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.

NRR Project: The Budapest Quartet records Beethoven's Complete String Quartets (1940-1950)

 

NRR Project: The String Quartets

Composed by Ludwig von Beethoven

Performed by the Budapest String Quartet

Recorded 1940-1950

420 min.

This epic set of recordings is definitive. Composed by Beethoven between 1800 and 1826, they represent some of the most adventurous excursions in classical music.

I must point you to two sources for this story. The first is the excellent explanatory essay by David W. Barber at the National RecordingRegistry Archive site. He includes much information about Beethoven and the compositions there. Then check out the Wikipedia page concerning the Quartet.

This second source outlines the group’s history (1917-1967) as a tempestuous, ever-changing lineup of players, each with their own peculiar strengths, weaknesses, and temperaments. It was a soap opera. That they were able to execute the Quartets over the course of a tumultuous decade (1940-1950), much less than with a remarkable technical proficiency that allowed them to express the depth and complexity of the work, would seem to be remote.

Importantly, they imposed a rigorous set of rules upon themselves, pledging to share equally in their collective earnings, to accept no work outside the group, and to make their living from the work of the Quartet. Through constant touring, eating cheaply, lodging cheaply, they made a living. The entity known the Budapest Quartet was elastic and resilient. It accommodated change while it maintained the highest of musical standards.

Listening to the recordings is an out-of-body experience. In many ways, what Beethoven is doing is beyond my ability to understand. I hear genius, but I’m damned if I know how to define it. If it is any consolation, the critics and musicians of Beethoven’s time were similarly stumped and had little use for them, especially his Late Quartets – (Opus 127-135). These compositions are now deemed to be his greatest, simply transporting, confounding, exquisitely performed by the Quartet.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Alexander Scourby reads the King James Bible (1940-1944).

NRR Project: Duke Ellington: 'Never No More Lament: The Blanton-Webster Band' (1940-1942)

 

NRR Project: “Never No More Lament: The Blanton-Webster Band”

Music by Duke Ellington, Billy Strayhorn, Mercer Ellington and others

Performed by Duke Ellington and his Orchestra

Recorded 1940-1942

225 min.

I have been listening to this Duke Ellington material for a week, and I am a better man for it.

Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington (1899-1974) was, quite simply America’s greatest jazz composer. He led bands of varying composition throughout his career. He is distinguished for the marvelous complexity of his musical statements, which absolutely burst the bounds of the genre. Nobody could communicate more original ideas than he (and his fellow composer/arrangers and musical contributors Billy Strayhorn and Mercer Ellington).

Ellington could hear the complete range of what a jazz ensemble could convey. The sounds issued from his mind with ease into the scores, the rehearsals, the frequent performances on tour. For Ellington tested the merit of his tunes and arrangements night after night in front of paying crowds. He had a living feedback system that he used to hone his work. He was peddling popular music -- much like Mozart!

As a composer/performer/bandleader (he started as an acclaimed pianist), he could select his musicians carefully and with an ear for their particular strengths to which he could then write. He was like a painter with a box of living brushes. The collaboration is heavenly.

The control and precision of his group is legendary. The time period covered in the selection, recorded between 1940 and 1942, feature bassist Jimmy Blanton and tenor saxophonist Ben Webster. (Blanton bowed out due to a terminal case of tuberculosis at age 23, in 1941.) The rest of the ensemble are all-stars: there is Barney Bigard, Cootie Williams, Ray Nance, Juan Tizol. Ellington had these brilliant talents at his disposal, and he used them with verve and distinction.

Each number here is solidly within the jazz tradition. It is devastatingly tasteful. It is classic. It is ostensibly danceable, but I can’t but see a dance floor stilled to listening to it, such are its pleasures. It conveys wild bliss (“Jump for Joy”) and deep sorrow (“Rocks in My Bed”). It contains many of his classic works, such as “Take the A Train,“ “Jack the Bear,” “Concerto for Cootie,” “C Jam Blues,” “Ko Ko,” and “Cotton Tail,” but every cut is extraordinary.

Due to the limitations of 78 rpm records, each composition could be no longer than three minutes long. In that time, Ellington has to state a theme, propose variations, open up passages for improvisation, and reach a conclusion. And he does, every time, in a variety of ways but always of himself. Every song is a little universe of its own, ticking along with perfect timing.

There are gems everywhere, “All Too Soon” and “Harlem Airshaft,” “Five O’Clock Whistle” and "I Don’t Know What Kind of Blues I Got.” It pays to plow through these 66 recordings (there are extra takes of some of the numbers here as well) over and over again. Although many of his songs bear lyrics, they are at best pure music – the evocation of humanity’s thoughts and feelings at a time when great music and popular music intersected.

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 Budapest Quartet performs the Beethoven String Quartets (1940-1950).

NRR Project: 'Selections from George Gershwin’s Folk Opera Porgy and Bess' (1940, 1942)

 

NRR Project: “Selections from George Gershwin’s Folk Opera Porgy and Bess”

Music by George Gershwin; book, DuBose Heyward; lyricist Ira Gershwin

Performed by Todd Duncan, Anne Brown, et al; Decca Symphony Orchestra

Recorded 1940; 1942

This recording has a lengthy and convoluted evolution.

First of all, nobody really liked the original production in 1935; it didn’t last that long in its run (124 performances). Four days after it opened, George Gershwin supervised a recording of it in Manhattan; however, he booked two white singers – the great tenor Lawrence Tibbett and soprano Helen Jepson, instead of using the show’s original stars, Todd Duncan and Anne Brown! Why, Lord? The social climate must have still dictated that Caucasian singers were the only ones to properly interpret music. This kind of thinking would return in the 1950s, as record labels would take Black hits and re-record them with white groups to make them "acceptable."

A 1938 run of the show on the West Coast finally made the work popular. At that time, a few highlights from the production were put on record by Decca. Then, a 1942 Broadway revival caught fire and Decca decided to record many more passages from the show, and to release the 1940 material (featuring originals Duncan and Brown) and the cast of the subsequent recording session, using the 1942 personnel. Pieced together, it gives us 14 tracks in running order.

So it is not strictly speaking an original cast album, but it got the closest before the 1943 recording of Oklahoma!, which spawned the genre. (Oddly, Duncan sings Sportin’ Life’s “It Ain’t Necessarily So” here.)

Porgy and Bess is problematic in that it’s a show written by white people about Black life. DuBose Heyward, a white man, wrote the novel Porgy in 1925, and he worked with the Gershwins on the theatrical adaptation. The setting is “atmospheric;” the poor quarters of Catfish Row, Charlestown, South Carolina serve as a kind of sociological backdrop to the material. The dialogue is in “Black” dialect. It has been derided for simplifying Black behavior, of a kind of anthropological condescension.

Despite this, the opera works because of its intense emotional power. It’s a classic story of thwarted love, a universal experience. It contains some of the most memorable songs in the catalog: not just “Summertime” but “Bess, You Is My Woman Now,” “I Got Plenty O Nuttin,” and “It Ain’t Necessarily So” but also with the wrenching “My Man’s Gone Now,” “I Loves You Porgy” and the compelling hurricane scene.

Porgy is a disabled beggar, kind-hearted and noble. Bess is a young woman, the girl of a brute named Crown. Crown murders a man and escapes; Porgy takes Bess in. In the wings, Sportin’ Life, the local dope peddler, emerges and puts the moves on Bess himself.

Eventually, Porgy murders Crown, and is hauled away as a witness to the crime. Sportin’ Life lures Bess to go to New York. Porgy returns from jail to find Bess gone. He vows to follow her and win her back.

Simple. It’s a great story. It goes from one marvelous tune to another; it contains two of the most passionate duets in operatic literature. It makes you curse the gods that Gershwin died so young, at age 38 in 1937. What more might he have done? Ira Gershwin continued as a lyricist with other composers, but this was his crowning achievement.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Duke Ellington’s Blanton-Webster era recordings (1940-1942).

 

NRR Project: Jimmie Davis sings 'You Are My Sunshine' (1940)

 

NRR Project: “You Are My Sunshine”

Music and lyrics by: disputed

Performed by Jimmie Davis with Charles Mitchell’s Orchestra

Recorded 1940

2:40

I must point you to Ronnie Pugh’s essay on this song at theNational Recording Registry. It is excellent!

Jimmie Davis (1899-2000) was an aspiring performer and an aspiring politician as well. Born and raised in Louisiana, he made his name in the early 1930s with songs such as “Nobody’s Darling But Mine” and “It Makes No Difference Now.” He parlayed his singing notoriety into two non-consecutive terms as Louisiana’s governor.

He heard the song “You Are My Sunshine” when its purported creator, Paul Rice, played it for him in 1939. Rice sold the song to Davis and Charles Mitchell for $35 – he needed the money for his wife’s hospital bill. (It was routine at the time for performers to buy songs from songwriters and take over the copyright themselves.)

The song is plaintive, and the lyrics are sad. However, the chorus is, pardon the expression, sunny. The song has been planted in our consciousness so strongly that it is difficult to remember that it is a classic country song. It has been recorded by more than 350 artists and has been translated into 30 languages.

I used to sing this little ditty to my children at bedtime – and so it passes on to the next generation.

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 ‘original’ cast album of ‘Porgy and Bess.’