NRR Project: 'The War of the Worlds' panic -- Oct 30, 1938

 

NRR Project: ‘The War of the Worlds’

The Mercury Theatre on the Air

Broadcast Oct. 30, 1938

60 min.

The power of radio on the human mind was never so definitively demonstrated than on the night of Oct. 30, 1938. On that night, millions of people across America became convinced that Martians were attacking Earth.

Let’s back up a bit. Orson Welles (1915-1985) was a young genius who, at the unlikely age of 16, became a respected player in theater. He moved into radio, becoming the original voice of The Shadow, a popular thriller series. He mounted numerous plays, which led to him being selected to join the Federal Theatre Project, a government-subsidized arts program meant to offer employment to thousands of underemployed actors and technicians.

In 1936, Welles opened his “voodoo Macbeth” in New York, an adaptation of the play with an all-Black ensemble, which proved a huge success. Welles mounted more plays, growing in fme and reputation. In 1937, he staged a seven-part radio adaptation of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables on CBS, which proved to be a hit also. At this early stage in his career, everything he did was golden.

The success of his radio project led him to form, with producer John Houseman, the Mercury Theatre on the Air, a network-sustained hour-long program that adapted key works of literature and dramaturgy. Their first broadcast was Dracula, on July 11, 1938 on CBS.

Welles was a master of conveying meaning and feeling through sound alone. He and his hard-working crew of regulars – including Everett Sloane, Ray Collins, Joseph Cotton, and Agnes Moorehead – whipped up an engaging and ambitious broadcast, week after week. They were competing against the very popular Chase and Sanborn Hour, starring ventriloquist Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy, which played on NBC at the same time. It was their decision to mount H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds on Halloween Eve, 1938, that made them famous – or rather, infamous – overnight.

The writer assigned to the script, Howard Koch, found the adaptation frustrating. How could he convincingly portray an invasion of Earth by the inhabitants of Mars in a realistic and frightening way? Koch, assistant Anne Froelich, Houseman, and associate producer Paul Stewart hammered away at the script desperately, up against a strict deadline. Finally, they hit on setting the invasion in America instead of England, as it was in Wells’ novel, and to make it sound like the invasion was unfolding in real time, with fake news bulletins and eyewitness accounts of the mayhem.

That night, many listeners, having heard Bergen and McCarthy do their opening comedy routine, twiddled the dial to CBS and tuned in to what sounded like a genuine invasion. People panicked. The CBS switchboard lit up with alarmed calls. Thousands hit the streets, or drove frantically away from the supposed origin of the attack – Grover’s Mill, New Jersey.

The first 40 minutes of the program, which had no advertising to interrupt it, continued to sketch scenes of horror as the Martians rapidly took over the planet. At the 40-minute mark, the show’s announcer reminded the audience that it was listening to an adaptation of The War of the Worlds. (A more conventionally narrated conclusion took place after the announcement.) By then it was too late. An incensed crowd of police and reporters jammed the halls of CBS, looking for Welles and company. A shocked and shamefaced Welles emerged from the broadcast studio and apologized for the convincing deception.

The panic was the top story in all the newspapers of the day. Commentators inveighed against Welles. He thought his career was over.

Surprisingly, after a few weeks of world-wide attention, The Mercury Theatre on the Air got a sponsor and became the well-regarded Campbell Playhouse, continuing to put out radio adaptations for another two years. Welles was picked up by Hollywood, and proceeded to make Citizen Kane.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Nest time: Barber’s Adagio for Strings.

NRR Project: Abbott and Costello, "Who's on First?" routine -- Oct. 6, 1938

 

NRR Project: ‘Who’s on First?’ routine

Performers: Bud Abbott and Lou Costello

Broadcast Oct. 6, 1938

6 min.

From the late 1930s through the mid-‘50’s, the top comedy duo in America was Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. Bud was the tall, thin straight man; Lou was the short, fat laugh-getter. Their lightning-fast routines used word confusion and misdirection to stun audiences into laughter.

They worked together first in vaudeville and burlesque houses; they got their big break on the radio show The Kate Smith Hour on Feb. 3, 1938. They first performed their “Who’s on First? bit on March 24, 1938. (The first surviving recording of this bit took place on Oct. 6, 1938.) Immensely and immediately popular, the duo got their own 30-minute summer replacement show for Fred Allen in 1940. After that, they joined The Chase and Sanborn Hour in 1941, and landed their own show again in 1942.

Meanwhile, they started making movies as well. From 1940 through 1956, they made no less than 35 films, approximately three a year. They were the top box-office draw for may of those years. When television came along, they did that too, from 1952 through 1954. They were finally dethroned as a comedy duo by up-and-comers Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis.

“Who’s on First?” is a classic sketch, definitely the best-known of their bits and one of the classic comedy bits of all time. It revolves around baseball players’ nicknames. Bud announces that on his team are Who, on first; What, on second, and I Don’t Know on third. “Who’s on first?” asks Lou. “Yes,” answers Bud. “Look, all I want to know is what’s the guy’s name on first,” says Lou. “What’s on second,” answers Bud. “I don’t know!” says Lou. “Third base,” answers Bud.

And things go haywire from there. Lou gets more and more worked up, at one point saying, “I’ll break your arm if you say who’s on first again!” he hollers. Eventually, Lou gives up. “I don’t care,” he proclaims. “Oh,” replies Bud, “that’s out shortstop!”

The routine itself is fairly old; so old, in fact, that it was held in the public domain until the boys copyrighted it in 1944. They did the routine hundreds, if not thousands, of times – live, on the radio, on film, and on TV. It became their signature routine.

The sketch is so well-known that it plays in perpetuity at the Baseball Hall of Fame.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Nest time: The War of the Worlds.

NRR Project: Joe Louis-Max Schmeling prizefight -- June 22, 1938

 

NRR Project: The Joe Louis-Max Schmeling fight

Announcer: Clem McCarthy

Broadcast June 22, 1938

2:04

This recording is important not for its inherent memorability – it is after all just the record of a short boxing match. What makes it significant is the meaning placed onto the fight by virtue of its contestants – a Black American and a white German, on the eve of World War II.

Joe Louis, “the Brown Bomber,” was a contender for the heavyweight boxing crown when he faced Schmeling in 1936. Schmeling defeated him in 12 rounds. Louis wanted a rematch, and he became a prized opponent after winning the heavyweight championship against Jim Braddock. Schmeling wanted to defeat him and take the title.

The camps in opposition were fervid. The entire African American community, of course, supported Louis, as did defenders of democracy. The Nazis and the racists sided with Schmeling. The contest was to prove who was superior – the Black man or the white man.

The bout was held at a sold-out Yankee Stadium. It is estimated that 70 million Americans tuned in the to fight on the radio. Behind the mike was the veteran sports announcer Clem McCarthy. Louis was in fine shape, and battered the poor Schmeling incessantly from the word go. Finally, with only a couple of minutes gone in the first round, Schmeling surrendered. Louis was heavyweight champion of the world by technical knockout.

The country exploded with glee. Hitler’s theories of white racial superiority were disproved emphatically. Joe Louis successfully defended his title 25 times after that, remaining heavyweight champion until 1949, the longest reign in heavyweight history. Schemling got drafted into the German army.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Nest time: Who’s on First?

NRR Project: Korngold's score for 'The Adventures of Robin Hood' (1938)

 

NRR Project: ‘The Adventures of Robin Hood’

Composed by Eric Wolfgang Korngold

Performed by Eric Wolfgang Korngold and the Warner Brothers Studio Orchestra

Narrated by Basil Rathbone

Broadcast May 11, 1938

33 min.

Eric Wolfgang Korngold’s score for the 1938 movie The Adventures of Robin Hood is a classic, right up there with other key scores of the era such as Max Steiner’s for King Kong (1933) and Franz Waxman’s for The Bride of Frankenstein (1935). Korngold had already proved himself as a classical composer with works such as his magnificent 1920 opera, Die tote stadt. Escaping the Nazis, he moved to Hollywood in 1934 and began composing for films.

He referred to his Robin Hood score as an “opera without music,” and it certainly bears relation to the genre with its numerous themes, which are developed much in the same way as operatic ones. Warner Brothers knew they had a gem of a score on their hands, and they moved to utilize it to promote the film. Three days before the movie’s premiere, on May 11, 1938, they broadcast a special rendition of excerpts of the score, bridged by narration from actor Basil Rathbone, on NBC radio live.

The result was an electrifying rendition of the music, listened to by millions. It further legitimized the film score as an art form. And, at that year's Oscars, Korngold won the prize for Best Original Score. The score (or rather a suite from it) is still performed by major orchestras. The music stands on its own as a marvelous piece of work.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Nest time: the Joe Louis-Max Schmeling fight.

NRR Project: Benny Goodman's Carnegie Hall concert -- Jan. 16, 1938

 

NRR Project: ‘Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert’

Performed by Benny Goodman and his Orchestra

Recorded Jan. 16, 1938

2 hours, 2 minutes

Wow. Some recordings have that special quality that rewards repeated listenings. These are the classics. And Benny Goodman’ Carnegie Hall concert is one of those, and absolute classic that documents the moment jazz shed its disreputable and superficial connotations and came into its own as an art form.

Nobody knew how a jazz concert in the hallowed precincts of Carnegie Hall would be received by the pubic. Jazz was perceived as primarily a vehicle for dance music (save for those early jazz connoisseurs who were already hip). To everyone’s surprise, the concert sold out quickly – extra chairs were placed on stage to accommodate even more listeners.

Goodman was ready to deliver the goods. A perfectionist, he rehearsed his band at the venue itself until it was pitch-perfect. And what a lineup of players! Drummer Gene Krupa and trumpeter Harry James were part of the band. Also present were pianist Teddy Wilson and vibraphonist Lionel Hampton. Significantly, these last two musicians were Black – and Goodman insisted on their participation, breaking the color line in music for all time.

Remarkably, Goodman treated the concert as a teaching opportunity. Rather than just play his hits, he put in a four-song section that outlined the history of jazz. He included numbers by Count Basie and Duke Ellington, and he welcomed some of their players into the concert as well. Count Basie is here, and so is Cootie Williams. Goodman inserted a jam session on “Honeysuckle Rose” that included the great tenor sax legend Lester Yong, alto sax man Johnny Hodges, and trumpeter Buck Clayton. This inclusive, generous approach meant that the enthusiastic audience would get a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Goodman breaks down his band into a small trio and quartet for some of the songs. The great vocalist Martha Tilton gets a couple of numbers. You can actually hear the musicians get warmed up and looser as the concert progresses. Then the band comes together again for an epic rendition of “Sing, Sing, Sing,” Goodman’s signature piece. A couple of encores later, the enthusiastic crowd is sent home.

The concert cemented the idea that jazz was a legitimate, complex, and powerful art form. For anyone who wants to understand what jazz is all about, this recording is indispensable. Man, could they swing!

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Nest time: Korngold’s ‘The Adventures of Robin Hood’ score.

NRR Project: 'When You Wish Upon a Star' (1938)

 

NRR Project: ‘When You Wish Upon a Star’

Music by Leigh Harline; lyrics by Ned Washington

Recorded by Ciff ‘Ukulele Ike’ Edwards and the Disney Studio Chorus

Recorded 1938

3:15

Not much to say about this one. Read James M. Bohn’s excellent essay here, which outlines the song’s history and analyzes its components.

It’s a sentimental ballad, from the animated Disney feature Pinocchio (1940). It’s sung by the character of Jiminy Cricket, who serves as the puppet-boy’s conscience. The insect is voiced by Cliff “Ukulele Ike” Edwards, by that time a well-loved vaudeville tenor who accompanied himself, of course, on the ukulele.

It won the Oscar for best song, and has become the theme song of the Disney corporation. It asserts that wishing can make dreams come true. If you are sentimental, this song is right up your alley. If not . . . then it is tolerable.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Nest time: Benny Goodman’s Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert.

NRR Project: 'When the Saints Go Marching In' (1938)

 

NRR Project: ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’

Traditional

Recorded by Louis Armstrong & his Orchestra

Recorded 1938

2:41

First, read Ricky Riccardi’s excellent essay on the song here. I have but little to add to it.

“When the Saints Go Marching In” was originally a hymn, sung slowly and reverently. However, in New Orleans, where Louis Armstrong grew up, the song was played with a bouncier, more upbeat rhythm as the band accompanying a funeral would play it on its way back from the cemetery. This is the version Armstrong wanted to record.

He met with resistance. In 1931, his then-label dissuaded him from recording it. Finally, under a new label, Decca, he got a chance to set it down on shellac. The recording was released timidly, but immediately became a major seller. Its infectious energy, and the jubilation behind the song is palpable. It is a joyously positive statement.

Many people didn’t feel that way about it. Sixty churches protested against a hymn being rendered in jazz style; they didn’t feel that the secular and the sacred should be mixed so. However, Armstrong loved the song and played it consistently to the end of his career.

Since then, multiple artists have made the transition from gospel to jazz, rhythm and blues, and rock, including Aretha Franklin, Sam Cooke, Ray Charles, and Sly Stone. Gospel music itself has become more swinging and infectious, too. It seems that the marriage of the sacred and the secular is a successful one.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Nest time: When You Wish Upon A Star.