NRR Project: The Deep River Boys sing 'They Look Like Men of War' (1941)

 

NRR Project: ‘They Look Like Men of War’’

Composed by John A. Granade and Hattie Hill

Performed by the Deep River Boys

Recorded 1941

2:09

No notes. You have to read the essay on it by Sandra Jean Graham; it is perfect!

I have little to add. The effect of this powerful a capella hyman, sung by soldiers going into battle, is inspiring. That it survived into the 20^th century was due to a man who heard it in the field, Samuel Chapman Armstrong.

The song itself comes from the early 19^th century. The conflation of readiness for battle and belief in Jesus Christ is a striking one, lending the flavor of crusade to its message. It is moving, both in context and in and of itself, its beautiful harmonies undulating.

The Deep River Boys developed as the Hampton Institute Junior Quartet, and grew into their new name. They moved away from purely performing spirituals and hyms, and started covering conventional material as well. They persisted, primarily in Europe, for many decades.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Walking the Floor Over You.

NRR Project: Memphis Minnie, 'Me and My Chauffeur Blues' (May 21, 1941)

 

NRR Project: ‘Me and My Chauffeur Blues’

Composed and performed by Memphis Minnie

Recorded May 21, 1941

2:49

I can’t say much about this one, as Paul Garon’s essay on itat the National Recording Registry is superb. Read it!

Memphis Minnie (1897-19730, born Lizzie Douglas, lived in the Deep South and took up her instrument early. By the age of 13, she was performing on street corners for money. Her expert picking was matched with a stentorian voice that could make itself heard clearly amid the noise of everyday life.

She was an anomaly; there had been great women blues singers, but few who played an instrument, sang, and generated her own material. In that way, she was an early musical entrepreneur. The air of authority she exudes in her recordings is unmistakable. She was a brave performer, raw and honest, at times downright lewd.

“Won't you be my chauffeur?

Won't you be my chauffeur?

I wants him to drive me

I wants him to drive me downtown

Yes, he drives so easy

I can't turn him down

 

But I don't want him

But I don't want him

To be ridin' these girls

To be ridin' these girls around

So I'm gonna steal me a pistol

Shoot my chauffeur down

 

Well, I must buy him

Well, I must buy him

A brand new V8

A brand new V8 Ford

Then he won't need no passengers

I will be his load

 

Going to let my chauffeur

Going to let my chauffeur

Drive me around the

Drive me around the world

Then he can be my little boy

Yes, I'll be his girl”

She was enormously influential. She recorded in the neighborhood of 200 songs. This song was covered by Jefferson Airplane, and Led Zeppelin took her “When the Levee Breaks” to new heights.

In 1996, Bonnie Raitt bought her a tombstone. Her family attended. The inscription is perhaps the most eloquent I have read:

“The hundreds of sides Minnie recorded are the perfect material to teach us about the blues. For the blues are at once general, and particular, speaking for millions, but in a highly singular, individual voice. Listening to Minnie's songs we hear her fantasies, her dreams, her desires, but we will hear them as if they were our own”

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 Deep River Boys sing They Look Like Men of War.

NRR Project: The Almanac Singers, 'Talking Union and Other Union Songs,' 1941/1955

 

NRR Project: ‘Talking Union’

Performed by the Almanac Singers, and Pete Seeger and the Song Swappers

May, 1941; revised and expanded 1955

33 min, 41 sec.

From December 1940 to March 1943 the Almanac Singers existed. Despite their brief life as a group, their influence was profound. They sparked the folk movement and the protest-song movement in American music simultaneously. A collection of left-leaning artists, portrayed as suspicious Communists by the press and  government, they sang out songs of social activism, anti-war, anti-racism, and pro-union.

First I must point you to Cesare Civetta’s excellent essay on it at the National Recording Registry. Wikipedia is also quite helpful.

They were radicals, philosophically and musically. They utilized traditional American instruments and folk tunes to create a secular hymnal that the dispossessed and their allies could sing, stirring feeling and rousing the conscience. The idea of pouring sociological content into song was not new; listen to Gene Autry’s 1931 recording of “The Death of Mother Jones.” But the Almanacs put it on the map.

The original group consisted of Millard Lampell, Lee Hays, Peter Seeger, and Woody Guthrie. Talking Union was their second album, after Songs for John Doe. Doe, released in May 1941, was anti-war; Talking Union was recorded the same month. Doe was quickly shelved after June 22, the date on which Hitler invaded Russia and the group became pro-interventionist. 

On Talking Union is heard Seeger, Hays, Lampell, John White, Sam Gray, Carol White, and Bess Lomax Hawes. The six songs are all pro-union – “All I Want,” “Get Thee Behind Me Satan,” “Talking Union,” “Union Maid,” “Union Train,” and “Which Side Are You On.” All catchy, memorable, moving. This was a new kind of American song, or rather the rebirth of an older kind, of ballads and singalongs. Their earnestness, their energy, would be transmitted to a future generation of singer/songwriters who would ignite the social protest movements of the coming decades.

The Almanacs recorded three more albums, then sputtered to a halt. Seeger and Hays would go on to form part of the Weavers quartet in 1948, another group that was watched by the FBI. (The Weavers would end up blacklisted.) Liberal sentiments were despised; to adhere to them was as good as to be a card-carrying Communist, anathema to the American way.

In 1955, Folkways reissued the album, padding it with seven more songs from “Pete Seeger and the Song Swappers,” an ensemble that included a young Mary Travers, later of Peter, Paul, and Mary. They perform “We Shall Not Be Moved,” “Roll the Union On,” “Casey Jones,” “Miner’s Lifeguard,” “Solidarity Forever,” “You’ve Got to Go Down and Join the Union,” and “Hold the Fort.”

This stuff is dynamite. Plaintive like “All I Want (I Don’t Want Your Millions, Mister),” ardent like “Solidarity Forever” (to the tune of the Battle Hym of the Republic); defiant like “Which Side Are You On?”

World War II and the Red Scare slowed its progress, but the American folk music revival would explode in the 1950s, spawning a multitude of artists such as Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Joni Mitchell, and Judy Collins, not to mention Peter, Paul and Mary, the Chad Mitchell Trio, the Kingston Trio, the New Christy Minstrels, and many other outfits.

But this was the real thing – songs they sang at labor rallies. “Oh, you can’t scare me, I’m stickin’ to the union/’Til the day I die.” These were committed activists who paid the penalty for speaking their minds. They were the first folkie heroes.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Memphis Minnie with Me and My Chauffeur Blues (1941).

NRR Project: Carousel of American Music (Sept. 24, 1940)

 

NRR Project: Carousel of American Music

Performed Sept. 24, 1940

Golden Gate International Exposition Federal Plaza/California Coliseum

San Francisco

4 hours, 42 min.

It’s the most amazing concert you’ve never heard.

First, I must point you to the explanatory essay about it by David A. Banks at the National Recording Registry. His account of the origin, gestation, and fulfillment of this project is comprehensive and precise!

The origin of this mega-concert was a boycott. The American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers (ASCAP) received royalties based on the public performance of its members’ material. In September 1940, the National Associations of Broadcasters (NAB) decided to forego using any music covered by ASCAP, beginning in January of 1941.

ASCAP wanted to flex its muscles, to demonstrate how vital they were to American culture. Since practically all the great composers, lyricists, and songwriters were members of ASCAP, they had a powerful bench to turn to to produce a concert – the biggest concert of its kind ever staged. Over the course of one day, music-makers from Roy Harris and Deems Taylor to George M. Cohan and Irving Berlin convened in San Francisco to perform their biggest hits.

ASCAP was also celebrating its 25^th anniversary. Gathering the “star power” of the premier songwriters of the first half of the 20^th century was quite a feat, and it went off like a charm.

The first part of the concert was performed in front of 25,000 at the Federal Plaza. It consisted of orchestral works by such composers as Harris, Taylor, Howard Hanson, and William Grant Still.

Later in the day, 15,000 people crammed into an auditorium built for 12,000; tens of thousands more listened over loudspeakers outside. ASCAP president Gene Buck served as the master of ceremonies, smoothly if somewhat obsequiously introducing all the acts.

And how lively they are! The chance for these composers to perform their own works in front of thousands energizes them, makes some of their renditions ebullient, even hammy. It’s a love fest with frequent applause breaks, singalongs, and encores.

The San Francisco Symphony Orchestra provides the accompaniment for most of the songs performed, a task they more than rise to. They play some selctions of Victor Herbert’s music. They play “Smiles.” The composers take the stage and perform classics such as “Love in Bloom,” “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” “Some of These Days,” “Over the Rainbow” (Judy Garland appears), “Melancholy Baby,” “Waiting for the Robert E. Lee,” “Three Little Words,” “My Blue Heaven,” “My Buddy,” “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Woolf?”, “Singin’ in the Rain,” “You Made Me Love You,” “I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now,” “Goodbye My Lady Love” – basically all the hit songs of the past 50 years.

Jerome Kern appears, and knocks out “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” and “All the Things You Are.” We get to hear “Sweet Adeline,” “Lover, Come Back to Me,” some Sigmund Romberg, some Gershwin.

Johnny Mercer sings “Jeepers Creepers”! We get “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love, Baby.” Hoagy Carmichael comes out and does “Stardust” and “Little Old Lady.” There is “Deep Purple” and “Chinatown My Chinatown.” W.C. Handy, probably the only Black composer present, gets up and performs “St. Louis Blues,” playing the cornet! He gets an impressive and lengthy acclamation. The popular baritone John Charles Thomas sings a few more songs . . . then GEORGE M. COHAN shows up and sings a medley of his hits.

The crowd goes crazy, naturally – then IRVING BERLIN steps out and sings “God Bless America.” A wow finish.

The two-part concert was recorded but never broadcast. I was lucky to find it on something called Youtube Music, which you can link to here.

It is vastly instructive to hear these songs performed by those who created them. The rhythms, intonations, emphases, are all unique to them; hearing them as their creators intended is gives you a blueprint of what it was like to craft and sell songs in the early days of the Great American Songbook.

Most importantly, they all gathered together to receive the affection of the crowd, the energy of which is palpable in this exciting but rarely heard production.

In a way, the concert marks a turning point in American music. The days of the finely crafted songsmithing of Tin Pan Alley were over. Big band music was all the rage, but soon would come bebop, R & B, and rock and roll. This concert was a summation of the charms of a passing era.

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 Almanac Singers present Talking Union (1941).

NRR Project: Edward R. Murrow reports from London (Sept. 21, 1940)

 

NRR Project: Edward R. Murrow reports from London (Sept. 21, 1940)

CBS Radio

4:14 min.

Everything essential about this selection is limned in Bob Edwards’ comprehensive essay on it for the National Recording Registry, which you should read here.

Edward R. Murrow (1908-1965) was a heroic journalist. He broadcast from London during Germany’s attacks on it, insisting on broadcasting from open squares, rooftops, and basements even as he was getting bombed out of them. His eloquent and descriptive solemnity fit the perilous nature of the situation he found himself in and made the experience vivid for millions of listeners. And it was all done live -- CBS didn't do taping back then. 

Murrow was a descriptive master. At a time when most ran for shelter, he toughed it out on the rooftops of London. Listen to it here. He hung in there and told us the truth, becoming a paragon of journalistic guts and integrity. The correspondents he later corralled together with him on CBS Radio were known as “Murrow’s Boys,” and they were legendary.  

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 Carousel of American Music.

NRR Project: ‘Fibber McGee and Molly’:‘Fibber’s closet opens first time’ (March 4, 1940)

 

NRR Project: ‘Fibber McGee and Molly’:‘Fibber’s closet opens first time’ (March 4, 1940)

Performed by Jim and Marian Jordan, et al

NBC Radio

28:52

After The Jack Benny Show, Fibber McGee and Molly was the most popular and representative show of the golden age of American radio. Spawner of commonly used phrases such as “T’aint funny, McGee” and “heavenly days,” it was a fixture for listeners for an impressive 24 years.

To learn all about this remarkable show, read first the entry on it in John Dunning’s masterful 1998 survey, On the Air. It is extensive and precise. Dunning was my mentor in the world of old-time radio lovers, and he describes the show with loving care. (He in turn credits the indefatigable Tom Price, who compiled extensive statistics about the show.)

This comedy debuted in 1935, but it was a long time gestating. Jim and Marian Jordan were a vaudevillian couple from Peoria, purveyors of songs and laughs, and had appeared on radio beginning in 1924. Experimenting with different formats, they honed their skills. In 1929, they met the brilliant comedy writer Don Quinn – and the three of them devised an act which they brought to radio as Smackout from 1931 to 1935. It was a step from there to Fibber McGee and his loving spouse Molly.

Fibber was a teller of tall tales, naturally, a genial middle-aged man from a small Midwestern town. He and Molly roamed the country initially, but they obtained a house in the imaginary town of Wistful Vista and settled down. We never knew how they made their money; Fibber was always hanging about the house, causing trouble. His harebrained schemes were commented on by Molly, who was skeptical but supportive, always wiser than her husband.

The format of the show was consistent down the years (I have listened enthusiastically to the entire run). A certain subject or problem would come up, and a revolving cast of characters would come to 79 Wistful Vista to chat with our stars, knocking and, later, ringing the doorbell. There would be a plug or two of the sponsor’s product (first Johnson’s Wax, then Pet Milk), a band number, and more laughs.

This was a new kind of comedy. Thanks to pioneering shows such as Amos 'n' Andy (1928-1960) and Lum and Abner (1931-1954) there was a new trend in radio comedy. Instead of comedians standing up before the microphone spouting jokes, the laughs sprung from the characters themselves and their situation. We the audience grew familiar with our protagonists’ foibles, and it bred a kind of intimacy that only radio could create.

The concept was flexible, the writing was strong, the supporting actors were expert. There was Bill Thompson as the Old Timer, Wallace Wimple, and others; there was Gale Gordon as Mayor LaTrivia, who would perpetually blow his stack after being befuddled by Fibber and Molly. Hal Peary played the next-door neighbor Throckmorton P. Gildersleeve until he got his own show in 1941 (the first spin-off in broadcast history).

Arthur Q. Bryan, the voice of Elmer Fudd, was Fibber’s antagonistic friend Doc Gamble; Isabella Randolph played the snooty Mrs. Uppington. Fibber would tangle with each of them, as his comic schemes to get ahead or make money or invent something went awry.

There were long-running gags. There was the never-heard telephone operator, Myrt. “How’s every little thing, Myrt?” Fibber would ask. He’d get a corny answer. Fibber would go off occasionally on an avalanche of alliteration. The most famous of these gags was the venerable “opening the hall closet.”

The joke, of course, is that Fibber throws everything into the closet helter-skelter, and it all tumbles out whenever the door is opened. In this episode, Molly gets inundated with the contents and demands that Fibber reorganize things. Marian Jordan performs her “Teeny” little-girl voice. The Old Timer stops by – “That’s pretty good, Johnny, but that ain’t the way I heered it!”

Interestingly, in this episode comedienne Gracie Allen shows up – she had a running joke about running for president that year that she brought to various other shows during 1940. Mrs. Uppington and Gildersleeve stop by as well. In the end, Fibber opens the closet and, once again, the extended crash occurs, provoking laughter and applause. The gag would be repeated 128 times.

As the television era dawned, radio shows became vastly less popular. Fibber and Molly lost their studio audience and orchestra in 1953, and moved to a five-day-a-week, fifteen-minute schedule. They limped on in one way and another until 1959.

At the peak of their popularity, movie houses would halt their shows to pipe in the Tuesday night doings of the duo. Their wholesome, friendly show comforted a couple of generations of listeners.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Edward R. Murrow reports from London.

NRR Project: Alexander Scourby reads the King James Bible (1940-1944)

 

NRR Project: The King James Bible

Read by Alexander Scourby

Recorded 1940-1944

80 hours

I could not do better than Cary O’Dell’s explanatory essayat the National Recording Registry website. It is clear and comprehensive. Read it.

I will say that Alexander Scourby’s voice was familiar to us as the voice of National Geographic. He narrated 18 N.G. television specials from 1966 to 1985. We grew up with his mellow tones, and thought, without knowing about this project, of him as the voice of God.

It’s appropriate then that he recorded the King James Bible. Its particular wording and phrasing (it was published in 1611) are rich and memorable. The resulting effect for the listener is that of a dignified and holy text, well worth listening to – if only to witness the definitive sound of its narrator. (Plus he pronounces for us all those jaw-breaking ancient names.) It’s an invaluable reference to one of civilization's foundational books.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Fibber McGee and Molly.