Salt And Pepper – 1924

 

“Holdin’ The Sack”
Salt And Pepper
September 18, 1924  (Cameo 609 mx 1151)
“Doodle Doo Doo”
Salt And Pepper
September 18, 1924  (Cameo 609 mx 1156)

 

One of the many fads of American popular culture in the 1920s was the ukulele craze.  The Hawaiian instrument captured public attention through performances of Hawaiian bands at the 1915 Panama–Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco.

By 1925, over four million ukuleles had been sold in the United States.  On college campuses, the ukulele had become an important accessory and symbol of Jazz Age popular culture.

The 1920s celebrity most associated with the craze was Cliff “Ukulele Ike” Edwards, whose recordings are well-represented in Radio Dismuke’s playlist.   Those less familiar with 1920s and 1930s popular music may know him as the voice of Jiminy Cricket, who famously sang “When You Wish Upon a Star” in Walt Disney’s 1940 film Pinocchio.

Here are two pre-microphone-era recordings by a lesser-known duo associated with the instrument’s popularity.  Frank Kurtz (Salt) and Jack Pepper were famous on the vaudeville circuits and in Broadway musical revues for their comedic song and dance act, which featured singing and ukulele playing in a style similar to that of Cliff Edwards.  They also appeared on radio and recorded about ten sides on the low-priced Cameo label.

After the duo broke up,  Jack Pepper formed a new vaudeville act, Ginger and Pepper, with a young, then-unknown Texas dancer named Ginger Rogers. The two married in 1929 and divorced in 1931.

On both of these recordings, you can hear the duo perform the high-pitched style of scat singing popularized by Cliff Edwards, which sounds reminiscent of a kazoo. The term for this vocal effect is eefing (also spelled eephing).

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Busse’s Buzzards

“Milenberg Joys”
Busse’s Buzzards
September 14, 1925  (Victor 19782-B)
“Red Hot Henry Brown”
Busse’s Buzzards
September 14, 1925  (Victor 19782-A)

Here is a Victor record featuring two songs that have long since been regarded as traditional jazz standards.

Busse’s Buzzards was a hot jazz ensemble composed of musicians from the Paul Whiteman Orchestra, under the nominal leadership of trumpeter Henry Busse.  Busse had been an important member of the Whiteman band since its founding in 1918.  In 1928, Busse formed his own band, which enjoyed success into the early 1940s.

“Milenberg Joys” is a Jelly Roll Morton composition published in 1923.  Milenberg was a town on the southern shore of Lake Pontchartrain, around which a resort area of fishing camps and dance halls began to emerge in the late 19th century.  It is regarded as one of the birthplaces of jazz, where people of all races would gather to play and listen to music.  The resort ceased to exist after the shortline was extended due to dredging operations, and the area is now part of New Orleans.

“Red Hot Henry Brown,” composed by Fred Rose, was published the same year as this recording.  Other recordings of the song made in 1925 included those by the Georgia Melodians, The Charleston Chasers, Ray Miller and his Orchestra, Jimmy Joy’s St. Anthony Hotel Orchestra, Margaret Young, and others.

These recordings were made a few months after Victor began recording with microphones rather than the old acoustic recording horns.  There was no indication of this, however, on the record’s label.  To allow for a transition period and sell off existing stocks of records and phonographs before they were viewed as obsolete, no public announcement of the new technology or the upcoming improved phonographs capable of reproducing its expanded frequency range was made until late in the year.

 

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Vincent Rose And His Montmartre Orchestra / Henry Halstead And His Orchestra – 1924

 

“Sadie (You Are The Lady For Me)”
Vincent Rose And His Montmartre Orchestra; Buddy Burns, vocal
June 12, 1924  (Victor 19511-B)
“Bull Frog Serenade”
Henry Halstead And His Orchestra
June 19, 1924    (Victor 19511-A)

From the Edward Mitchell Collection, here is a pre-microphone-era Victor record featuring jazzy selections by two bands prominent on the West Coast during the early and mid-1920s.  Both sides were recorded in June 1924, but the record did not appear in stores until February 1925.

Vincent Rose is best remembered today as a prolific composer of famous early 1920s songs such as “Whispering, ” “Avalon,” “Stumbling,” and a personal favorite of mine, “Love Tales.”   He also co-composed the song “Blueberry Hill” in 1940, a rock-and-roll version of which by Fats Domino became a big hit in 1956.

Rose’s career as a bandleader dated back to around 1906, when after serving as a music director for hotels in Chicago, he formed his own band in southern California.  Thus, his band dated back well before jazz and before the early 1910s dance craze that led to the rise of dance bands, which would dominate and largely define popular music in the United States and beyond into the early 1940s.

As the label credit suggests, when the selection here was recorded, Rose’s band had a long-term engagement at Hollywood’s Café Montmartre, a nightclub famous worldwide as a gathering spot for top Hollywood celebrities.  The club’s popularity began to wane at the end of the decade, and it eventually closed in the early 1930s.  However, the building in which it was located (on the second floor) still stands at 6763 Hollywood Boulevard, with its original exterior mostly intact.

Rose co-wrote “Sadie (You Are The Lady For Me)” with his band’s trumpet player, Harry Owens, who also wrote the lyrics for Rose’s well-known compositions “Linger Awhile” and “Love Tales.”  Owens later formed his own band, which, after securing an engagement at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Waikiki, became nationally famous as Harry Owens and his Royal Hawaiians, featuring Hawaiian-themed arrangements.

This recording of the song was made in Los Angeles.

The Henry Halstead Orchestra became famous as the house band of San Francisco’s posh St. Francis Hotel (which had famously survived that city’s devastating 1906 earthquake) from 1922 to 1925 and through its frequent broadcasts on radio station KGO.

“Bull Frog Serenade” is a rather unusual recording, featuring musical notes that imitate the sound of a bullfrog.  While the performance here is definitely jazz, the composition itself is ragtime.

I was only able to find limited information about the song’s composer, Charles F. Caldwell.  A June 11, 1919, copyright filing for “Bull Frog Serenade” lists Caldwell as its composer with an arrangement by Ed. R. Wagner.  The filing indicates that the work was self-published and that Caldwell was based in Los Angeles at the time of the filing.

There was a second copyright filing for “Bull Frog Serenade” in 1924.  Most likely, this was related to the Halstead band’s recording, either on the arrangement used in the recording or, perhaps, in anticipation of potential publication in sheet music form if the recording proved successful.

I was able to identify nine additional songs copyrighted by Caldwell between his 1919 copyright for “Bull Frog Serenade” and 1927.   But I could only locate additional information on two of them: “Plinka Plunk” from 1923, co-composed with Mike Pingitore, who was best known as a banjo player for the Paul Whiteman Orchestra, and “In the Shadow of the Palm Trees,” for which he shared composer credit with Paul Whiteman, and with lyrics by Dolly Morse.   That song’s copyright was renewed in 1954, but I have not been able to find any mention of it being published or of Whiteman ever recording it.

“Bull Frog Serenade” was recorded in Oakland, California, where, a few months earlier, Victor had opened a new West Coast pressing facility.

February 17, 1925 Washington Times advertisement for Woodward & Lothrop department store in Washington D.C.

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Bennie Krueger’s Orchestra – 1926

“No One But You Knows How To Love”
Bennie Krueger’s Orchestra (Vocal possibly by Walter Scanlan)
September 11, 1926     (Brunswick 3323-B)
“Gone Again Gal”
Bennie Krueger’s Orchestra (Vocal possibly by Walter Scanlan)
September 11, 1926      (Brunswick 3323-A)

From the Edward Mitchell collection, here are two “hot dance” recordings from 1926 that exemplify the decade’s exuberant spirit, which, in part, led people to refer to the era as the “Roaring Twenties.”

Benny Krueger was a noted saxophone player whose band was based in Chicago during most of the 1920s, where these sides were recorded.

The addition of these recordings to Radio Dismuke’s playlist will mark the debut of both songs on the station.

“No One But You Knows How To Love” was composed by May Singhi Breen and Peter De Rose, with lyrics by Joe Trent and Allan Frazer.

“Gone Again Gal” was composed by bandleader Isham Jones and features lyrics by Gus Kahn. However, I was unable to find any evidence that the song was ever recorded by Isham Jones’s own band.

As was common at the time, vocal credit was not provided on the label beyond the phrase “with vocal chorus.”  One online source identifies the vocals on both sides as those of Walter Scanlan, but none of my other usual sources for such information make mention of it.

Unfortunately, these recordings were made during the period when Brunswick was using its less-than-optimal “Light Ray” electrical recording process.

After rivals Victor and Columbia licensed the far superior Western Electric system,  Brunswick turned to General Electric and licensed a modified version of that company’s experimental sound-on-film system called the Pallophotophone.

Unlike the Western Electric system, which used microphones and amplification to power the cutting head,  Brunswick’s system utilized a recording horn that directed sound to a diaphragm, causing a tiny mirror – smaller than a pinhead – to vibrate. A constant beam of light was focused on the mirror.  As the mirror vibrated, reflected flickers of light reached a photoelectric cell, which converted the fluctuations in light into an electrical signal that was then amplified to power the cutting head.

Unfortunately, Brunswick was never able to get the system to work well.   Early recordings often had so much distortion that artists had to be called back to the recording studio to record new takes.   Brunswick’s engineers continually attempted to make tweaks.  However, once a distortion issue in a particular frequency range was resolved, a new distortion would often emerge in another.

Some recordings made by the process turned out better than others.  I notice its shortcomings most on recordings such as these, where very loud passages of the entire band can come across as harsh or distorted.   I have several records with really excellent performances by the Abe Lyman and Ben Bernie bands that were unfortunately impacted by it.

Despite heavy advertising promoting the alleged superiority of its “Light Ray” system, which it described as “Music By Photography,” Brunswick finally threw in the towel on it in 1927 and reached a confidential licensing agreement with Western Electric.

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Vintage 4th of July “Concert” 1918 – 1921

Independence Day in the United States is one of the rare occasions when it is still common for people of all ages to gather and enjoy – often at live performances – festive music from the late 19th and very early 20th centuries. Such performances are often followed by a fireworks display. And the music invariably includes one or more compositions by John Philip Sousa.

The virtual “concert” presented here is anything but live. All of the recordings are over 100 years old and were made before the advent of the microphone. But the instruments used by concert-style military bands reproduced well enough through the old acoustic recording horns to yield performances that are still enjoyable over a century later.

Two of the recordings featured here are especially historic because, out of the many hundreds of Sousa’s Band recordings that Victor issued between 1900 and 1929, they are among only a very small handful in which John Philip Sousa was personally present in the recording studio, conducting the band.

Below you will find an option to listen to all of the featured recordings, played back-to-back in “concert-style.” Below that, you will find options to listen to each recording individually.

Brief background information about the recordings is provided at the end of this posting.

If you enjoy the recordings here, you will also enjoy the Vintage Fourth of July Concert posting from 2021.

To listen to all recordings play through “concert style”

To listen to the recordings individually

“Sabre and Spurs March”
Sousa’s Band
September 6, 1918  (Victor 18504-A)
“Solid Men To The Front”
Sousa’s Band
September 6, 1918     (Victor 18504-B)
“Bullets and Bayonets”
Sousa’s Band
October 2, 1919  (Victor 18752-B)
“On The Campus”
Sousa’s Band
April 5, 1921    (Victor 18752-A)

John Philip Sousa is best remembered as a highly prolific composer of military marches, such as “Stars and Stripes Forever,” though he also wrote other types of music, including 15 full-length operettas.

Less well-remembered is Sousa’s enormously successful career as a bandleader.  He rose to prominence as the director of the United States Marine Band from 1880 to 1892, during which time he conducted the inaugural balls for presidents James Garfield and Benjamin Harrison.

Sousa left the Marines in 1892 to form his own, much more financially lucrative, civilian band.  The band toured extensively throughout the world and, by 1931, had performed 15,623 concerts.  Before the advent of radio and the popularity of Jazz Age dance bands, Sousa was by far the world’s most famous bandleader.

Unsurprisingly, the very early record labels were extremely eager to add recordings of Sousa’s band to their offerings.   But Sousa’s opinion of recorded music was nothing short of outright hatred and hostility – going so far as to write a 1906 essay titled The Menace of Mechanical Music.

Sousa felt that recorded music would lead to cultural decay and the destruction of amateur music-making, as people would no longer be as inclined to make music and sing together at home.  He also deeply resented the fact that early record labels were under no obligation to compensate him for the considerable amount of money they made off his compositions, and he was one of the artists who publicly lobbied for the Copyright Act of 1909, which required record labels to obtain mechanical licenses for any copyrighted compositions they recorded.

Even though Sousa did not approve of phonograph records, he nevertheless very much approved of the money he was able to earn from phonograph records featuring his band.  Thus, he gave his consent for his band to record and pocketed the money, but, for decades, famously refused to personally enter a recording studio.

Thus, with only six exceptions, all recordings credited to Sousa’s Band were conducted by someone other than Sousa.  And, on some issues, the band described as Sousa’s was, in fact, Victor’s in-house studio orchestra.

When the United States entered World War I in 1917, Sousa became heavily active in events promoting sales of Liberty Bonds, sold by the U.S. government to help fund the war. For this effort, he composed “The Liberty Loan March” and, for the first time in his decades-long career, personally conducted his band performing that song, along with “The U. S. Field Artillery March,” in a December 21, 1917 Victor recording session.

The following year, Sousa personally conducted a recording session for a second time in the September 6, 1918 session which produced two of the selections here, “Sabre and Spurs March” and “Solid Men to the Front.”

Despite the label credits,  the October 2, 1919 recording of “Bullets and Bayonets” and the April 5, 1921 recording of “On the Campus” do not feature Sousa’s actual band but rather Victor’s in-house ensemble conducted by Josef Pasternack.

All of the songs presented here were first published in 1918 with the exception of “On The Campus” which was published in 1920.

Happy Independence Day!

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The New York Twelve – 1930

“You’re Driving Me Crazy”
The New York Twelve; Frank Luther, vocal
December 29, 1930   (Hit of the Week 1121)

Here’s a recording from a Depression-era Hit of the Week record.  These were single-sided, resin-coated paperboard discs that, unlike conventional records, were sold at drugstores, magazine counters, and newsstands.

Hit of the Week was an attempt by the Durium Products Corporation (named after the synthetic resin on the records’ playing surface) to market records to a cash-strapped public at a time when sales were in free-fall, and labels were either merging or going out of business.

The company based its business model on the magazine industry, with weekly one-time production runs featuring currently popular songs.  The records were distributed through the same channels as magazines, and a new issue appeared every Thursday.  At 15 cents, they were the least expensive records on the market.

The company opened subsidiaries in the UK and several European countries, which issued paperboard records under either the Durium or Sefono labels.

In terms of the number of copies sold, Hit of the Week vastly exceeded the output of any other American record label.   But it was never able to reach the average volume of one million copies per week that the company projected would be necessary to sustain profitability, and it quickly ran into financial difficulty.

After falling into receivership, the label was reorganized under new ownership, which tried to revive its prospects by renegotiating royalty rates with music publishers, extending the records’ playing time to a full five minutes, and raising the price to 20 cents.

Unfortunately, with the economy sinking deeper into the Depression, the attempt was unsuccessful, and the last Hit of the Week issue in the United States appeared on newsstands on April 23, 1932.

The company’s British and several of its European subsidiaries outlasted their U.S. parent label, in some cases issuing paperboard records until 1935.  In fact, the Durium label in Italy successfully transformed itself into a conventional record label that survived until 1989.

“You’re Driving Me Crazy” is a Walter Donaldson composition that has endured as a standard, having been recorded by countless artists over the decades.

This Hit of the Week issue, recorded in December 1930, appeared at newsstands on January 29, 1931.  The New York Twelve was a recording pseudonym used on a handful of issues by different bands.  In this instance, it is Harry Reser’s band.

During the same session at which this recording was made, the band also recorded “Sweet Jenny Lee,” which appeared on newsstands the following week, credited as Reser’s Radio Band.  That recording of “Sweet Jenny Lee” was added to Radio Dismuke’s playlist a few weeks ago.

 

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Markel & His Orchestra – 1925

 

“Nobody But Fanny (from Big Boy)”
Markel & His Orchestral
November 19, 1928     (Columbia 475-D mx 141106)
“Sugar Plum (from Gay Paree Revue)”
Markel & His Orchestra
November 20, 1928    (Columbia 475-D mx 141107)

From the Edward Mitchell collection, here are two songs from musical stage productions running in New York City in the autumn of 1925, performed by a then well-known society band.

“Nobody But Fanny” is an Al Jolson, Buddy G. de Sylva, and Con Conrad composition from the musical comedy Big Boy, in which Jolson starred.  The production opened at the Winter Garden Theatre on January 7, 1925, and ran for 56 performances before closing on March 14.  It was revived on August 24, 1925, at the 44th Street Theatre for 120 performances before closing again in December.

“Sugar Plum,” composed by Joseph Meyer with lyrics by Buddy DeSylva, was featured in the Gay Paree Revue of 1925, which opened at the Shubert Theatre on August 18, 1925, and enjoyed a run of 181 performances before closing on January 30, 1926.  Among the production’s cast was a then-unknown chorus girl, future film and television star, Barbara Stanwyck.  (There was also a subsequent Gay Paree Revue of 1926.)

Ukrainian-born pianist and bandleader Mike Markels (sometimes spelled as “Markel”)  made his first recordings during World War I for Victor under the name Sergeant Markel’s Orchestra.  By the early 1920s, he led one of New York City’s more prominent society bands, which became known for mixing elements of hot jazz into its still-danceable arrangements, and was especially popular with affluent Upper East Side audiences.

Markels was one of several bandleaders of the era who simultaneously operated multiple bands, sometimes under their own name or under the name of the person who led a particular unit.  Such bandleaders essentially functioned as early band booking agencies.

Among the bandleaders who were famous for having multiple, and sometimes dozens, of bands were Meyer Davis, Jean Goldkette, and Lester Lanin.  Even Paul Whiteman, at the height of his popularity in the 1920s, maintained multiple ensembles billed as either the “Paul Whiteman Orchestra under the direction of…” or as “Paul Whiteman Presents … and His Orchestra.”

Markels specialized in providing society bands for well-to-do audiences at country clubs, private parties, and other venues in the Northeast.

Markels’ flagship band was also busy in the recording studios, cutting several hundred sides for a variety of labels, including Columbia, OKeh, Edison, Brunswick, and various low-priced and dime-store labels distributed by the Plaza Music Co. between 1921 and 1928.

After 1928, the only mention of him being back in the recording studio was in March 1932, when he provided the piano accompaniment for a side by a tenor vocalist named A. M. Limburg that was never issued.  I was not able to locate any information about who A. M. Limburg was.

The few mentions I found about Markel after 1928 suggest that he began to focus more on booking bands than leading them.

By the late 1930s, there were occasional mentions of him in Billboard magazine as head of the then-dominant band booking agency Music Corporation of America’s club division, responsible for booking MCA’s talent into country clubs and other high-end venues.

A 1952 mention indicates that Markels had been hired to book talent for television conductor Ray Bloch, who had opened a talent management firm still in business as a New York City event production company.

Both of the recordings featured here include prominent banjo passages.  Unfortunately, a listing of the personnel of the band at the time is not available.   It is possible that the banjo player was Frank Gravito, who appeared on Markels’ recordings a few years earlier, though it is unclear how long he remained in the band.   Famous banjoist and bandleader Harry Reser also worked as a sideman in Mike Markels’ band during the early 1920s, though as a saxophone player.

On “Sugar Plum,” starting at 1:52 into the recording, you can hear an unusual instrument that was occasionally included in early 1920s dance bands, the musical saw.

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Ernie Golden & His Orchestra / Willie Creager & His Orchestra – 1928

 

“Doin’ The Raccoon”
Ernie Golden & His Orchestra; George Beaver (Irving Kaufman), vocal
November 19, 1928     (Banner 6226-A mx 1887)
“Crying Blues”
Willie Creager & His Orchestra
November 20, 1928    (Banner 6226BB mx 1888)

From the Edward Mitchell Collection, here are two sides from a record by the low-priced Banner label.  Both sides feature “hot” jazzy arrangements, though with quite different moods.

“Doin’ The Raccoon” is a novelty song composed by J. Fred Coots, with lyrics by Raymond Klages, about the culturally iconic 1920s collegiate fashion fad of wealthy Ivy League college men, often with hip flasks of bootleg liquor, wearing full-length raccoon coats while attending college football games and other social events.

While the fad became well-known in the era’s popular culture, because a raccoon coat typically cost $350 in 1928 (approximately $6,800 in 2026 dollars), it was not widespread on most college campuses.

George Olsen and His Music recorded the most famous version of the song, which features more extended lyrics.  However, this version by Ernie Golden and His Orchestra features a nice “hot” arrangement after the vocal by Irving Kaufman, who is credited here as George Beaver, one of the many pseudonyms under which he recorded.

Based in New York City, Golden’s band was extremely prolific in the recording studios, cutting records for most of the American labels in existence during the 1920s, with the exception of Victor.   Many of the band’s records were credited as Ernie Golden and His Hotel McAlpin Orchestra due to its lengthy engagement at the hotel.

Willy Creager’s band also made records across a wide range of 1920s labels.  Creager himself is credited as the composer of “Crying Blues.”  I was unable to find any references to other recordings of this composition, nor could I locate a listing or a renewal for it in US copyright records.

Because record labels were required to pay composers’ royalties of 2 cents per record for every copyrighted song they issued, it was not uncommon for low-priced labels to feature the popular song intended to entice people to buy the record on the “A “side, with the “B” side featuring a “throwaway” of a less well-known song as filler.

To save the extra 2 cents royalty per record, these “B” sides often consisted of either public domain songs or unpublished, non-copyrighted material, which in many instances was commissioned directly by the label.

My very strong guess is that “Crying Blues” was such a composition. If so, that certainly doesn’t make the recording any less enjoyable.

The “Crying Blues” side also features a technical glitch.

In the silent passage after the conclusion of the recording and prior to the grooves terminating into the runout area, one can hear some sort of accidental audio from the recording studio.   I cannot make out the source of the sound. It occurs to me that it might be a drum or perhaps someone bumped into a microphone or another part of the recording equipment.

I have records from the 1910s where one can hear in the opening grooves the horn that gave the “All Quiet’ signal that sounded just before a recording was made.  So perhaps another possibility is that the sound heard at the end of this record was a similar signal to indicate to everyone present that microphones were no longer recording.

Because the glitch occurs after the conclusion of the song, it will not be heard when the recording airs on Radio Dismuke.  However, I will post it here so that those who do not have their own copy of the record can hear it.

Technical glitch in the silent grooves after the conclusion of “Crying Blues”

Banner was initially created for S.S. Kresge, a dime store chain that, decades later, evolved into the Kmart discount store chain.  But, to maximize economies of scale with higher production runs, the label was eventually made available for sale by other retail chains, as well as through wholesale jobbers that supplied smaller chains and independent retailers.  During the period these recordings were made, Banner records typically sold for 35 cents each.

To keep Kresge happy, and because of the large size of its orders, an arrangement was made for Kresge to buy the records at a substantial quantity discount.  Since they sold for the same 35 cents as those offered by other retailers, this allowed Kresge to enjoy higher margins.  Kresge was also guaranteed the widest selection of Banner records of any retailer, and new releases appeared at Kresge before becoming available elsewhere.

The two sides featured here were also issued on the Oriole and Jewel labels, under the pseudonym of  Ted White’s Collegians.  The use of the pseudonym makes sense given that Oriole Records, sold exclusively through McCrory stores, typically retailed for 25 cents, and Jewel Records, sold through a variety of retail outlets, were often advertised for sale as low as 21 cents.  Kresge and other retailers that carried Banner at 35 cents would probably not have appreciated making it easier for customers to discover that identical recordings were available elsewhere at a much lower price.

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Coon-Sanders Orchestra & The Virginians – 1928

 

“Blazin'”
Coon-Sanders Orchestra
June 2, 1928     (Victor 21680-B)
“Low Down”
The Virginians
June 8, 1928    (Victor 21680-A)

From the Edward Mitchell collection, here are two recordings with jazzy arrangements that will be among several others making their debut on Radio Dismuke with this week’s playlist update.

Both of these come from Victor 21680, which hit record store shelves in December 1928 and remained in Victor’s catalog until 1930.

The Coon-Sanders Orchestra, which was earlier known as Coon-Sanders Original Nighthawks, was led by Carleton Coon and Joe Sanders.  Originally based in Kansas City, it was among the first local, Midwestern bands to achieve national fame through radio, thanks to their late-night broadcasts beginning in 1922 from that city’s Muehlebach Hotel over radio station WDAF.  Because of the station’s strong nighttime signal, it could be heard throughout much of the United States.

The band relocated to Chicago in 1924, where the selection featured here was recorded.  It remained popular through 1932, when Coon died suddenly as the result of a dental infection that spread to his bloodstream. Before the advent of antibiotics, even small infections that, a few decades later, would have been easily treatable, could quickly turn deadly.

Sanders continued to lead the band under his own name throughout the 1930s, but with much less success.

The Virginians were originally a subunit of musicians from the Paul Whiteman Orchestra, under the direction of Ross Gorman, whose recordings were consistently more jazz-oriented than the wider-ranging repertoire of Whiteman’s flagship band.  By the time this recording was made, Victor’s association with Gorman and Whiteman had ended, and The Virginians had become a recording pseudonym for Victor’s in-house band, which, in this instance, was directed by Nat Shilkret.

It wasn’t until I got this record into brighter light to make a scan of its label that I noticed the label on the Coon-Sanders side had, at one time, featured an inscription in white ink.  Most of that ink has long since rubbed off. But under the right lighting, one can see a remaining outline of a portion of it.  The only part that I can make out for sure says “To George.”  Below it is a section where one can make out what might be a very faint capital “J.”

At the time, it was common for fans to ask musicians to autograph copies of their 78 rpm records, and it was customary for such autographs to be in white ink.  So there’s a good possibility that this copy was once autographed by someone associated with making the record.  On the other hand, especially given that the record became available in stores during December, it is also possible that the inscription was to note a Christmas present.

 

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Layton And Johnstone – 1931

 

 

“Mausie”
Layton And Johnstone
October 1931     (Columbia DB 655 mx CA 12048)
“Goodnight”
Layton And Johnstone
October 1931    (Columbia DB 655 mx CA 12040)

Here are two very nice British recordings courtesy of Matt from College Station’s collection, which Matt presented on Radio Dismuke’s New Process Viva-Tonal Broadcast, which aired a few weeks ago.

Turner Layton and Clarence “Tandy” Johnstone were an American piano/vocal duo who, like a number of other 1920s-era Black American artists, found the racial climate across the Atlantic far more welcoming than at home and established highly successful careers there.

While they performed throughout Europe, it was in England that they became a household name and ranked among that country’s top celebrities.  Their popularity extended across all social lines – they were well regarded by both elite and working-class audiences alike.  Among their admirers was the Prince of Wales.

Between 1928 and 1935, each had reportedly earned around £64,000, an amount that, in today’s money, would be approximately £5.43 million in the UK or $7.1 million in the USA.

The duo parted ways in 1935 after divorce court documents came to light in the British media, indicating that Clarence Johnstone had an interracial affair with Raymonde Sandler, the wife of noted salon orchestra leader and BBC radio star Albert Sandler.

The former Mrs. Sandler followed Johnstone to New York City, where they were married in December 1935.  Unfortunately, Johnstone’s musical style, which had been a hit with British audiences, was not as well received in America, and he struggled to find work in the entertainment industry, eventually taking jobs as a Western Union messenger and a janitor.   Their marriage fell apart in the early 1940s, and Johnstone died penniless in a New York sanitarium in 1953.

The scandal did not impact Turner Layton’s popularity, and after the breakup, he resumed his career as a successful solo performer until he retired in 1946.

Both of these songs come from Paul Abraham’s Viktoria und ihr Husar.  Abraham was a groundbreaking Jewish Hungarian composer who combined traditional Austro-Hungarian operetta with elements of American jazz.  Viktoria premiered in Budapest on February 21, 1930.   Its German premiere was in Leipzig on July 7, 1930.  By August 15, it had transferred to Berlin, where it became a huge hit, resulting in recordings of popular arrangements of its songs becoming hits in their own right.  An English-language version of the show opened in London on September 17, 1931, with adapted lyrics by Harry Graham as heard on these recordings.

Abraham’s subsequent productions, Die Blume von Hawaii and Ball im Savoy, were also highly successful.  The December 23, 1932, premiere of  Ball im Savoy in Berlin is considered by many to have been the last major cultural event of Weimar Germany before Hitler took power the following month.  Despite the production’s popularity, because Abraham and most of the artists associated with it were Jewish, it was forced to close in early April as a result of attacks on the theater and audience by thugs from Hitler’s Brownshirts paramilitary organization. Abraham had to flee Germany and eventually Europe.   His works were subsequently banned by the Nazi regime as “degenerate.”

By the early 1940s, Abraham had relocated to Cuba and then the United States, where he had difficulty finding work.  His mental health began to deteriorate to the point where he was famously seen standing on a New York City traffic island with his baton, believing that he was once again conducting an orchestra.  Beginning in 1946, he spent 10 years in New York area psychiatric hospitals before friends and fans in Germany raised funds for his return to that country.

After the war, Abraham’s works enjoyed a popular revival in 1950s  Germany and are still well remembered and performed in German-speaking countries.  Unfortunately, none of his productions made their way to the United States during their initial 1930s heyday, where they are still largely unknown.   Thus, period recordings of popular music adaptations of his songs almost always come from the United Kingdom or Europe, which I think is sad.  In my opinion, his delightful and often haunting melodies place him among the ranks of the era’s best composers of popular music.

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