NRR Project: 'San Antonio Rose' (1940)

 

NRR Project: “New San Antonio Rose”

Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys

Recorded April 16, 1940

2:37

Is there a happier sound to be heard than this? The jaunty, bouncy sound of fiddler and bandleader Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys marks the birth of the unusual musical hybrid known as Western swing.

Wills was born in 1905 in Texas, the son of a champion fiddler. Growing up, he absorbed all kinds of American musical influences – country and Western, but also blues, jazz, and folk. He worked as a barber and played after hours. Gradually he built up his skills as a fiddler, a vocalist, a joke-cracking emcee, and even an enthusiastic on-stage dancer. He developed the habit of calling out during songs and making comments as he played, leading to an instantly identifiable style.

When he put his own band together, it originally consisted of the usual assortment of Western instruments, but he gradually began to add such things as trumpet, saxophone, drums, and slide guitar (the last played by the phenomenal Leon McAuliffe). Arrangements grew more complex. His music moved into tunes that got folks out on the dance floor. It was country, but country with a beat. Country that swung!

“San Antonio Rose” was originally recorded as an instrumental in 1938, and soon became the band’s signature tune. Wills and his compatriots concocted plaintive lyrics to go with the tune, and they re-recorded the tune with them on April 16, 1940. The new version shot to the top of the charts. The words of the song are belied by the warm, upbeat, propulsive music that accompanies it, with a full orchestral sound that’s intoxicating. No wonder Wills is referred to as the king of Western swing.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Stravinsky conducts The Rite of Spring.

NRR Project: Bartok and Szigeti perform live -- April 13, 1940

 

NRR Project: Bela Bartok, piano; Joseph Szigeti, violin

Beethoven: Kreutzer Sonata

Bartok: Rhapsody No. 1 for Violin and Piano; Violin Sonata No. 2

Debussy: Violin Sonata

Recorded April 13, 1940, Library of Congress

1:09

Here is a case where I can only point you to the words of a real expert. Elliott Antokoletz’s magnificent explanatory essay will tell you everything there is to know about this performance. Access it here!

Although I am conversant with the history of classical music, I am unfamiliar with most of Bartok’s music . . . and what I’ve heard I haven’t enjoyed. I was introduced to classical music in a time when atonality was all the rage, and I conditioned myself to listen to it and appreciate it. Since those days, the genre has moved on though minimalism to a new kind of melodiousness, which is much more popular with the public.

This performance is engaging and technically brilliant, although I have not the bandwidth to explicate it for you.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys!

NRR Project: Arch Oboler's Plays: "The Bathysphere" (Nov. 18, 1939)

 

NRR Project: Arch Oboler’s Plays

“The Bathysphere”

Broadcast Nov. 18, 1939

30 min.

Arch Oboler was a very talented S.O.B. (Don’t look at me; his curmudgeonly reputation is attested to in John Dunning’s definitive radio encyclopedia On the Air. Read this book).

This prolific radio writer came to prominence due to his work on the network horror program Lights Out. This series was created by Wyllis Cooper, “the unsung pioneer of radio dramatic techniques,” himself an innovator in making radio compelling. That show started in April 1934. In May 1936, Cooper left the show and Oboler took over, and ran the show until July 1938.

Under his leadership, Lights Out produced such memorable chillers as "Cat Wife," "Revolt of the Worms," and "Chicken Heart." The show helpfully urged easily frightened listeners to turn off the show before it began . . . then told those who remained to “turn out your lights!” Boo!

Oboler had a new idea: wanting control over his product, he proposed writing, producing, and directing a series of half-hour radio plays himself. NBC bought it, and soon he became the head of “the first series of varied radio plays ever given to the works of one radio playwright.”

From March 1939 to March 1940, Arch Oboler’s Plays dealt with two main themes: horror and Oboler’s hatred of Hitler and Naziism, and he split his productions between these two poles. World War II had not begun when the show started, and some derided him for his anti-fascism. But Oboler could see the evil for what it was, and he denounced it steadily during his year on the air.

“The Bathysphere” is a typical Oboler offering; it contains excellent performances, spare but effective sound effects, and a nimbus of dread that hung over the proceedings. Oboler himself chants, to the chiming of a clock, “It . . . is . . . later . . . than . . . you . . . think!” Again, he encourages the timid to tune out.

It’s a two-player script. There is the Leader (George Zucco), a dictator looking for ways to aggrandize his name. With him is Eric (Hans Conreid) a marine scientist who takes the Leader down to the bottom of the sea in a bathysphere (as it sounds, a small round metal submersible which can sink to great ocean depths) to set a new world record.

The craft hits the seabed. Eric informs the Leader that radio communications have been cut, and that he has released the bathysphere from its connecting cable. He hopes to make the Leader go mad with fear. Interestingly, however, the Leader keeps his composure and defies Eric. He even demands a blunt instrument to smash the vessel’s glass in with.

Eric then reveals that, though he intended to kill the Leader and himself, he couldn’t go through with it. “What would have been the good of it? A fool and a figurehead die together. No good of it,” he says. He was bluffing. The Leader tells him he intends to have him shot when they get back to the surface.

It’s bleak and cynical, defeatist really, an odd direction for Oboler to go in, but you can see him resist taking the easy path of having the Leader come unglued on air. Oboler was trying to move through and past horror to real conversations about power, rebellion, and fate. His ambition is admirable.

One more episode of this series deserves to be remembered: the broadcast of March 9, 1940, featured an adaptation of Dalton Trumbo’s antiwar novel Johnny Got His Gun. This horrifying and deeply moving story of a soldier made into an extreme invalid was distinctly NOT the kind of fare the network wanted. But Oboler got his way – and he got James Cagney, who does a fantastic job, to star in it.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Carousel of American Music.

NRR Project: Premiere network broadcast of the Grand Ole Opry – Oct. 14, 1939

 

First of all, this explanatory essay on the Grand Ole Opry (the name is a backwoods, humorous corruption of “grand opera”) by Paul Kingsbury is a delight to read – clear and comprehensive. You should read it -- right now! Here’s the link. It celebrates a century of the revered program’s life. The “Grand Ole Opry” hit the air from Nashville, Tennessee, a powerhouse source of country and Western talent, on WSM on Nov. 28, 1925, and continues to this day.

Kingsbury’s iteration of the live half-hour opening network transmission is completely on target. I can only testify as to the musical influence the show wielded.

I was very young when I left the Midwest, but I remember people sitting down for it on a Saturday night, women wiping their hands on their aprons, eager to hear the music that ran through the show.

Its approach in this first network broadcast is pragmatic. It presents a slew of country, folk, and blues music in quick-marching order. There’s virtually no changeover time, it’s number after number, rapid-fire demonstrations of showmanship. The performers are remarkable, the best that could be found at that time, celebrating this heretofore little-known music, some destined to hit the big time due to their appearances here.

We heard country, folk, bluegrass, gospel. We knew this was the music real people listened to. We thought we were the real people.

We knew who Roy Acuff was, a voice if not of God then of soulfulness. We sang along to his “Great Speckled Bird,” a song he made good on. A melancholy Christian hymn, plaintive and solemn. (There were still parody lyrics of it banging around the place in my day, a sure sign of cultural currency.) We knew of Uncle Dave Macon. In this recording, we get a multiple dose of the then-elusive Fruit Jar Drinkers, led by Macon.

In many ways, it introduced a remarkable number of shades of country music, that sometimes-despised genre, to the nation. These were sharply distinct talents, the real thing at the speed of sound. There were the Dixie Clodhoppers, the Gully Jumpers, and the Hilltop Harmonizers. There were Bob Wills and Bill Monroe. It taught us the ins and outs of this indigenous music and all its permutations. Many musics sprang from this influential source. Many of the songs they sang were engraved on our memories.

Country music is memorable. It is melancholy. It’s catchy. It’s heartfelt. It is compelling. It’s Hank Williams on a Saturday at 8 p.m.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: one of Arch Oboler’s Plays.

NRR Project: WJSV complete broadcast day -- Sept. 21, 1939

 

NRR Project: WJSV – complete day of programming – Thursday, Sept. 21, 1939

17 hours

It was a typical early fall day in 1939. Not many extensive records exist of that day, save for this. The National Archives in Washington collaborated with station WJSV, a CBS network affiliate in Washington, D.C., to record an entire day of programming, from sign-on at 6 a.m. to sign-off at 1 a.m. the following day. The result is a fascinating document that, if listened to in its completeness, offers a recorded portrait of a day in mainstream radio during its golden age.

The ostensible reason this date was chosen for the recording the fact that it was the date on which there was an address of President Franklin D. Roosevelt to a joint session of Congress. However, the recording was much more. It’s a look at a country not yet at war, but edging closer to it. It tells us what was popular, what people listened to as they went about their day. In the days before television, radio was how folks got their news and entertainment, flowing free over the airwaves.

The day opened with several hours of recorded music and news updates. The show was hosted by the avuncular Arthur Godfrey, not yet the famous broadcaster he was to become in 1945. Godfrey had a unique style, folksy, informal, and rambling, much different from the very proper announcers typical of the time. Godfrey’s relaxed approach was perfect for people just waking up and getting ready for work.

The music is the typical big-band content of the day (save for the interpolation of a Black-stereotype passage – casual racism was still the rule of thumb back in the day). At 8:30 a.m., the transcribed quiz show Certified Magic Carpet hit the air, hosted by the venerable broadcaster John Daly, normally heard only as a newsman. It demonstrates that announcers of the day were called upon to do different kinds of hosting.

Then came the soap operas, a profusion of 15-minute serial dramas so named because they were often sponsored by soap manufacturers. These turgid tales inhabited the air for hours, as their heroines faced all sorts of challenges both mundane and extraordinary. The soaps were punctuated with the occasional cooking show and something called the Women’s Home Companion, which advertised things for sale at a local department store.

Such well-known soaps as Myrt and Marge, Our Gal Sunday, Life Can Be Beautiful, and The Road of Life are represented here. They all sound the same, save for the offering at noon – The Goldbergs. This saga of a Jewish family in the big city was much more of a slice-of-life drama, and as such is much more listenable than the surrounding fare.

At 1:45 p.m. came Roosevelt’s speech. Its subject was the world war which was rapidly developing in Europe. America at the time had a strict neutrality policy, but the president wanted to change that. He proposed the repeal of an arms embargo mandated by Neutrality Act. Instead , he wanted the country to sell arms to the allied belligerents on a “cash and carry” basis, by which arms could be purchased up front, and then transported across the Atlantic by the warring nations, not by the United States itself. It is difficult to remember now that Roosevelt was strenuously opposed by a significant number of isolationists – people who didn’t want America to get involved in foreign wars. Roosevelt’s speech is eloquent, clear, and forceful – a remarkable contrast with the speeches of many politicians today. FDR was a great communicator, and this speech was no exception.

Roosevelt’s speech was followed by a partial address in French by Premier Deladier, who accused the Nazis of wanting to dismember France (which of course they did). More soaps and more music followed.

Finally, at 3:45 p.m. came the back end of a baseball game between the Cleveland Indians and the Washington Senators, which Cleveland won 6-3. The illustrious Hall of Fame pitcher Walter Johnson called the play-by-play of the game. A bit more music and news followed, which led into a 15-minute sports report from Harry McTigue at 5:45 p.m.

At last we arrived at what would be later called “prime time.” First off was Amos ‘n’ Andy, a phenomenally popular daily 15-minute show that began in 1928 and lasted until 1960. Two white actors, Freeman Gosden and Charles Corell, portrayed two African-American friends in business together (they ran the Fresh Air Taxi Company in Chicago). Today’s audiences would of course reject the stereotyping that the show was based on, but at the time, white people imitating Black people was par for the course.

Despite the offensive grounding of the show, Gosden and Corell created two very likable and relatable characters whose misadventures captivated listeners. So popular the show was that movie houses would pause their screenings and play the show over loudspeakers for customers. My father remembers walking down the street as a child and hearing the show come out of every window on the block.

Following this was the 15-minute comedy The Parker Family, a typical situation comedy. Next up was Joe E. Brown with a half-hour variety and comedy program. Brown was a legendary performer. He literally ran away with the circus when he was 10, became an acrobat, entered vaudeville, and developed into a comic performer whose movies in the early 1930s made him one of the most bankable Hollywood stars. His big mouth and eager grin were familiar to almost everybody. (You may remember him best at Jack Lemmon’s foil in Some Like It Hot). The show is notable for including, once again, some casual racism, and the snappy tune “Are You Having Any Fun?”.

Next up was a quiz program, the Ask-It Basket. It’s an interesting listen. It is popularly thought that quiz shows came to the fore in radio after World War II, but here one is. It was followed by Strange As It Seems, a kind of “reality show” that outlined unusual and inspiring stories, and dramatizations of little-known historical incidents. Surprisingly, the show includes a segment on the great African-American agricultural scientist and inventor George Washington Carver – and includes an interview with Carver himself!

After a brief news break with the venerable broadcaster Elmer Davis came the Major Bowes’ Original Amateur Hour. Bowes was a theater manager with a flair for promotion, and he came up with the idea of creating a radio showcase for amateur talent to come on the air and compete for the votes of the listening audience. Singers, comedians, vocalist, impressionists, and even tap dancers appeared on the show. The most successful performers were contracted by the Major to perform live across the country.

Frank Sinatra appeared on the show as a member of the Hoboken Four Quartet, early in his career. Maria Callas, too, sang as a child on the show. Bowes would spin a “wheel of fortune” on air to determine who would perform next, and this generated his famous catchphrase “Round and round she goes, and where she stops, nobody knows.” The show was eagerly listened to, and thrived from 1934 until the Major’s death in 1946.

The Columbia Workshop succeeded the Amateur Hour. The Workshop was a unique program – it accommodated dramatic and experimental material that normally would not have made it on the air. The show was "sustained," meaning it carried no commercials and was presented as a public service. Poetry, music, original dramas, literary adaptations (Orson Welles and his Mercury Theater did a two-part adaptation of Hamlet for the show), and straight-up weirdness was all fare for the Workshop, which lasted from 1936 to 1943. Unfortunately, the piece recorded was an unexceptional drama, Now It’s Summer.

After this came Americans at Work, an educational program that interviewed people from all walks of life about their porfessions. The episode presented here involves auctioneers, and is somewhat interesting.

By now it was 10 p.m., and the station moved back into a lineup of music and news briefs. There was a rebroadcast of Roosevelt’s speech, followed by band remotes. In those days, orchestras were booked to perform at various venues, and part of their performances would be piped onto the airwaves live. Notable here is the appearance of Louis Prima’s orchestra. Prima would become famous after World War II for his riotous, comic stage work – here he is more subdued.

Finally, there was a brief summary of news, followed by a rendition of the National Anthem and sign-off. The cumulative effect of the day’s broadcast is to provide a portrait of a nation still undisturbed by war, amused by a network’s concoction of music, drama, news, and performance. Those who listen to isolated broadcasts of old-time radio shows would do well to give this broadcast a listen. There was a lot of mediocre material on the air, punctuated by fascinating bits that proved how engaging good radio could be.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: the premiere network broadcast of the Grand Ole Opry.

Notes from a Rockies fan.

 OK, let's look at the facts, Rockies fans. Worst record in team history: 119 losses. the worst run differential in BASEBALL HISTORY (-424), and the highest ERA since 1901 -- 6.64! Tied for most losses by a rotation: 93.

[Note to readers: I have been informed to my chagrin by a smart person that the Rockies don't have the worst run differential of all time, merely since 1899. It was the Cleveland Spiders who dun that, posting a stupendous -723.]

Per Colorado Rockies on SI, "As for the lineup, the Rockies' .237 batting average was the worst in team history, as was their .681 OPS. Their collective fWAR was minus-3.3 as a lineup, and they scored a franchise low 3.72 runs per game. This resulted in them being shutout a franchise record 17 times."

This is undeniably as bad as it can possibly get. It is historically awful. This obverse distinction is resonant; it will live forever in our minds.

To those of us who listened in, and went to games, this year, it was obvious that we had reached the nadir of our expectations. We came to the field not with the hope of victory, but with the weary resignation of the faithful.

I have been a stalwart Rockies fan since the beginning, and the Zephyrs before them, and the Bears before them. I remember the Sky Sox, ferchrissake.

And yet I still love them. In all of their Charlie Browniest, they played earnestly and poorly, stoically marching through sweep after sweep, sacrificing themselves to the vagaries of the game.

What is going on with this team? It has gone on for years now. It has not spurred a dearth of paying fans. We love the game, and we will come out and watch ourselves lose in a friendly and amicable Denver manner. There's not an abandonment there as there is in other cities.

Evolution is possible. You stick with your guys. But there is something seriously wrong, and we all need to address it. I appreciate the effort, and I am sorry you sucked so bad. We'll work on it in spring, I guess.

NRR Project: Dorothy Thompson: Commentary and Analysis of the European Situation for NBC Radio (August 23 – Sept. 6, 1939)

 

NRR Project: Dorothy Thompson: Commentary and Analysis of the European Situation for NBC Radio

Broadcast August 23 – Sept. 6, 1939

She was hard-working, expert journalist and commentator. She was so good, she was the first American journalist the Nazis kicked out after coming to power.

Dorothy Thompson is hardly remembered today, but her incisive understanding of the complexities of European politics between the world wars was exceptional. Nancy F. Cott's explanatory essay, which you can read here, gives a comprehensive look at the life of this journalist and broadcaster.

Fortunately, NBC decided to avail themselves of her services in the run-up to the beginning of World War II. In a series of broadcasts, she outlined for listeners what was happening in the rapidly developing situation on the other side of the water. These talks, while not celebrated today and difficult to even find, helped people understand the facts amid the pronouncements and posturing of the players involved.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: A complete day of radio broadcasting – Sept. 21, 1939.