= VITAPHONE VARIETIES =

"Among Sinister Shadows"

2009-03-29T09:53:00.032-04:00

In March of 1929, Paramount sought to entice newspaper readers into theaters with the following prepared review of William Wellman's "Chinatown Nights" ---

"There is more mystery on one Chinese standing in a shadowy Chinatown doorway than in all the mystery stories ever written. And in 'Chinatown Nights,' showing at the _______ there are more than five hundred Chinese revealed in all the intriguing and little known business of their powerful tongs."

"'Chinatown Nights' is a picture for everyone who loves drama, excitement and mystery. The suspense and action of the picture are excellently handled and the revelation of the inscrutable practices of the Chinese tong are surprising. A superior cast of screen artists enact this superb drama. Wallace Beery, Florence Vidor, Warner Oland and Jack Oakie head the cast of noted screen players. The picture was directed by William Wellman, the man who made 'Wings.'"

"'Chinatown Nights' is the story of a white boss of Chinatown who wins the love of a white society woman. She sacrifices everything for him, but not until she is dragged down into the mire of the underworld, does she awaken to his love for her."

"The Whole Cast Talks!" declared period print ads for the film, and according to one genuine newspaper review of the film in late March of 1929, that fact was, in of itself, a problem:

"'Chinatown Nights' is one of those talking pictures which would have been just as good, if not better, with sound effects only and the old style sub-titles. Wallace Beery and Florence Vidor are the stars in this Chinatown opus, but you go away feeling that Warner Oland, cast as 'Boston Charley,' makes the picture. "

"In this Gallery God's humble opinion, both Beery and Miss Vidor are miscast in a big way. Beery is the white boss of Chinatown, a part which he fills well, but you hardly can see the refined background which he is supposed to have. Miss Vidor makes a very good society woman, but as a drunken creature she wins no sympathy. And, what the sound box does to Miss Vidor's voice, is nobody's business.'"

"The plot deals with the society woman who falls in love with the white boss of a Chinese tong and tries to get him to quit it all and go her way. There is a war, with no small amount of shooting and killing. Some of the sound effects are excellent. In a Chinese theater scene, to cover the bark of guns, one tong throws firecrackers into the air and the staccato is splendidly recorded. There are some interesting scenes of Chinatown and a few inner workings of the tong are exposed."

Happily, while with us today, and an inarguable important entry in early talking film history, William Wellman's "Chinatown Nights" is difficult to fairly judge and nearly impossible to encounter in any form other than horribly bad dupes that, seemingly, first surfaced on Betamax tape ---the stunning photography reduced to wavering blotches of white and gray, and the busy soundtrack, once "splendidly recorded" now a shrill cacophony.

Despite the William Wellman branding, which raises weak hopes that the film may one day surface on DVD simply based on its lineage (early sound films can never seem to receive recognition based solely upon their place in cinema history --- only owing to either who directed them or who appears in them, inexplicably perhaps the only genre of film treated in this odd way) but then too, there is no getting away from the stereotypes that decorate the film (I'll leave it to someone else to use the word "plague") and all the baggage that goes with it. Understandably, "Chinatown Nights" may well long remain lurking in the darkened corners of film history, amidst sinister shadows of quite another sort.

Syndicated publicity item, April 1929:

"To celebrate the completion of 'Chinatown Nights,' the all-talking picture in which he was featured with Florence Vidor, actor Wallace Beery gave a little party at his home. The director, William Wellman, the staff workers, and the cast, including Warner Oland, Jack Oakie and all the others, were invited."

"As they came in, Beery told each that he had arranged with a prominent radio station to broadcast his party, commenting on the arrival of each guest, etc. As they entered, Beery phoned a certain number and almost immediately from the radio loudspeaker came laudatory words of welcome. The guests thought it very fine and complimented Beery on the stunt."

"William Wellman was one of the last to arrive. As he entered the door of the house, the radio spoke words to this effect: 'Here is Billy Wellman, the slave-driving director who beats his wife, sticks pins in his children and tortures his actors. He should be in jail and probably will be soon.'"

"After Wellman had recovered from the shock, and the guests from their hysteria, Beery revealed that the radio was a private affair and that the 'announcer' was George Bancroft, out in the garage."

We pause for melody! Who, of a certain age, won't recognize Paul Whiteman's 1928 recording of "Dancing Shadows" as serving as incidental scoring on what seemed like countless dozens of silent films in the earliest years of home video marketing? Infinitely more interesting than most of the films it accompanied at that time, hearing it again is not unlike greeting an old friend who, maddeningly, never seems to age.

"Dancing Shadows" (1928)

Mr. Ian McIver, who maintains the astounding "Virtual Radiogram" website based in the United Kingdom -- a mecca for theater organ enthusiasts, historians and all else in between -- and a reader of these pages, kindly sent along two of his favorite recordings by Regal Cinema organist Sydney Torch. The first, "When East Meets West" (a medley recorded in 1935 at the Regal Cinema, Edmonton) fits nicely with our nod towards "Chinatown Nights." The second, "Hotter than Ever," (recorded in 1934 at the Regal Cinema, Marble Arch) is sheer, shimmering cinema organ pleasure.

"When East Meets West" (1935)

"Hotter Than Ever" (1934)

Mr. McIver's website (link in above paragraph) is a multi-layered treasure of information (Jesse Crawford fans will be especially delighted!) of cinema organ history in the States, the United Kingdom, Australia and other locales --- accompanied by heaps of graphics and, best of all, a myriad of audio files. Be prepared to spend many a happy hour exploring! Many thanks to Mr. McIver for sharing with us!

Summer, 1929:

"The rhythmic tapping of the feet of 50 dancing girls - the wailing of saxophones and the high notes of an opera tenor in a theatrical boarding house - the bark of gangster's guns and the quiet 'raise you five grand' in a poker game are said to be some of the high spots in the First National Vitaphone picture 'Broadway Babies.'"

"'Broadway Babies' takes you behind the scenes in a big musical comedy theater, into night clubs of Broadway, and into the theatrical boarding house. It is a story of theatrical life, the experiences of three young hoofers who are fighting for recognition behind the footlights. Dazzling sets, particularly the theatrical scenes and those in the night clubs, promise to be exceptional."

So declared studio publicity releases farmed out to newspaper syndicates in mid 1929, and for once, the claims were valid --- and remain valid in 2009.

Is there a more charmingly cluttered (both visually and aurally) early talking film than "Broadway Babies?" Despite the abundance of optical and audio excess --- or because of it, "Broadway Babies" could easily (and should!) be called upon to serve as the leading surviving example of what talking cinema was like at that point in time --- when the part-talking hybrids had largely given up the ghost, and Hollywood had resolved to embrace and enhance the new medium. Best of all, by today's standards, "Broadway Babies" doesn't dull the senses -- it excites them.

The overly-decorated sets give the eye something to settle upon at every viewing (once one has had enough time to digest Alice White's limited repertoire of acting modes) and the soundtrack, bless it --- is a technical masterpiece of the period. Long before the term "multi-track" had even been a fanciful notion, "Broadway Babies" layers dialogue, incidental sound effects and a nearly start-to-finish astonishingly intricate background musical score into a practically seamless, unified whole.

"Broadway Babies" served as the opening talking picture attraction at the newly wired-for-sound Lantex Theater (Llano, Texas) in late 1929, and the arrival of talkies themselves was deemed of enough importance to warrant a special newspaper pull-out "Talkie Section" as well. Perhaps in the days leading up to the re-opening of the theater, citizens heard this special Victor exploitation recording being played outside the theater or in local record and phonograph shops?:

"Broadway Babies" (1929)

The following publicity placement for the now presumed-lost 1930 film "She Couldn't Say No" was heralded as being written by the film's star, Winnie Lightner, herself. While doubtful at best, the piece does serve to give us an idea of the filmed that can't easily be gleaned otherwise:

"While I was playing the leading role in 'She Couldn't Say No,' I realized for the first time what a heartbreaking experience it is for a woman to love a man who does not love her. I studied the part so thoroughly that I am sure I gained a complete understanding of the character. Of course, it would not do for me to say that I play it convincingly, but when you see 'She Couldn't Say No,' I hope you will enjoy my performance. I sure did my best to entertain you."

"In the story I am Winnie Harper, a big-hearted night club entertainer, who falls madly in love with Jerry, a racketeer, and then almost breaks her neck reforming him - which is always a silly thing for a woman to do. But then, Winnie loved the way she did everything else. With all her heart and soul."

"She succeeds in keeping him on the straight and narrow path for a long time by employing him as her manager. Inspired by the love she lavishes on him, she goes on to bigger and better things until she lands a job as the prize attraction at the swellest night club in town. With Jerry drawing 10% of her salary things go along smoothly and Winnie begins to think that her luck has changed and that she and Jerry are going to live happily ever after."

"Blinded by her own love, she refuses to see that Jerry's indifference is due to the fact that he does not love her. And then the dreadful blow! Winnie discovers that Jerry has fallen in love with a society girl who is attracted to him because he is so different from the men she has been acquainted with all her life. To keep up with her crowd he joins the 'gang' in a job, is arrested and sent to jail."

"Winnie still fights for the man and just when she thinks she is winning, the society girl steps into the picture again. Believe me, this poor girl certainly has her heartbreaking moments. When you see the picture you will sympathize with her just as I did. Of course, Jerry eventually comes to his sense but - well, it's too late. In watching the misfortunes of Winnie you, too, are going to understand what a tragic thing it is for a woman to love in vain."

Clearly, today's film trailers which painstakingly spell out each plot twist and treat you to every notable scene, visual element or clever line of dialogue, can trace their lineage back to this sort of counter-productive publicity placement! Sadly, at this stage in the game, it is unlikely we'll ever have the chance to see for ourselves --- but, stranger things have indeed happened.

As performed by vocalist Welcome Lewis, these two covers of melodies from "She Couldn't Say No" are pleasant enough, but nobody could belt 'em out like Winnie, so --- lacking Vitaphone disc audio in absence of the film itself, we must content ourselves.

"Watching My Dreams Go By" and "A Darn Fool Woman Like Me" (1930) Welcome Lewis

Melody that arrived between the end of the Great War and the dawn of the 1920's is as unique, to my way of thinking, as it is difficult to describe. There's a palpable sense of release and relief in this music, as we moved away from the terrible struggles and senseless death that permeated the War, and began to find a new place and sense of self in the weak first light of the new decade. Teetering and wavering between the old and the new, tentatively dipping into new forms of musical expression, these tunes capture a moment in time and history when all seemed possible, once having survived what was once deemed impossible.

"Darling" (1919)
"Rose Room" (1920)
Art Hickman & His Orchestra (Above)

"Make Believe" (1921)
Nora Bayes (Above)

"Oh By Jingo" (1919)
as performed by:

Margaret Young (1920) and Frank Crumit (1920)
(Imagine what Charlotte Greenwood did with this song!)

"Girl of My Dreams" (1929)
"I'm Waiting for Ships That Never Come In"
Performed by Maurice Gunsky (above)

Has anyone any information about this rather interesting vocalist?

Medley from "Whoopee!" (1930)
Medley from "Monte Carlo" (1930)
Performed with Orchestra by Pianist Raye de Costa

Medley from "The Love Parade" (1929)
Jack Payne & His BBC Orchestra

"Why Be Good?" (1929)
Vitaphone Disc Excerpt
A quiet, lilting melody in a sea of swirling jazz --- can anyone identify it?

"Nola" (1927) The Revelers
"Hello Bluebird" (1926) Vincent Lopez & His Orchestra
"High, High, High Up in the Hills" (1927) Nat Shilkret & the Victor Orchestra

Excerpt from "Jack White & His Montrealers"
(Vitaphone Short Subject # 791)
"I'm Ka-Razy For You" ("Say It With Songs") - Ruth Petty
"Mean to Me" - The Lee Sisters

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

Wishing all Readers a Happy, Safe and --- Let's Hope --- PROSPEROUS Spring Season!

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A Yuletide Frolic III - "Cheer Up and Smile!"

2008-12-20T17:10:00.006-05:00

Happy Holidays! For this third annual Yuletide Frolic edition of "Vitaphone Varieties," we'll acknowledge the disconcerting notion that the less romantic and fanciful aspects of the late 20's and early 30's might be closer to us than we suspect by entirely ignoring that fact and simply having fun with this post!

While postmen today don't seem to carry parcels any longer --- or smile much either for that matter, one can't help but wonder at the contents of some of those neatly wrapped parcels he cheerfully lugs up this snowy residential city street --- here forever caught in a mid-delivery time warp of the sort that most of us still experience today every now and then.

To accompany him on his appointed route, let's pipe in Eddie Cantor's (timely!) 1931 recording of "Cheer Up! Smile! Nertz!"

"Cheer Up! Smile! Nertz!" (1931)

Although this second image was taken on the same stretch of street, we have another smiling postman here --- and a grateful recipient as well. To continue and cap this little introductory "Cheer Up" motif, we've coaxed the fragile Noel Francis out of the dark and distant old posts from these pages to warble "Cheer Up and Smile" from the preserved but elusive "New Movietone Follies of 1930." Miss Francis? Ah, here she is... Yes, this way... Take your time.... Deep breath now... Ready? Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Noel Francis:

"Cheer Up and Smile!" (1930)

The sadly absent mid-1929 Universal talkie "College Love" (an eight reel elaboration upon the studio's long running and successful "Collegians" series of two-reelers) is described thusly and adequately by the AFI catalog:

"At Caldwell College, Flash Thomas (Eddie Phillips,) captain of the football team, is in love with Dorothy May (Dorothy Gulliver,) who is infatuated with Bob Wilson (George Lewis,) without whose help Thomas would not be such an outstanding player. Broken hearted, Thomas tries to laugh it off, then against the rules accepts an invitation to a roadhouse party. Wilson, discovering he is missing, hides in Thomas' bed to fool the coach (Hayden Stevinson,) then tries to persuade him to leave the party. When they return, however, the coach discovers the ruse and puts Wilson, who shields Thomas, out of the game. Dorothy asks for an explanation and, receiving none, returns Thomas' fraternity pin. At the last minute, Wilson is rushed into the game and Thomas plays to redeem himself. Wilson scores a touchdown, is proclaimed a hero, and wins the love of Dorothy."

A Charleston, West Virginia newspaper review from late July of 1929 brings us a bit closer to a film we'll likely never otherwise experience:

"Those who have seen the cast of promising young screen players in the series of short college stories entitled 'The Collegians,' are due for a surprise in their first feature production, 'College Love,' showing at the Virginia Theater."

"It is difficult to identify the improvement, but that improvement is very obvious. Perhaps the addition of sound is responsible, but more like, one observes, it's the scenario. 'College Love' gets away from the Horatio Alger type of story and therein, one suspects, lies its success."

"There is an abundance of action in this picture - action on the gridiron, on the campus, and action in romance and comedy. The musical score greatly enhances the story - there are some very tuneful selections. The dialogue is on par with many of the motion pictures which stars with years of learning appear."

"'College Love' is a swiftly-moving story of life in one of the large institutions of learning - although the 'learning' feature is entirely ignored. The action hinges upon a football game and the male leads are taken by members of the squad."

"Brought into the plot is the 'darling of the campus' and the rivalry between the two heroes of the gridiron for her attention. Excellent scenes of a football game before thousands of fans are shown. They are so realistic that one could easily imagine they were being shown from a news reel."

"Dorothy Gulliver takes the part of the campus favorite. The rivals are George Lewis and Eddie Phillips. Other who have taken parts in the 'Collegians' series add considerably to this picture. It is, without exaggeration, the best picture portraying college life that has been produced in sound."

While I couldn't dredge up recordings of the two original tunes featured in "College Love" ("It's You" and "Oh, How We Love Our College,") we have an entertaining 1927 recording that takes the accepted tradition of casting college pictures with performers for whom college youth is a distant and faded memory to a level of high parody. The vocal is by our old friend, Billy Murray, joined here with dialect comedian, Monroe Silver.

"Oh, How We Love Our Alma Mater" (1927)

Before moving along to our next feature item, a selection of melodies ---

From a long list entitled "Lost Films That We're Not So Sure We'd Go Out of Our Way to See if They Weren't," comes this pairing of beautifully performed tunes from Metro's 1930 "The Rogue Song," as interpreted by Nat Shilkret & the Victor Orchestra:

"The Rogue Song" and "When I'm Looking At You"

Resurrecting a tune from time dimmed pages of this blog --- if only for the fact that it well deserves another brief fling at fame --- is "Blue Baby," a 1928 melody that all but soars upwards and away every time I hear it --- which isn't often enough. The music is by Roy Leonard & His Orchestra (that swirling jazz violin knocks me out every time!) and the vocal is by Irving Kaufman --- who is nothing short of perfect here.

"Blue Baby" (1928)

With each passing year, Fox's 1929 landmark musical "Sunny Side Up" seems to never quite catch the DVD release train --- bravely grasping for the brass ring, but never quite making it into boxed sets where its inclusion might not be precisely logical but neither unwelcome either, as an extra or supplement. Hope still exists that Fox might gather up "Just Imagine," "New Movietone Follies of 1930," "Happy Days," "Hearts in Dixie" and "Sunny Side Up" for a diverse and important collection of the studio's early sound product --- but, alas and alack! -- none of these films can boast any pedigree (an element apparently vitally critical to Fox when pondering what to do next) other than that they were all wildly popular and successful with audiences of the day.

Here's a gem of a review of "Sunny Side Up" but Wood Soanes, from September of 1929:

"'Sunny Side Up' isn't the best title in the world for a picture - it sounds as if the film were an epic of the hash house - but 'Sunny Side Up' is one of the best pictures of the year and another ten-strike for Janet Gaynor and Charles Farrell. It doesn't require the gifts of a prophet to foresee the box office interest that will be aroused in this new Fox release, previewed at the Grand Lake last evening, for it affords Miss Gaynor the best chance she has had since 'Seventh Heaven.' It provides us with some new screen faces if importance, it has a bevy of corking tunes, it possesses some elaborate scenic contrivances, and most of all - it has laughs."

"As a matter of record, the Grand Lake audience hasn't laughed more at six romantic comedies. And for these guffaws, you may thank the memory of the gag man who exhumed comedy situations from all ears; and the skill of El Brendel, Marjorie White and Frank Richardson - particularly Miss White, because she had to make most of her own comedy."

"It may seem a little odd to have such a profusion of diaphragm laughter in the story that is merely a revision of the Cinderella tale in which a winsome East Side girl dreams of a Prince Charming and has him come to life almost at once: a story in which Cinderella is transported into the 400, is ousted by mistake and then gets back with flying colors and her man. That tale surely, is not new to screen audiences."

"But, the telling of it was another story. David Butler unfolds his first sequences in the East Side tenement where Miss Gaynor lives and is beloved by Brendel, the delicatessen merchant. Her pals are Frank Richardson, a song plugger with a flair for musical theft that is inordinate, and Miss White who is just one of those little jazz babes with a delicious sense of humor and an aptitude for nut comedy."

"The merit of 'Sunny Side Up' as may easily be discovered from this synopsis is not in the story, nor, you may be informed, is it in the work done by Farrell who, is pretty to look at but has one of those baby voices that go with the vo-de-do boys in the male quartets. It is the ensemble effect, the blending of rich comedy with acceptable pathos, and the singing of such tunes as 'If I Had a Talking Picture of You.' "

"Sunny Side Up" ran two hours and seven minutes last evening and will, of consequence, be edited. Perhaps in the thirty minutes of material that is dropped we will lose the symphony orchestra effect when Miss Gaynor plays the zither - no fooling - in the privacy of her boudoir; some of the more obvious of the cheap jokes; a couple of the burlesque scenes into which vulgarity crept; the children's part in the 'Talking Picture' chorus and some of the painted back drops."

"Of all things that should be retained at all cost are the 'daisy specialty' of Miss White and Richrdson, and the beautiful Arctic-to-Tropic transformation scene. This last was one of the most unique presentations to be put on the screen and while it is a little too long, it is sufficiently unique to stand. One looks for effects of this kind in the 'revue' pictures, but doesn't find it. Then, it shows up in a 'Sunny Side Up.'"

Let's hope the film again "shows up" again in a form that restores at least some of its once former glory --- and rescues it from the black market where it now unhappily resides in tattered and senseless near-oblivion.

"If I Had a Talking Picture of You"
(1929) Johnny Marvin

"You've Got Me Picking Petals..."
(1929) The High Hatters

"Turn on the Heat"
(1929) The Collegiate Jazzers
Vocal by (who else?) Irving Kaufman

Medley from "Sunny Side Up"
(1929) Al Benny's Broadway Boys

Selections from "Sunny Side Up"
(1929) The Rhythm Maniacs
Side One - Side Two

Our next item of interest is courtesy of Doug Gerbino, a loyal reader and friend of these pages:

Accompanying most initial screenings of Warner Brothers' 1927 Vitaphone success "The Better 'Ole" --- a broad comedy of the Great War that starred Syd Chaplin as "Old Bill," a character created by Bruce Bairnsfather --- was none other than Mr. Bairnsfather himself, via a Vitaphone short subject.

Providing a clever introduction to both the character of "Old Bill" and the feature film itself, this simply produced short subject presented Mr. Bairnsfather before the drawing easel, where he replicated his famous character while telling of how it came to be created. But --- to paraphrase John Miljan --- why tell you about it when I cannot let you see it, but hear it? Here then --- and again, thanks to Doug, is Bruce Bairnsfather (portrait, below left) via the Vitaphone.

Bruce Bairnsfather (1927) Vitaphone Short Subject #393

Note: The disc has a VERY rough start but ultimately clears up --- somewhat. The other-wordly squeals and groans of this ravaged disc serve as a sad reminder of just how fragile the relics of our past are.

While Vitaphone discs are sturdy souls, and tenacious survivors as well, radio transcription discs of the late 20's and early 30's seeming had an unspoken suicide pact, given the low numbers in which they exist today. That said, it's a pleasure to offer two that were given the will to live and are with us today --- and in fine shape too!

From 1933, NBC's "The A&P Gypsies" (with tenor Frank Parker, under the direction of Harry Horlick) dish up some elegantly arranged melodies of the day -- as well as some mid-brow salon-pop compositions and foreign novelties: "It's Just a Memory," "Butterflies in the Rain," Sigmund Romberg's "Road to Paradise," "Love Songs of the Nile," "Characteristic Russian Melodies," "Let's Have Another Cup of Coffee," "Strike Me Pink," Selections from Victor Herbert's "Natoma," "Stardust," and "Dardanella."

The A&P Gypsies (NBC - 1933)

The real surprise here was just how elaborate this "canned" radio show was in terms of production and care of recording. If you can arrange for your next dinner party to run no more than 36 minutes, this is what you need playing in the background!

"Blossom Time" (1931)

"Blossom Time" (1931) was a short-lived (perhaps even one-shot) syndicated musical offering sponsored by local "Say It With Flowers" florists --- and as such, the focus was one tunes with floral themes or titles. No shortage there, I suppose --- just not tunes that people wanted to hear time and again. Heard here: "I'm Bringing A Red, Red Rose," "Where the Shy Little Violets Grow," "In My Bouquet of Memories," etc., etc. Listeners were urged to bring the whole family to their local florist, where the "Fall Flower Festival" was going on at full speed, with something for everyone! - "Come see the flowers - spend happy hours."

The text portion of this post concludes here --- but a good deal still awaits your eyes and ears ahead! We'll be back shortly after the New Year arrives --- and here's a sincere wish to each and every one of you for a Happy Holiday and a bright, healthy and prosperous 2009!!!!!!!!!

Thank-You!
"You're Wonderful!"
(1928 - Nat Shilkret & the Victor Orchestra)

"Christmas Melodies" (1928)
Paul Whiteman & His Orchestra

"Jingle Bells" and "Silent Night" (1931)
Advertisement for the Junior Home Magazine
Phil Spitalny & His Orchestra

"My Silver Tree" (1928)
The Broadway Nitelites

"Jingle Bells" (1925)
The Revelers

"Singing in the Bathtub" (1929)
From "Show of Shows"
Fred Meles' Symphonic Jazz Orchestra

"The Kinkajou" (1927)
From "Rio Rita"
Nat Shilkret & the Victor Orchestra, Vocal by Billy Murray

Promotional Disc for
"Why Bring That Up?" (1929)

"It Happened in Monterey" (1930)
From "King of Jazz"
Henryk Gold & His Orchestra

"A Night of Happiness"
from "A Song of Kentucky" (Fox-1929-Lost Film)
Jackie Taylor's Orchestra, Vocal by Buster Dees

"What is claimed to be the longest close-up ever made in
all talking motion pictures was taken of Lois Moran in
'A Song of Kentucky.' Co-starred with Miss Moran is
Joe Wagstaff with Dorothy Burgess leading the
supporting cast in a story that has as its greatest
thrill, the running of the 1929 Kentucky Derby and
the charm in its musical atmosphere."

"Wedding of the Painted Doll" (1929)
The Badgers
From "The Broadway Melody"

"Chinatown, My Chinatown" (circa 1916)
Tenor Solo - Little Wonder Records

Ad for the "Hop Ching" Checker Game
on Display in Above Window

"That Old Gang of Mine" (1923)
Ernest Jones & Billy Hare

"So What's the Use?" (1910)
Raymond Hitchcock

"The Perfect Song" (1930)
Nat Shilkret & the Victor Salon Orchestra

"Maybe?" (1926)
Nat Shilkret & the Victor Orchestra, with Jesse Crawford

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A Temple of Synchronization

2008-11-09T13:25:00.024-05:00

No, "Vitaphone Varieties" hasn't fallen by the wayside --- nor has this writer!
True enough, recent posts have been scattered and erratic at best, and gone are the days of new additions that appeared with clockwork regularity in years past --- but I owe it to you, to the topic at hand and (I suppose) to myself, to try to maintain a monthly posting schedule.

Many thanks to the readers who have written, expressing concern, horror, anger and polite curiosity --- for these notes did much to hasten my return! I cannot hope for this blog to ever lay claim to being "100 Shows in One" as the glorious lobby-card for "Show of Shows" depicted above does, but we'll try our best! Oh yes, there will be a third annual "Yuletide Frolic" post in time for the holidays --- so check back!

For now, let's get to it. Forgive the somewhat rusty prose, pace and content of this post --- I'm limbering up after too long being away from the keyboard!

In late 1928, newspapers informed readers that "George Jessel has completed a sound drama with songs for Tiffany-Stahl, titled 'The Ghetto,' from an original story by Viola Brothers Shore." The film would reach screens in February of 1929 as "Lucky Boy."

A lengthy, syndicated publicity press release --- also from February of 1929 --- affords some interesting, albeit highly colored, background on the film --- and on Jessel himself, and is worth offering here in part:

"When Jessel started making 'Lucky Boy,' the Tiffany-Stahl feature production, he was up against some new and strange problems. The singing and talk sequences required more time in rehearsal than the lead role in a legitimate production. From the start, Jessel had his heart set on making 'Lucky Boy' something far greater than 'The Jazz Singer,' his brain child that wandered out into the world to make a tidy fortune for Jolson instead of Jessel. 'Lucky Boy,' therefore, had a grave responsibility as far as Jessel was concerned."

"The picture, portraying Jessel's life and seasoned with Jessel's subtitles and dialogue, was like a second son who must atone for a first-born's derelitcion. While the sound sequences were underway at the RCA Studio, Jessel was starring in 'The War Song,' a legitimate drama, at the National Theater (NYC - September to December of 1928) His role in this play was longer than 'Hamlet,' and he had to do much singing."

"One day, at the studio, a camera rebelled after Jessel had worked since 10 o'clock that morning. He was due on stage at at the National at 8:30 and it was almost 7. Jessel realized that if the scene was not taken the same day, it would flop. The cast was rehearsed and coaxed into the mood, the scenery had been set up after hours of work, and the musicians were soaked in the melody that Jessel was to sing. While the operator worked on the camera, Jessel jollied everyone along and watched the studio clock anxiously. Soon, everything was in readiness and Jessel mounted the stage. Singing with all h is heart and soul, he went through the first verse chorus of 'My Mother's Eyes,' the theme song of the picture, and not a Kleig light clicked, not an unwanted sound disturbed the perfect synchronization of Jessel's voice. Jessel started on the second stanza. The cameraman cut him short with 'Stop!' The film had buckled. Three times the cameraman made repairs, and three times Jessel sang, only to be cut short with 'Stop!'"

"He had been working all day, he had a night's work ahead of him. In exasperation, he made a dash for the door. 'Let me get out of here quick before I shoot myself" he whispered to the door attendant, but the door had hardly closed on him than he was back. The last attempt was tried. And, oddly, Jessel sang as he had never sung before, the musicians played as though to make the song immortal, and a charm lay on the camera. Instances like this occurred ime and again in the making of 'Lucky Boy,' as in the making of all sound pictures while the process is in its infancy. Jessel, by the sheer force of his personality, surmounted them all."

A far more accurate, yet no less charming overview of 'Lucky Boy' was offered by reviewer Wood Soanes in early March of 1929:

George Jessel, who played 'The Jazz Singer' on the stage and nearly played it on the screen, made his talking debut at the Vitaphone Theater yesterday in a Tiffany-Stahl production entitled 'Lucky Boy.' The picture is one that permits him to sing his songs, do one of his acts, and comport himself otherwise in a mild reflection of Jolson's second release, 'The Singing Fool,' as a youth who fights his way to musical-comedy fame and the hand of a society girl."

"But, 'Lucky Boy' is far from a satisfactory picture. Tiffany-Stahl apparently decided that Jessel's reputation in the theater was of sufficient importance to let him worry along with a cast of second-rate players, and burdened him further with bad photography and shoddy direction. It is questionable if even Jolson would have risen above the situations created by the producers in 'Lucky Boy,' and no-one has ever accused Jessel of being anything more than a fair to middlin' song-and-dance man who was carried into the limelight by the melodrama and sentiment of the stage version of 'The Jazz Singer.'"

"'Lucky Boy' is the story of a Jewish jeweler in the Bronx. The boy doesn't want to peer through a magnifying glass for the rest of his life. He believes he is an actor in the making. In this contention he receives support from his mother and indignant lectures from his father. So he runs away, becomes a star and has his father refer to him as 'My Boy,' with accent on the 'My.'"

"During the course of the scenario Jessel sings a number of songs, most of them current hits, a Mother song being used more or less as a theme number. Of his song and talk appearances, Jessel's bit in the amateur-night performance was far and away the best. He wrote the dialogue and titles himself, and that was another mistake."

Surprisingly, "Lucky Boy" is still with us today, although a bit truncated from its original length and looking and sounding every bit its age, but it's worth seeking out. To compare Jessel to Jolson is quite beside the point, as both performers have personalities and a screen presence that one either admires or loathes --- seldom a middle ground --- but it's very difficult indeed to imagine "The Jazz Singer" without the manic energy that Jolson provided and makes it interesting to watch in even the most difficult of that film's moments, and there are many such stretches. No, "The Jazz Singer" with Jessel would have been a very different film, and perhaps so would have film history.

Of the "5 Song Hits 5" mentioned in the ad at left, we have two versions of the film's theme song with us --- one from Jessel's commercial 78rpm release of the tune, and the other an excerpt from the film's soundtrack itself:

"My Mother's Eyes" (1929-78rpm)

"My Mother's Eyes" (1929 soundtrack excerpt)

Curiously, the flipside of the 78rpm release version of "My Mother's Eyes" contains a tune that seems as though it was surely intended for inclusion in Jessel's film, but it's nowhere to be found in the print of the film that I screened --- nor is there mention of it in any press release. It'd be interesting if anyone can shed any light on the minor mystery surrounding:

"When the Curtain Comes Down" (1929-78rpm)

Chester Bahn, Dramatic Critic of the Syracuse Herald, wrote this magnificent, perceptive and evocative review of "The Lights of New York" in late August of 1928:

"In 1915, the Strand, throwing open its doors to Syracuse screen fans, became the city's first deluxe cinema house. In 1927, the Strand introduced the Vitaphone, becoming the city's first temple of synchronization. Yesterday, the renovated and refurnished Strand passed still another milestone of achievement with the local premiere of the first all-dialogue sound drama - Warners' Vitaphoned 'Lights of New York.' Of these three distinct contributions to the city's progress in cinematic entertainment, I am inclined to unhesitatingly award the palm to 'Lights of New York.'"

"The advent of Vitaphone more than a year ago was an omen. The Strand's current headliner may be accepted as its fulfillment, in part at least. To those who with the obvious flaws of preceding sound pictures in mind have dubiously queried 'Can the wide gap between stage and screen technique be spanned?,' Warners' primary attempt to substitute dialog for subtitle makes an affirmative answer in no uncertain fashion."

"Not, of course, that 'Lights of New York' is perfect. Even the most enthusiastic publicity purveyor in the Warner livery would hardly dare claim that. But those faults which are more in evidence are not so much the result of faulty technique as they are of faulty mechanics -- failure of a voice to register, for example. And that, I believe, is of the utmost significance."

"One of the most interesting of all speculative sound subjects has been the effect the introduction of dialog sequences would have upon tempo. A favorite assertion has been that such sequences would so retard action as to make suspense and climactic moments well nigh impossible -- that scenes would drag wearily along. 'Lights of New York' also goes far to nail that as a canard -- not all the way perhaps, but far enough to make an intelligent conclusion possible. The picture, with its liberal use of speech and its minimum of subtitle, is packed with suspense. Nor is there any appreciable loss of 'punch' where the spoken word supplements the conventional screen climax."

"The story itself is old-fashioned melodrama, done a la 'Broadway.' The plot, aside from its setting, is easy recognizable by any veteran of the Grand Opera House galleries. The dialog, introduced is, in the main, sensible. Occasionally, there are lapses, but they are not too frequent so as to annoy. From the standpoint of settings, the picture is well done, with perhaps one exception. A Central Park scene is so unreal, so obviously studio, that it reminds of the cinema's earliest days."

"Histrionically, the picture is average. Warners' publicity spotlights the name of Helene Costello, but there is little in her characterization of Kitty Lewis or in her handling of dialog to warrant it. Cullen Landis, the male lead, makes a fair impression, but he is no Conrad Nagel by any means. The best work, I should say, was done by Gladys Brockwell as Molly Thompson, and by Robert Elliot as Detective Crosby. Wheeler Oakman's heavy is cast in the 10-20-30 mold."

While we await someone to inform this department just what "the 10-20-30 mold" refers to, listen to this excerpt from the original trailer disc as spoken by Warners' player John Miljan. The scripting may strike you as either incredibly pompous or eerily wonderful, but either way you'll remember this one:

Excerpt from "Lights of New York" trailer disc (1928)

By the time Ted Lewis' "Is Everybody Happy?" was trundling towards local screens in time for Thanksgiving of 1929, Lewis himself acted as pitchman for the film --- which may or may not have had audience members firmly resolve to make holiday dinner a quick affair in order to get to their local talkie house in time for the evening show.

Like so many of the more intriguing personality films of the day, nary a frame of film seems to have survived from "Is Everybody Happy?" despite the plethora of audio that lays in wait to perhaps some day rejoin the image.

"Is Everybody Happy?" (Trailer Disc)

Until we meet again next month --

Thank You!

"Sonny Boy" - From "The Singing Fool" (1928) - Vitaphone Disc Excerpt

"Under a Texas Moon" (1930) - The Paramount Rhythm Boys

"Ten Cents a Dance" (1930) - June Purcell

"Puttin' on the Ritz" (1930) - Sound Disc Excerpt

"One Sweet Kiss" - From "Say It With Songs" (1929) - Gus Arnheim

"Look for the Silver Lining" - From "Sally" (1929) - The High Hatters

"Wild Rose" - From "Sally" (1929) - The High Hatters

"Look for the Silver Lining" - From "Sally" (1929) - Vitaphone Disc Excerpt

"I'm on a Diet of Love" - From "Happy Days" (1930) - George Olsen

"I'm A Dreamer" - From "Sunny Side Up" (1929) - Earl Burtnett & His Biltmore Orchestra

"I'm Feathering a Nest" - From "Honky Tonk" (1929) - Gus Arnheim

"Fable in Sable" (1939) The New Friends of Rhythm

###

The Grand Parade

2008-07-12T12:31:00.003-04:00

Seeming as though he wants nothing more than to break free of his creators, we see one of Coney Island's Luna Park lions at what amounts to his birth --- with largely Italian artisan hands forming and shaping the body that would soon become adhered to one of the park's fanciful structures. Close examination of the image (click on it!) is rewarding, revealing with startling clarity a moment, an art-form, a location and persons all lost to time.

Ultimately, the construction elements of the lion --- plaster, wood lathe and hemp fiber --- and indeed much of the park itself, would contribute to and feed the conflagration that would destroy it. A sad loss, but its best not to believe any of this would still be with us today otherwise, for the organic nature of the construction elements were akin to a clock counting down from the moment of creation --- its destiny predetermined from the first.

And so too it goes for the medium of film, so I suppose a parallel can be drawn between the two divergent forms of pleasure --- but I'll leave that to you to ponder.

While having utterly nothing to do with either Luna Park or lost cinema, the Irving Berlin tune "The Syncopated Walk" has at least the same sense of boundless ---albeit tightly coiled --- energy as our plaster Leo had, and is well worth featuring here.

Written for the 1914 musical revue "Watch Your Step," which would run at New York City's New Amsterdam Theater until May of 1915, "The Syncopated Walk" would close the first act and the effect must have been nothing short of electrifying.

Danced to by Vernon and Irene Castle, and accompanied by a full chorus of voices (which included Charles King and then partner Elizabeth Brice) and theater orchestra, the presentation must have seemed a onrushing torrent of soaring, diving and sweeping melody, words and movement.

A fair measure of that excitement can still be found in this 1915 British recording of the tune, which features Ethel Levey, Blanche Tomlin and Joseph Coyne --- members of the London company:

"The Syncopated Walk" (1915) Ethel Levey, Blanche Tomlin & Joseph Coyne

"The Syncopated Walk" - Lyrics in .pdf form

Curiously, both "The Syncopated Walk" and another tune from "Watch Your Step" titled "Discoveries" would figure in the Vitaphone score for 1927's "The Great Ginsberg" --- a fact that eluded me until now and which has been added to the original blog post featuring the lost George Jessel film. That entry, from November of 2006 (has it been that long ago?) can be reached via this link --- or those just wishing to hear the audio again can simply click here.

Now sufficiently energized, let's see what the Pathe Studio publicists had to say about their early 1930 offering "The Grand Parade," now deemed a lost film:

"Different in many respects from the cut-and-dried picture romance, 'The Grand Parade,' a Pathe dialogue production featuring Helen Twelvetrees and Fred Scott, is a story of black face minstrelry so popular 40 or more years ago. It is distinctly a new type of entertainment on the screen, for in addition to its vital, forceful drama, it presents a complete minstrel show such as our grandparents delighted to see when they were young. Wonderful music, catchy songs, spicy jokes and the glittering pageantry of Negro entertainment supplement the drama of this remarkable achievement in the field of audible films."

After all that, the film is neatly summed up in two sentences which could easily be describing an early Biograph one-reeler instead of a glittering pageant of audible film: "The story deals with a minstrel singer who wins success, but through the influence of an evil woman, sinks to the dregs, a drunken sot. He is salvaged by a boarding house slavey and she succeeds in making a man of him."

Leave it to Helen Twelvetrees to look utterly forlorn while dressed in regal garb and sitting atop a parade bass drum, but with eyebrows invariably poised in despondent arch and a mouth always at the ready to emit sobs or meek acceptance of whatever sad fate the script dealt her, Miss Twelvetrees seldom fails to disappoint.

Here's a wonderful (but sadly anonymous!) review of "The Grand Parade" by a Waterloo, Iowa newspaper writer who's had a bit too much of this sort of thing but accepts it all gamely and with the same sort of forgiving sense of humor that serves films of this vintage well today:

"After an unsuspecting movie audience has seen a pair of estranged stage actors re-united in countless plays, because of everything from a dying child to who gets the parlor furniture without the radio, the all-talkie 'The Grand Parade,' now showing at the Iowa Theater provides a theme that practically completes the list. This time, Helen Twelvetrees and Fred Scott are held together by the clutching hands of an unborn baby."

"A feature of this bill that will however be enjoyed, is the picturization of an old=time minstrel show. Fred Scott, as the great 'Come Back' Kelly, greatest star in the minstrel world, sings some dandy songs of which the best is 'Molly.' As an actor, Scott is still a good tenor. Helen Twelvetrees, as the boarding house slavey, who marries the former star after he has met a blonde bozo and the bumps in rapid succession, keeps a good supply of tears running almost continuously. She has one effective scene, when she tosses over the husband, because she thinks he has a lot to learn about being a prospective father."

Syndicated Hollywood columnist Robbin Coons discusses both voice dubbing and foreign-release versions of films in a column from May of 1930, and pulled an unsuspecting "The Grand Parade" into the spotlight:

"The screen's 'battle of tongues' chatters away with as many battlefields as there are markets for talkies. And, Hollywood continues to bombard the foreign market effectively enough to keep for talking pictures the supremacy abroad which silents held."

"Making of foreign versions either with the American cast speaking foreign lines, or with foreign actors actually before the camera is gaining conspicuously in favor here over the earlier popular trick of 'dubbing in' foreign dialogue so that the words seem to come from the lips of the Hollywood stars."

"Where 'dubbing-in' is employed, less and less is there any attempt to deceive the foreign audience into believing the Hollywood players have actually spoken their language -- perhaps because such attempts in the past have been futile. It is probable that the innovation in 'La Gran Parade' will be followed in other productions."

"This, a Spanish version of 'The Grand Parade,' has two Spanish stage actors speaking the parts played originally by Helen Twelvetrees and Fred Scott. The voice doubles appear in a prologue, and introduce the American stars who, in carefully memorized words, make brief speeches of appreciation."

"A somewhat similar appeasing of national pride is to be used in the German version of the revue, 'Paramount on Parade.' Linguistically, it will be in English as in the American version, except that Marlene Deitrich, newly arrived from Berlin, will replace Jack Oakie as master of ceremonies, and tell the audience, in German, what it's all about."

Two melodies (in English) from "The Grand Parade" as performed by vocalist Donald Novis, seem rather painless if not a bit familiar even upon first listening. "Molly" (1929) - From 'The Grand Parade'

"Alone in the Rain" (1929) - From 'The Grand Parade'

And, for a bit of Espanol period music, from 1931 comes "La Medicina del Jazz," which is as good --- if not better, than many similar, somewhat manic American and British pseudo-jazz pop of the period. Here's Senor Duran & His Orchestra ---

"La Medicina del Jazz" (1931) Duran y su Orquesta

I suspect that most readers of this blog --- of a certain age, and especially lifelong residents of the East Coast --- can relate to the curious almost palpable thrill that often arises when hearing the strains of "California, Here I Come!" For vintage film enthusiasts especially, the tune might not hold the same shimmer of gloss as "Hooray for Hollywood" or even "You Ought To Be in Pictures," but I never particularly liked either of those tunes --- and then too, 1924's "California Here I Come" spoke of a California of a somewhat earlier day than those two tunes, when the lure wasn't entirely motion picture stars and studios. No, in this instance the lure was orange groves, floral scented breezes, and the odd golden hued sunshine that attracted the likes of D.W. Griffith and his contemporaries when the last century was young.

Of course, the land spoken of in this melody is now changed beyond recognition, and East and West Coast weather patterns seem horrifically damaged and all but reversed --- but as you listen to Vernon Dalhart's (right) magnificent and utterly pure rendition of this old chestnut, see if you don't feel the same sense of longing his vocalization contains. Now, these many years later --- it's not only longing for another place, but also for another time --- a "Golden Gate" indeed.

"California, Here I Come" (1924) Vernon Dalhart

"He Sings! He Talks! He Charms!" declared ads for the 1929 talkie "Sonny Boy," and if a potential theater patron remained skeptical, the Warner Bros. publicity department had a few extra rounds of ammunition in store:

"Combine all the 'ohs' and 'ahs' of doting parents at the antics of their offspring, and the same appreciative utterances of audiences gurgling at all the child players of the screen, and you have a faint idea of the reception Davey Lee gets, and will continue to get, in his starring role as 'Sonny Boy.'"

"Davey Lee is without a doubt the greatest screen find in years. The Warner Brothers have reason to congratulate themselves. The child is natural, with none of the affectations of most theater prodigies: he is amusing and winning; he acts, talks and sings with a most ingratiating charm and a refreshing lack of camera-consciousness."

"The lines Davey is given to say are immaterial; when the youngster puckers up his face and says anything at all, from 'Kin I depend on that?' to his prayers; and when he stands right up and sings 'Sonny Boy' in a manner that one won't forget for a long time, the audience is his forever."

Forever is a long time, and audience attention would drift elsewhere and away from young Mr. Lee in a few months and never return again, but he was indeed wildly popular and seemingly everywhere --- from films to radio to phonograph records and picture books --- during the span of time that film was finding and establishing its voice.

Anything but the sentimental tear-jerker that some early talkie archeologists have tagged this lost film as (only an incomplete set of Vitaphone sound discs are deposited at UCLA although certainly full sets exist) "Sonny Boy" played out thus:

"Mary and Hamilton, Sonny Boy's parents, have quarreled and Hamilton plays to take their boy with him to Europe. Mary telephones to he sister, Winifred Canfield, to help her to retain her child."

"Pretending to be the maid, Winifred sends Sonny Boy out of the house in a clothes basket, which is carried by the detective employed by Hamilton to keep his wife from spiriting the child away."

"Winifred, at the railway station, overhears Hamilton's lawyer, Thorpe, saying that he is leaving his apartment vacant for some days. To escape pursuit which is already underway, Winifred takes Sonny Boy to Thorpe's apartment to which she gets the key by pretending to be his wife."

"Thorpe's parents arrive unexpectedly and Winifred has to keep up the pretense of being their daughter-in-law. Thorpe is called back by Hamilton and returns to his apartment. He knows Winifred's story is false, but does not learn her identity until he overhears her telephoning to Mary."

"Mary's arrival is soon followed by that of Hamilton, who thinks his wife is having a rendezvous with Thorpe, and he attacks the attorney. The appearance of Winifred and Sonny Boy soon clears up matters."

New York Telegram columnist Katherine Zimmerman attended the June 1929 East Coast premiere of "Sonny Boy" and her opinion is as surprising as it is entertaining:

"When I think of all the bravissimos that are due to be tossed at the feet of Master Davey Lee today, following the premiere of 'Sonny Boy,' the necessity for sitting down and coining a brand new adjective looms large."

"For here is the most ingenious paradox that Hollywood has handed out in the memory of your correspondent, a screen child with a sense of humor, an infant prodigy that can keep a packed house hugging itself in glee without seeking refuge once in those juvenile eccentricities known as 'cute.'"

"I must confess that as a rule I find nothing more fatiguing than a sustained seance with the genus Screen Child. But the departmental bonnet is doffed deferentially to this 4-year old gamin, who thumbs his nose engagingly at all directions and proceeds to entertain cash customers after his own fashion."

"Davey Lee has a genuine flare for comedy. He takes the stock situations and well-worn gags of 'Sonny Boy' and contrives to bamboozle you into getting a new slant on them -- the kiddie's viewpoint, so to speak. He puts his whole heart into an uproarious imitation of Al Jolson in his favorite anthem. He kids the entire 'bright doings by our little ones' situation by letting you have them with his tongue out and his nose awry. He kids the grown-ups that imperil our toddlers' nerves with fatuous baby stuff. In a word, he seems to be the answer to the juvenile film population's prayer -- another David, complete with sling and ready to avenge the disrespect that has been practiced for twenty years by celluloidia against the natural state of childhood."

"He conducts the whole picture in a mood of cheerful inanity, and the result is a thoroughly enjoyable evening. The plot, by the way, has something to do with an obliging spinster who passes off her sister's child as her own and finds herself saddled unexpectedly with a husband and a couple of provoking old in-laws."

"The writers deserve a couple of slaps for some really adult situations, and in the cast Edward Everett Horton and Betty Bronson are on the crest of the wave most of the time."

Given the fact that any exposure we may have had to Davey Lee has been via his work in "The Singing Fool" or "Say It With Songs" --- the former in which he divides his time by either being cradled in Al Jolson's arms or dying, and the latter in which he doesn't do much more save for being run down in the street by a passing vehicle and then laying paralyzed --- one truly wonders if his surviving films show him at the worst possible advantage that can befall any actor of the period, that being smothered by the presence of Jolson in the same frame and nearly ceasing to exist because of it.

Certainly, the eccentric supporting cast of "Sonny Boy," the oddly risque plot elements, and the inclusion of a full-throttled send up of his own theme song by Davey Lee serve to conjure up a strange product indeed, but every indication is that it all worked beautifully and the young performer had found, just this once, the perfect vehicle for his unique talent and presence.

I wish I could offer Lee's rendition of "Sonny Boy" here, but can't --- so we have instead something less than ideal but suited to the moment:

"Sonny Boy" (1928)

At left, young Miss Grace Rogers as she appeared in a September 1929 "Metro Movietone Revue" one-reeler that despite seeming as though it had been filmed 1927, proved popular enough to play in theaters throughout the country as late as September of 1930!

Despite her severe hairstyle --- so at odds with the bow bedecked frock --- what a voice!! Here's her rendition of "Lila" --- Give her a moment to gather steam!

And, because the tune itself is good enough to stand on its own, here's Oreste & His Queensland Orchestra giving it an injection of heat: "Lila" Oreste & His Queensland Orchestra

A reviewer of Paramount's 1929 college musical "Sweetie," as it arrived in Wisconsin in December of that year, was unduly puzzled:

"Is 'Sweetie' a burlesque of other conceptions of college life by producers or is it just another of those synthetic pictures of college as it exists nowhere in the United States? Opinion is somewhat divided among those who've seen 'Sweetie.'"

"Assuming for the moment that it is not burlesque, its components rate thus: Plot - fair, Acting - fair, Music - good, Direction - fair, and Photography - excellent. If it is burlesque, you may at your own pleasure boost the plot to 'good.' Either way the picture averages fair plus."

"Nancy Carroll is being worked hard in one light frothy picture after another, just as Clara Bow was for a time -- because Nancy's Irish face and slim limbs have caught the public eye and captured the public heart. It is this effort to capitalize on her popularity that leads us to believe that 'Sweetie' is not particularly intended as burlesque."

"Jack Oakie and Helen Kane furnish their antics to a plot that has many antique situations and Jack as usual gets a fairly fat amount of dialogue allotted to him. From some of the doings of the cast, we would suggest as a name for the college: Mendota."

Certainly, viewing "Sweetie" today can be a chore if you count yourself as one who doesn't particularly care for the one-note shtick of Jack Oakie, Helen Kane and Stuart Erwin --- but there's always Nancy Carroll, consistently fine indoor and outdoor photography and recording, and a wide variety of interesting backgrounds and settings that divert the eye during the duller stretches that frequent the film.

A selection of melody from "Sweetie":

"My Sweeter Than Sweet" -
Stanley Smith

"The Prep Step" -
Jesse Stafford & His Orchestra

"Alma Mammy" - Waring's Pennsylvanians

"My Sweeter Than Sweet" - Frankie Trumbauer & His Orchestra

Until Next Time!

"Frozen River" (1929)

"In 'Frozen River,' Rinty is Lobo, a husky, reared among wolves, a killer
with a price on his head. But he makes friends with a little boy, Billy.
It should be mentioned that Davey Lee does not take a talking part in
this picture, but patrons will be amply rewarded just to see this sweet child."

"Always 3 Good Shows" and some exceptional
artwork too. Salt Lake City, Utah - July 1929
Which would you choose?

Syndicated Davey Lee Profile & "Interview"
Benton Harbor, Michigan - April 1929

A Television Wedding
24 October 1928

A Talkie Wedding of Note
4 August 1929

"I Do Like to Be Beside the Seaside" (1909) Florrie Forde

Medley: I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls" and "Then You'll Remember Me"
(circa 1925) - Sam Moore

###

Length Not Wearying

2008-06-22T19:26:00.003-04:00

While I'd be hard pressed to come up with any obvious similarities between the lone figure looking straight at you from the left --- a Coney Island sideshow performer of 1910 --- and this blog, the fact remains that one is a dim artifact of past pleasures both noble and dubious, and the other a venue seeking to keep their memory alive and to bridge the fearful distance between Then and Now.

It has been an unusually long time between the last entry and this one, and I apologize for that unhappy fact, but also must reassure the many readers who have written and inquired as to the general health of "Vitaphone Varieties" that I've no intention of closing up shop nor abandoning what has become, quite unexpectedly too --- almost a living entity of an odd sort. That said, I suppose readers may encounter a sporadic posting schedule --- but "down time" of the sort recently encountered will not be typical. Ideally, a new release every month is the most comfortable fit and I'll strive to maintain that goal wherever possible.

Before moving on, allow me to thank all those who have written with encouragement and suggestions, and the many more nameless folks around the globe who return to these pages regularly in the hope of finding something new to see, hear and experience. I can't quite promise "performing leopards and jaguars," or even "Bamboula & Doc. Hastings: Jungle Comedians," but perhaps what I can offer is something not terribly far removed after all.

News Wire Story - 14 September 1913:

"Usually he is a creature of most regular habits and imperturbable good humour, but at rare intervals he feels the need of a change. One afternoon he suddenly jumped out of the window and set off at a good pace toward the busy Place du Chatelet. He strolled into a cafe, upset the glasses of the customers, pushed over a few chairs, and after a final look around went out and swung himself on a passing motor-omnibus."

"To the consternation of passengers, he sat down in the first-class section, but when the conductor came for his fare he dived playfully out of the open window. He appeared soon afterwards in a grocer's shop, sampled some nuts, but did not approve of them, and began to pull out drawers and open cupboards."

"When the grocer appeared, the monkey threw lemons at him, then over-turned into an empty barrel and was pulled out by the feet. He retaliated by biting and scratching the grocer, who is now taking action against the owner of Bamboula."

Now that that's cleared up, we'll begin this entry proper with melody ---

An old friend visits us from mid-December of1927, making it clear he has his priorities both straight and sensible as could be:

"Ten Cents Worth of Crackers, Ten Cents Worth of Cheese --- and You" (1927)

From the odd mix of melodrama and music that is MGM's 1930 "Children of Pleasure," (a companion piece if ever there was to 1929's "Lord Byron of Broadway",) comes "Dust," performed here by the Casa Loma Orchestra.

"Dust" (1930)

A Madison, Wisconsin newspaper review of "Sunny Side Up" from December 30th of 1929:

"An excellent picture as a whole, and the most human picture we have seen this year -- that's 'Sunny Side Up,' starring Charles Farrell and Janet Gaynor, made famous by 'Seventh Heaven,' and now playing at the Strand Theater to overflow crowds."

"For the first half of the picture the action goes well and in a unified way in an atmosphere reminiscent of 'Seventh Heaven.' Then, the picture falters, stammers, and becomes ridiculous on several occasions."

"Among the particularly silly scenes is Farrell talking to the pictures of two women, because the director apparently was at a loss to show his change in emotional goal any other way. The psychological climax with Janet Gaynor in despair over the fact that Charles loves another became comedy at one show when a voice from the audience during a silent moment boomed 'That's all right old girl.'"

"Nor could the director resist an opportunity to interject the inevitable stage scenes of impromptu musical comedy, which have come to be a part of every talkie, regardless of the subject." "Although the picture runs the full two hours of the show, its length is not wearying -- testimonial to its entertainment value. Children will like it, and few adults will be disappointed in it."

Another review of the film --- this time from Butte, Montana --- and also from December of 1929, offers some interesting insight as to where color footage originally appeared in the film that now survives in a truncated, monochromatic form:

"One of the richest and most colorful sequences ever seen on the screen is the sensational 'Water Carnival' portion of the film, which is filmed in colors. The elongated sequence comprises three songs, one of which is a solo by Miss Gaynor - 'I'm a Dreamer,' a love duet - 'If I Had a Talking Picture of You,' sung by Miss Gaynor and Farrell, and 'Turn On the Heat,' a spectacular jazz number sung and danced by Sharon Lynn and an ensemble of chorus beauties."

For your listening pleasure, a1929 medley of selections from "Sunny Side Up," --- performed in a delightfully majestic manner --- heavy on the strings -- by the Kingsway Promenade Orchestra. Indeed, the only melody from the film not given nod here is (understandably) Marjorie White's Harry Lauder parody, "It's Great to Be Necked!"

Selections from "Sunny Side Up" (1929)

Syndicated newspaper columnist Dan Thomas focused upon the fragile blonde actress and vocalist Jeanette Loff, prominently featured in Universal's "King Of Jazz" in a column dating from January of 1930:

"Getting fired isn't the most pleasant thing in the world. But sometimes it turns out to be a real break after all. That's just what happened to Jeanette Loff and as a result the young blonde actress now is in line to do something really big in this motion picture racket. Jeanette was under contract to Pathe for about two years. A short time ago one of the option dates in her contract rolled around and Pathe officials decided not to exercise their option, as was the case with a good many of their players."

"Consequently, Miss Loff was faced with the prospect of looking for a new job. That took her just one day, however. The day after she moved off the Pathe lot, she parked her make-up box at the Metropolitan studio and went to work in 'Party Girl,' which Edward and Victor Halperin were producing."

"That film finished. Universal then offered the girl a five-year contract and a role in Paul Whiteman's "King of Jazz Revue." Originally, she was slated to sing one number in the picture, but her voice proved to be of such an excellent quality that the one number now has increased to four. And, if she keeps on she will have as much footage as Whiteman himself by the time the picture is completed."

"'Of course I am happy,' Jeanette exclaimed. 'Who wouldn't be with four songs in Paul Whiteman's film? I don't mind saying that I was discouraged when Pathe let me go. I hadn't accomplished a great deal over there, but I had hopes of some day doing something worthwhile. I believe know that I am going to realize those hopes, even though I had to get a new job before doing so.'"

"'I don't know exactly what I'm going to do after this picture, but I have heard a story is being prepared especially for me. Won't that be marvelous, coming right on top of the Whiteman film? I hope that the pictures aren't too close together though, because my Aunt wants me to make a trip to Palm Beach with her, and you have no idea how badly I want to go. I have never been away from the Pacific coast.'"

"When Jeanette left her job as organist in a Portland, Oregon theater to become a film actress, she was considered a great bet. Being much the same type as Vilma Banky, Rod La Rocque chose her as his leading lady in three pictures. Those were the days when Rod was getting pretty much what he wanted. With that as a start, it looked as though nothing could stop the talented young blonde."

"Something did though. What exactly, nobody knows. For some reason, big roles just stopped coming Jeanette's way and her box office value, which had been going up rapidly, started slumping off. Maybe the blame should be laid at the feet of the talkies. They did funny things to many persons out here."

"In any event, we do know that Pathe never gave Miss Loff a chance to sing. They just took it for granted that with the talkies in, she wouldn't go over so well. It was left for Paul Whiteman to discover what a truly remarkable voice she has."

An audio excerpt from the lengthy "My Bridal Veil" sequence from "King of Jazz," highlighting Miss Loff's lovely voice:

"My Bridal Veil" (1930) Excerpt

Had "King of Jazz" appeared early in the first cycle of musical films, Loff's film career might have been as bright and prolific as predicted --- but the public was fast becoming fatigued, and Loff's newly discovered talent would go largely untapped without vehicles being produced that could utilize them.

Radio might seem a natural venue for the actress/vocalist, and indeed she did appear with fellow "King of Jazz" alumni Grace Hayes on Paul Whiteman's "Old Gold" Hour in March of 1930, to again warble "A Bench in the Park," but there's little or no evidence radio required her services beyond this one-off appearance.

Loff would appear alongside Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. in the 1930 Tiffany early exploitation film "Party Girl," and with Betty Compson in Universal's forgotten 1930 frivolity "The Boudior Diplomat," but then seemed to fade from view.

Syndicated Hollywood columnist Robbin Coons --- for reasons lost to time --- turned his focus on Jeanette Loff in an entry from early December of 1933:

"Blue-eyed Jeanette Loff of the golden hair can always wonder what would have happened to her screen career had she followed her desire and made her screen debut some six years ago as 'Jan Love.'"

"Jeanette is Scandinavian by descent, her mother Norwegian and her father Danish. The family name was once Lov, and Jeanette as a child was called Jan. It was as Jan Lov that she played the organ in theaters up in Portland, Oregon, and sometimes appeared singing in theater prologues, during vacation from school. But when she came to Hollywood and signed a contract with Cecil B. DeMille, who seems to like American-sounding names, he wouldn't let her be anything but Jeanette Loff."

"As Jeanette Loff, of course, she was sentenced to perpetual ingenue roles, which is why, even though she is still Jeanette Loff, she regards her return to films after two years on the stage as a turning point. The picture is 'Mating Time,' and she plays a country girl who goes bad. 'She turns out all right in the end,' smiles Jeanette, sitting on the cream and blue davenport in her cream and blue and white apartment --- her own idea. 'But what a change for me after playing so many nice girls! And they chose me from 50 other girls tested. Do you suppose Broadway would have done all that for me?'"

"Miss Loff left Hollywood after surprising everyone by her singing in the Paul Whiteman screen revue, 'The King of Jazz.' She had remained under contract to Universal for several months afterwards, but no more roles were forthcoming. She went to New York, appeared in musical plays and with orchestras and recently came back to Hollywood, looking for more pictures. Her return was timed fairly closely with the revival of the Whiteman film, which probably has done better on second release than on its first."

In fact, everyone seemed to be doing better 'round about now, except Jeanette. "Mating Time" appears to have been scrapped long before any cameras rolled, and news (right) of Jeanette Loff's sister's 1931 wedding to one Robert Knox of Oakland, California was deemed interesting enough to be featured in countless newspapers of the day.

One can't easily imagine Loff's feelings in early 1933 --- without work, without studio, while at the same time appearing in a myriad of cinemas across the nation in the edited re-release version of "King of Jazz." It's impossible to imagine she didn't venture into one of these theaters to see herself again as she was in 1930 when success seemed so near and so certain. Perhaps it is best to leave her there, at that moment, and conjecture no further.

Perhaps due to the re-release of "King of Jazz," or not, a flurry of minor activity would mark 1934. There'd be two ventures into the two-reel format for the Hal Roach Studio -- seemingly toying with the idea of a team consisting of Loff and Eddie Foy, Jr. -- that resulted in "Benny From Panama" and "A Duke For A Day."

From the latter film, we have Jeanette Loff's rendition of "I Wake Up With A Song," which reveals that her voice was just as pleasing and adept in 1934 as it had been four years earlier --- and that despite the highly ironic lyrics:

"I Wake Up With A Song" (1934)

A bit part in an MGM film, and a couple of bottom-of-the-bill potboilers for Monogram and Showmen's Pictures Inc. would mark the end of Loff's screen career by the mid-1930's.

Her name would re-surface again in early August of 1942 --- a war-torn world away from pastel hued bridal veils of 1930.

Some sources claim her death was the result of suicide by ammonia poisoning, but details are either elusive or never made public. Hollywood columnist did refer to her death as "tragic and senseless" when otherwise cheerfully reporting that her widower, Bert Friedlob, was sporting a Lieutenant's uniform while nightclubbing a few months later --- but I suppose it's all very much left open to interpretation.

As for Jeanette's sister Irene, who stole the show in 1931 with news of her wedding? Well, in March of 1946, newspapers reported that Irene Loff received a Reno divorce from Mr. Knox on the grounds that "her husband had neglected to provide her with the necessities of life for more than one year." There are necessities of life, and there are needs. There, we leave the sisters Loff.

Oakland, CA - March of 1929:

"The Easter rabbit left a highly colored cinema egg at the T & D Theater this week, and the customers have due cause to rejoice and be glad. It is called 'a jazz revue,' and that describes it was well as anything. Backstage shenanigans, some singing, dancing and romancing by the principals, good photography and first rate sound reproduction."

"'Close Harmony' was written by Elsie Janis and brings to the foreground Charles 'Buddy' Rogers and Nancy Carroll as the two chief characters, Jack Oakie and 'Skeets' Gallagher for light comedy relief, and Harry Green for sound low comedy of a most effective sort."

"Green really steals the picture as far as laughs go with is impersonation of the harried Hebrew manager of the movie house where the events of 'Close Harmony' originate. Rogers has suffered in recent pictures by the inordinate desire of the movie makers to convert him into a tin hero. In 'Close Harmony' he is given some human traits: jealousy, pig-headedness and shy brutality. He almost becomes an average young man trying to get along the world. And Nancy Carroll, too, is most attractive disclosing charm that has hitherto been denied her by this sage."

"In 'Close Harmony,' young Rogers is a jazz band conductor in the making. He is befriended by Miss Caroll who has already achieved comparative stardom. She undertakes to be his manager and intended bride at one and the same time and use her wits to advance the boy. He rebels when some of her schemes violate his sense of justice, but all ends well."

"Close Harmony" is one of a large clutch of Paramount early talkies that survive and enjoy good health, yet remain largely unseen save for sporadic archive screenings. So it goes.

Oh, for a boxed DVD set of Paramount's contribution to the early sound era! "Interference," "The Letter," "Glorifying the American Girl," "Dance of Life," "The Virginian," and of course, "Paramount on Parade" and "Follow Thru." I suppose we've as much chance for this as it would be for a beaming Nancy Carroll showing up at your door bearing "Abie's Irish Rose" in cans --- but it's a nice thought for an idle moment of delirium nonetheless.

From "Close Harmony," two melodies performed by Jesse Stafford & His Orchestra:

"I'm All A Twitter" (1929) and...

"I Want To Go Places and Do Things" (1929)

One can't easily peruse vintage magazines or newspaper ads without some sense of wistful longing for what we deem "the good old days" and marvel at how inexpensive things seem to be.

It came as something of a reality check then to learn that if one converted the $272 price-tag of this admittedly high-end Brunswick radio and phonograph combination to that of 2008 prices, you would be looking at a cost of something in the vicinity of $3,292.00.

Likewise, when Columbia introduced it's new Double-Disc (two sided) 78rpm records in 1911, that reasonable sounding 65 cent price-tag would equate to just over $14.00 today. Double-your-music value be damned, that was a formidable outlay in 1911 and it can only be hoped that these early double-discs didn't frequently exploit the opportunity to pair one hotly popular tune with one of fleeting interest.

Such didn't seem to be the case with the January 1911 Columbia Double Disc release of two melodies ("Stop, Stop, Stop!" and "Lovie Joe") from "The Ziegfeld Follies of 1910," which played at New York City's Jardin de Paris theater from June until September of that year.

I can't vouch for "Stop, Stop, Stop!" but the latter tune, "Lovie Joe," is a forgotten delight that revels in an eccentric musical style that combines the ballad with ragtime with sly paraphrasing of classical melody.

We've two versions of this sprightly tune with us, the first a 1910 recording by prolific recording artist Arthur Collins and the second a modern re-creation by the always magnificent and much under-utilized Paragon Ragtime Orchestra which --- as always --- gets it "just right" and resists the temptation to either improve or improvise --- two elements which turn the vast bulk of all such recordings into campy garbage. No "Betty Boop" vocals here, folks!

"Lovie Joe" (1910) Arthur Collins

"Lovie Joe" The Paragon Ragtime Orchestra

The young man intently listening to a portable phonograph circa 1921 is composer and pianist Edward Elzear 'Zez' Confrey, who's compositions (often referred to as "piano novelties") would mark the 1920's with their clear, staccato, playful rhythms that seem at once familiar and yet startlingly new --- "My Pet," "Kitten on the Keys," "Dizzy Fingers," "Humorestless."

While much of his work was better suited to listening than dancing, his 1922 piece "Stumbling" rejoiced in movement of the human form, albeit awkward and untrained --- and therefore accessible to all.

A September 1922 newspaper feature instructed readers in the proper way to do "stumbling steps" (thereby ruining the inherent simplicity and humor of the melody) and informed readers that Mr. Confrey "said he got his inspiration by watching the discomfiture of a poor man who had never taken dancing lessons before stumble all over a poor young lady who had."

Labeled "A Fox Trot Oddity," the composition is the sort that once heard it can't (easily) be forgotten and seems to contain, within it, the feel and mood of the dawning years of the decade that inspired it.

Three versions of "Stumbling" are offered here, two being vocals and one orchestral --- and it's difficult if not impossible to place one above the other in terms of quality, although the deciding factor will likely be based upon your fondness of either Paul Whiteman, Frank Crumit or Billy Murray. Fans of all three will have some deciding to do.

"Stumbling" (1922) Paul Whiteman & His Band

"Stumbling" (1922) Frank Crumit

"Stumbling" (1922) Billy Murray

Newspaper readers in November of 1929, who had all they could do that year to absorb and understand a torrent of new technological wonders, were faced with yet another advance in entertainment...

"An instrument without keyboard, strings or reeds, untouched by the hands of the player, is soon to be introduced for the first time by one of the most noted orchestras in the United States."

"The instrument is called a Theremin after Leon Theremin, its Russian inventor. It is really an apparatus consisting of radio tubes and antennas and is operated by the aid of electricity. It will be played by Theremin himself when he appears as soloist with the Cleveland Orchestra here Thanksgiving night."

"The Theremin is an instrument which produces musical sound by electrical means. It has no keyboard, strings, reeds or other mechanical aids or sources of sound. It has a range of three octaves and on the lower range partakes the tone of the bassoon, string bass and other low-pitched instruments. Further up the scale, it imitates the cello, violin, flute and still further --- the human voice."

As we now know, the Theremin would never quite be taken seriously (whether justifiably or not) and is perhaps best remembered as an instrument --- like the Son-O-Vox, which would provide appropriately other-worldly atmosphere to numerous mystery, horror and science fiction productions. In the recording that follows, from 1930, the Theremin lends --- well, not much of anything, to be quite frank --- to a rendition of a pop tune of the day, "You're Driving Me Crazy."

"You're Driving Me Crazy" (1930)

Before heading out and away from this entry --- down the usual gallery of scattered sight and sound, we'll linger a moment to look back upon the aforementioned 1929 Paramount film "The Dance of Life," which never envisioned that "Glamorous! Gorgeous! Heart Breaking!" would some day aptly describe the film's sad fate --- existing as a dupey shadow of its former self. Paramount itself described the film thus in 1929 press material:

"Sound and color have been successfully combined on the same narrow strip of motion picture film and the surprisingly successful combination will be seen at the ______ Theater. The perfected sound-and-color process has been used to photograph and record a lavish stage revue in 'The Dance of Life.' The stage and performers appear in natural colors, the brilliant jewels, the gorgeous gowns, the dancing choruses and beautiful settings. Eighty dancing girls are used in the production and the sound of their steps and voices are distinctly heard. A 32-piece orchestra and the song of a soloist are packed together on a single bit of celluloid scarcely more than an inch square. The perfected system of combining sound and color on motion picture film is the work of scientists of the Technicolor Corporation, working with sound engineers of the Paramount studios. The use of this process in "The Dance of Life" is the first that has been successful enough to present to the public."

And now, as noted, to close out this entry, a selection of sights and sounds and a firm reassurance that I'll see you again soon --- likely over the 4th of July holiday weekend, so until then --- thanks for visiting!

"Say It With Songs" (1929) French Release Poster Art

"Annapolis" (Pathe-1929) Jeanette Loff & Admirers

"Who?" from "Sunny" (1926)
French Rendition by Mistinguette

"The Big Pond" (1930) French Language Release Version

"No, No, Nanette" (1930)
Gone, Gone, Gone...

Canadian Columbia Double Disc Record Advertisement

25 September 1929

"You Want Loving, But I Want Love" (1929)
Rudy Vallee & His Connecticut Yankees

24 October 1928

Continued...

"In the Good Old Summer Time" (1903)
Mr. Burt Shepard

"Muddy Water" (1927)
Al Friedman's Orchestra

Mr. & Mrs. Sidney Drew, circa 1917

"Singing in the Rain" and "Orange Blossom Time"
from "The Hollywood Revue" (1929)
Mr. Johnny Marvin & Orchestra

"Painting the Clouds With Sunshine"
from "The Gold Diggers of Broadway" (1929)
Mr. Al Foster (aka Sid Gary)

Coming Soon ---

The Return of Enigmarelle - His True Story!

###

Mountains of Manhattan

2008-04-06T09:27:00.035-04:00

From a May 1927 press release for the Gotham production "Mountains of Manhattan" ---

"There is nothing more spectacular or fascinating than the world famous skyline of New York City and the producers have taken a keen psychological advantage of this and utilized it for the background of a very strong drama."

"The title of the picture, too, is most appropriate as it applies to the towering pinnacles of concrete and steel which form the 'Mountains of Manhattan.'"

"The story deals with the rise of Jerry Nolan, who is typical of the present day American artisan. Jerry has ambitions which are fired by the skyscrapers on which he works. He studies new methods of engineering and then when opportunities present themselves, he is smart and capable enough to seize them."

"Charles Delaney portrays the role of Jerry, and he is exactly what the imagination would depict as the right type. Dorothy Devore is both daring and charming in the role of the boss builder. An old favorite, Kate Price, hits the bull's eye in every scene."

"The scenes of action photographed atop a 27-story skyscraper are the limit of nerve and daring. Not the least nervy of the company was the cameraman who placed his machine in some of the most unusual places. James P. Hogan both acts in and directs the picture, which will satisfy anyone's desire for entertainment of a different nature."

By every indication a lost film, it's unlikely that the product could ever hope to live up to it's description (at first glance seeming so intriguingly similar to "The Fountainhead," wouldn't you say?) or, indeed, the marvelous poster art depicted above. One aspect of the film not mentioned in the press release --- and one that immediately deflates any expectations of greatness --- can be found at the bottom of the print ad at the right, which reveals a key plot element: "An Irish mother adopts a Jewish orphan. See Kate Price in one of her characteristic Irish roles."

Similarly, the July 1927 Paul Whiteman recording of "Manhattan Mary" doesn't live up to the promise of it's wonderful 40 second syncopated introduction --- but perhaps this fact does indeed make the tune a happy companion to our glimpse of "Mountains of Manhattan."

"Manhattan Mary" (1927) Paul Whiteman & His Orchestra

The George White produced Broadway musical production "Manhattan Mary" was a showcase for the decidedly unique talents of Ed Wynn (co-starring with Ona Munson) and ran at the (Times Square) Apollo Theater from September of 1927 to May of 1928 --- clocking in at a then highly respectable 264 performances. The property would ultimately reach the Paramount talking screen in 1930 as "Follow the Leader," with Ginger Rogers enacting the Ona Munson role and Lou Holtz carried over from the Broadway cast.
Despite the trimming of a good deal of the show's original ten-plus melodies, "Follow the Leader" does indeed seem more a filmed stage production than anything else --- but is well worth your while should a print present itself to you. ("Follow the Leader," like so many other early Paramount talkies, survives intact but is apparently deemed valueless and therefore kept from public view or access.)

A glimpse of Paul Whiteman and band members in Central Park --- circa 1920 --- serves to usher in another tune from "Manhattan Mary," this one titled "Broadway," which would later serve as opening title music for the 1930 "Follow the Leader."

"Broadway" (1927) - Paul Whiteman

While these pages have noted that I'm not anywhere as enamored with Whiteman's fine work as the vast majority of vintage music buffs seem to be, there's no denying his impact upon the public of his day --- and I suppose if any one music ensemble served to mould and bookend the decade of the 1920's, then surely Whiteman's did. Typical of the Whiteman touch is his handling of two melodies from The Ziegfeld Follies of 1927, which are offered here next. Both should be well familiar to readers of these pages, but --- again, typically --- Whiteman can't resist modifying the arrangements to the point where the simple exuberance and melody-line inherent in the tunes is morphed into quite something else. Always more than a bit grandiose, Paul Whiteman always seemed in danger of pouncing upon something like "Happy Birthday To You" and deeming it suitable material for expansion into a 20 minute concert. God Bless Paul Whiteman.

"Ooh! Maybe It's You" (1927)
From The Ziegfeld Follies of 1927

"Shaking the Blues Away" (1927)
From The Ziegfeld Follies of 1927

Yes, there are five waterlogged musicians bobbing and struggling in the water in the photo at right to "Welcome Home Paul Whiteman" (from a trip abroad) --- and they've waggishly billed themselves as the "Submarine Unit" of the United Orchestras league. One wonders what they were playing, how it sounded, and if they survived the publicity stunt!

From a syndicated July 1930 news feature titled "Small Towners Crash Big Time Radio" (reproduced intact at the close of this post) ---

"Take, if you wish, Jesse Crawford (left.) If and when you are in New York City, you'll find Crawford and his wife at the organ of the Paramount Theater several times a day."

"Today, Jesse Crawford has his choice of dressing rooms in one of the most ornate of the film cathedrals. His income runs into thousands a week. He has an expensive apartment on Park Avenue. He was one of the first to make phonograph records of organ music, and the sale of these alone would keep him comfortably quartered. When his theater routine is finished, he can run up to a little studio on an upper floor. There he has his private broadcasting room, one of the few such in America. In this room is another organ, specially provided by the broadcasting company."

"Yet, Crawford came from an orphanage. Twenty three years ago, he was turned over to the home of Our Lady of Lourdes at Woodland, California. It was part of the routine of the orphanage that the children take a daily lesson on a none-too-sturdy piano in the practice room."

"'And I can thank Sister Antonia for my start in life,' he narrates. 'After she had taught me all the simple pieces one gives a youngster, she knew she had done all she personally could. She told me one day that I knew more than she did, and that I must go on -- I must not stop."

"'My time at the orphanage was up. I had to go out and make a living. And I turned to the piano. I started wandering on foot from town to town until I came to a little suburb of Spokane, Washington, and I got a job in a little nickelodeon. I got $5 a week, but I kept the job for three years. In those days I could just about live and eat on that, but it gave me a chance to do the practicing and study that I needed.'"

"'And it was a great chance, for I could follow the action of the pictures with music, I could learn the technique of synchronization which later came in so handy.' He quit his job and took one at $10 a week. But this theater had an organ, not a piano. He had no training in this instrument. He had no instructor. He had to figure it out for himself, and for two years he labored."

"At the end of two years, he had mastered it. Theater producers in the larger cities had heard of him, and one day he found a golden offer of $250 a week to go to Los Angeles. The asylum kid was doing pretty well, thank you."

"About seven years ago, he happened to drop in at a dance given by an organists' society. And there he met Helen -- who six months later became Mrs. Crawford. Like himself, she had struggled for years to get ahead. Since her fourteenth birthday she had been playing in movie theaters. There was a real novelty in a husband and wife doing their duets on the same organ."

"Up Park Avenue, in one of those swanky, expensive apartment belts, you'll find a tiny organ in the Crawford nursery. There, Jessie Jr. thumps and pounds to her heart's content, with her mother giving her daily instructions. One of these years, there may be the first family trio in organ playing history."

Jesse Crawford would depart this world in 1962, at a time when theater organs and organists seemed a distant and antiquated relic of another day even though a small clutch of both still clung to a handful of quickly vanishing movie palaces. To hear one, in such a theater as Radio City Music Hall or Brooklyn's Loew's Kings --- as I did, many times, as a youngster --- was to experience something I couldn't then begin to define or categorize. In writing these words now though, it's astonishingly easy to again feel the rush of warm almost living air as you pushed open the heavy padded doors leading from the lobby into the vast auditorium while the organist was at work --- and, as you walked down the sloping carpeted aisle, you'd feel the low notes of the organ (bathed in rose amber hues from the left side of the screen) reverberating in your young bones --- in your teeth --- your ears, and skull. Dizzying, disorienting --- joyous.

Selections from MONTE CARLO (1930) and THE LOVE PARADE (1929) - Jesse Crawford Organ Rolls

(Note: I've never heard a circulating copy of Crawford's organ roll transcription of "Love Parade" selections that wasn't marred by missing bytes that cause a couple of odd skips. If anyone has an intact version that they'd be willing to share, it'd be most appreciated!)

By the by, and while hardly news at this point --- I can't resist directing praise in the direction of Criterion DVD for their recent release of four early Paramount musicals that happened to be directed by Ernst Lubitsch. While there's no getting around the fact that were it not for Lubitsch's involvement these films would likely now remain out of view and out of circulation, I suppose we should be grateful that a marketing "hook" was happily attached to these four films and that allowed them to be considered as viable DVD candidates.

To Criterion's credit, although the discs are bare bones affairs --- no extras of any sort aside from well researched liner notes and optional subtitles --- the four films ("The Love Parade," "Monte Carlo," "The Smiling Lieutenant" and "One Hour With You") look AND sound simply wonderful --- and this despite numerous problems inherent in the original materials, particularly on "Monte Carlo." While Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald might not be everyone's idea of early talkie heaven, these discs offer far, far more than just the talents of this pair. So, if your interests run along the lines of pre-code Hollywood --- or the technical aspects of early sound, or an appreciation of just how fine a product Paramount was turning out when sound was still something of a novelty, you're urged to pick up this DVD set. As always, praise and comment counts for little in the DVD world. Sales, however, counts for much. Cast your vote for more early sound product not with words, but with your purchase.

We've always time and space enough for two 78rpm melodies from "Monte Carlo" ---

"Beyond the Blue Horizon" (1930) is performed by Van Phillips and His Orchestra, with vocal by Jack Plant, as released on Columbia's French label --- and in flipping this virtual 78rpm disc over, we have: "Always in All Ways."

The fellow at right --- his impeccable appearance marred only by an uncooperative cowlick --- is Rudy Wiedoeft, bandleader and musician, who's mastery of the saxophone is a key element in his best recordings.

As with so many unbelievably talented artists of the 'teens and early twenties, recording technology was such that the product they produced could only hint at what their instruments (be they mechanical or vocal) truly sounded like.

Add to that the fact that the bulk of acoustic 78rpm records one casually encounters are often in vastly less than pristine condition to begin with, and then improperly reproduced once again --- and, well, the results are often unhappy indeed.

I'm pleased to present two recordings of the same tune --- one familiar to these pages, "When Buddha Smiles" by Rudy Wiedoeft's Californians that, lo and behold, sound remarkably fine today. One recorded for Brunswick and the other for the more humble Regal label, Wiedoeft has two quite different but equally stirring arrangements for both. Let's spend a few minutes --- or more, in 1921:

"When Buddha Smiles" (1921-Brunswick) Rudy Wiedoeft's Californians

"When Buddha Smiles" (1921-Regal) Rudy Wiedoeft's Californians

and --- before Mr. Wiedoeft and company returns to the happy land from whence they came:

"Say It With Music" (1921) and "The Sheik of Araby" (1921) and "Suez" (1922)

Perched atop one of Manhattan's concrete mountains --- about two feet above a tar roof --- are The Six Brown Brothers, circa 1919. The saxophone was their instrument of choice as well, but --- as you can see --- to see the group perform was surely a treat or at least an experience not soon forgotten. It's easy to imagine them amusing the adults and terrifying the children while performing lightly manic tunes that allowed for on-stage tomfoolery. In a way, it's easy to detect similarities between The Six Brown Brothers and such modern day musical curiosities as The Blue Man Group, although there's no doubt which group possessed genuine musical talent in the truest sense of the term. It can be supposed that one was a group of musicians with a questionable gimmick, and the other a gimmick with questionable "musicians." No matter -- here's The Six Brown Brothers performing:

"Peter Gink" (1919) and "The Darktown Strutter's Ball" (1917)

The wistful lady at right is no stranger to these pages, for recording and performing artist Aileen Stanley (1897-1982) has figured here many times over --- and with good reason, not the least of which is my personal affection for her simple and (dare I say) pure approach to recording. I suspect she holds the same place of esteem in my heart as she does for many others who appreciate and gather up vintage music. Perhaps not so much that she possessed any remarkable degree of vocal talent --- for she doesn't really, but her personality and warmth hits like the proverbial ton of bricks whenever she's listened to and, what's more, lingers too. Once heard, never forgotten.

From a Bridgeport, Connecticut newspaper of March 10th, 1926:

"Aileen Stanley, singing comedienne who closes her return engagement at the Palace Theater here today, has been booked for a tour of Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, and finishing in Sweden and France, it was announced last night by her manager, Robert Buttenuth, who accompanies her as pianist. The foreign tour will start as soon as Miss Stanley's present booking is concluded."

"She is well known in Bridgeport, and during her last appearance here, she prevented disorder in the Palace Theater by improvising songs and entertainment when the whole city was plunged into darkness by a fire in the United Illuminating Company power house. Theater manager M. L. Saunders said he regarded her as 'the greatest individual star ever to appear at the Palace.'"

"The Australian and New Zealand engagement for Miss Stanley follows her appearance in London last year, when she was booked at the same time in three different places: The Picadilly Hotel, The Kit Kat Club and the Alahambra Theater. With Walter C. Kelly, "The Virginia Judge," she appeared on the program of the Fourth of July Celebration of the American Society in London, and on June 26th of 1925, broadcast several of her songs from a London radio station."

An interesting artifact of Aileen Stanley's appearance at London's Kit Kat Club in 1925 is this promotional disc apparently distributed to patrons upon exiting, slyly reminding them that her talents could be enjoyed anytime with the purchase of a gramophone disc!

Kit Kat Club Promotional Disc (1925)

Quite of Aileen Stanley's best solo recordings, the total effect is somewhat hampered by a very worn disc, but still worthy enough to share with you. In "Broken Hearted," she relates the unexpected but all too common result in introducing a dear friend to someone who's something a bit more than just a friend.

"Broken Hearted" (1927)

And, here's Miss Stanley's January 1929 recording of a melody that would soon find memorable use in Paramount's talking motion picture "Applause":

"Give Your Little Baby Lots of Loving" (1929)

By 1937, Aileen Stanley had taken up residence in the United Kingdom and we hear from her via the syndicated George Ross gossip column, "In New York":

"For the first time since the Coronation hullabaloo ended, cables Aileen Stanley from London, Albion's night life is booming again."

"During the regal festivities, reports Aileen, members of the British nobility and their friends kept aloof at their homes during the long evenings. But their absence at the night clubs wasn't apparent, for the foreign visitors kept business humming."

"When the visitors departed, however, a sudden lull rock-a-byed the cafes into a deep slumber; and proprietors wailed and moaned in British accents. Now, at long last, says Aileen, the night life in London is on the upturn, with Dukes, Earls and Barons and their respective ladies at the ringside again."

"American talent, as usual, is preferred to domestic talent, both in the music halls and supper clubs."

"I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm" (1938) Aileen Stanley

Seeing as we're visiting with voices familiar to us, I hasten to offer two fine --- somewhat improved --- transcriptions of the melodies that are so beautifully woven into the soundtrack of the 1929 part-talking Warner Bros. epic, "Noah's Ark" --- performed here by Nick Lucas:

"Old Timer" (1929) Nick Lucas

"Heart O' Mine" (1929) Nick Lucas

Before we approach the final elements of this particular post --- and I must apologize for letting the month of March get away from me (life has been busy for me, but in the best of all possible ways!) --- I must direct attention to some of the wonders of both image and sound that can be found, at least for now, on YouTube.

On the one hand, the greater bulk of early talkie material that survives is unavailable to the casual student of the genre --- closely guarded and kept by public and private institutions alike, seemingly unsure of the material's value (both historical and financial) yet intent upon making it as difficult as possible for these films to enjoy the second life they so richly deserve. And yet --- on so vast a depository as YouTube, there are treasures to be seen --- things we ought not be seeing --- yet, there they are.

Now, for obvious reasons, I cannot direct you to links --- lest I inadvertently aid in the swift yanking of the offending material. So instead --- use some of the same ingenuity in utilizing YouTube's simple search box (maddening though it can be) that the posters do when putting up these clips and describing them, and you might happen upon surviving fragments of Technicolor sequences from "Glorifying the American Girl," or entire scenes from "Viennese Nights," painstaking reconstructions of sound and image from the jaw-dropping 1929 musical "Broadway" and --- quite literally --- hundreds of clips from early talking and musical productions that we'd be hard pressed to encounter anywhere else without a sledge-hammer and acetylene torch.

It's heartening that so much effort is put into making this material available --- by just plain folks such as you and I --- in the hopes that it can be shared and enjoyed before one of YouTube's regular housecleaning regimes removes everything but seemingly the inane and sleazy. These efforts should, in a perfect world, suggest to the title holders that there's a far larger desire by the general public to see this material than they might expect --- and that I'm certain each and every one of them would happily dash out and buy a commercially released DVD and triumphantly hit the Delete key for each and every of their posts were that the case. But -- at least for now --- it's not about desire or history or artistic value, it's all about profits. Let's hope that the new way of thinking about early sound films that evidently has resulted in a minor flood of titles on DVD we never expected to see will continue to flourish and sweep away the cobwebs clinging to these films for many years to come.

To close this entry, a word of explanation about the following audio is in order. Now, you wouldn't think YouTube would be the best place to post 78rpm disc audio --- and, for the most part it isn't. An electric era 78rpm recording, played on a 1918 acoustic phonograph is a problem to begin with. More problems arise when the record playing on the phonograph is recorded with a video camera. It might look mighty swell indeed on YouTube --- that spinning disc and the ornate wooden phonograph --- but invariably, it sounds awful --- and that's being polite.

Happily, some YouTube folks take the high road and give these recordings their due, by preparing high quality .mp3 transfers of the discs, and then painstakingly transferring them to the video format --- enhancing the music with still images and informative text.

One such YouTube poster has a keen appreciation of music originating from early sound films, and in avoiding all the usual bands and performers we encounter ten times over elsewhere. With his kind permission to do so, here's a selection (converted to standard mp3) of some of his most interesting uploads --- and you're urged to seek him out on YouTube as well. A quick search of any of these titles will easily direct you to his home page --- which you'll spend many happy hours exploring and listening to!

"Any Time's the Time To Fall in Love" - Chester Gaylord
From "Paramount on Parade" (1930)

"How Am I To Know?" - Chester Gaylord
From "Dynamite" (1929)

"Nobody But You" - Chester Gaylord
From "The Hollywood Revue" (1929)

"Under A Texas Moon" - Chester Gaylord
Theme Song of the 1930 Technicolor Motion Picture

"My Troubles Are Over" (1929) - Chester Gaylord

"The Web of Love" (1929) - Oscar Grogan
From "The Great Gabbo" (1929)

"With A Song in My Heart" - Franklyn Baur
From "Spring Is Here" (1930)

"I Loved You Then As I Love You Now" - Louis Wick
From "Our Dancing Daughters" (1928)

"Just a Bundle of Old Love Letters" - Lewis James
From "Lord Byron of Broadway" (1929)

"Just a Bundle of Old Love Letters" - The High Hatters
From "Lord Byron of Broadway" (1929)

Chester Gaylord for Lucky Strike

Where is the transcription disc for this!?!?!
13 March 1930

Olive Shay has her moment outside of New York's Pennsylvania Station
From "Glorifying the American Girl" (1929)

Jesse Crawford & Co.
1930

Local Boy Makes Good
6 November 1929

9 July 1929

Hard to Say Which One Has More News Value
29 August 1929

Marilyn Miller and noble companion, circa 1920
Enjoy the Spring Season!
Until Next Time!

###

"The Talkie Is Improving"

2008-02-26T19:30:00.002-05:00

"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

###

"Not Quite Decent"

2008-02-03T14:49:00.000-05:00

Joan Blondell (left) will figure in the feature item for this entry, a casual examination of the inexplicably lost 1933 Warner Bros. pre-code potboiler "Convention City," --- but we'll open this post with a glance at an earlier but equally lost title, Fox's 1929 synchronized part-talkie, "Not Quite Decent."

Directed by Irving Cummings, featuring Louise Dresser, June Collyer and Allan (pre-"Rocky") Lane, and released in April of 1929, "Not Quite Decent" was described plainly in period press material distributed to newspapers:

"'Not Quite Decent' is a talking picture in the sense that it has Fox Movietone sequences in generous amount."

"Based on the story by Wallace Smith, 'The Grouch Bag,' it tells, primarily, the story of Mame Jarrow (Louise Dresser,) a former big-time vaudeville singer who has reached her mid-forties and is still an entertainer but not of the stage -- rather, she appears in an underground speakeasy of which she is half owner."

"Mame is just as young in spirit as ever, though the wrinkles have begun to appear and the figure has lost its former perfection, but she carries on. Eventually, to the speakeasy comes her daughter (June Collyer) whom she has not seen since infancy. She recognizes her, but the girl has always believed her mother dead, so Mame lets her keep on thinking so."

"When the daughter is in the toils of a wealthy philanderer, the mother decides it is time for her to do a little mothering. She saves the girl, disillusions her with the life she is trying to lead, but all is accomplished at cruel cost to the mother."

"The close of the picture finds the girl going back home with her childhood sweater (Allan Lane,) never knowing that it is her own mother who has saved her."

If all that sounds rather cut and dried, well... it is. In an odd turn of events, we can actually learn a bit more of the plot detail via the AFI database:

"On her way to New York for her first stage appearance, Linda Cunningham (June Collyer) meets Mame Jarrow (Louise Dresser,) a nightclub singer. Linda later drops by to hear Mame sing, accompanied by her angel, Al Gergon (Paul Nicholson,) a wealthy roue. Mame gradually comes to realize that Linda is her own daughter, from whom she was separated years before by pious relatives."

"Using all her wiles, Mame attempts to keep Linda from falling prey to Gergon, and when all else fails, she sends for Jerry Connor (Allan Lane,) Linda's small-town sweetheart. Linda returns home with Jerry, and Mame sings her heart out in smoky rooms, never disclosing to Linda that she is her mother."

All in all, perhaps the advertisement (from a Logansport, Indiana newspaper) summed the picture up best:

"Bright lights dance with dark shadows when a blue singer gets the blues!"

If that wasn't food for thought enough, the reader is then presented with this puzzler: "Just what is decency? A new and compelling answer is given in this story of life on the fringe of the night clubs."

At a mere five reels in length, and synchronized throughout with a Movietone orchestral and effects score, I suppose one or even a half reel of spoken and vocalized word would qualify as the "generous amount" cited in the press release, and surely a hefty chunk of the "talking sequence" was given over to Dresser's warbling of the film's theme song, "Empty Arms." (You can be sure I tried my level best to turn up a 78rpm recording of this tune --- alas, I must admit failure, but if one turns up you can be certain it'll be offered in an upcoming post.)

A musical interlude before we toddle off to "Convention City"...

There's as much of interest in Irving Kaufman's late 1928 rendition of "Ever Since the Movies Learned to Talk" as there is in the photograph of the singer himself (at left) which, admittedly, dates from some ten years prior to the recording itself.

Enlarge the image and you'll note all manner of fussy, busy decorative details in the apartment where Kaufman then resided with his wife and infant child: the riot of patterns, the confusing attempt to hide away the fireplace with pillows and draped linens, the scroll-work on the radiator (do any of us remember seeing radiators that weren't coated with decades of peeling paint or hidden away behind grids?) and, of course, Mr. Kaufman himself --- replete with freckled visage. As for the recording, well --- few escape the biting lyrics, not even Emil Jannings or Rin Tin Tin, and its fun to match up the descriptions of performers with our suspicions of whom is being discussed. "Ever Since the Movies Learned to Talk" was the sort of tune that lent itself to numerous interpretations on record, and a variety of lyrics too --- but this is, I believe, the best of the lot.

"Ever Since the Movies Learned to Talk" (1928)

While the 1928 Osa & Martin Johnson film "Simba" likely would have gotten by on visual content alone, especially as the pair were as adept at marketing and self-promotion as they were at capturing (or manufacturing) their adventures on film, "Simba" was made available in a synchronized version as well. (One period ad refers to the sound system employed as "The Dulcetone.")

Being 1928, it shouldn't come as a surprise that the sound version of "Simba" was blessed with a theme song, and this being Vitaphone Varieties, it shouldn't come as a surprise that you can hear this theme song right here and now:

"Song of Safari" (1928) Frank Munn

While it's fashionable to despise adventurers, films and even song lyrics of this sort today, I must admit to finding it all very lovely indeed. Oh, not so much for the content that adheres to these elements even today --- but for the fact that there was a point in our history when such things were looked upon in wonder as incredibly romantic and thrilling rather than something that must be stopped at all cost. How intent we all are today in wringing out and discarding every bit of magic and fancy from our lives, save for that which is pre-approved.

Also dating from 1928, but likely familiar to readers of these pages from its inclusion in the soundtrack of the 1929 UA film "Alibi" is the tune "How About Me?," which accompanies that marvelous long tracking and trick shot early on in the film in which the viewer is first drawn into the nightclub.

If this sketchy description doesn't ring any bells, the tune will. You'll see!

"How About Me?" (1928)

In late Autumn of 2003, the Vitaphone Project's online and print newsletter lamented what appears to be the utter and complete loss of both picture and sound elements for the 1933 Warner Bros. film "Convention City":

"This was a major feature with a cast boasting many of Warner's top stars: Dick Powell, Adolph Menjou, Frank McHugh, Hugh Herbert, Joan Blondell, Guy Kibbee, Mary Astor and Ruth Donnelly. The tale goes that (the film) was so risque that it singlehandedly brought the Legion of Decency's wrath on Hollywood and that Jack Warner destroyed all prints as penance."

"This story is is unlikely. The reality is that there were many much more notorious features released at the time, and all of them survive. That every known print of 'Convention City' worldwide should have been destroyed seems unlikely. Yet, no prints have surfaced. It does not appear to have been part of Warner's television package in the 1950's, although rumors persist that it was shown on British television in the sixties."

A search of the Warner vaults yielded nothing, not even the trailer. "In 1998, John Leifert was viewing some stock footage his employer, Getty Images, had purchased. One reel contained mute 'Convention City' footage of Atlantic City establishing shots, convention train arrivals, and boardwalk scenes as the apparent background (footage) for the opening titles."

As with so many lost or missing films, the title's legend seems far greater and certainly more alluring than the reality. Or is it? Here's a reel-by-reel encapsulated view of the film. You decide.

Reel 1: "Convention City" opens within the offices of the Honeywell Rubber Company, where a heated board discussion is in progress concerning the location of the company's upcoming convention. New Orleans, Los Angeles and Montreal are all in the running --- but company chairman, J.B. Honeywell (Grant Mitchell) will have his way: "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please! The discussion is closed. As usual, I suppose I shall have to make the decision personally. Let me see, where did we hold our annual convention last year?"

The directors all reply in unison: "Atlantic City."

"And we'll hold it there this year," decrees Honeywell. "Miss Logan, see that the usual preparations are made! Gentleman, the meeting is adjourned. Oh, these weighty decisions...."

We then meet some of the main players in the film:

T.R. Kent (Adolphe Menjou) a slick Honeywell salesman who uses every trick in the book to sell Honeywell rubber products to hesitant vendors, including waterproof coats: "Now Mr. Maxwell, I want to bring to your attention the particular water-proof features of this coat, making the coat practically hermetically sealed!"

Meek Honeywell salesman George Ellerbe (Guy Kibbee) and his domineering wife (Ruth Donnelly) who is busily arranging George before the pair leave for church: "Turn around. Let me see how you look. You know, you never get that thing on straight!" she chides, referring to what must have been the most horrid, unconvincing toupee ever seen on the screen.

"Oh but darling, why do I have to wear a toupee? The darned thing's so itchy!" moans George.

A messenger boy brings word of the confirmed locale for the upcoming convention, and Mrs. Ellerbe announces she plans to accompany George this time: "You'll not miss a chance of being made sales manager this time."

We're next introduced to Arlene Dale (Mary Astor) as Honywell's sharp and shapely female saleswoman, who sadly announces to her card playing pals: "Well boys, it's breaking my heart. I can't play tonight. I just got a wire from the Home Office and I got to shoot right back East for that Sales Convention."

And, before the scene shifts to Atlantic City, we meet Frank McHugh as Will/Bill Goodwin, whose hotel tryst with his girlfriend Lulu (Barbara Rogers) is cut short by a bellhop arriving with a telegram: "Honey, I got to go to he convention. I just got time to catch the Dixie Flyer." When Lulu pouts and pleads "Oh, honeybunch, don't go leave me tonight" and wraps her arms around his neck, Goodwin pulls himself up and announces, as the scene fades out:

"Darling, the saddest words of tongue or pen are these: 'It Might Have Been.' Scram!"

We then meet Nancy Lorraine (Joan Blondell) as a young lady with, shall we say, an eye for opportunity. She and her friends are comparing notes on the various conventions scheduled for the town. One girl displays the riches yielded from a hapless member of the International Glue Company and Nancy breathlessly prattles off: "Yes, they're in town and so are the Carbon Removes of Detroit, the United Gold Miners of Nevada and the Associated Trust Company--- and the Ever Ready Bandage Company, and you'se girls lay off the lads because they belong to me!"

When word arrives that the Honeywell Rubber Company starts Monday, the girls cheer in unison and one says wearily "Thank heaven! I'm so tired of that Ever Ready Bandage Company!" An off-screen voice replies "Listen sister, if they tire you, you better leave town before the Hercules Tool Company gets here!"

So ends the first reel of "Convention City."

Reel 2: We're aboard a train speeding towards Atlantic City and as the camera travels down the length of a car we overhear bits of conversation as we pass clutches of passengers:

From a crap game: "Leave your palm up baby, let me see that nine!"

The drunkard: "I want a couple o' bottles of White Rock. Hey Porter, gimme a couple of bottles of White Rock!"

Two sets of wives, holding much the same conversation: "I told Harry I was going along." "So was Tom, but he has a fat chance of losing me." "That's just what I told Harry. I know what these conventions are."

Another pair of wives, regaling one another with their medical woes: "Go ahead, Mrs. Wickerhsam, tell us about your operation. How large is the incision?" "It was thirty-two inches around the waist, and forty-four inches from neck to ankle!"

Salesmen, telling old and familiar jokes: "And so the gentleman in the upper birth leans down and says: 'For goodness sakes, kiss her and we can all go to sleep!'"

The camera pauses before Mr. and Mrs. Ellerbe, and George is still struggling with his ill-fiting, itchy toupee as Mrs. Ellerbe drones on: "And when I say I'll go with you, I mean it! Here's one convention where you'll not come home from with a brassiere in your suitcase!" The camera moves on to Arlene Dale and T.R. Kent, the latter lamenting his unhappy marriage:

"I'm willing to give her a divorce and a nice settlement. But she'd like to catch me in the wrong hotel room so she could have some judge award me the gold in my teeth."

Arlene's personal interest in Kent seems more than casual, and prompted by her questions we learn that all T.R. Kent hopes for is to rid himself of his vitriolic, clinging wife and to land the job of Honeywell Sales Manager: "I want that job more than I've ever wanted anything and it isn't just the big money either. It'd mean that all the tough years I spent with this company finally counted for something." Arlene Dale wishes him luck, and he excuses himself to visit the gent's facilities --- where he encounters George Ellerbe. "What are you doing in there?" he asks of George.

"A haven of quiet and refuge. The only place on the whole train where my wife can't annoy me."

"How did you get away?"

"She fell asleep, the old Frigidaire!"

Reel Three: The setting is the bustling Atlantic City train station. As the Mayor delivers a long-winded, oft-repeated and wholly insincere farewell speech to departing members of the Ever Ready Bandage Corporation, Nancy (Joan Blondell) is attempting to put the final clinch on one of that company's salesmen --- by threatening him with a Breach of Promise suit. As she waves a handful of damning letters at the salesman, he snatches them from her just as his train pulls out --- leaving her with nothing except determination not to make the same mistake twice with members of the newly arrived Honeywell Rubber Company. Arriving on scene to make sure she succeeds the next time is Phil Lorraine (Gordon Westcott) Nancy's husband --- and, well, for lack of any other word, her pimp. It's made clear that Nancy's profits are shared with Phil --- and that he keeps watch on her actions.

Arlene Dale and T.R. Kent step off the train: "I want to listen to the Mayor," says Dale. "I want to see if he's changed his speech this year." Chuckles Kent, "He hasn't changed it in twenty years. I'll recite it to you on the way to the hotel."

In the background, the Mayor's florid speech drones on: "Ladies and gentlemen of the Honeywell Rubber Company, Atlantic City welcomes you with open arms. The freedom of this fair city is yours."

As Nancy canvases the crowd for likely prospects, her arm is grabbed by an impudent Jerry Ford (Dick Powell) --- who arrived with the Honeywell train. He asks Nancy "How are you babe? When can I see you again?" "You're fresh, aren't you?" notes Nancy. "Well, that's the way we all are out in Seattle where I come from," replies Jerry. Surprisingly, Nancy invites him to the Bijou Theater that night if he wants to see her again. "You a chorus girl down there?" inquires Jerry. "In a way," responds Nancy, cryptically.

The scene shifts to an assembly hall within the Atlantic City hotel where the Honeywell group is settled. J.B. Honeywell himself is addressing the boisterous crowd. As he does, his words are contrasted with shots of action which suggest that anything but business and productivity will be the order of the day for this convention:

"Friends and fellow workers! This enthusiasm warms my heart and makes me proud of this organization. First, let me say that today's session will be a short one. I recognize that we're all tired from our trip and need a good night's rest before we settle down to business. Bear in mind, members of the great Honeywell happy family, that we are assembled here in this great city to work and plan for the coming year. Of course, you will enjoy yourselves among the many diversified pleasures abounding in this beautiful resort --- but I trust that you will keep the dignity and importance of this company in mind and will draw the line between decent, honest enjoyment and - er - profligacy. It is obvious that some of us are in no condition to attend to business today. We will sing the company song and adjourn until 9:30 tomorrow morning. Rise please. Mr. Travis, will you do the honors?"

As the third reel closes, Mr. Travis (Johnny Arthur) leads the delegation in the company song:

"Oh Honeywell, oh Honeywell, your trademark brings us glory. When feet are cold, and pulse is low, Hot water bags make our hearts glow..."

Reel Four: A party in T.R. Kent's hotel room is in full swing. The radio blares forth dance music. Among the attendees are Nancy (Blondell) and Jerry (Powell.) A knock at the door announces the arrival of George Ellerbe: "My wife sent me over to tell you there's too much noise -- she can't sleep."

"Well, that's fine! Turn up the radio! Go on everybody, let's have a dance!" suggests Kent.

A browbeaten George slumps down onto a seat, where Nancy joins him. "Oh, what's the matter, Pop?" "Wife trouble." "Go away from her." "I wish I dared." "Come on, let's you and me have a drink together." "Oh, I can only stay a minute." "Oh, I can do plenty in a minute."

Nancy's gentle chiding and the drink loosen George up considerably. She plucks at the offending toupee: "You sure look cute in that door mat!" "Say, if I knew I was going to meet you, I'd have had 'Welcome' painted on it!" responds George, grinning coyly.

Jerry (Powell) spots Nancy and George, and attempts to break things up, but George announces he has to be leaving anyway and toddles off to his room and awaiting wife.

Jerry announces he doesn't feel well. "Well, no wonder after all the sheep dip you been drinking!" responds Nancy. "Come on over here and lie down on the bed." Jerry does, and the scene fades out.

Morning. Nancy is shaking Jerry awake. They're alone in the hotel room --- and her well rehearsed routine is about to be set into action. Jerry awakens, and is startled to see Nancy.

"What are you doing here?"
"You locked the door, and wouldn't let me out."
"Did you stay here all night?"
"Oh, what will mother say!"
"Do you have to tell her?"
"She'd know the minute she looked into my eyes! And she'd tell father."
"Is your father here too?"
"Yes, him and my three brothers. They're policemen!"
"Say listen, Nancy, don't cry. Now wait a minute. It's all my own fault. If I hadn't been so drunk I'd never done a thing like that."
"Oh, my family will throw me out! Oh!" (crying) "They're so strict! Father said he'd kill the man who ---"
"Would money ---??"
"Are you trying to insult me?"
"Darling, please. No, I didn't mean it that way. I meant that maybe I could --- could sort of repay you for the wrong I've done."
"Well, if you put it on that basis ---"
"Sure! Just to show you how sorry I am. Come on, now. Wouldn't you accept a little gift from me?"
"Maybe I would. I could take mother south for her kidneys. I could get her out of town before she'd tell father about us."
"How much would you need?"
"About a thousand dollars in cash."
"Why, I haven't got that much!"
"Do you want me to face my family?"
"Now what a minute, wait a minute. Now, I didn't say no. A thousand dollars? I've only got four hundred dollars. That wouldn't do your mother's kidneys any good."
"No, they're awfully big kidneys."
"Look, you stay right here. I think I know where I can borrow the money. You wait right here!"

Jerry dashes over to T.R. Kent, explains his dilemma, and asks for $600. Kent sizes up the situation at once, tells Jerry to stay put, and saunters into his room to confront Nancy.

"Good morning, small pox! I understand that you'd like a thousand dollars?"
"Is that any of your business?"
"Certainly. I'm the paymaster. Now, here's a nice, new, fresh, crisp twenty dollar bill straight from the United States mint."
"I'll take fifty of 'em."
"Shall I call the house detective?"
"He's a pal of mine."
"And the District Attorney? Is he a pal of yours too?"
"I'll take a hundred bucks."
"Twenty. Twenty, darling. That's generous -- even for conventions. Are you listening?"
"Why you good-for-nothing-rubber-goods peddler!"
"Nice day for a walk. Come on baby. Come on, sleeping sickness. You're wasting my time."
"You think you're smart, don't you?
"No, not smart -- just experienced."

As he ushers the half-dressed Nancy out of the hotel room, a shocked Mrs. Ellerbe witness the departure from the hotel corridor and storms back into her room: "George! What kind of a place is this? Disgraceful! Outrageous! Disgusting?"

"What's disgusting, dear?" inquires George.

"Oh, that Kent person had a woman in his room all night! I just saw her leave. The idea of such conduct right across the hall from me! I'm moving out. I refuse to stay another second in this -- this house of ill --"

"Now, now darling --- it may just be some lady who knocked on his door by mistake. Or something."

"Or something! Well, anyhow, I'm certainly glad I didn't let you come to this convention alone!"

"Oh, I wouldn't think of it dear."

Reel Five: The fifth reel of "Convention City" opens with a conversation between T.R. Kent and George Ellerbe, the latter still bemoaning the fact he's doomed to spend the entire convention under the hawk-eyed observation of his wife: "It's worse than being in jail! She won't let me out of her sight!"

Kent has an idea: "Has your wife any relatives that might get sick and send for her?"

"You're a marvel! Her sister Ella, in Cleveland. Oh but Ella isn't sick. The whole family's too mean to get sick."

"Forget about it. What's Ella's name and address?"

"Oh boy --- say, if she ever gets suspicious, I'm moving to Australia!"

"Relax. You're wife's practically out of town now."

Of course, Kent's willingness to secure Ellerbe's liberty isn't purely out of kindness. He knows that if Ellerbe's sterling reputation could be tarnished a bit, he'd be a cinch to land the Sales Manager job they're both in the running for. So, when Ellerbe inquires about the little girl who sat on his lap the night before --- Nancy, Kent eagerly provides him with a way to contact her.

Two new characters and players are introduced here: Patricia Ellis as Claire Honeywell (daughter of J.B. Honeywell) who is seemingly as fond of Jerry Ford as he is of her --- and the much despised Mrs. Kent, played by Shelia Terry, who is intent on catching her husband in actionable circumstances.

Although Mrs. Ellerbe hasn't yet left town to rush to the side of her supposedly ill sister in Cleveland, Nancy loses no time in hustling George to a furrier, where she is modeling an expensive full-length model: "And what a bargain! Only fifteen hundred dollars," gushes Nancy. George is appropriately aghast.

"Oh, but you can't say 'no,' you cute little cupcake! You'll break a baby's heart!"

"Well, fifteen hundred dollars is an awful lot of money ---"

"But I'm an awful sweet girl!"

A new customer arrives at the fur shop, and George's reaction leaves little doubt as to who it is.

"What's the matter? You having a stroke?" asks Nancy.

"So this is why you sneaked out of the room! I'll teach you to buy hussies fur coats!" rants Mrs. Ellerbe.

The quick thinking Nancy cuts in: "Now that the Madame is here, perhaps she'd like to model the fur coat herself?"

"Model? Oh! Oh! I beg your pardon dear! You were getting a surprise for me! And I've spoiled everything by walking in on you this way!"

George all but collapses, but gathers himself enough to vow to repay Nancy in any way she wishes: "You saved my life --- I'll see you tomorrow!"

In scenes that follow, we learn that Mrs. Ellerbe is to leave for Cleveland on the morning train, and that Jerry brags to Kent and Arlene Dale that he has a date with Claire Honeywell --- both of whom think highly of her and advise Jerry to play up to her for all he's worth.

Reel Six: It seems that T.R. Kent hasn't lost time in capturing Claire Honeywell's attentions as well, and the two went for a moonlight ride upon the boardwalk the previous evening --- not for romantic purposes, but for Kent to impress Claire with his ability and to cement the notion that he is the best candidate for Sales Manager. Claire agrees --- and tells her father as much. A meeting between J.B. Honeywell and T.R. Kent suggests that Kent will get the position:

"There are reasons why I might choose you in preference to Ellerbe. Though, as you know, he too has been with the company for twenty years and is a man of the highest moral standards!"

"Oh, the very highest, Sir."

"But he lacks your ability and determination. And then too, my daughter Claire, always speaks of you in the highest terms."

"That's very gratifying, Sir."

Kent leaves the meeting virtually walking on air --- but he suddenly suffers pangs of guilt over setting George up with Nancy, and by cooking up the scheme that resulted in his wife leaving Atlantic City on the morning train. He expresses his doubts to Arlene Dale: "Listen, if that Nancy Lorraine gets George over a barrel, I'll be responsible."

"Nothing's going to happen, his wife's out of town."

"Yes, and I sent her there. Don't forget that."

"So what?"

"So what? If I get the job as Sales Manager and George Ellerbe, who after twenty years with this company gets into a scandal, I'd have to fire him and I got him into it! I'd never forgive myself!"

"Are you George Ellerbe's wet nurse? He's over twenty-one."

"Well, I don't like it."

Kent's prophecy of doom isn't only accurate, but it's being played out that very moment up in George's hotel room --- where he and Nancy are in the midst of a game of "Catch and Kiss."

Either due to a cigarette or cigarette lighter, Nancy's frock catches fire. Although she's unharmed after being doused with water, the dress is ruined. George advises her to take it off before she catches cold. "Ain't you the one?," muses Nancy, "Just a guy what sets little girls on fire!"

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet baby! Now don't worry about that dress. I'll get you another one --- a hundred of 'em if you want."

"How do I know you'll get me a new one?"

"How do you know it? I'm going to prove it to you babe. I'm going to have to buy you a new dress. There it goes --- out the window!"

With that, Nancy's burnt, wet dress is flung out of the hotel window --- and, as it got caught on a hook on the frock, so is George's toupee!

A knock at the door. A male figure pushes into the room. Phil Lorraine. Nancy's husband and "business" partner. The old, old scam ensues.

"What do you mean by pushing in here like this?" demands George.
"I'll tell you what I mean! I saw you come into this room with my wife!"
"Y-y-your wife?"
"I'm Phil Lorraine. Nancy's husband. You heart thief! You home wrecker!"

Nancy and Phil set George up for a financial killing.

"Phil! Don't! It's all my fault! Don't kill him! He didn't know I was married!"

"All right, I won't dirty my hands on him. Nor you, either, you dirty little double crossing --- Just wait 'till I get you in court!"

"Court! Court!" exclaims George, his eyes all but popping out of their sockets. "Oh, now wait a minute, Mr. Nancy ---"

"Huh?"

"I mean, Mr. Lorraine. Listen, we -- we got to use our heads! We got to talk this thing over coolly. Now wait a minute. Now sit down and listen to me. Do I look like a man that would break up a home?"

"Yes."

The scene shifts to the hotel lobby where another unwelcome presence is newly arrived: Mrs. Ellerbe, who flew back to Atlantic City with a vengeance after learning that her sister was in the pink of health.

Kent spots her, and begs Will Goodwin (Frank McHugh) to stall her in the lobby while he dashes upstairs to check on George. He attempts to do so with inane conversation involving a canary that sports a full set of teeth, and by asking her advice on which breed of dog makes for the best pet.

Upstairs, George and Phil Lorraine are talking cash settlements. Phil demands five thousand dollars to forget about the incident. George admits to only having one thousand on hand --- and Phil agrees to take it. George beams at having put one over. "And a check for the rest," adds Phil. George's smile fades.

Reel Seven: Kent, the Fixer Upper, arrives in George's suite with the news that Mrs. Ellerbe's arrival on the scene is imminent. Understandably, George panics. Kent instructs him to go into the bathroom and get dressed as fast as he can. He then turns on Phil and Nancy Lorraine.

"So, your name is Phil Lorraine and that is Mrs. Lorraine, your wife?"

"Yes, he's my husband."

"It's a swell act, but I've seen it before. It's the badger game." He then reveals to an astonished George and the two disgusted scammers that Phil Lorraine is actually one Frank Wilson, a con-man --- not Nancy's husband at all. Phil is tossed from the room and Kent enters the bathroom to check on George --- and finds Nancy with him.

"Oh Ted, I don't know how I'll ever thank you --- you've saved my life!" bleats a shaken George.

"I'll tell you how you can thank me. Come here. You get down in that lobby and meet your wife as fast as you can -- pretend that nothing has happened. I don't know how long Bill Goodwin can stall her!"

Before George can flee, Mrs. Ellerbee arrives. Kent hides George and Nancy behind the bathroom door and explains to Mrs. Ellerbe that he was using George's shower because his was out of order. He asks her to leave the room so he might dress. Mrs. Ellerbe consents to return to the lobby.

Once she departs, Kent instructs George: "Listen, out the window and down the fire escape. Meet her in the lobby. Hurry!"

"Oh, if I ever get out of this, I'll never look at another woman. I'll enter a monastery! But what about her? (indicating Nancy)"

"That's my department," responds Kent. George departs out the window.

"Now get your dress on and scram!" orders Kent to the glowering Nancy.

"George threw it out the window. Besides, I like it here and I'm going to stay. I want to meet Mrs. Ellerbe. In fact, I think I'll receive her in the bedroom."

Down in the lobby, Mrs. Ellerbe is rescued from Bill Goodwin's ongoing discussion of dog breeds by the arrival of George: "Well! Marjorie darling! This is a pleasant surprise! Well, well, well --- I suppose my dear little sister-in-law is better?"

"Where's your toupee?"

"Oh, well --- that's funny. It must have blown off!"

"Too bad your head didn't go with it."

Mrs. Ellerbe isn't quite done stirring the pot. She waves over Mrs. Kent from the side of the lobby, who saunters up to George and his wife in the company of two detectives. Mrs. Ellerbe directs them up to George's room where she informs Mrs. Kent "I think I've got an eyeful waiting for you."

Mrs. Kent and the detectives burst into the Ellerbe room, where they find the undressed Nancy and T.R. Kent in the midst of discussion. Camera flashbulbs pop. "This'll double your alimony, Mrs. Kent," observes one of the detectives.

"Sorry to intrude Ted," gloats Mrs. Kent, "but we'll only stay a second. Thanks, Miss, I've been waiting for years to catch him this way."

In lieu of cash, Nancy picks up Mrs. Ellerbe's new fur coat off the chair and dons it --- but things turn from bad to worse for Kent when Claire arrives at the hotel room door and Kent weakly explains that Nancy is his kid sister, visiting from Washington. Claire seems to buy the ruse, but in the lobby, Kent, Nancy and Claire encounter Mrs. Ellerbe --- who recognizes her coat on Nancy.

The remainder of the reel plays out with Kent and George attempting to untangle themselves from the worst of all scenarios. Kent insists Nancy is his sister from Washington, Mrs. Ellerbe insists Nancy is the furrier shop girl, and is keen to know why she's wearing it. Etc., etc.

Reel Eight: Despite certain inadequacies in Ted's character, Claire has fallen hopelessly in love with him --- and Ted R. Kent realizes that Claire is the express lane to the position of Sales Manager. In a comparatively sedate dialogue scene with Arlene Dale, he reveals his intentions. Dale tries to convince him not to sell his soul for a corporate position, and it becomes clear that she looks upon Ted as more than a pal and co-worker. She's in love with him. Leaving Ted to plan his triumphant and swift rise to the top, Dale seeks out Claire and encounters her in the hotel lobby --- where she plays her hand beautifully:

"Claire, just a second ---"
"I'm rather in a hurry."
"I know. I know where you're going."
"You what?"

"I know where you're going. I know all about it. Claire, please don't take him away from me. You're so young, so attractive. You can have all the men you want. You've got so much and I have nothing - but Ted!"

"You? You and he?"

"For years he's been my whole life. I can't bear to lose him. I'll do something desperate."

"Now, now, stop it!"

"You're only a child. You can't love as I do. You can't realize what this means to an older woman. Please don't take my Ted away from me."

"Married to one woman and carrying on with you and that creature this afternoon in the hall! Then he tried to get me? Four women! Four! What does he think he is, a Turk with a harem?"

Finally, the time has come for J.B. Honeywell to announce his choice as Sales Manager. With all convention attendees gathered in the assembly hall, the Chairman of the Board takes the podium. As he speaks the camera cuts between the various players in the drama --- all eager to learn who wins the prized position:

"And now, my friends, the time is ripe for me to make a vastly important announcement. In fact, most of you have been waiting to hear it ever since this convention opened. I need hardly say that it concerns the appointment of a new General Sales Manager. The choice is finally narrowed down to two candidates."

"Two candidates, whose ability, sales orders, and time of service with the company were about equal. As is my custom in cases involving a position of trust, I made a thorough investigation into the private lives of these two men, paying special attention to their -- er, morals. I delved. I pried. I studied, and I learned. Then, and not until then, I made my decision, with which I shall now acquaint you."

"It affords me great pleasure, ladies and gentlemen, to announce that our next General Sales Manager will be neither of the two men to whom I just referred. But that loyal, efficient, intelligent, moral gentleman --- Mr. William Goodwin!"

"That's me!" pipes up Goodwin (Frank McHugh,) tagging the exclamation with his trademark laugh.

The scene shifts to the train station, where the participants are leaving for home. We learn that T.R. Kent and Dale plan to wed once his divorce from the current Mrs. Kent is final --- and that George Ellerbe's future life with his wife looks to be bleaker than ever --- and that the fickle Claire has secured a position for Jerry Ford as Assitant Sales Manager.

Just before the camera pulls back and out, we see Mrs. Ellerbe and George boarding the train, and George still vainly pleading "Let me explain!"

"You alley cat!" hisses Mrs. Ellerbe to the hapless George an instant before the "End" title appears.

Now, granted this cobbled and imperfect overview of "Convention City" can't begin to even hint at the accompanying screen visuals --- but I suspect you'll agree with my estimation that "Convention City" would be a damned good seventy minutes of pre-code fun (we'll forgive that rather flat ending too certainly!) but as a whole, the film is hardly worthy of the legendary scarlet hued aura that has clung to it over the decades.

The dialogue certainly isn't especially provocative, and neither are the situations when compared to what reached the screen in "Baby Face," "Safe in Hell," and a clutch of other titles of the period. While I won't even begin to guess as to why "Convention City" vanished so completely, we do know --- via period publications, that the film wasn't on the receiving end of public wrath and outrage, and that it enjoyed a normal and healthy distribution --- from the close of 1933 into late summer of 1934, where it was playing on double bills or accompanying vaudeville presentations. Indeed, in at least one case, a theater brought the film back for a repeat run some months after the title's initial booking, indicating it was an audience favorite.

So, in the end, "Convention City" survives today only a fragment of mute stock footage and on paper --- in the form of period reviews, advertisements and dialogue scripts laboriously prepared by state censorship boards eager to find material in need of deletion. In the case of the New York State Board of Censors, "Convention City" passed with flying colors --- virtually unscathed, save for the removal of the dialogue aboard the train wherein a woman boasts of the length of her operation scar, and for Ruth Donnelly's closing description of Guy Kibbee as an "alley cat."

Until a print of "Convention City" turns up --- and that's not an impossibility, given the amount of footage that has been tossed ashore lately from sources far and wide --- we're left with nothing except the hope and expectation that we might some day have the pleasure of seeing not a historic turning point in cinema, or a victim of public opinion --- but simply a terrific adult comedy enacted by some of the best performers on the screen. Such a film as "Convention City" could only come from one studio at one point in time --- the Warner Brothers lot of 1933. As the crowning achievement of pre-code cinema comedy, the absence of "Convention City" is deeply mourned.

To close this post --- some popular music of the period --- some selections being obvious if not certain candidates for inclusion in the background score for "Convention City!"

Until next time!

"When We're Alone" (1932)
Arden & Ohman Orchestra, vocal by Frank "Safari" Munn

"Three on a Match" (1932)
Russ Carlson & His Orchestra

"Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?" (1933)
Harry Reser & His Eskimos

"Was That the Human Thing to Do?" (1932)
Rudy Vallee & His Orchestra

"Young & Healthy" (1932)
Ben Selvin & His Orchestra, vocal by Ruth Etting

"Too Late" (1932)
Kate Smith

"Forty Second Street" (1933)
Gene Kardos & His Orchestra

"I've Got to Sing a Torch Song" (1933)
Orquesta Happy Jazz

"Young and Healthy" (1933)
Waring's Pennsylvanians

###

"The Midnight Taxi"

2008-01-14T20:30:00.000-05:00

Although the approach of midnight meant quite something else to actor Ralph Graves and co-star Helene Costello in the 1929 Nat Levine produced silent serial "The Fatal Warning," the poster art detail at left will serve well to open this first post of the New Year --- a year we approach with at least some of the same odd intermingling of curiosity, fear and excitement that can be seen in Mr. Grave's painted visage.

We'll ring up 2008's curtain with a 1930 recording of "My Sing Song Girl" which was previously offered in these pages in a definitive rendition by LeRoy Shield --- but this version, by the Colonial Club Orchestra, wins points for sheer originality (and the inclusion of a bit of Tchaikovsky!)

Arriving in September of 1928, Warner Bros.' part-talking "The Midnight Taxi" was deemed worthy enough to warrant theater bookings into December of 1930 --- and would be remade by the same studio in 1937, but we focus our attention on the elusive earlier edition which remains largely unavailable for evaluation although a silent print is thought to be in the care of the British Film Institute.

Adapted from a story by Darryl Zanuck (credited as Gregory Rogers) and directed by John Adolfi, the improbable scenario is described in the American Film Institute database:

"Tony Driscoll (Antonio Moreno) and Joseph Brant (William Russell) pool $200,000 to finance a bootleg venture and take a ride together on a train. Tony meets Nan Parker (Helene Costello) on the train and conceals their money in her coat. Brant hires two gunmen to stick up Tony and himself, but the holdup is a failure, for it is interrupted by detectives looking for stolen jewelry. The jewelry is found on Tony (planted there by one of Brant's henchmen,) and Tony is arrested and taken off the train."

"Released on bail later, Tony charters an airplane and returns to the speeding train. There is a gun battle, and the police arrest Brant and his men. Tony is cleared of the charges against him, and decides to go straight, having fallen in love with Nan."

A November 1928 booking of the film in Zanesville, Ohio resulted in this prepared press release appearing in a local newspaper. Even the most naive of reader would have been unlikely to accept it as a genuine film review, but the period lingo manages to breathe life into a film we'll likely never see nor hear --- as well as revealing a couple of intriguing plot details not hinted at in the AFI synopsis:

"Antonio Moreno, known as the dashing lover, goes in for rough stuff in 'The Midnight Taxi,' as his fight with thugs on the runaway train, his fight in the nose-diving plane and other hair-raising sequences proves. Helene Costello, as the fair sleuth who naively enters the company of thieves, hi-jackers and rum-runners in their mad flight for Vancouver is attractive and resourceful. Myrna Loy recalls her late triumphs in 'The Girl from Chicago' and 'Side Street Sadie.' William Russell with Miss Loy in both plays mentioned, acts with his usual hard-fisted zest."

"The play is possessed of as many thrills and hairbreadth escapes as a dozen detective yarns in one, but it the Vitaphone which stirs the already dramatic action to a fury of raucous and strident sound. All the players who speak their lines, do so with a finish which indicates that they must have had experience on the speaking stage before the advent of talking pictures."

"'The Midnight Taxi' again emphasizes the fact that the crook can't win. It should rank among the best of the crime pictures which are so much in vogue in theaters everywhere. The present reviewer advises all sort and conditions of people to go to the Liberty Theater before 'The Midnight Taxi' scorches by."

A real -- albeit anonymous -- local review of the film from (Waterloo, Iowa - October 1928) with the unfortunate title "'Midnight Taxi Is Full of It'" adds further insight:

"One who has presumed that only Adolph Menjou can sport a neatly trimmed dark moustache, glistening black hair and ultra-fashionable clothes, while alternating in the raising of a right or left sarcastic eyebrow and still be a screen hero has another guess coming."

"Antonio Moreno does all of Menjou's polite patter and adds a lot of athletic stuff himself that makes 'The Midnight Taxi' -- a 'talkie -- a most entertaining picture, with all the necessary elements of romance, thrills and hair-raising suspense to impress any audience."

"The cacophony of sound runs the gamut from blazing pistols to the hum of an aeroplane motor -- from gangsters' shrieks to the whistle of an express about to crash into a runaway train on which are -- ah! but there's the story!"

"Helene Costello as the girl who risks everything to turn detective and recover bonds stolen from a bank where her lover is cashier, is her same picture of loveliness. Soft of voice, tender in her sympathy, and courageous in defending her lover."

Is there a more pitiable figure of the early talking screen than Helene Costello? Sister of silent and early sound superstar Dolores, daughter of famed stage and screen personality Maurice Costello --- her life spiraled into what seems endless misfortune, folly and self-destruction after 1928 --- a year that seemed to promise at least some measure of the same success in the new medium that her sister would enjoy. As female lead in Warner Bros.' first all talkie, "The Lights of New York" (although Gladys Brockwell acts rings around her and just about everyone else in the cast) it can't be said that she makes much of an impression, but then neither does anyone else for that matter.

Truth be told, although the film was a vast success for Warners, and audiences attended in droves, I tend to think the majority were well aware of the fact that "The Lights of New York" was -- cinematically speaking -- a "piece of junk," as one 1928 bluntly yet accurately described it.

Helene Costello, Cullen Landis, Gladys Brockwell, Wheeler Oakman, Eugene Pallette --- it wasn't what they were saying or how well they said it that mattered, it was that they were saying anything at all.

Following her talking picture debut in "Lights," Costello would revert to silence for the silent serial "The Fatal Warning," and then, for all intensive purposes, would end a career that began at Brooklyn's Vitagraph studio when she was but a mere child, with 1929's "Show of Shows" where she confidently steals the screen from her sibling Dolores (seeming rather wan and clumsy here) in the musical set piece, "Meet My Sister." It's so joyful an eight minutes of musical film, and the actress is so --- well, so very young and alive and lovely in this sequence, that it's almost painful to contemplate just how far Helene would plunge from this happy pastel-hued pinnacle.

Helene Costello's 1929 marriage to actor/director and supremely oily figure Lowell Sherman was deemed "All Over Now" in news wire stories by mid-1932 --- but not until Lowell savaged the actress in the courtroom, with charges that she maintained an extensive library of "naughty books" (two of the many volumes Sherman brought into the courtroom as evidence were stolen from a table, one title being "The Memoirs of Fanny Hill," suggesting these books were anything but the sort of pornography Sherman claims so shocked him and "moved his secretary to blush") and was a hopeless alcoholic too.

To be sure, there were high times aplenty in the Sherman household --- with a "secret room" constructed to hold all the liquor left over after the Sherman-Costello wedding, a stash which was regularly replenished --- just as it would be in nearly every other Hollywood household of the day.

But, newspaper readers were much of the same breed they are today --- and it was the headlines connecting Costello to "Naughty Books and Drinking" which glowed in neon hues above all, despite the rather tame details behind them.

Lowell Sherman's secretary (the one who blushed) was one Maury Cohen, and his testimony revealed perhaps the real reason Sherman opted to so damage his spouse: "The secretary told of the actress calling Sherman 'a ham actor' and a 'lousy performer, and worse' and of how she tossed highball glasses at him." Sherman himself would ruefully admit that Helene had called him 'a fat old man' and told friends he was 'about finished in pictures.' (One can easily envision Sherman's eyes eagerly scanning the faces of those present in the courtroom for displays of disbelief and shock at Costello's wild claims, and likely finding none.) Although Helene Costello would win her divorce (and a $32,000 settlement) what she really needed was to get away from it all.

Then as now, diversionary tactics work best when a celebrity (or non-celebrity for that matter) is embroiled in something especially unpleasant, so Helene packed her bags and left for Cuba (points for originality, if nothing else!) and as the wire photo at right suggests, remodeled herself dramatically by the time it was announced --- some seven months after her divorce from Sherman --- that she was again a newlywed:

Havana, Jan. 23, 1933: "Their secret wedding exposed just six days after the ceremony, Helene Costello, screen actress, and her latest husband, Arturo Del Barrio, film producer, are formally 'at home' here today. They will remain in Havana until Spring, they have announced, and then will sail to spend Holy Week in Italy. Both admitted that they had been engaged about four years ago, that the engagement has been broken because of 'extenuating circumstances.' The marriage of Miss Costello and Lowell Sherman, ended in a divorce last year. Her previous marriage, to John Y. Regan, a childhood sweetheart, ended in the same manner."

A bit of celebratory music seems in order here, so we offer two tunes (both featured in the Metro musical "Cuban Love Song") which may have well been heard and danced to by Miss Costello and her new husband. Music, Maestro?

"Cuban Love Song" (1931) Ruth Etting - "The Peanut Vendor" (1930) California Ramblers

A few placid months passed before Lowell Sherman would indignantly rise up again --- somewhat feebly this time -- and file suit against Helene, seeking to have her endorse a government income tax refund check for $490.43 in his favor. Oh, how she must have laughed!

All but abandoning her film career, whether willingly or not, Costello also remained out of sight in newspaper pages until tongues began to wag in June of 1935 that all was not bliss in the Del Barrio & Costello union:

Hollywood, June 13: "Helene Costello denied she and her husband, Arturo Del Barrio had separated, although friends disclosed she had not heard from him since he visited John Barrymore some weeks ago aboard the actor's yacht in Havana harbor. A recent Barrymore statement said Del Barrio was to finance a picture the brothers-in-law would make in Cuba."

Three months later, a far happier news item would appear, heralding what was hoped to be a comeback for Helene --- while prematurely burying Helene's father Maurice by some fifteen years.

Costello's role in "Riff Raff" was minor in the extreme, and save for a bit in 1942's "Pride of the Yankees," which Hollywood columnist Jimmy Shields ruefully noted "took two minutes to film," that was the end of movie stardom for Helene.

Throughout the late 1930's and early 1940's, Helene Costello's name would be seen in numerous news items similar to the one at left from May of 1939 --- charged with driving while intoxicated --- and during this period her marriage to the Cuban Del Barrio would end and she'd take up with one George Lee LeBlanc, (described as an "artist and sculptor") with whom she'd have a child --- a daughter, Deidre, in February of 1941.

Only one year later, Costello would file for bankruptcy, listing debts amounting to $2,758 and total assets of $205.

Interestingly, four years later --- when Warner Bros. was celebrating the 20th Anniversary of sound films --- the Helene Costello of decades past could be seen in newspapers once again, as in this syndicated filler piece at the right, wherein the only point of interest seemed to be the long hours spent at the studio, and not the technique nor mechanics of the landmark process.

No matter --- Costello was fading fast. Some accounts cite alcohol, others claim drugs or both. Among the news items on New Years Day of 1948:

"Helene Costello Loser in Battle for Daughter"

Los Angeles: "Film actress Helene Costello lost a court battle for temporary custody of her six year old daughter, Deidre. Superior Judge Byron J. Walters ruled the child should go with artist Lee LeBlanc, her estranged husband. Their divorce trial is scheduled for April, at which time a permanent custody ruling will be made. The child has been cared for by Miss Costello's sister Dolores, who became the legal guardian two years ago when LeBlanc was in the maritime service and the mother was recuperating from a health breakdown. Judge Walters ruled that Miss Costello was 'not a fit and proper person' to have custody of Deidre, as her husband charged."

Los Angeles, June 1, 1951:

"The late actor Maurice Costello, who died penniless last October 29th, left his two daughters $1 each, his will disclosed today."

The document, filed for probate in Superior Court, was handwritten and dated July 27, 1916. The daughters are Dolores Costello, former wife of John Barrymore, and Helene Costello."

Maurice Costello left the remainder of his estate of $221.55 to the Motion Picture Relief Fund, which had supported him for years."

And finally, the inevitable ---

Hollywood, January 29, 1957:

"Helene Costello, who once earned $3,000 a week starring in films with the late John Barrymore, is dead at 53, a victim of pneumonia in a state hospital. Officials said she was committed to Patton State Hospital in San Bernardino last week for narcotics addiction. She was admitted under the name 'Adrienne Costello.'"

"Death came Saturday. Few at the hospital realized that she was the fragile beauty in Hollywood films in the late 20's. As late as 1942 she was still playing character parts and appeared in "Pride of the Yankees." But illness, financial problems and the heartbreak of unsuccessful marriages had taken their toll."

"Later, she got jobs as an extra in the studios where she had once been a star. In 1947, however, she said that she was 'too destitute and too ill' to work when she went to court seeking support from her fourth husband, artist George Lee LeBlanc."

"Her previous husbands were John Regan, actor Lowell Sherman and Cuban sportsman (?) Arturo Del Barrio. Miss Costello was the daughter of matinee idol Maurice Costello and the sister of Dolores Costello, who was with Helene when she died."

Predictably, most if not all of the published obituaries for the actress failed miserably, opting to highlight her downfall and barely hinting at her long and distinguished career --- and mangling the facts when it did. (Helene's only pairing with John Barrymore was a minor role in "Don Juan," and in "Show of Shows," in which they only shared billing.)

Helene, like Dolores, grew from an awkward child romping about the sunlit Vitagraph sets to a lithe and attractive young woman --- perhaps lacking whatever spark audience fancy sometimes caught hold of and embraced, resulting in true stardom --- but certainly on par with countless other actresses of her day.

In the end, no matter her personal demons, it's simply doubly sad that her send-off didn't rise above the mire into which she had fallen, but that's Hollywood. That's life.

At the very least, negligible though her contributions were to the first all-talking film, "Lights of New York," her name and face would escape the jeers forever connected to co-star Wheeler Oakman and his "Take him for a ride" line reading.

Gloom Chasers? We got 'em!

It's probably best not to question the advisability of serenading a huge polar bear with jazz, but the furry fellow seems as curious as we are about the faux Ted Lewis get-up on the clarinetist. This is, or was, "The Better 'Ole Orchestra," and while I'd dearly love to know what they were playing, we'll have to use our imagination --- and hope that those cage bars are good and sturdy.

A frequent melodic visitor to these pages is "Dardanella," and here it is in a new and rather enchanting guise, courtesy of Bob Haring's Velvetone Orchestra, circa March of 1928:

"Dardanella" (1928)

A remarkable piece of 1926 music, titled "Static Strut" --- performed by Paul Specht's Georgians, pictured left. As you listen, click upon the image to enlarge it, and let your eyes play across those beaming faces for a jolt of frivolity that connects with the music so perfectly. Then too, in lovely quality images of this sort, it's always fun to take notice of small details --- the variety of watch-chains, lapel pins, the woolen cap removed and held while the photo was being taken --- small elements of daily life now lost to time and fashion. (The unusual opening --- a mock radio station ID, indicates that this was, indeed, a Columbia recording.)

"Static Strut" (1926) Paul Specht's Georgians

We lurch backwards two years, to 1924, for the next offering. As entertainment, you won't find much --- but as a historical record of what can be supposed was the general public opinion of early radio listening, it's priceless. Whistles --- noises --- crossed frequencies (a rendition of "O Solo Mio" is interrupted by minstrel comedians of the most pathetic sort, a banal 1924 pop tune --- "My Hindu Hoo-Doo, Who Do You Love?" and finally, the final moments of a boxing match!"

"Tuning in on the Radio" (1924)

The Better 'Ole Orchestra is back --- and tempting fate even further, they've brought a dainty dancer with them to further confuse and irk our game polar bear friend --- but alas, he has eyes only for the top-hatted clarinetist.

Nearly one year ago, an earlier post featured the 1915 melody "The Ladder of Roses" in a discussion of the Hippodrome musical production "Hip-Hip Hooray."

The tune, a personal favorite of mine, is worth presenting again --- this time in an alternate version, by Prince's Band, from 1916. Be forewarned, it's an utterly infectious arrangement! At the conclusion of the recording, a fragment of the 1915 vocal version is added as musical homage to that forgotten musical stage production --- and to that fact that we're still together one year later! As to what happened to The Better 'Ole Orchestra, well... let's just hope the expected didn't happen after all.

Until Next Time!

"The Ladder of Roses" (1915) Prince's Band

"So come along, it's not far away,
let's spend a happy day
in that beautiful world...

And pass away the gloomy hours,
amidst the sunshine and the flowers...

For it's a land where all is new,
wonderful gardens too,
Joy waits for all far up above!

So let's climb up the ladder of roses,
and we'll soon reach the garden of love."

Bonus Audio:

"Under the Honey Moon" (1919)
The Coney Island Jazz Orchestra

###

"Ill-Assorted Companions"

2007-12-30T18:55:00.000-05:00

As whatever celestial clockwork mechanism that propelled 2007 is about to wind down to a sputtering and decidedly anticlimactic halt, this lull seems an opportune time to explore items old and new --- before venturing into whatever unknown territory the new year will bring.

Enviably oblivious to life as it is in 2007, Alice White (left) is as unavoidable a presence in the realm of the early talking film as Al Jolson --- and it's rather interesting to discover that opinions of her appeal were as divided in 1929 as they are now, when she's discussed at all, that is.

In a syndicated newspaper piece dating from August of 1929, writer Dan Thomas puts it out there in a profile that could --- with little alteration -- serve adequately today to describe some of the dubious talents we inexplicably embrace today.

"How does she do it? She can't act and she's dumber than all get out! Those, and a few more things even less complimentary, have been whispered around Hollywood about Alice White for the last year. And when Hollywood folk start putting somebody on the pan, they can be brutal."

"But, while the knockers were thinking up new reports to circulate about Alice, this young actress was forging ahead until now she is one of the biggest stars on the First National lot. For a while, even the First National executives didn't hand Alice very much. In fact, they thought so little of her that they allowed her contract to expire about a year ago. Then, the exhibitors set up such a howl for more Alice White picture that she was brought back and given a new contract -- at $100 a week more than she had been getting."

"Alice has even been called high-hat. That, along with a number of other accusations, is untrue. Alice's only trouble is that she rose to stardom too rapidly. She felt that she should assume the airs of a star but she didn't know quite how to go about it. Then, directors tried to drive her and she became stubborn, thereby acquiring the reputation of being temperamental."

"If the truth were known, this blonde actress at heart is still just a kid. And once you penetrate her film star exterior, you see that kid. Until she came into pictures, Alice never knew any of the luxuries of life. As a result, once she started tasting these luxuries, she wanted to go to the very top of the cinema pinnacle so that everything she desired might be hers."

"Until recently, I was numbered among those who wondered how Alice got by. Then one day I spent the greater share of an afternoon talking to her and I knew. Film audiences penetrated her makeup --- saw the real girl, and liked her --- a thing blind Hollywood could not do."

"This youngest of stars, who three years ago was an unknown script girl, is almost pitiful in her desire to succeed. She tries so hard to do what is right that she often oversteps herself and does the wrong thing. Alice's latest film, 'Broadway Babies,' firmly established her as a star of speaking films. She couldn't dance or sing so she learned how to do both for this picture. Studio officials also wanted her to take elocution lessons, but the star showed her superior wisdom by refusing to do so."

"'I don't think audiences want me to speak very correct English,' she told me. 'They want to hear me talk as any young American girl would talk, so I am going to keep right on speaking in my natural manner. I have tried to be natural in everything I do, and I think that's why fans like me. So why should I spoil it all by learning to speak correctly?'"

Sometimes, even I'm at a loss for word or waggish comment --- and at such points, music is best hurriedly brought forth.

Here are two tunes from Alice White's 1929 First National success "Broadway Babies," performed here by the California Ramblers for the Edison label, in the last days of that company's life:

"Wishing and Waiting For Love" and "Broadway Baby Dolls"

From this vantage point --- so distant to 1929, perhaps the most enjoyment that can be had in watching Alice White in her surviving early talkies is that she's so utterly unlike the vast majority of her peers. There's neither forced raucous demeanor, nor transparent attempts to appear cultured and refined that just come across as creepy --- no, she's simply herself: good, bad or indifferent. Mostly indifferent. Never seeming to quite connect with her surroundings or co-stars, or even fully understanding the lines she's speaking for that matter, Alice White defies the odds and manages to charm rather than repulse or dismay, and that's no small feat.

One critic --- I can't recall who --- said something to the effect of "Miss White grimaces and clumsily closes one eye to give the impression she's sly and crafty, and in doing so appears to be neither."

I ain't so sure about that, folks!

Before presenting a selection of exceptionally fine tunes before moving on to our next item, it should be mentioned that many of the recordings featured in these pages can be found on what I deem to be one of the best web sites of its kind, Glen Richards' "Hot Dance and Vintage Jazz Pages," a beautifully designed, carefully documented and lovingly presented selection of music that's made to order for any of my readers. I'm including a permanent link to Glen's web site on this blog's sidebar, and gently urge you to visit. Once you do, you'll return time and again as I have.

Edwin McEnelly and his Orchestra are up first with "Spanish Shawl," a late 1925 recording that may well prompt you to seek out those castanets you have tucked away and to do something you've never thought of doing until now.

The tune "Cryin' for the Carolines" (from 1930's "Spring is Here") has been a frequent visitor to these pages --- in renditions both awful and fine, but here's one of the best --- if not the best. Count on Johnny Marvin to put it over just right --- and dig that fiddle midway thru!

The 1929 First National Dorothy Mackaill vehicle "Children of the Ritz" may have fallen off the twig into that land of oblivion that all missing films happily if uneasily reside in --- but we have the film's theme song with us, "Some Sweet Day," and it's performed here by Bob Haring's Velvetone Orchestra precisely as it was first set down into grooves in February of 1929.

Two ethereally lovely sides of a 78rpm disc by Gus Edwards & His Orchestra, dating from August of 1926, both of which pack a mighty wallop of precisely what brings you here:

"I'll Fly to Hawaii" and "Crying for the Moon"

Jack Pickford, Marilyn Miller and a pair of nervous canines are seen here aboard a steamship circa 1927 or thereabouts, and while Miller's Warner Bros. film version of "Sally" hadn't been thought of yet, we nonetheless pause a moment to revisit an old topic and, I suspect, to lay it to rest as well --- that of the seemingly absent musical number "After Business Hours," which is heralded on at least some sheet music editions for the film but which is absent from surviving prints.

Two "Vitaphone Varieties" readers almost simultaneously wrote to point out that while the number is absent from "Sally" as a performance piece, a fragment of it survives in existing prints as incidental music in the film's elaborate background score (an oddly constructed one at that, given the fact it also makes use of "What Will I Do Without You" from "Gold Diggers of Broadway" and even Jolson's signature "I'm In the Seventh Heaven".)

Indeed, "After Business Hours" can be heard at the film's 40 minute mark, in which it serves as scoring for a throwaway bit of chorus dancing at the "Elm Tree Inn" setting and a portion of the comic business between Joe E. Brown and elderly Jack Duffy navigating his way up to his precarious seat at the club.

Clifton Webb (right, with Miller) helpfully points out that an audio fragment of "After Business Hours" as it survives in "Sally" today may be heard here, but the question still remains of course as to why a scant minute or so of music would warrant sheet music publication. My guess is that it wouldn't, and that an extended performance of the piece was either excised from prints shortly before or after the film premiered or, given the bedraggled condition of "Sally" today, the footage was simply lost somewhere between the storage shelf where the film lay for decades until what remained was thought worth saving --- even in such an imperfect format.

"After Business Hours" (soundtrack fragment)

Many thanks to Jessica (of San Francisco) and John R., for helping to unravel this bit of niche musical film history mystery!

A medley from the stage incarnation of "Sally," by Joseph C. Smith's Orchestra (recorded in late 1921) which artfully blends "Look For the Silver Lining,"
"Whip-Poor-Will," and "Wild Rose")

Motion Picture News described the lost 1929 Fox film "The Sin Sister" thusly: "Ill-assorted companions marooned at a trading post in the North. A small-time vaudeville dancer (Nancy Carroll) invades the frozen spaces and meets the son (Lawrence Gray) of a wealthy family who has been stranded with bad companions." While we may never know why Anders Randolph seems so upset with a bear-skin rug, or why Josephine Dunn (left) seems so ill at ease with a cigarette holder, we can lament the fact that this is just one of countless late-silent/early-sound Fox films that have vanished.

To be sure, we have many a transitional period (of silence to sound) gem from that studio with us --- and some have even ventured forth out of enforced seclusion onto DVD, such as those released in conjunction with the massive "John Ford at Fox" set which arrived on the market in time for the holidays. While the full $299.99 set seems destined to serve as a corporate gift and will sit upon many an executive office's shelf, we regular folk were gifted with a fine selection of John Ford's work which may be had individually or in smaller sets. While I'm apparently one of the very few that believe that John Ford's legend far exceeds his reality, I nonetheless grabbed at the "Ford at Fox: John Ford's Silent Epics" set --- although mostly for what I consider one of the finest examples of the 1928/1929 transitional period, "Four Sons."

Inexplicably, Fox has torn away the film's original magnificent synchronized Roxy Orchestra Movietone music and effects score from "Four Sons," --- it's not even offered as an alternate audio track, and replaced it with what I feel is a very poor new one indeed. Oh, the new score sounds just fine --- clear, bright and even rich in spots, and it's a certainty that the composer studied the original Movietone soundtrack closely --- but in the end, the new score fails miserably.

The original score was so tightly interwoven into the action upon the screen that "Four Sons" never seemed so much a silent film as merely a quiet one --- with the score serving to bridge sequences, underline them, counterpoint them and highlight them so skillfully that the thought of "Four Sons" image without its' soundtrack seemed unthinkable.

The new score neatly proves not only what tremendous and lasting damage can be done to a silent film fitted out with an inappropriate score, but also how easily an early synchronized film can be transformed from a visual and aural period symphony into quite something else.

The most riveting and perhaps the defining moment of "Four Sons," when the dying pleas of a soldier on the fog shrouded battle field for his "little mother" is heard on the original Movietone soundtrack amidst almost complete silence, is shattered here by the careless and inexplicable handling in this presentation. Although we see the characters on the screen lift their heads and eyes towards the distant dying utterance, this supreme moment when the art of silent cinema co-existed beautifully with the new sound technology goes unmarked and unnoticed in the busily bland new score, turning a moment in screen history that unfailingly caused the small hairs on the back of your neck to rise into -- well, nothing. Just nothing.

The saddest aspect to all this, like much of the recent late silent and early sound product arriving on DVD, is that it always seems to just miss the mark of perfection, or always seems as though costs, effort and enthusiasm were cut or lacking in in the most ill advised spots. A million dollar image restoration and a hundred bucks spent for scoring and research, it would seem. I just don't get it. Are there no students of film history in the employ of the major studios? Someone to suggest that something isn't right --- or to boldly say "No! You'll ruin it!?" Whereas Warner Bros. (with the problematic but well intended DVD release of "The Jazz Singer) celebrates and luxuriates in their studio's contributions to the birth of the talking film, Fox --- which was as much a player in the technological leap as Warners', ignores and all but shuns it.

For films of this period being released to DVD, it's pretty much a one shot deal. No second chances --- at least in our lifetime. What lands on the store shelf BECOMES the film as it will be seen, studied, explored and understood for years and years to come. We're taking in gold and churning out tin. Not even tin --- just plastic.

A few audio fragments from the original Movietone synchronized version of "Four Sons," which now serve only as examples of what has been lost:

The Village Birthday Fete for the Little Mother: Here, amidst hand clapping and shouts that accompany a traditional folk dance, the audio level of the score rose and fell in volume as the image cut between the dancers and conversation between characters within the walls of a house.

The Dying Solider: (See above for description)

The New World & Conclusion: The Little Mother arrives in New York City and struggles to make her way to her son aboard the subway ("My New York" is used here as scoring) --- she finds herself helplessly lost on the dark, rain-slicked streets of the city. The original score interpolated bits of "The Sidewalks of New York" and "Give My Regards to Broadway" here to counterpoint the character's despair and confusion--- and, when a helpful NYC policeman comes to the woman's aid, the score reflected this (listen for "Yankee Doodle Dandy") and transformed the terrifying city landscape, by this action -- both heard and seen, into HOME for the new arrival to these shores. No such thought or care is evident in the new score and indeed, it would seem that the old woman is more lost than any of us expected, for the new score suggests she's arrived in 1948 New York instead of the city of 1928!

In the end, all this hot air on my part counts for nothing, for the damage to "Four Sons" has been done and likely won't ever be remedied. But, as cinema history is being mangled before being tossed onto the heap that is the DVD retail market, there needs to be some cautionary words spoken --- even if they sometimes can't be heard above the din of self-congratulation and back-slapping emanating from some DVD production companies.

We'll clear the air here --- and usher out this entry along with the old year --- with some melody, plain and simple.

Here, we have eighteen minutes of a transcribed 1929 "Brunswick Brevities" broadcast --- in which the Colonial Club Orchestra, vocalists Billy Murray and Walter Scanlan, and xylophonist Harry Brewer are featured. Among the melodies heard: "My Fate Is In Your Hands," "On the Woodpile," "Nola," "Shut the Door -- They're Coming Through the Window," "If I Can't Have You," "I'll Close My Eyes to the Rest of the World," "Nobody's Using It Now," and as announcer Norman Brokenshire hopefully suggests, "Oh, you'll recognize the rest."

"Brunswick Brevities" (1929)

See You on the Flipside of 2007! - And Thanks For Visiting!

"Auld Lang Syne" (Mechanical Music Box)

"Auld Lang Syne" (1910) - Frank C. Stanley

"Auld Lang Syne" (1931)

"Spin a Little Web of Dreams" (1933)

###

A Yuletide Frolic II : Sinners' Holiday

2007-12-16T19:11:00.000-05:00

Greetings of the Season!

For this entry, it's all about music and imagery --- and we'll set aside observation, analysis and criticism for the long winter days ahead.

Some interesting items are planned for the coming weeks and months --- including a feature-length examination of the infamous and seemingly lost 1933 pre-code scorcher "Convention City," so stay tuned!

Don't try to explain the image at left --- I can't either! Likewise, for this free-form entry, don't try to connect up the images with the audio and commentary --- just let it roll over you and enjoy this holiday offering, dear readers!

We'll begin with two magnificent recordings by Ben Black & His Orchestra dating from August of 1927, the incredibly lush and melodic "Moonlit Waters" and an odd re-working of the solemn and familiar "Going Home" tricked up in evening clothes and appearing here as "Sailing On." The rustle of silk, highly scented floral arrangements, and the shuffle of feet across a polished ballroom floor countless evenings ago can be palpably felt in these two recordings.

"Moonlit Waters" (1927) Ben Black & His Orchestra

"Sailing On" (1927) Ben Black & His Orchestra

Similarly, the image that comes to mind in the following 1927 recording of "At Sundown" by Lynn Cowan's Loew's State Theater Orchestra is that of Mary Eaton as Gloria Hughes in Paramount's "Glorifying the American Girl" --- sitting at a dingy dressing room table between performances, eagerly opening a much battered and multi-labeled parcel from the boy she left behind in her quest for fame. The chirpy melody is heard on the film's soundtrack --- in stark contrast to the wistful and bittersweet expression that plays out on Eaton's face as she examines the simple gift of an inexpensive mirrored jewelry box.

"At Sundown" (1927) Lynn Cowan's Loew's State Theater Orchestra

I'm continually surprised by just how diverse the readers of these pages are --- an incredible cross-section of geographic locations, careers and specific interests, yet all sharing one common interest and somehow finding their way here for information and entertainment. Truly gratifying!

One such reader is Australian resident Phillip Sametz who, with his Sydney based dance band "The Mell-O-Tones," has an incredible knack for replicating period tunes and performing them via live, recorded and broadcast venues.

Performing vintage melodies "straight," with little or no elaboration and quite without the often horrendous touches that transform similar attempts into well-meaning but misdirected high camp, The Mell-O-Tones are a tonic.

"Mona" (Happy Days-1930) - Vocal by P. Sametz

Seeking more? Visit the Mell-O-Tones official CD link! Thanks to Phillip Sametz and Martin Buzzacot for allowing this worthwhile endorsement!

Rudy Vallee's 1928 rendition of "Let's Do It" (a tune inexplicably dropped from both stage and screen versions of Irene Bordoni's starring vehicle "Paris") is wonderful late jazz-age nonsense, so it's only appropriate that Vallee is given the equally nonsensical billing of "Frank Mater" on this Harmony 78rpm disc recording.

"Let's Do It" (1928) Frank Mater

And, now's as good a place as any to welcome in Frankie Marvin (Johnny's brother) and Ed Smalle for as fine a rendition of "Caressing You" as you're ever likely to hear --- anywhere, at any price. (Stock up now!)

"Caressing You" (1929)

An entire post could easily be devoted to Alice White --- and soon shall be --- ("Alice White Forges to Fore in Films Despite Hollywood's 'Anvil Chorus' That She's Dumb and Unable to Act!" screamed one August 1929 article, proving that public taste hasn't changed all that much) but in the meantime, let's gaze at Miss White as she gazes back at nothing in particular, and listen to one of the featured melodies from the sorely overlooked 1930 "Show Girl in Hollywood," performed here by Ed Lloyd & His Orchestra:

"I've Got My Eye On You" (1930)

Another familiar --- but somewhat more focused, female personality of the period, Zelma O'Neal, steps forward now... and it's best to let her have her way and offer a musical plea from the 1929 Radio film "Syncopation," otherwise known as:

"Do Something" (1929)

"Six hundred gorgeous costumes were designed and produced by the wardrobe department at MGM in less than a month for 'The Hollywood Revue,' by a force of 150 seamstresses."

"'Every costume for the revue was manufactured on our own lot within 30 days,' said Joseph Rapf, head of the wardrobe department. 'All the material was purchased here with the exception of a special, transparent rubberized material which could not be found on the coast.'"

Here's Teddy Joyce and his Penn State Recorders, boldly proclaiming --- despite Miss Crawford's gray shroud of a costume ---

"Gotta Feelin' For You" (1929)

--- and, while the microphone and glass tubes are suitably hot, here's Jesse Stafford and His Orchestra to more than do justice to a tune Helen Kane introduced in the 1929 Paramount film "Sweetie":

"The Prep Step" (1929)

Organist Milton Charles, a familiar name and dour face to these pages, provides the music in the next two 1928 covers of tunes featured in Jolson's "The Singing Fool," while the vocals are provided by Ned Miller --- and they so effortlessly transport the listener to a moment in time that the effect is somewhat startling:

"Sonny Boy" (1928) and "There's A Rainbow 'Round My Shoulder" (1928)

Call Davey Lee back to your knee before he scampers away to the witness stand to help convict you of murder (in "Say It With Songs")
Mr. Jolson, and instead let's have a go at another rendition of "Sonny Boy" that has a beautiful, Christmas-like motif about it. Our musicians are Bob Haring & His Velvetone Orchestra, folks:

"Sonny Boy" (1929)

There's something about the female vocalist on the next two recordings --- credited here as "Virginia Lee," which more than reminds me of the young lady ("Dottie Lewis") who performs "I Ain't That Kind of Baby" in the wonderful 1927 Vitaphone short "The Night Court." Hmm....

Here, Miss Lee performs two Vitaphone related melodies, "I'd Rather Be Blue Over You" (from "My Man") and "Who Wouldn't Be Jealous Of You?" which was deftly handled in a 1929 one-reel short by that wonder child herself, Baby Rose Marie.

"I'd Rather Be Blue Over You" (1929) Virginia Lee

"Who Wouldn't Be Jealous of You?" (1929) Virginia Lee

For those who can't get enough of "I'd Rather Be Blue," and don't mind a male vocalist in lieu of Fannie Brice or Virginia Lee, here's another perfectly adequate 1929 rendition by:

Vincent Richards and His Dance Orchestra

Harmony, close or otherwise, looms large in this next clutch of melodies! First, two selections pay homage to the legendary Ziegfeld stage production of "Whoopee!" --- featuring selections that, for a variety of sad and peculiar reasons, didn't make it into the 1930 Technicolor screen version.

The first, a so-lovely-it's-almost-painful rendition by Ruth Etting --- and then, Bob Haring's Velvetone Orchestra (The Colonial Club Orchestra in disguise) returns for a medley featuring "Makin' Whoopee," "I'm Bringing a Red, Red Rose," a mere flash of "Come West Little Girl" and then, the always magnificent Vaughn DeLeath puts over "Love Me Or Leave Me" before the roof is blown off by an orchestra reprise that apparently tossed the needle off the record too! Fine, fine stuff here...

"I'm Bringing A Red, Red Rose" (1928) Ruth Etting

Medley from "Whoopee!" (1928)

From early March of 1926, we have an early incarnation of The Revelers and a new recording technology that allowed for not only electrical recordings of superb fidelity, but also somewhat (35% to 50%!!) longer recording time. Here, we have Franklyn Baur, Ed Smalle, Elliott Shaw and Wilfred Glenn providing the vocals --- and, supplementing the Brunswick Orchestra, Frederic Fradkin and Rudy Wiedoeft.

"The Merrymaker's Carnival" (1926) - Side One and Side Two

Included: "Schon Rosmarin," "Just One More Waltz With You," "Saxema," "My Bundle Of Love," "Lolly Pops," "The Prisoner's Song," "I Love My Baby" and "In My Gondola."

Let's maintain a pseudo high-brow motif for a moment longer, and usher in two similarly refined recordings before knocking over the crystal vase at our elbow and being forcibly removed:

"Deep Night" (1929) Bob Haring's Velvetone Orchestra

"My Love Parade" (1929) Smith Ballew & His Orchestra

The supremely melodic 1928 tune "Lila" may be familiar to early sound fans who've seen little Grace Rogers perform it in a Metrotone one-reel subject included on the DVD release of "The Broadway Melody," but if you've yet to discover it --- or have avoided it owing to Master of Ceremonies Harry Rose, here's something just as good (and less cringe inducing):

"Lila" (1928) Tony Young's Ramblers

Likewise, 1928's "I Just Roll Along" may forever be linked in the minds of readers with The Foy Family's Vitaphone short subject, but that doesn't mean the melody wasn't deftly handled elsewhere --- and here's Irving Kaufman (with The Okeh Melodians) to prove just that!

"I Just Roll Along" (1928) The Okeh Melodians

Did someone say "Ted Lewis?" No? I thought not. I'll send him away while we listen to two tunes from his lost 1929 Vitaphone feature "Is Everybody Happy," but you've got to back me up, guys... (I was about to say "he swings a mean cornet," but thought better of it. Ok, ok...)

"I'm The Medicine Man For the Blues" - The Yaban Radio Orchestra, vocal by Billy Murray

"Wouldn't It Be Wonderful?" - The LaPalina Broadcasters, vocal by Irving (yes!) Kaufman

Nothing says "Christmas" more than Al Jolson or Hawaiian guitars --- so while Lois Moran and Mr. Jolson busy themselves, we have two absolute corkers of early talkie tunes --- which defy logic and instead lend themselves beautifully to the plaintive strains of the Hawaiian guitar and unique interpretation of virtuoso King Benny Nawahi:

"Under A Texas Moon" (1930)

"Singing in the Bathtub" (1929)

If you sunburn easily and don't care for pineapple, here's The Paramount Rhythm Boys giving the first tune a skillful once-over (which was apparently lifted intact to serve as main title music for the 1930 Ruth Etting Vitaphone short "Roseland!")

"Under A Texas Moon" (1930) P.R.B.

To close out this holiday edition of "Vitaphone Varieties," --- four exceptional recordings.

"Dust," performed here by Bernie Cummins and The Hotel New Yorker Orchestra, is from the 1930 Metro film "Children of Pleasure," a perfectly wonderful and woefully overlooked showcase for actor Lawrence Gray who, himself, is rather wonderful and woefully overlooked, come to think of it.

"Dust" (1930)

Two unapologetically sentimental melodies --- one a standard, the other all but forgotten (from RKO's 1929 "The Vagabond Lover") --- but both mighty powerful.

"Together" (1928) Arnold Johnson & His Paramount Hotel Orchestra

"The One in the World" (1929) Ed Lloyd & His Orch.

And, lastly, we close with another rendition of the same tune that opened this frolic, "Moonlit Waters," performed here by an old friend to these pages --- Franklyn Baur, accompanied by The Columbians.

"Moonlit Waters" (1927)

"You're gone from me,
still in my memory,
we always will be together"

Until Next Time!
Happy Holidays!

###

The Mell-O-Tones
(Bandleader & Vocalist Phillip Sametz, 2nd from right - at piano.)

Bonus Audio:
"Here Comes Emily Brown" (1930)
From NEW MOVIETONE FOLLIES

Present and Unaccounted For

2007-11-24T19:30:00.000-05:00

While we'll never know what was being said or heard when the wonderful snapshot to the left was taken, let's see if we can't replicate a bit of their vibrant good cheer for this entry --- a small assortment of items originally slated for the last post ("Crystal Girl") but dropped owing to the length of the feature story.

Before straying too far off from the topic of the previous entry --- that of the lost 1929 First National film "Paris" --- now is as good a time as any to mention Irene Bordoni's other 1929 film appearance, in the Warner Brothers revue "Show of Shows" and the topic of missing or deleted footage from this mammoth production.

A much earlier post from November of 2006 ("Neither Here Nor There, But...") detailed a bit of footage missing from surviving prints of "Show of Shows" in the form of a spoken introduction to the Georges Carpentier, Alice White and Patsy Ruth Miller sequence, but what else is absent from the print commonly seen today?

I've long been puzzled by the inclusion of the melody "Believe Me" in the film's lengthy finale sequence and the fact that this tune was featured as the companion piece on Irene Bordoni's 1929 Columbia 78rpm recording of the languid ballad she performs in the film, "One Hour of Love," a sequence that effectively stops the film not only cold, but quite dead. Was this the best Warners could come up with to feature their vivacious (and highly paid!) performer? As it turns out, it would seem we're only seeing half of her contribution to "Show of Shows" -- and what's missing is a trademark Bordoni eye-rolling and mildly suggestive performance of --- that's right, the tune "Believe Me."

A number of period newspaper publicity placements for "Show of Shows" allude to the fact that Bordoni performed not one but two "typically Parisian" numbers, and at least one studio provided "review" of the film provided to local newspapers tells us outright that "Miss Bordoni appears with ten pianists and ten ladies dressed as Bordoni," which gives us some suggestion as to how "Believe Me" was presented.

While very badly reproduced, we can see Bordoni (clad in the same gown we see in her performance of "One Hour of Love") and her pianist, Eddie Ward --- and while difficult, one can see the forms of those aforementioned ten chorus girls (wearing identical gowns and Bordoni-style wigs) along with the murky outlines of the ten pianists too.

It's easy to visualize the sequence (likely originally in Technicolor) as a sparkling and sly mood-lifter after the meandering "One Hour of Love," and the sequence's original inclusion neatly explains why "Believe Me" is reprised during the film's finale. What isn't so easy to figure out is if this sequence is missing from current prints owing to the elements being too far gone for printing when the highly imperfect current black and white print was prepared, or if the sequence was snipped out following initial runs in key cities before it was farmed out across the United States. For all we know, the sequence may well exist in a as yet undiscovered print --- as well as in audio Vitaphone disc elements for the film that haven't been fully evaluated for content.

The clever and unusual ad for "Show of Shows" at left from a February 1930 run in Oelwein, Iowa presents another puzzler --- and one not as easily figured out as Bordoni's case.

Midway down the column, there's mention of a feature spot for comedian Lupino Lane titled "Spring Is Here," which it can be supposed had nothing to do with the studio's forthcoming screen version of the Rodgers & Hart production. A scan of period reviews, advertisements and publicity placements all turn up blanks on this one --- leaving only this intriguing mention as a hint that yet another decidedly interesting segment might be absent from the gargantuan --- equally despised and admired --- 1929 screen revue.

The tune "Believe Me" turns up --- with much the same orchestration utilized in the finale of "Show of Shows" in the 1929 Technicolor two-reeler "Hello Baby!" which starred Ann Pennington (also curiously absent from "Show of Shows") --- but whether there's any connection or not is something best left for someone with far better cinema detective skills than I.

That said, here's Miss Pennington's vibrato vocal of "Believe Me" from the aforementioned 1929 short subject (which, remarkably, survives in its original hues!)

"Believe Me" (1929) - Ann Pennington and Chorus

Another 1929 all-Technicolor First National film, "Sally," which starred Marilyn Miller and Joe E. Brown is still with us today --- and also seems to have a bit of mystery about it in the form of the song depicted at right in sheet music issued for the film.

"After Business Hours (That Certain Bizness Begins)" doesn't turn up in the film's elaborate incidental background score (at least not that I could ascertain) and yet appears to have been filmed and dropped from prints at some point. Indeed, the only logical spot in the film for the number to have appeared would have been in the first reel --- at the Times Square Child's restaurant where Miller's character is first seen, working the dinner shift.

As a curiosity item, here's a transcription of the melody lifted from the sheet music, along with a sampling of the lyrics.

"Every morning, just at ten, all the busy business men,
are so busy with their stocks and bonds.
Now and then they make a sale, while dictating lots of mail, to a lot of stenographic blonds."

"But in the evening, when they need relaxation,
dictation turns to syncopation!
After business hours, that certain bizness begins."

"It's like the sunshine after the showers,
and you're on needles and pins.
Why even Mister Babbitt, who has a conscience,
gets the whoopee habit and wants his nonsense,
That certain bizness begins!"

"After Business Hours" - Transcription

Maurice Chevalier's beaming smile seems as justified today as it did in 1929 when "The Love Parade" first glowed, drifted and scampered across talking picture screens, for it has been announced that Criterion will be releasing this equally technically impressive and charming title in February of 2007 --- along with three other 1930-1932 Lubitsch musicals, "Monte Carlo," "The Smiling Lieutenant" and "One Hour With You." No word as yet as to any supplementary material or extra features, but as with any Criterion product, it's a fairly safe bet that they'll go that extra mile which some other DVD companies always seem to inexplicably just fall short of doing.

Let's face it, a DVD release of a silent or early sound film is invariably a "one chance to get it right" kind of event, and when a release is lacking either in presentation or technical elements, we're stuck with it --- superb, good, bad or indifferent.

Jeanette McDonald doesn't look to be especially refreshed so much as --- well, just downright odd in the window card at left, but the following medley of tunes from "Monte Carlo" performed by the New Mayfair Orchestra in 1930 gets it just right:

Medley from "Monte Carlo" (1930)

Buried deep within an earlier post comes this two part medley from "The Love Parade," recorded on the British "Broadcast" label --- well worth reviving here:

"The Love Parade" (1929) - Part 1 and Part 2

And, to round out this miniature Lubitsch 78rpm tribute, here's Jeanette MacDonald singing the title tune from 1932's "One Hour With You."

"One Hour With You" (1932)

It's easy to get lost in the far away make-believe world of early musicals, where pastel hues radiate prettily and every line of dialogue seems a music cue. Therefore, it's important, especially for so rabid a student of the genre as I, to step back and away from the evidence left behind every now and again, and try to view these films and the time in which they were created not as an early sound film buff --- but as a the jaded, skeptical resident of 2007 that the great majority of us are. Sometimes, artifacts of the period accomplish that task for us.

The ad for Warners all-Technicolor "On With the Show" (the title exclamation mark comes and goes) at right for an early August 1929 screening in Charleston, West Virginia seems a treat for the eye --- what with all the hyperbole about Technicolor and the lively graphics --- but scan down to the bottom and we're not so much swept along as deposited with a thud: "Special Midnight Show For Colored People Only."

Depressing? Very. Wrong? Certainly. But, such was the world at one time. What, I wonder, was this midnight audience's reaction to Ethel Waters chumming it up with Louise Fazenda? Somehow, it makes Waters' intentional bump into Fazenda's posterior with her prop laundry basket just prior to her performance of "Am I Blue?" seem not only right, but well justified --- and how that audience must have loved it!

Early musicals are often cited for being hopelessly static --- and while this tends to be (I believe) a sweeping exaggeration based purely on the slim number of titles readily available for evaluation for so many years, the statement holds true for much of "On With the Show" --- only it's not as noticeable perhaps owing to the all the movement crossing the frame, or moving towards and away from it. Indeed, there are few more visually busy early musicals than "On With the Show" that can be brought to mind. Oddly, Ethel Waters' rendition of "Am I Blue?" (and later, "Birmingham Bertha") suffer not one bit for even if the camera were swirling about her, she'd hold us stock still in her gaze --- right where she wants us, and right we find ourselves upon every viewing. It's a riveting moment in early musical film history.

"Am I Blue?" (1929) Ethel Waters

"Am I Blue?" (1929) Nat Shilkret & Orchestra

To wind up this comparatively brief post --- before offering an exit gallery of images of the period --- a selection of audio, that includes requests from readers as well as items that didn't make it into earlier entries. (Many thanks to readers who have submitted audio --- your submissions will surely, in time, be given proper presentation in these pages!)

From what must seem like almost a mascot film for these pages by now, here is Winnie Lightner's beautifully acerbic spin on love and marriage from "Gold Diggers of Broadway," plus a cinema organ & vocal rendition of an old standby...

"And Still They Fall in Love" (1929) Winnie Lightner

"Tip Toe thru the Tulips" (1929) C.A. Parmentier

Two 1929 78rpm sides from "Show of Shows" by Dick Robertson and Orchestra. "Lady Luck" is the winner here, I believe.

"Lady Luck" and "Singing in the Bathtub"

From "Lord Byron of Broadway" (MGM-1929) we have The Revelers step up to the microphone for a cheery rendition of:

"The Woman in the Shoe" (1930) The Revelers

While offered elsewhere in these pages as an instrumental version, the theme song for the 1929 Harold J. Murray and Norma Terris Fox film "Married in Hollywood" gains immensely with the addition of vocalized lyrics --- and while a bit watery in the sonic department, if you're as fond of the melody as I am, you'll enjoy this 78rpm version by Larry Holton's Boston Society Orchestra all the more.

"Dance Away the Night" (1929)

Useless trivia: "Dance Away the Night" can be heard as part of the scoring for the 1934 Paramount Popeye cartoon "The Dance Contest." Odd, if nothing else!

By the by, no matter if your interest is in musical films, animation or just vintage cinema in general --- Warner Home Video's 4 disc "Popeye the Sailor: 1933-1938" is a stunning example of restoration and presentation that no reader of these pages should be without. (That, and "The Jazz Singer," of course!) I know, I know but... hey! Quit throwin' them tomatoes!

Until Next Time!

Mr. John Barrymore
"Show of Shows" (WB-1929)

"Dangerous Nan McGrew" (Paramount - 1930)

Promotional Item
"Gold Diggers of Broadway" (WB - 1929)

"High Voltage" (Pathe-1929)
The blurb says it all...

Small town cinema with big city attitude:
The magnificent Ironwood (Michigan) 1929

Wonderful home-grown ad graphics
Oakland, California - 1929

"The Fourth Clown"
Hal Roach Studios - 1929

"Not Quite Decent" (Fox-1929)
A Lost Film

"Our Dancing Daughters" (MGM-1928)

Herald - "On With the Show" (WB-1929)

"Thunderbolt" (Paramount-1929)
"Thunderbolt will go through an iron wall to see her..."

Post-Thanksgiving Toy Ad
27 November 1929
(A distant day when we actually manufactured toys
for our children in our own country!)

###

"Crystal Girl"

2007-11-22T09:34:00.000-05:00

"A moonbeam, a June beam - a rare Tiffany gem!

A flower, a bower, a new rose on the stem!"

So go the lyrics for the elaborate "Crystal Girl" production number depicted left, which served to kick off a series of Technicolor musical revue sequences in the now lost 1929 First National motion picture "Paris."

Directed by Clarence Badger, and starring stage legends Irene Bordoni and Jack Buchanan, "Paris" is one of a maddening clutch of missing (the term "lost" seems unduly gloomy and hopeless) musical films of 1929 and 1930 that would, were they still with us, serve to document a number of stellar stage performers of the 1920's at their peak --- before age, shifting public tastes, drastically changing musical forms and motion picture production codes would alter these personalities forever --- leaving us instead with later film work that, in most cases, barely hints at the qualities that so captivated audiences.

Fannie Brice, Ted Lewis, Sophie Tucker --- and, in this instance, Irene Bordoni, can all be seen today in later film work, but none of which has that beautiful immediacy --- that spark --- that captures these souls just as the twenties would fade out and the decade-long party was declared over, done with and which by the mid-30's would seem so distant as to appear a waking dream.

"Paris," which would serve as the screen debut for the films three leads --- Bordoni, Buchanan and Louise Closser Hale --- isn't a sought after or yearned for title in the way that, say, Brice and Tucker's "My Man" or "Honky Tonk" is --- and this is puzzling, for while "Paris" transfers the 1928 stage production and two of its stars to the screen virtually intact, the Brice and Tucker films were manufactured to create some sort of screen character in which the performers could utilize their special talents. "Paris," on the other hand, is pure and, it would seem, undiluted direct-from-the-bottle Bordoni, who merely stepped from the stage to the screen with nary a hiccup, dragging her hit Broadway success with her. Certainly, I'd rather all three films were available for evaluation --- but if I had to make the awful and impossible decision of choosing one to be discovered in a Glasgow cinema basement or an Arizona cave, it would be "Paris" --- if just for these reasons.

The stage production of "Paris" enjoyed a 195 performance run between October of 1928 and March of 1929 at New York City's Music Box Theater, with composers and lyricists Cole Porter, E. Ray Goetz, Walter Kollo, Louis Alter, Bud Green, Harry Warren, Roy Turk and Fred E. Ahlert providing the musical elements. (The fact that Porter's "Let's Do It - Let's Fall in Love" was the shows break out hit likely accounts for the fact that the production is generally --- but mistakenly --- thought of as a Cole Porter solo flight.)

By the time the stage run closed, film rights for "Paris" had been secured --- as well as cast members Irene Bordoni and Louise Closser Hale --- the former who was signed by Warners for $10,000 a week ("for three weeks") for work in both "Paris" and their forthcoming revue "Show of Shows."

While the stage version of "Paris" could be described as an intimate three-act musical comedy set entirely in a Paris hotel, the vision for the film version was to expand outward. The hotel setting was preserved for the production's book portion --- but Bordoni's revue performer character would be depicted in her element, neatly providing ready-made flash, color and spectacle for the film's Technicolor sequences.

Three of the stage production melodies would be retained (including Porter's "Don't Look at Me That Way") but, regrettably, the hit "Let's Do It" was dropped in one of those frequent head-scratch inducing decisions that dot many of the early sound film stage to screen transitions.

In full production by late summer of 1929, the Warner/First National publicity mill begins to churn, and we join newspaper readers, many of whom are getting their first glimpse of Irene Bordoni and --- for all, news of this forthcoming Vitaphone "rainbow of melody" due out just in time for the 1929 holiday season.

"Irene Bordoni, international singing comedienne, who will soon make her screen debut in the talkie version of her own stage play, 'Paris,' was born on the island of Corsica in Ajaccio, the same town where Napoleon first saw the light of day. Her great grandmother was the sister of Millet, the artist."

"When she was a youngster of 13, she disobeyed her mother and instead of coming directly home from school without loitering, she pranced into the Theater Varieties, in Paris, and asked the manager for a job. Thanks to her piquant beauty she landed one immediately in the chorus -- with a salary of what was equivalent in our money to 50 cents a week."

"One day during rehearsals, a quiet dignified little gentleman sat in the back row of the theater. He sent for the little Bordoni and asked her how she liked her work. She was radiant with enthusiasm which turned into excitement and surprise when he told her that she was far too pretty and talented to remain in the chorus long. He soon found a speaking role for her and she progressed rapidly. The quiet and discerning gentleman who discovered Irene Bordoni was George Halevy, the noted French writer."

"Before long, the name of Irene Bordoni twinkled brightly in electric lights in the various capitols of Europe. She had learned to sing prettily and she had the happy faculty of selecting musical numbers which were destined to be outstanding hits. Broadway producers were beginning to offer tempting contracts that called for English songs. In a short time she was not only able to speak English creditably, but what is infinitely more difficult, could sing English songs with as much charm and gusto as she did the French."

"In America she scored an instantaneous success in "Miss Information" a (1915) revue featuring Elsie Janis. Following this she was besieged with offers and she appeared in a number of successful American revues with Raymond Hitchcock, Sam Bernard, Alice Delysia and other stage notables. Her popularity grew and she became the star of her own company, appearing usually in an American version of a spicy French farce in which she sang songs both in English and French. Among her successes are "Little Miss Bluebeard," "Naughty Cinderella" and most recently, "Paris.'"

First National's ten reel, part-Technicolor screen version of "Paris" premiered in early November of 1929 and can be seen being booked into theaters as late as July of 1930, casting some doubt on the oft-repeated comfortable and easier to digest mantra that the film, like so many of these early musicals, were mild but quick hits in big cities and complete and utter flops in small towns across the country --- opening and closing within days, virtually run out of town by irate citizens.

Utilizing a rather worn but serviceable set of Vitaphone discs for the European export version of "Paris," along with printed scenarios and dialogue scripts, we can --- with some difficulty and a good deal of imagination --- "see" and hear the film today in an admittedly imperfect manner, but likely the only one we'll ever have.

In Excerpt 1, following the opening title theme, we are introduced to the stalwart Massachusetts icon of virtue, Mrs. Cora Sabbot (Louise Closser Hale) --- president of the Woman's Purity League, which is closing its weekly meeting in her New England homestead. Also in attendance is her son Andrew (Jason Robards) and his intended, Brenda Kaley (Margaret Fielding.) The members of the Purity League are reciting the group's motto: "Fighting for good with all our price, and may there be naught for us to hide --- and may peace and purity with us abide."

Mrs. Sabbot informs the League that her son Andrew is about to leave for Paris to study Architecture, and waves aside warnings from club members that Paris is a "very wicked city" by assuming a regal stance and reassuring the club (as well as herself) that "I'm sure my son will never forget that he is a Sabbot!" Fade-out.

"Paris" - Excerpt 1

Fade-in. In Excerpt 2, two months have passed and the location is now a plush hotel in the city of Paris, where hurried last minute preparations are underway to furnish a suite of rooms in a style befitting New England Purity because --- you guessed it --- Mother Sabbot is about to arrive to visit her son, and Andrew has some news to break that requires the appropriate setting. We are introduced to Harriet (Zasu Pitts) maid and confidante of the Parisian revue performer Vivienne Rolland (Irene Bordoni) as she tells Andrew "If anybody had told me two months ago, that Miss Vivienne would ever consent to marry a man like you -- and promise to give up the stage -- why, I'd have said they were crazy!" Andrew is equally skeptical of his good fortune when Harriet reminds him that "Miss Vivienne said she wouldn't consent to marry you unless your mother consented."

Andrew argues, "But she must, Harriet! She must! Don't you understand, that's why we are doing this, to please mother. We've got to make this place look as much like her Newton Center home as possible --- so now hurry up or we won't be ready to receive her when she arrives tonight."

"Paris - Excerpt 2"

Mother Sabbot arrives at the hotel, much the worse for her steamship and rail journey ("I'd be all right if the ocean would only calm down!" "Oh, that train, I don't believe it ran on the rail more than two-thirds of the way!") --- and with, much to Andrew's surprise, Brenda Kaley in tow.

Adding to Cora Sabbot's discomfiture is the monocle Andrew now sports ("This is the thing in Paris") and news of his alliance with Vivienne Rolland. Andrew offers some champagne or brandy as a reviver but Mrs. Sabbot recoils: "Judas! I suspicioned that you have been tempted to wallow in champagne and brandy! No! Liquor has ever passed my lips. No matter what I suffer, I will never make myself unconscious with alcohol!" And, as for Andrew being romantically linked to a French actress, "Since the first Sabbot stepped off the Mayflower onto Plymouth Rock, there has never been a disgrace in the family! You can't act this way without being ashamed in your heart -- Sabbots don't do such things! Oh Andrew, it is a complete degeneration of your moral fibre!"

Andrew weakly attempts to defend his actions --- and Vivienne too: "I adore Vivienne and I want to marry her. If you'd only get used to the idea it would be much more pleasant all around." Cora Sabbot will have none of it. "Get used to the idea of a Sabbot bringing home a french actress? singer? dancer? A what-not who doesn't speak our language?" Andrew counters, "Vivienne speaks English. How do you think I got to know her so well?" Mrs. Sabbot knowingly muses, "I've always understood the French could do a great deal with gestures."

"Oh mother, how can you form an opinion of Vivienne before you have seen her?"

"When I do see her, I'll tell her what I've told you: That I will not consent to this idiotic marriage!"

In Excerpt 3, reel two opens --- and Guy Pennell (Jack Buchanan) who is Vivienne Rolland's revue co-star, enters her hotel suite to await her arrival. Seating himself at her piano he sings one of the numbers from their revue, "The Land of Going To Be," and is soon joined by Vivienne who catches the melody from outside the rooms, takes it up and concludes the song with him at the piano.

"Paris" - Excerpt 3

We learn, without much surprise, that Guy has his own romantic intentions towards Vivienne and does his best to persuade Vivienne from leaving Paris and the show --- as well as him, but for Vivienne the path of duty is clear: "I don't want to take him away from his home, his family. He loves Paris, yes -- for a little vacation, but to live happy he must be at home in Newton Center. He is one hundred percent 'Must-you-choose-its'."

Guy departs, and in Excerpt 4, we hear a fragment of a telephone conversation between Andrew and Vivienne in which the pair exchange lovebird pleasantries and Vivienne is informed that the time has come to meet Mother. A frenzy of activity follows --- Vivienne must change into what she deems a suitably puritanical outfit -- while the actress barks commands at someone (who, it isn't clear --- save for the fact that his knowledge of French is nil) and is then comforted by her maid Harriet, who advises her "Now, now, don't get yourself all of a twitter. She will think all the more of you for keeping her waiting." A knock at the door! "Harriet. They have come. Please say that I will be very quick --- if I don't die!"

"Paris" - Excerpt 4

The meeting of Vivienne Rolland and Cora Sabbot is underlined by the fact that Mrs. Sabbot is still suffering the effects of her ocean and rail journey, and still refuses brandy. "But of course she doesn't like brandy," offers Vivienne, "I mean, she's a good American that respects the law."

Mrs. Sabbot pulls herself up. "I don't need Congress to say what's good for me and what isn't it!"

"Of course, you were surprised that Dede (Vivienne's pet name for Andrew) wants to marry with me?"

"Surprised is a mild word."

"Ah, but love is the biggest surprise of all. Yes, my life is very different from the life of you. But I have nothing to be ashamed for - nothing that can make Dede shame of you."

"Well, personally, I should be slightly ashamed to appear in public in a pound of spangles, two strings of pearls and a feather tail."

"Oh me, I don't like that costume either! First the manager want only the pearl and the feather, no spangle at all!"

Cora Sabbot faints dead away, and when she is revived, she finds herself in the company of Guy Pennell too --- who slyly plots to charm Mrs. Sabbot out of her shell and thereby warm her to the notion of her son's marriage --- even if it means losing Vivienne for himself.

Mrs. Sabbot is convinced to take a bit of nourishment --- tea, rich cakes --- but when Guy's order arrives --- raw oysters and sardine sandwiches, the poor woman faints away again the trio panics in an effort to revive her --- first with ammonia, then with a burning feather held under the nose, and finally by virtually force feeding her a massive dose of brandy. The old girl instantly springs back to life.

"Ah! You see? She is pretty already!" observes Vivienne. "Oh, I'm so glad that you are well again!," offers Andrew. And, as Guy slides an arm around her shoulders, "You did give us a fright. You see? In the future, always apply to good old Doctor Pennel!" The woman, clearly besotted with the dashing young actor, smiles radiantly, reaches for the brandy --- and three sets of hands scramble to bring it to her. End of Reel Three!

The first half of the fourth reel of "Paris" enacts what was commonly cited some of the film's most memorable non-musical elements, that of the transformation of Cora Sabbot --- with the aid of "medicine brandy" -- from a monstrous Puritan to that of a flirtatious coquette, a plot device which would be reworked and utilized with equal success in the 1934 Warners musical "Dames." Upon learning that the "medicine" was provided by Guy Pennell, Cora becomes even more a firm believer in modern scientific wonders: "If I had known what a splendid medicine brandy was, I would have taken it long ago. It's growing quite warm, isn't it?"

Mrs. Sabbot is invited to attend that evening's performance of Vivienne and Guy's revue, and the invitation is extended to Brenda Kaley as well. Mrs. Sabbot demurs, "Oh, I don't know... Brenda is so very young." Replies Guy, "If she is as young as you look this minute, she must have come to France in a go-cart." Purrs Mrs. Sabbot, "I'm afraid you're a very bad young man."

Fretting over her plain togs in the company of Parisian theater-goers, Vivienne and Harriet outfit her in a glittering cocktail gown with jacket ("But where is the cocktail that goes along with it?" asks Mrs. Sabbot hopefully) and she is soon poured into a taxi and whisked to the theater.

In Excerpt 5, the second half of the reel switches to Technicolor for the opening number of the revue, "Crystal Girl."

Excerpt 5

"Crystal girl - you are brighter than a pearl,
shedding light upon the world - like an iridescent pearl!
A moonbeam - a June beam - a rare Tiffany gem,
a flower - a bower - a new rose on the stem!
Crystal girl - setting every heart a-whirl,
winding like a silken curl - all around the world!
Forever and ever we pray that you may shine,
Crystal girl - you are so divine!"

In Excerpts 6 and 7, the Technicolor revue sequence continues with Vivienne Rolland's performance of "Don't Look at Me That Way," and one of Guy Pennell's two solo turns --- this one being "Miss Wonderful," a tune written especially for the film which enjoyed moderate success and which would be utilized in a number of other 1929 and 1930 Warner and First National films either as incidental background scoring or as a specialty number as in the famous 1930 one-reeler "Bubbles." Irene Bordoni and Jack Buchanan, Ladies and Gents...

"Paris" - Excerpt 6 and Excerpt 7

"Paris" reverts to monochrome hues for the dialogue sequence that follows, in which we learn that Cora Sabbot is a woman transformed -- due largely to the company of Guy Pennell and constant dosing of medicinal brandy. Motoring about Paris during the day --- nightclubbing the evenings away. Andrew, Vivienne, Brenda and Harriet are all equally dumbfounded by the change.

"I think she's gone out of her mind, Miss Rolland," says Harriet. "It was broad daylight before she got in last night. And her eyes! They were so wild! And her face was so red! And, she had been out alone -- with Mr. Pennell!"

"Well? Was it not better to be out all night with an actor than in with him?'

"And now she is talking of renting a flat so she can have more freedom. A flat over Harry's American bar!"

When we next see Cora Sabbot in the company of Guy Pennell, the pair are merrily imbibing spirits and -- much to Andrew's horror --- shooting dice on the hotel room floor while discussing Cora's racetrack winnings of 20,000 francs on a horse named Hot Lips. Guy Pennell waggishly recites: "There once was a lady called Sabbot. Whatever she'd want she would grab it. Everything you would think - from a man to a drink - a most reprehensible habit."

Vivienne takes Guy aside and lets him have it: "Oh Guy, what you do to Madame Sabbot? What you do? Listen, this business has got to stop. You have helped to make her human all right, but she is human enough now! You are finished with her -- completely. So now where you are concerned, it is over!"

Guy plays his ace. "Now look here, I've grown rather fond of Cora. Haven't you noticed it?" A disbelieving Vivienne asks, "You expect me to believe that you are in love with Madame Sabbot?" "Well, you want to marry her son and go to Newton Center, don't you?" counters Guy.

Incredibly, Guy and Cora announce their engagement --- infuriating, horrifying and nauseating Andrew -- and he turns on Vivienne, precisely as Guy anticipated he would:

"You'll never set foot inside that rotten theater again. You're through with the stage right now, and all its low associations. You'll never sing love duets with that despicable clown again. You're the future Mrs. Andrew Brayle Sabbot. That's what's more important."

Vivienne Rolland has her spotlight speech: "I am an actress, yes. My family was not very rich, not very grand, but they were decent people. We are not Mayflowers. But my mother and aunts and grandmother and great-grandmother --- they were nice women. NOT VAMPIRES. You say I must draw a line, well --- I have. And it is at Cora where I draw it." The scene ends with Andrew being tossed out of Vivienne's room -- and Vivienne slumping into her chair in tears.

Arriving at Excerpt 8, we're now at the bottom half of the seventh reel of "Paris," and the film returns to the Technicolor hued theater, for a duet between Vivienne and Guy of the song "Somebody Mighty Like You," sung here in French.

"Paris" - Excerpt 8

In Excerpt 9, which directly follows "Somebody Mighty Like You," we're presented with the film's title tune, "Paris" --- which is sprightly and memorable enough to transcribe here, as the lyrics are rather difficult to ascertain (and partially in French) in the surviving disc audio:

Chorus: "Oh Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle, Pour quoi?
You never go away - never go away, Pour quoi?
Vivienne: "I like the way you Mademoiselle me, completely, so sweetly"
Chorus: "We know what you want, know what you want to say!"
There's no other town, no other town so gay!"
Vivienne: "There is no one can even compel me - to stray from-
away from..."

All: "Paris, Oh where do they run to
when they want fun - to Paris, Paree!
Paris, they go for for the wine in, women and wine in Paris, Paree!
How how those beauties 'Qu'est que c'est' you -
How those cuties 'ooh-la-la-la' you -
Paris, where never a baby gives you a 'maybe' in
beautiful gay Paree!"

"Paris" - Excerpt 9

Excerpt 10 offers Irene Bordoni's rendition of "I Wonder What Is Really On His Mind?," while in Excerpt 11, we have another solo turn for Jack Buchanan in the form of "I'm a Little Positive Looking For A Negative," --- an eccentric toss away piece of song and dance, we'll tag this one as to be generous.

"Paris - Except 10 and Excerpt 11

A stinging exchange between Vivienne and Guy as the latter exits: "It's a good thing you are leaving the stage to marry Cora Sabbot, you were awful tonight." "Is that so? I thought you were more wonderful than ever. Well, I must make my table reservations. I have a supper engagement. Bye-Bye!"

In Excerpt 12, Vivienne Rolland performs an original medley written for the film in which she laments the fact that Paris has become so Americanized, and that even an old chestnut of a French melody ("My Souvenir") is now being performed with a Yankee air about it. She then points out Al Jolson's influence too, and in one of the film's brightest musical moments, sings "It All Depends On You" (from 1928's "The Singing Fool") in French as Al Jolson would --- replete with a "Mammy!" tossed in for good effect. Whether or not a black-face effect was utilized is mercifully unknown -- but, oh!

"Paris" - Excerpt 12

The Technicolor revue concluding segment opens with a chorus reprise of "Crystal Girl" and "Miss Wonderful," and then Bordoni returns for a vocal reprise of "The Land of Going to Be," which segues into "My Lover" (which ends with a remarkably effective and difficult vocal note by Bordoni) before morphing into a final reprise of "Paris" which wraps up the glittering finale with the entire ensemble massed upon the gigantic First National soundstage.

"Paris" - Excerpt 13

Vivienne returns to her room to find a massive arrangement of white roses from Guy, but when she learns that they are intended for Cora --- well, she decides to find out once and for all to whom his true affections are based. She instructs Harriet, "Go and get me some of those smoke pots that we use in the banquet scene --- you know!" "Smoke pots? What do you want with smoke pots?," asks an incredulous Harriet. "Oh, never mind but go and get them and be careful that nobody sees you. Go on!"

Harriet fetches the pots. "Good, now we will see who Mr. Guy thinks of first. Cora or me!"

The action here is unclear, but it would appear that after alighting the smoke pots in the wings and dressing room, panic ensues and instead of being rescued by Guy, Vivienne is scooped up by a fireman instead and brought outside, --- while Guy, clad only in his underwear and a top-hat, "rescues" a chorus girl in an enormous hat and another fireman is seen rescuing a girl wearing nothing "but a cake of soap." Some of the film's original dialogue survives in this sequence.

"Paris" - Excerpt 14

Andrew and Brenda arrive at the theater amidst the crowds that gathered to witness the non-fire, and it is clear that his attentions have now been firmly switched to the Newton Center local --- helped along by his sudden intolerance of all things French and un-puritanical, including Vivienne. Clearly, Guy's scheme has worked --- precisely as planned, save for one last key element, which unfolds as we listen to Excerpt 15 --- and read some of the dialogue originally contained within the film's closing scene --- set in Vivienne's hotel room, where Guy stands behind a dressing screen awaiting delivery of clothing, with a comfortably drunk Cora Sabbot in attendance as well.

"Vivienne, I wonder what Andrew will think of all this?" asks Guy. Replies Vivienne, "What he thinks makes no never mind. I have broken my engagement."

"Am I to understand you are jilting my future step son?"

Pipes up Cora Sabbot, "It seems as if you are losing everything at once. First Andrew -- and now I'm taking Guy away from you."

"Oh don't worry," responds Vivienne, "clowns are easy to find." The hurtful words, the events of the evening, and the thought of Guy marrying Cora finally get to Vivienne -- and she collapses in a faint.

It's now we learn the startling truth about Guy's plot!

Cora: "Poor child, she has been under such a terrible strain."

Guy: "Cora, what can I do? I simply can't tell Vivienne the truth -- that we framed this up merely to make her jealous. It's gone too far!"

Cora: "Guy, I know Vivienne loves you, and you've got to make her see that you love her. Kidnap her - hit her on the head - Anything to bring her to her senses."

A French accent voice from the sofa: "Ah, don't worry --- I never lost them. Ah, you have given yourselves away very nicely, my friends."

Vivienne and Guy embrace --- Cora beams happily, and the pair pull the not-so-monstrous woman to them as the film concludes, the end titles rise up --- and the exit music follows.

"Paris" - Excerpt 15 and Except 16 (Exit Music)

Yes, I know what you're thinking. The New York Times wasn't entirely satisfied with what they termed a "wobbly ending" either, but the review was largely positive save for an example of the public's slowly rising impatience with extended musical sequences that halted the plot --- sometimes for the length of an entire reel:

"As it so often happens the producers have outdone themselves in color and costumes to lend to the picture the cachet sumptuous or lavish. This, however, is responsible for halting the narrative, and one is only reminded that it still exists by periodical close-ups of Mrs. Cora Sabot. True, there are songs from Miss Bordoni during these colorful outbursts, for which the technicolor process is responsible, and they are well rendered, but even while Miss Bordoni is performing in these stage passages, one begins to wonder what has happened to some of the other characters and also what Cora Sabot is going to do next. It is quite obvious that these colored portions are stealing laughs from the show and, taking everything into consideration, one prefers the merriment to the pastel shades, at least as they are introduced in the raiment or a regiment of dancing girls and exotic scenery."

Time magazine found the whole affair to their liking, with their only annoyance being focused upon the below-par Technicolor print their reviewer had the misfortune to see --- a common problem that plagued the early musical output due to the Technicolor lab's inability to maintain quality while rushing to fill print orders.

"Irene Bordoni has given about 400 performances of 'Paris' on the stage. Since the director of a picture can retake parts he does not like, Paris as a talking film may be as good as the best performance of the 400. The sound device records satisfactorily one of the few female voices which can render U. S. songs with a French accent and remain bearable. The middle-aged stage comedienne Louise Closser Hale even makes funny the cinema role of a Newton Centre, Mass., matron who loses her inhibitions after one drink of cognac. In spite of occasional blurred color sequences, Paris is about as effective as the photograph of a musical comedy can be. Best shot: Zasu Pitts as a maid."

Although impossible to judge by ravaged sound discs and not so much as a surviving frame of footage, "Paris" apparently looked and sounded quite good --- with any of the imperfections that may have existed in "On With the Show!" and "The Gold Diggers of Broadway" having been largely eliminated. Studio generated publicity was anything but modest: "The summit of achievement in natural color photography is to be seen at the _____ Theater, when Irene Bordoni stars in 'Paris,' a First National picture adapted from her phenomenally successful stage play of last year."

"The Technicolor process has taken the motion picture world by storm within the last few months. Some of the most spectacular scenes of 'Paris' have been made by this process. They are dazzling; they are gorgeous; and they are superlatively beautiful. Thus, the screen has taken another long step forward in its task of holding the mirror up to Nature. For here at least is Nature in her own varied hues, faithfully reproduced and even intensified as a background for sparkling comedy and moving drama."

The 1929 film musical "Paris" certainly didn't serve as a mirror held up to Nature --- but as a mirror reflecting popular taste and modes of melody, comedy, dancing, fashion, stage presentation, choreography and even morality --- it was likely the one of the brightest and truest reflected visions of a decade that was about to exhale, collapse and wither away forever. Films like "Paris," and others of the day are more --- oh, so much more than mere movie musicals. They can educate and entertain equally --- and on a myriad of levels, no matter what your preference or area of study. Often scorned and sneered at as much as they are revered and praised, they are --- in the end, captured images and sounds of us as a people. Those titles that are lost, missing or merely mislaid are deserving of lamentation and attention as much as any precious historical document --- maybe even more so.

"I have a Land of Going to Be,
a castle in the air...
In the corner of my secret garden,
where each hope is a flower so fair.
And there, some day, I'm going to see...
my dreams at last come true.
But until then in my Land of Going to Be,
I'll be waiting, just waiting for you!"

And so, we wait. And hope.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Bonus Jazzy Audio Excerpt!
Incidental Scoring Fragment - "Miss Wonderful"

"All Star Radio Revue"
December 25th, 1926

26 May 1926

4 November 1929

12 March 1929

The First All-Technicolor Musical Film

A Chesterfield, Pennsylvania Theater Manager
informs prospective audiences that
"Paris" is "60 per cent Natural Color"
27 March 1930

The Crystal Girl herself, Irene Bordoni
Chicago railway station - 1929

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