Columbia 36886 – Frank Sinatra – 1945

Posted on July 4, 2017 by R. Connor Montgomery

After exhausting some of my best patriotic material on last year’s Fourth of July, I had to deliberate considerably on what I should discuss on this year’s Independence Day. Although it steps a bit out of Old Time Blues’ usual prewar milieu, I don’t think I could find a more beautifully patriotic record that better captures what it means to be an American than this 1945 Frank Sinatra classic. This also marks the official debut of my new pre-owned Grado phonograph cartridge (although I’ve updated the audio on some older posts), so the sound should be a little crisper than in the past.

Columbia 36886 was recorded in two sessions, the first around 8:45 PM on August 22, 1945, the second around 9:15 PM on August 27, 1945, both in Hollywood, California. On the first date, Axel Stordahl conducts an orchestra made up of Uan Rasey, Leonard Mach, and Bruce Hudson on trumpet, Peter Beilman, Elmer Smithers, and Carl Loeffler on trombone, James Stagliano on French horn, Fred Stulce, Heinie Beau, Don Lodice, Harold Lawson, and Leonard Hartman on reeds, Sam Freed, Jr., Nicholas Pisani, Peter Ellis, Sol Kindler, Mischa Russell, Gerald Joyce, Samuel Cytron, Howard Halbert, David Frisina, Anthony Perrotti, Walter Edelstein, and William Bloom on violins, David Sterkin, Maurice Perlmutter, and Allan Harshman on viola, Cy Bernard, Jack Sewell, and Arthur Kafton on ‘cello, Ann Mason Stockton on harp, Frank Leithner on piano, Perry Botkin on guitar, Jack Ryan on string bass, and Ray Hagan on drums. On the second date, the orchestra is largely the same, except Charles Griffard replaces Rasey on trumpet, Jimmy Skiles replaces Beilman on trombone, John Cave replaces Stagliano on horn, Mannie Gershman replaces Stulce on reeds, Olcott Vail, Victor Arno, and George Kast replace Joyce, Halbert, and Bloom on violin, Garry White replaces Harshman on viola, Fred Goerner and Nicholas Ochi-Albi replace Bernard and Kafton on ‘cello, and Lauretta McFarland, Mark McIntyre, and Dave Barbour replace Stockton, Leithner, and Botkin on harp, piano, and guitar, respectively.

In 1945, shortly after the conclusion of the Second World War, the young Frank Sinatra, ever a hit with the bobby soxers, starred in an RKO Radio Pictures short film, written by Albert Maltz and directed by Mervyn LeRoy, titled The House I Live In. In it, Sinatra, taking five from a recording session, breaks up a fight between a group of schoolboys, who are putting the hurt on a peer for being Jewish. Frank steps in and teaches the boys a lesson on tolerance, and what it means to be an American, before singing the titular song. The moving film won an honorary Academy Award and Golden Globe for its excellence, and was in later years inducted into the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry.

With music by Earl Robinson and words by Abel Meeropol (under the pen name Lewis Allan), “The House I Live In” made its debut in 1942 as part of the revue Let Freedom Sing, before it came to star in the film of the same name. Although it was written by individuals whose politics would only a few years later gain them McCarthy-era ostracism, I can think of few songs so truthfully and patriotically American as “The House I Live In”. It reflects truly timeless values that are every bit as valid today as they were then, and every bit as solidly American.

The House I Live In, recorded August 22, 1945 by Frank Sinatra.

Maintaining the patriotic theme, on the flip, Sinatra is joined by the Ken Lane Singers for a lovely rendition of “America, the Beautiful”.

America, the Beautiful, recorded August 27, 1945 by Frank Sinatra.

Brunswick 6472 – Bing Crosby with Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians – 1933

Posted on June 19, 2016 by R. Connor Montgomery

Guy Lombardo. From 1932 P&G publication.

Today we honor the consummate bandleader Guy Lombardo, whose Royal Canadians were a staple on records and radio for many decades—and who better to help celebrate the occasion than old Der Bingle?

Gaetano Alberto Lombardo was born in London, Ontario on June 19, 1902. His father had each of his children learn to play different instruments so they could accompany his singing. The Lombardo brothers put their first orchestra together when they were still children, and they first played in public in 1914. Ten years later, Guy Lombardo and his Orchestra made their first recordings for the Starr Piano Company in Richmond, Indiana, released on the Gennett label. After Gennett, the Royal Canadians recorded briefly for Brunswick, which yielded two issued sides on Vocalion in 1927, and then with Columbia, with whom he stayed until 1931. Following his engagement with Columbia, he took his band to Brunswick from 1932 to ’34, then to Decca, as many Brunswick artists did after former employee Jack Kapp founded the company. The Royal Canadians switched to Victor for a period, before returning to Decca in 1938. Lombardo’s was perhaps most famous for his New Years Eve shows, which began at the Roosevelt Hotel in 1929, and continued until after his death, with the tradition carried on by his band, despite competition from Dick Clark. Though Lombardo’s “sweet” style of music was derided by many jazz fans who preferred their music served hot, he was reportedly hailed by the likes of both Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington. Guy Lombardo died of a heart attack on November 5, 1977.

Brunswick 6472 was recorded January 12, 1933 in New York City by Bing Crosby accompanied by Guy Lombardo’s Royal Canadians. Both songs originate from the 1933 musical film 42nd Street.

First, Bing croons “Young and Healthy”, with Lombardo’s Royal Canadians in fine form.

Young and Healthy, recorded January 12, 1933 by Bing Crosby with Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians.

On the flip-side, Lombardo takes top billing on “You’re Getting to Be a Habit With Me”.

You’re Getting to Be a Habit With Me, recorded Janury 12, 1933 by Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians with Bing Crosby.

Victor 23503 – Jimmie Rodgers – 1930

Posted on February 18, 2016 by R. Connor Montgomery

Today, I eagerly present to you valued readers a record that stands out particularly in the annals of history (as well as in my collection), one of the unquestionably best of the one-hundred-and-some-odd songs recorded by America’s Blue Yodeler, Mr. Jimmie Rodgers: the very first recording of the classic country song “Mule Skinner Blues”.

An advertisement for Victor 23503 from a 1930 Victor promotional flyer.

Before delving into its history, I must digress to say that this record is something of a “holy grail” to me, it’s one I sought for a long, long time, and no tongue can tell the joy of finally having it in my grasp. I searched for what at least seemed like ages, until a nice copy finally appeared on eBay. I managed to win the auction, and after what seemed like an eternity, this one was delivered, albeit packed woefully inadequately. Thankfully, by what I can only describe as the grace of God, it made it into my possession safely in that thin LP mailer without the slightest damage—and boy is it a thing to behold.

Victor 23503 was recorded on the tenth and eleventh of July, 1930 in Hollywood, California, and released on January 16, 1931, in Victor’s 23500 series for “Old Familiar Tunes”. As designated by the small “o” above Nipper’s nose near the top of the labels, this copy was pressed at the Victor plant in Oakland, California. Several days later, while still in Hollywood, Jimmie recorded with Louis Armstrong, who was appearing at the time at Frank Sebastian’s New Cotton Club in Los Angeles. Jimmie was in exceptionally fine form at these Hollywood sessions, and they turned out to be quite productive, resulting in a total of fourteen sides cut between thirtieth of June and the sixteenth of July—plus the unusual and unreleased test recording of an Amos ‘n’ Andy style comedy sketch with one I.N. Bronson, titled “The Pullman Porters”.

In the latter of the two sessions, after warming up with the railroad ballad “The Mystery of Number Five” (Victor 23518), Jimmie cut the eight installment in his series of thirteen “Blue Yodel” songs, “Blue Yodel No. 8 (Mule Skinner Blues)”, in only one take (though second and third takes were recorded, the first was released), with those being the only two sides he recorded that day. It was originally slated to be released as the ninth Blue Yodel song, with another being the eighth, but that recording was deemed inferior and held back until after Rodgers’ passing, at which time it was released as “Blue Yodel Number Eleven”.

Rodgers’ opening line, “Good mornin’, captain. Good mornin’, shine,” appeared two years earlier in Tom Dickson’s “Labor Blues” (Okeh 8570), though the rest of the song bears no resemblance to Rodgers’ Blue Yodel, lyrically or melodically. Whether Rodgers picked up the verse from Dickson’s song or elsewhere, I couldn’t say. This recording stands out as one of a relative few that Rodgers made during the later phase of his career to feature self-accompaniment on his own guitar (fewer than half of his recordings feature his own accompaniment, and the bulk of those were made prior to 1930), and his playing is at his finest, with a rare guitar solo midway through. The song was resurrected at the beginning of the next decade by Grand Ole Opry players Bill Monroe and Roy Acuff (separately), which in turn inspired many times subsequent covers. In 1955, Rodgers’ recording—along with a number of his other sides—was overdubbed with Hank Snow’s band and reissued in an effort to keep the music “up-to-date.” While remarkably tastefully executed, the re-do cut down Rodgers’ guitar solo significantly, supposedly because Chet Atkins—who led the band—could not figure it out. In later years, the song has been covered by numerous others in many different genres, such as the Fendermen’s rockabilly version.

In addition to being one of Jimmie’s most enduring songs, this number holds a special place in my heart as the song that introduced me to Jimmie Rodgers, and it has always been one of my favorites—if not my very favorite. I was first familiar with Dolly Parton’s 1970 recording, which was one of my favorites as a boy—when I first heard Jimmie yodeling it, boy, it was a whole other world! Not only did it spark my love for Rodgers’ music, but it was a major factor in starting me down the road of collecting 78 records. I could listen to it a million times and never tire.

Blue Yodel No. 8 (Mule Skinner Blues), recorded July 11, 1930 by Jimmie Rodgers.

On the “B” side, “Jimmie’s Mean Mama Blues”, recorded the previous day, Jimmie is accompanied by an outstandingly hot Hollywood-based five piece jazz band led by pianist Bob Sawyer, who co-wrote the tune with one Walter O’Neal. Another Rodgers classic, this tune was later covered by Bob Wills’ Texas Playboys in 1936, sung by Tommy Duncan. I love how the band stops playing during Jimmie’s first yodel, leaving just him and his guitar. We previously sampled Sawyer’s work with Carlyle Stevenson’s band five years prior to this.

Jimmie’s Mean Mama Blues, recorded July 10, 1930 by Jimmie Rodgers.

Updated with improved audio on June 20, 2017, and on July 10, 2017, and May 31, 2019.

Restored Photographs of Old Hollywood

Posted on January 12, 2016 by R. Connor Montgomery

Digging through an old box of my family heirlooms, among the family photos, bible, and a few pieces of 1930s sheet music, I discovered this small collection of photographs of 1920s movie stars. Unfortunately, they are all badly damaged from mold, and many are heavily stained.

Fortunately, using the magic of computers, I was able to restore some of them to something resembling their original glory. With a combination of the GIMP to clean up the damage and Picasa to restore the original warm sepia tones, here they are. I must say, the hair was difficult to fix. It’s no professional fix, but I think they look pretty decent, if I’m to toot my own horn.

Interestingly, all these personalities were among those that failed to make the transition to talking pictures in the late 1920s and into the 1930s, all the ladies had outright quit acting by 1930, while Fairbanks held on a little longer, but never made as much of a hit in talkies as in the silents. Mary Miles Minter left acting in 1923 after the scandal surrounding the murder of director William Desmond Taylor. Also interesting to note, all these actors, besides Minter, were among the first stars to place their hand and footprints in the forecourt at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, a tradition which allegedly started when Norma Talmadge accidentally stepped in the wet cement there.

From left to right, top to bottom, you see Douglas Fairbanks, whom I actually fixed up long before the others, and the photo was in much better shape to begin with, Mary Miles Minter, Constance Talmadge (her hair was really a devil to clean up), and Norma Talmadge. If I had to guess, I’d say that all these photographs date to around 1920.

Brunswick 4677 – Harry Richman with Earl Burtnett and his Los Angeles Biltmore Hotel Orchestra – 1930

Posted on August 10, 2015 by R. Connor Montgomery

Today, August 10th, marks the 120th birthday of one of my favorite vaudevillians, Harry Richman, so for your listening pleasure today, I present one of my favorite records of all time, one of the best of the many excellent songs by Irving Berlin, the great “Puttin’ on the Ritz” in its original iteration, performed by Richman, the song’s originator. This is about as close as you can get to an “original recording” from an age when songwriters wrote their songs and all the record companies made their own records at about the same time.

Harry Richman, born Harold Reichman on August 10, 1895 in Cincinnati, Ohio, spent the bulk of the 1920s working the vaudeville circuit. In 1926, he became a hit, starring in George White’s Scandals, and by 1930 scored himself the starring role in the motion picture “Puttin’ on the Ritz”. The movie was not a huge success, due in part to Richman’s “overpowering” personality, but the movie’s titular theme song was a hit record for Richman. Richman continued to perform as usual after that, debuting in 1932 what would become his radio theme, “I Love a Parade”.

Irving Berlin first penned “Puttin’ on the Ritz”, which would later become one of his most famous compositions, in May 1927, but did not publish it until December 1929. Its lyrics tell of the at the time common occurrence of White people visiting Harlem for the jazzy atmosphere cultivated by its black residents, a Jazz Age account of a time when, as Langston Hughes put it, “the Negro was in vogue”. About fifteen years later, Berlin revised the song’s lyrics with more timely lyrics about the opulent lifestyle of Park Avenue dwellers, which are more commonly remembered today.

On Brunswick 4677, Harry Richman sings “Puttin’ on the Ritz” and “There’s Danger in Your Eyes, Cherie” from the motion picture Puttin’ on the Ritz, accompanied on both by Earl Burtnett’s Los Angeles Biltmore Hotel Orchestra. Both sides were recorded January 30, 1930 in Los Angeles, California. The Biltmore Hotel Orchestra consists of Fuzz Menge on trumpet, Fran Baker on cornet, Lank Menge on trombone, Hank and Gene Miller on clarinet and alto sax, Fred Stoddard on clarinet and tenor sax, Earl Burtnett on piano, Bill Grantham on banjo, Harry Robison on string bass, and Jess Kirkpatrick on drums.

On “A”, Richman sings, well, if you can’t figure that out yourself by now then you sure haven’t been paying much attention!