remote" broadcast of Ben Pollack & His Band from mid-summer of 1930. In this musical program, two Paramount films are plugged via sprightly performance of the tunes they featured: the title tune of "Let's Go Native" and "My Future Just Passed" from "Safety In Numbers." Other melodies featured in this broadcast include "So Beats My Heart For You," "How Are You Tonight In Hawaii?," "Blue is the Night," "I'm Confessing That I Love You," "Ragging the Scales," and "Betty Co-Ed." Enjoy!

Ben Pollack - Summer of 1930

And, while unlikely to figure anywhere else within these pages, here's vocalist Kate Smith's 1932 recording "A Memory Program," in which she presents a medley of sentimental ballads on the brink of falling from fashion and our collective memory, seemingly forever.

These "orphaned" melodies are always given haven here --- where, among kith and kin, they can once again find appreciative --- or at least, curious, listeners.

Vocalist Olive Kline (left) steps forth from the shadows of mid-1921 to once again offer: "The Japanese Sandman" (1921)

And, Henry Burr (below right) gives us a stirring 1925 rendition of the turn of the century melodic cornerstone, "After the Ball." While the orchestration has been tweaked a bit, Burr's voice still rings of 1892 --- and elevates the recording from the mundane to the priceless.


Charles Kaley, stage, radio, recording artist and star of Metro's 1929 "Lord Byron of Broadway" was featured in an earlier post that can be found via this link, but here's Mr. Kaley's two recordings of melodies from that peculiar and much underrated film:

"Should I?" (1929) and
"A Bundle of Old Love Letters" (1929)

It's interesting to note that Kaley's voice fares far better here than it does in the film. The playful, somewhat inventive phrasing heard here indicates that the performer's full (vocal) potential was never fully utilized in a film that surely could have used a bit of cheer.

We'll conclude this entry with a gallery of visual and musical offerings --- of no particular connection to one another other than the obvious. Look! Listen!! Enjoy!!!

Until Next Time!!!

"I'm Doing What I'm Doing For Love" (1929) - From "Honky Tonk"
The Teddy Kline Orchestra - Vocal by The Two Jazzers

"He's A Good Man To Have Around" - From "Honky Tonk" (1929)
Sophie Tucker & Orchestra

"I'm Just a Vagabond Lover" - From "The Vagabond Lover" (1929)
Harry Salter & His Orchestra

"It Seems to Be Spring" - From "Let's Go Native" (1930)
Joe & Dan Mooney, The Sunshine Boys


"Rio Rita" (1927) - From The Ziegfeld Production
The Bob Haring Society Nightclub Orchestra

"Sweetheart We Need Each Other" - From "Rio Rita" (1929)
Ben Pollack & His Park Central Orchestra


"Chant of the Jungle" - From "Untamed" (1929)
James Melton & Orchestra

"Tip Toe Thru the Tulips" - From "Gold Diggers of Broadway" (1929)
Fred Rich's Rhythmicians, vocal by The Two Jazzers


"Were You Just Pretending?" - From "No, No Nanette" (1930)
James Melton & Orchestra

"The Whip" - From "Golden Dawn" (1930)
Noah Beery & the Vitaphone Orchestra


The Blue Coal Minstrels (1931)
Featuring Al Bernard (Above)

"When Day Is Done" (1926)
The Indiana Hotel Broadcasters

More Drama Than a Ten Chapter Serial Play - Salt Lake City, Utah - 10 April 1929

###

Snake Hips

"The terraced minstrel show set with its lustrous expanse of gold and silver drapes, its fourteen huge jeweled sunbursts, its mammoth spreading fans in red, green and gold, all in a blaze of perfect lighting, is, perhaps, the most notable of the sets and when it is populated by 150 screen personalities all in brilliant and gorgeous costumes, the picture is beyond description."

So described a 1930 newspaper advance publicity placement for Fox's "Happy Days." Once I got past the beautifully descriptive prose, it occurred to me that I hadn't previously thought of the film as originally containing color sequences, but the thought was hugely appealing --- especially when combined with envisioning how the film might have looked upon it's premiere at New York City's Roxy Theater, where it was screened in the 70mm Fox Grandeur wide-screen process as well. Were this true, it's well neigh impossible to imagine the sensory overload that would have greeted 1930 audiences attending that most glorious of a cinema palaces and one which would be demolished after a mere thirty years of life: Color, wide-screen and Fox's unparalleled (in my opinion) Movietone sound process bathing each of the 5,920 upholstered seats in sight, sound and color. Overly dramatic I know, but not far from an early sound film buff's notion of heaven.

With the Roxy Theater long gone (it's entrance now marked by a T.G.I. Friday's) and "Happy Days" barely surviving in openly traded and sold 98th generation dupes --- a mottled, tattered, bleached, garbled and truncated shadow of its former self --- it's no small wonder the film is all but sneered at when written about, and surprisingly, it's even scoffed at by the only fan base it could possibly claim at this late date, that being the legions of Will Rogers' admirers. The film's parent studio apparently didn't think enough of it (or at all) to include it in two DVD boxed sets of Rogers' sound films and that's probably just as well considering the likelihood that the Rogers scenes would simply be extracted from the body of the film and included as an "extra" with little or no explanation.

But, I stray. Did "Happy Days" originally contain color sequences? The introductory paragraph certainly goes out of it's way to suggest so. Then too, not all --- but some period "reviews" for the film (of the variety written by theater owners who pre-screened prints before booking) seem to solidify the press campaign's claim by saying, merely, "Some of the scenes are in Technicolor." Well, perhaps not Technicolor --- but another color process? So, until anyone can offer up real proof pointing one way or the other, we can't be certain.

One of the film's most striking musical and tuneful sequences, in pastel hues or not, is "Snake Hips," which was promoted in newspapers by asking: "Do snakes have hips or not?" and then inviting them to see for themselves in a verbal elbow-nudge fashion.

Starkly designed with two gigantic curled cobras on either side of the set --- with bodies and heads rising and curling upwards to meet in the center forming an exotic proscenium arch, the beauty of the number's design and the shimmering metallic costumes are all but impossible to appreciate or even clearly ascertain in circulating dupes, which reduces individual dancers into undulating blobs without clear face or figure. The film's soundtrack has suffered right along with the visual elements too, and gone are the original Movietone crystalline highs and deep, warm and rich bass notes. Further assault comes in the form of no less than two cuts within the sequence, one of which deletes Sharon Lynn's entire vocalization of the song's chorus. With that warning in mind, and to oblige a reader request, here then is an audio reference for "Snake Hips" in the form it can be found today. No amount of mucking about with audio enhancement can undo decades of damage, but weak as this is it's actually an improvement upon the original source material!

"Snake Hips" (1930)

Scattered and wildly incomplete though surviving examples of early radio are, every once in a great while something comes along that almost effortlessly sweeps away volumes of dry written documentation simply by allowing us the ability to hear for ourselves, and experience something that no amount of prose --- however skillful --- can hope to emulate.


One Tuesday evening in May of 1928, an engineer working at the Thomas Edison Laboratory & Phonograph Works in New Jersey (pictured left) was busily testing a new recording process that would allow for long-playing discs. Seeking a continuous source of recordable material as opposed to recordings that would have to be changed every few minutes, the engineer decided to utilize a radio set in his workroom and at 8PM, he tuned into radio station WEAF, (which was carrying programming from NBC) and began his test recording, which lasted 18 minutes.

When finished, he filed the disc away with some jotted notes on the recording process and results, without knowing that some seventy-five years later his experiment would be rediscovered and that what he captured --- quite without thought as to posterity, would be the earliest known over-the-air recording of a live broadcast and, as it turns out, a broadcast consisting of popular music.

An entry in the NBC "Eveready Hour," a sponsored anthology/variety program that offered a diverse selection of dramatic, musical and comedy offerings, the captured fragment of entertainment and technological history is listed in the radio guide from that date only in the briefest of forms, without detail as to scheduled artist or theme. From the surviving broadcast itself, we learn that the setting is that of a night-club, and that the featured singer is one Martha Copeland, about whom I could discover nothing further. In researching various radio listings for the Eveready Hour from that same week and month, however, I think I can tentatively conclude that the accompanying vocal group that backs Copeland is The Hall Johnson Choir (a famous choral group of the day that was featured in a variety of entertainment mediums, including --- most notably, the 1929 Bessie Smith two-reeler "St. Louis Blues") and that it's probable that the orchestra was under the direction of Nathaniel Shilkret.

In the following two brief extracts of somewhat reduced quality from the full recording, Miss Copeland puts over a wonderful rendition of the pop standard "I Ain't Got Nobody" (including a disorienting shout of "everybody rock!" during the song) and then, a stirring vocalization of "The St. Louis Blues," performed here in an arrangement that foretells the ultimate Bessie Smith version that would arrive the following year, replete with similar haunting vocal backing by The Hall Johnson Choir.

"The Eveready Hour" (1928) Excerpt 1

"The Eveready Hour" (1928) Excerpt 2

Interested readers should make haste for the home page of the public-radio broadcast that first premiered this recording in 2003, "Thomas Edison's Attic," which is maintained by Edison recording historian supreme, Jerry Fabris. Displaying an unparalleled passion, knowledge and respect for Edison recording artists and their product, Mr. Fabris is as unique a gem as could be hoped for in this incredibly overlooked and underestimated niche of American popular music history. The material he broadcasts, originating directly from the original medium of cylinder or disc, is of astounding quality and variety, and guaranteed to cause any listener to rethink any existing notions they may have about early sound recording. With that in mind, please visit: http://wfmu.org/playlists/TE

Somehow or other, I've not yet managed to see D.W. Griffith's "Lady of the Pavements," a 1929 United Artists release that arrived on screens with a synchronized music and sound effects score and at least one dialogue sequence. Happily, the film survives today (although without it's sound elements) and I've heard that at least in some screenings, the film's lilting theme song ("Where Is the Song of Songs For Me?") the tune is given its due either by interpolation into the live piano accompaniment or by the playing of the film's star, Lupe Velez's 78rpm recording released in conjunction with the film's premiere. Either way, it's an admirable effort to try to correct damage wrought by time and neglect and one I applaud. In tribute to both the film and those who still present it, here's two renditions of the theme song. The first by Lupe Velez --- touching, skilled and exotic, and the second by vocalist Franklyn Baur, clear, resonant and timeless.

"Where Is the Song of Songs for Me?" (1929) Velez

"Where Is the Song of Songs for Me?" (1929) Baur


In a much lighter vein, I introduce vocalist Sid Garry, who recorded for a mind boggling array of "dime store" record labels throughout the 1920's --- and possibly prior and beyond, as concise information on his career hasn't been easy to pin down. What I do know is that no matter the record label he's encountered on --- Banner, Cameo, Domino, Perfect, Regal, Romeo, etc. to name but a few --- or no matter what name he used ("Al Foster" was a common alias), his voice and style is as unique and immediately identifiable as a thumb print... or blood stain. Adding a whole new dimension to the old descriptive term "he sings with a tear in his voice," Sid Garry has been delighting me for years by almost always seeming to be on the verge of weeping as he sings, and by a style of pronunciation and inflection that's his and his alone. I'd love to know more of Mr. Garry (or Mr. Foster,) so if any reader should have additional information, I urge you to share it!.

For the uninitiated, here's two familiar standards of the late 1920's as I suspect you've never heard them performed before. Typically, Mr. Garry either selected or was wisely called upon to vocalize tunes of an emotional or sentimental nature, and these two melodies, "Mean To Me" and "Tip Toe thru the Tulips" are prime Sid Garry. (Pictured right, Mr. Garry/Foster, himself.)

"Mean to Me" (1929)

"Tip Toe thru the Tulips" (1929)


Closing out this post, two additional requests that I'm pleased to be able to meet. In relation to my earlier posts regarding The Duncan Sisters, I was reminded that I overlooked one of their finest recordings, "Dawning" of 1927 --- and I'm glad this oversight was mentioned. A simple melody, the theme of which dwells upon dawn, early morning, mother's arms, yawning babies, and the rooster's call to awaken, it's comfort food of the musical sort that effortlessly stirs memories of childhood and home --- our first home --- that dwells within all of us, somewhere. As described in the Victor record ad at the left, the Duncan Sisters "each has a piano to accompany her --- that is, there are two pianos, while Vivian plays the uke. Against this background, they sing two of the charmingest ditties." The flip side tune, "Baby Feet Go Pitter Patter" is just a wee bit too charming, even for me. "Dawning," however, is magnificent and just charming enough.

"Dawning" (1927)

Lastly, for a flash finish, a high spirited medley of selections from the 1930 United Artists film "Puttin' on the Ritz," consisting of "With You," "There's Danger In Your Eyes Cherie" and of course the seemingly indestructible title tune. Of passing interest, in the ad below, note that the credit listings for a coming attraction, "Second Wife," has the odd billing "The New Lila Lee" for the extraordinarily prolific and skilled actress. This "new" tag, although of questionable taste, refers to the fact that the actress had underwent what amounts to a nervous breakdown (highly publicized too) following a grueling stretch of work in film upon film, in support of the likes of Texas Guinan in 1928, Sophie Tucker in 1929 and Lon Chaney in 1930 --- just to name a few. This "new" billing is an idea before its time, although if in use today it would likely have to read: "The Newest New, Really New, New as Today, _________." Ah, just as well it hasn't been borrowed, I suppose!

Medley - "Puttin' on the Ritz" (1930)

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"The Best Sound in Town"

Paramount's "The Cocoanuts" was selected as the grand re-opening feature for the Metropolitan Theater in Circleville, Ohio --- a theater which clearly had some issues with disc based sound reproduction systems, as revealed in the delightful ad to the left. Although Irving Berlin's "When My Dreams Come True" was to emerge as the hit from the filmed version of the 1926 stage musical, it's ultimately dreary when compared to "The Monkey Doodle-Doo," which --- oddly, wasn't widely recorded at all.

A lush version of "When My Dreams Come True" that hails from Australia, featuring a female vocalist who does as well or better than Mary Eaton.

"When My Dreams Come True" (1929) - Australia

As hot a tune as Paul Whiteman's band ever approached, "The Monkey Doodle-Doo" was recorded under the house-band alias "Busse's Buzzards" for Columbia in the last days of 1925. To quote the movie ad, "to miss it is a regret."

"The Monkey Doodle Doo" (1925)


Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer spared no expense advertising and promoting "The Broadway Melody," a landmark film which well deserved whatever boasting rights the studio could muster up. Theaters that booked the film had access to a wide array of ad copy, including one clever bit of advertising showmanship in the form of what looked to be an honest to goodness Western Union telegram from MGM to the theater owner, granting them --- above all other theaters in the area --- the right to show the film based upon their individual sterling qualities as presenters of fine motion pictures. Although this gimmick probably fooled as many newspaper readers as it was supposed to, audiences would arrive in droves with or without it.

It's interesting to note in the ad at left that even the smallest of local theaters presented the film with a specially recorded Overture (by New York's Capitol Theater Orchestra), discs of which seem to have fallen by the wayside.

Commercial recordings of the film's tunes are as many and varied as they are familiar, so here's two lesser known renditions of the title tune.

The first, by incredibly prolific songster Irving Kaufman (was there a record label he didn't record for?) is surprisingly restrained for a vocalist with a voice that could rival a klaxon and burst from the grooves of even the cheapest of dime-store discs.

"The Broadway Melody" (1929)

Odd though the combination is, Hawaiian guitars don't seem especially out of place in the second version, by a group calling themselves "The Four Aces," on the bargain Velvet-Tone label.

"The Broadway Melody" (1929) - The Four Aces

Little more than a scant minute or so in length, a fragment of recently discovered Technicolor footage will eventually allow us a glimpse --- for the first time in over seventy-five years --- of what so captivated audiences and critics alike when the Warner Bros. all-Technicolor production "On With the Show!" first premiered.

The prognosis is somewhat more optimistic for Warners' other smash-hit all-Technicolor release of 1929, "The Gold Diggers of Broadway," a film that seems intent upon slowly putting itself back together after decades of assisted exile from the world of the living.

British dance orchestras seem to have had a remarkable knack for producing the best 78rpm medleys from early musicals, and what follows are three of the best.

The first is a selection of tunes from "On With the Show" recorded by the Broadcast Dance Orchestra in late 1929. Included: "Welcome Home," "Am I Blue?," "Birmingham Bertha," "Let Me Have My Dreams," and the unfortunate "Lift A Julep To Your Two Lips.

Selections from "On With the Show" (1929)

From "Gold Diggers of Broadway," a two-sided medley (joined into one file here) quite unique in that it covers just about every tune performed in the film (aside from incidental scoring), three of which were never commercially recorded in the United States to my knowledge. Although the sonic quality is a bit thin, it's a remarkable compilation of diverse melody and rhythm. Included is: "In a Kitchenette," "What Will I Do Without You?," "The Gold Digger's Song," "Tip Toe thru the Tulips," "Go To Bed," "Keeping the Wolf from the Door," "Painting the Clouds With Sunshine," and "Mechanical Man."

Medley - "The Gold Diggers of Broadway" (1929)

From Al Jolson's 1930 part-Technicolor film "Mammy," which has made a few furtive appearances on screens following its recent restoration before retiring to points unknown, our last British dance band medley --- this time featuring tunes by Irving Berlin.

Selections from the Talkie Success "Mammy" (1930)

To give fair due to elaborate recorded medleys from early musicals that were produced on these shores --- and there weren't that many --- a fine one by Ben Selvin and His Orchestra paying homage to Metro's "Hollywood Revue" recorded for Columbia in late August of 1929.

Included: "Your Mother and Mine," "Orange Blossom Time," "Nobody But You," "Singin' in the Rain," and "Low Down Rhythm."

Medley - "The Hollywood Revue" (1929)

Lastly, in response to a reader's request regarding the previous post (Melody Native), although Ramon Novarro did not record a commercial version of "The Pagan Love Song" at the time the film was in release, he did include it in a medley of tunes recorded in Great Britain in 1936. Despite the fact that Novarro's accent seems to have thickened considerably since 1929, whether in actuality or not, it's a lovely recording --- although there's an underlying strain of sadness that's as touching as it is difficult to quite define.

Medley - Ramon Novarro (UK-1936)

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A Moment's Ornament

Imagine, if you will, a world some eighty odd years hence --- bereft of any visual home entertainment devices. If you can imagine that, then you might also be able to envision a writer of the same dim future pondering whether or not a film of 2012 was seen by audiences in an eye wear-free 3-D holographic format or not.

Although admittedly not the best comparison, such is the case with many films of the early sound era that now exist (if at all) in forms that are dramatically different from the ones that audiences first experienced.

It's easy to pick up one of the few truly good books on films of the period and learn of a film's plot, who directed it and who could be seen in it. But, in the case of missing films or those which have been visually or aurally altered over the decades, we never seem to quite learn why this has happened. And, more to the point, if we can't possibly see the "XYZ Follies Revue of 1930" today as audiences of 1930 saw it, we're seldom told just what those differences may be.

If there's one thing I've learned over years of sometimes leisurely research and other times frantic quests for information of films of the 1928-1930 era, it's to not entirely believe everything one is told, or reads, or has heard. (And that should certainly include these posts, to be perfectly fair.) Film history is inevitably history as it's interpreted when it's being written. Read a "movie history" book from the 1950's or 1960's and you'll see what I mean.

Even today, with the DVD format that allows for viewing of stunning presentations of titles like "The Broadway Melody," "The Great Gabbo," "Hell's Angels," "Dixiana," etc. and a number of exceptionally solid books on the topic, confusion and unintended misinformation still prevails.

For instance, "The Great Gabbo." A guilty-pleasure film that remains close to my heart ever since first viewing it via a super 8mm sound print from Thunderbird Films while suffering from the 'flu and a high fever (which didn't prevent me from crawling out of bed when it arrived to thread up the projector), I'm sure it looked and sounded mighty fine to me back in the late 70's. The version now available on DVD is almost startling in terms of clarity and in image detail, but ever since seeing this magnificent restoration, I'm unable to really recall seeing it any other way even though I did.

Although persons with impeccable credentials maintain that "The Great Gabbo" never contained color sequences as have long been thought, or (when pressed) that if it did, then it was only for selected showings at a premiere in a key city or two. Scour through newspaper archives, and a different story emerges. We see small theaters in small towns of small cities showing "The Great Gabbo" all the way into mid-1930 (it was released in late 1929), and accompanying advertisements and reviews that clearly mention "natural colors" or "Technicolor" (which it wasn't) or "Prismatic effects" for not just one, but many scenes. One lazy editor or type-setter or reviewer can be dismissed, but as many as twenty or thirty?

Similarly, the 1929 Warner Bros. revue, "The Show of Shows" is often cited today as having had only key sequences in the Technicolor process. Yet, once again, there's contrary evidence --- a lot in this case, indicating the entire film was in Technicolor.

Revealing though vintage press coverage can be, it can also be maddeningly frustrating and puzzling. Try as I might, I could not find a single reference hinting that the infamous "Turn on the Heat" musical number in Fox's 1929 "Sunny Side Up" was ever seen in anything but black and white, and some reviews of "The Broadway Melody" detail a "Technicolor" sequence that doesn't have a thing in common with any footage in surviving prints. Finally, there's mystifying types of comments such as one which cautions that the Marilyn Miller film "Sally" (WB-1929) is "98 per cent in Technicolor."

As I said earlier, don't believe everything you read --- especially when it comes to the fantastically convoluted history of films that talked, sang and danced across screens long, long ago.

(Three melodies from "The Great Gabbo," the first two featuring vocalist Greta Keller.)

"Every Now and Then" (1929)

"The New Step" (1929)

"The Web of Love" (1929)

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