Tuesday, June 20, 2017


Harry Charles Prime (Preine) died suddenly in his home in Chalfont Thursday, June 15, 2017. He was 97 years young.

Harry was born March 5, 1920 in the East Falls Section of Philadelphia. He was a graduate of St. Bridget's Elementary and Roman Catholic High School.

In the fall of 1944, he entered and won a singing contest at the 400 Club in Washington, D.C. and was offered a week engagement at the Club. From there Prime proceeded to perform with big bands such as Randy Brooks, Tommy Dorsey, Jack Fina and Ralph Flanagan throughout the 1940's and 50's. Prime's recording of the song "Until" with Tommy Dorsey sold a million records.

In 1945, the Nations Disc Jockeys voted the Ralph Flanagan Band as the #1 band in the country and Prime was voted 20th best singer ahead of Dennis Day, Eddie Fisher and Dean Martin.

In the years following his tenure with the big bands, Prime never strayed far from the music business and worked as a disc jockey and radio host in various cities including WCAU in Philadelphia and WNPV in Lansdale.

Most recently, he relished singing at the Roasted Pepper in Chalfont and the Epicure Café in Philadelphia in front of his close friends and fans. Prime's passions were sports including baseball, golf and boxing and of course, music.

Yet with all his musical accomplishments, Prime's greatest joy has been his family. With his late wife Marie, he raised four children, Kevin Prime; Greg Prime (Romy); Ric Prime (Vince Versace); Kim Kantner (Larry), and his grandchildren, Brayden, Caelan, Austin, Mackenzie, Alexis, Taylor and Riley. Harry's children from a previous marriage are John, Harry and Bethenia.

Another icon of the big band era gone...

Wednesday, May 24, 2017


This great rememberance of Al Jolson was written by his long time friend Eddie Cantor. It was published shortly after Jolson's death on this day - October 23rd in 1950...

I was in Mobile, Alabama, when I first got the shocking news from an NBC official in New York that Al Jolson was dead of a heart attack. The telephone operator who put the call through to me was sobbing hysterically. The elevator operator who took me downstairs couldn’t control his tears. The taxi driver who drove me to the NBC studios to do a special memorial broadcast kept mumbling to himself, “Why did he have to go?”

The attendants and technicians at the studio were all red-eyed from weeping. None of these people had ever met Al Jolson personally. Yet, because Jolie was a man of the people, because he seemed to know and love everyone who had ever heard the sound of his voice, the grief over his passing was universal.

Jolie had human frailties, just as any other man. I say this in all sincerity and with my heart full of love for the man we all knew as “The King.” Jolie’s great heart, his wonderful, almost child-like spirit, and his overflowing love of humanity overshadowed everything else.

He never forgot his nearness to the people and his nearness to his God. Those of us who kidded him the most loved him the most. Whenever the gang – Jack Benny, George Jessel, George Burns and Jolie – used to gather at my house, there was never a night when we didn’t get together to sing “Mammy.” But there was never anybody who could sing “Mammy” like Jolson could.

We all looked upon him with envy because we could never hope to reach his stature, but he was also an inspiration to all his contemporaries. He was six acts of top billing rolled into one and for anyone to compete with him was like watching a midget in a sideshow trying to touch the giant’s head. To call him the biggest hunk of entertainer in show business was an understatement. He was the only entertainer who was his own lighting and his own scenery.

Jolie always loved to play jokes and get ‘em to laugh. I remember one time when I was playing opposite him in Chicago. We both lived in the Belmont Hotel in Chicago’s North Side and we used to meet after our shows and kid each other and lie to one another about the take at the box-office that night. We spent hours with each other every night for five months and I never had so much fun in all my life. The newspapers kept trying to cook up a phony feud between us but neither one of us took it seriously.

Then one day, I came down with pleurisy and my doctor advised me to close my show and take a rest.

“I can’t, Doc,” I told him. “Then all the newspapers will say, ‘Jolson drives Cantor out of town!’ ”

Sick as I was, I kept on going night after night. But then finally, I got so weak I couldn’t even walk out on the stage and so I closed the show and left for New York. Imagine my amazement when I got off the train, picked up the New York Times and read this headline on the theatrical page: “Jolson closes his show immediately after Cantor closes his show!” It turned out that Jolie had been sicker than I was, but he’d kept going only because he didn’t want the newspapers to say: “Cantor drives Jolson out of town!”

Jolie brought joy to more people than any other man alive. He was more than an actor or a singer or an entertainer – he was an experience. We kidded him about his age but he was ageless. I still cannot believe and refuse to accept the fact that he is gone. He has left his footprints on the sands of time and he will be alive to all of us just as long as we can turn on a record and hear his God-given voice that never fails to bring a strangely comforting catch in the throat, and a feeling of goodness to the heart.

from “The Real Story of Al Jolson” 1950, Spectrolux Corp.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017


I am always interested in the cooking styles of classic Hollywood. One of the most beautiful Hollywood leading ladies was Claudette Colbert (1903-1996). Here is an interesting recipe from the beautiful actress...


2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese, at room temperature
1/3 cup butter, softened
1 cup flour
1/4 teaspoon Tabasco
Dash of Worcestershire sauce
2 (10-ounce) jars of pimento-stuffed green olives, drained and blotted dry

Add cheese and butter to bowl of a food processor and blend until smooth. Add flour, Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce to form dough. Wrap each olive in a small amount of dough, completely covering the olive and forming a ball. Place on an ungreased cookie sheet and freeze. Transfer to a plastic bag and store in freezer until ready to use. To cook, place on a baking sheet and bake at 400˚ F for 12 minutes, or until crust is golden. Serve hot....

Wednesday, May 10, 2017


I have always wanted to learn more about Ethel Merman's appearance in Hello, Dolly on Broadway, and I found an interesting website which gives a complete history. You can see the full article HERE...

The Ethel Merman Dolly dynasty reigned from March 28, 1970 – December 27, 1970. On November 30th, The New York Times announced that she was closing on December 26–then, the Sunday matinee was added!

Merman had signed for three months and after two months, Mr. Merrick said, “Look: if you play it into the middle of December 1970-at that time-we will have established being the longest running show on Broadway.” She later said, “What can I say? He was a nice man!”

The role of Dolly Levi in the musical was originally written for Ethel Merman, but Merman turned it down; as did Mary Martin (although both eventually played it). Merrick then decided to audition Nancy Walker. Eventually, he hired Carol Channing, who ultimately created Dolly her signature role. Director Gower Champion was not the producer’s first choice, as Hal Prince and others (among them Jerome Robbins and Joe Layton) all turned down the job of directing the musical.

Merman retired from Broadway in 1970, when she appeared as the last Dolly Levi in Hello, Dolly! In Brian Kellow’s biography of Ethel Merman, A Life, he states that Herman made a study of all of Merman’s recordings, concluding that the role of Dolly was perfectly tailored to her talents. Herman was in Merrick’s office the day the producer made the call pitching the show to Ethel. Jerry saw Merrick go completely ashen.

When Merrick hung up, he told Jerry that Merman said she would never do another Broadway show because she had spent her life in dressing rooms.

She was tired of doing Broadway and wanted to focus on film and television. If Merrick thought he could persuade her, he was wrong. Ethel never regretted her decision.

In late 1968 and 1969, Ethel concentrated on television appearances, with guest shots on The Hollywood Palace, The Carol Burnett Show, and several of the then popular talk shows.

Try as she might to persuade the press and the public that she had “had it” with Broadway, Ethel’s level of activity in the late 1960s was not sufficient to keep her fully engaged; she had too much vitality, too much drive, and she needed a more demanding outlet than the occasional guest spot on television.

In Howard Kissel’s biography of David Merrick, David Merrick – The Abominable Showman: The Unauthorized Biography(Applause Books), he states that Ethel’s original concerns about not wanting to be compared with Ruth Gordon, creator of the role of Dolly in Thornton Wilder’s The Matchmaker, now seemed a moot point. When Carol Channing left the show in August 1965, a long line of actresses had come in as replacements: Ginger Rogers, Martha Raye, Betty Grable, Pearl Bailey, and Phyllis Diller. All had something individual to bring to the part, and Merrick reveled in the publicity value that came from announcing the next star to assume the role.

Josh Ellis, a theatrical press agent for thirty years during which he represented over 100 shows and numerous individuals, was at Ethel Merman’s opening night on March 30th, 1969. That night, local New York television critic Stewart Klein offered: “Ethel Merman in HELLO, DOLLY! is a marvel and should be seen by everybody.” The role of Dolly Levi was originally written for Ethel Merman. Josh said that night was the most enthusiastic audience that ever, ever, ever was! The cart rolled in, the newspaper was up, and the audience was screaming because they knew who was behind the newspaper. When she put the newspaper down, the audience was on its feet cheering and would not let her talk for two minutes. She finally got out the first part of “Doll…” and they cheered even more. She got a standing ovation after World, Take Me Back. She got another standing ovation after Before the Parade Passes By. It was breathless. Everything worked that night. 

For the title number, the curtain at the top of the stairs revealed Ethel Merman and the entire audience stands up. The number continues but the audience does not sit down. When she sang her solos, she sang solo. When the chorus came back in, the entire audience sang along with them. When the “waiters” put their hands behind them and swayed with her, so did the entire audience. When Ethel sang, the audience shut up and listened; they knew when to join in. By the time the show was over, the audience was drenched. On top of the two additional songs that were put back in for Ethel, because of the audience’s enthusiasm, the show went an additional seven minutes. There was no question in Josh’s mind that everyone in that audience had already seen Hello, Dolly! at least once prior to that night; probably many times before, and everyone loved it. The fact that everyone was hearing two songs they had never heard before sung by Ethel superseded any other quibbles that anyone may have had. It didn’t matter. It was such an overwhelming experience that nothing else really mattered except that it was a night to remember that would last your whole life; and that’s exactly what it did. Josh’s account is verified in Brian Kellow’s biography of Ethel Merman, A Life.

Merman ended the original run of Dolly on December 27th, 1970. It had played 2,844 performances.

Merman’s last night on a stage anywhere was at the Peabody Auditorium in Daytona Beach, Florida. Merman’s last scheduled song became Before The Parade Passes By. She had two encores of There’s No Business Like Show Business and What I Did For Love. Hello Dolly marked the end of the Merman era on broadway...

Wednesday, May 3, 2017


Guest reviewer Bruce Kogan is back with his usual in-depth look at his favorite cinematic gems. Here he is reviewing Bing Crosby's first feature film, The Big Broadcast (1932)...

Paramount made the first of its Big Broadcast films, the first and best of them. This first one gave Bing Crosby his first role in a feature film, previously he had done guest appearances and also short subjects for Mack Sennett. Not wanting to mislead anyone about who was numero uno in this film, Paramount had him play a radio crooner named Bing Crosby. Eleven years later Frank Sinatra would make his feature film debut as Frank Sinatra.

Bing's the star attraction of this one horse town radio station, appearing for Griptight Girdles on the Griptight Girdle Hour. That is when he can get to the studio. His job is being threatened and he's also coming between Stu Erwin who buys the station and Leila Hyams who's manager George Burns's secretary.

It's a thin plot, but nicely done and it's to show off some of radio's greatest talents of that year. In addition to Bing Crosby, appearing are Kate Smith, Arthur Tracy, the Boswell Sisters, Burns and Allen, Cab Calloway and Vincent Lopez with their respective orchestras, the Mills Brothers and tenor Donald Novis.

Bing gets to sing three numbers, Please and Here Lies Love which were written for this film and Dinah. Crosby made a classic recording of Dinah with the Mills Brothers and I wish they'd reprised that for the movie. Instead it's done with a black shoeshine boy giving him a beat with the rag while Bing is scatting like Ella Fitzgerald. Bing was great, but the staging is something that black people would find offensive. Please became a great early hit for him.

Here Lies Love is sung by Crosby, but he reprises it after it's been introduced by Arthur Tracy. Tracy, a Jewish immigrant from Russia, was billed as the Street Singer and had an almost operatic quality to his voice. He rivaled Crosby, Russ Columbo, Rudy Vallee, and Morton Downey in popularity as a radio singer, but American movie audiences didn't take to him. He went to Great Britain in the mid-30s and there he became a movie star. He went back to the US after World War II and only appeared sporadically after that. Tracy was fabulously wealthy due to good investments and lived to the age of 97. He did a cameo appearance in Crossing Delancey, you'll see him briefly discussing issues of the day over the pickle barrel there.

For Kate Smith, radio was a godsend. That beautiful and powerful voice was also trapped in an elephantine body like a Wagnerian opera soprano. She was never going to be a film star. But she was radio's most popular female vocalist, no one else was ever even close and she sings a great rendition of It Was So Beautiful in The Big Broadcast.

Burns and Allen did surreal comedy that was probably only equaled by Monty Python years later. Gracie Allen was in her own world and the ever patient George gave up trying to deal with her reasoning. They did some great guest bits in films like this one and two more with Bing Crosby. But they never really carried a film by themselves with the exception of Here Comes Cookie. I did a review of that and it's the best example of their work.

Donald Novis was a popular radio tenor, totally forgotten now. He also was on the Broadway stage and in Rodgers & Hart's Jumbo introduced their classic, The Most Beautiful Girl in the World. They give him Trees to sing, Joyce Kilmer's poem put to music. I wish he'd sung something more popular.

With all these radio stars it's hard to remember that the nominal star of the film is Stu Erwin. Erwin did a fabulous job in creating some great milquetoast characters from the early talkies. The climax of the film involves a long running gag with him trying to get a recording of Bing singing Please to the studio to substitute for Crosby who's AWOL. It's done almost without dialog and it is interspersed with several of the stars previously mentioned. It's a hilarious bit of slapstick.

The Big Broadcast
is enjoyable nostalgic fun and a piece of history since it's the feature film debut of America's greatest entertainer, Bing Crosby...


Friday, April 28, 2017


I know Ann-Margret is more than 30 years older than me, but there is something about her I will always be in love with. Her looks. Her personality. Her style. My wife is surprisingly okay with my crush on the legendary actress. I am happy to be commemorating Ann-Margret's 75th birthday today. Ann-Margret was born in Valsjöbyn, Jämtland County, Sweden, the daughter of Anna Regina (née Aronsson) and Carl Gustav Olsson, a native of Örnsköldsvik. She later described Valsjöbyn as a small town "of lumberjacks and farmers high up near the Arctic Circle".Her father worked in the United States during his youth and moved there again in 1942, working with the Johnson Electrical Company, while his wife and daughter stayed behind.

Ann-Margret and her mother moved to the United States in November 1946, and her father took her to Radio City Music Hall on the day they arrived. They settled just outside Chicago, in Wilmette, Illinois. She became a naturalized citizen of the United States in 1949 and took her first dance lessons at the Marjorie Young School of Dance, showing natural ability from the start, easily mimicking all the steps. Her parents were supportive; her mother handmade all her costumes. Ann-Margret's mother became a funeral parlor receptionist after her husband suffered a severe injury on his job. While a teenager, Ann-Margret appeared on the Morris B. Sachs Amateur Hour, Don McNeill's Breakfast Club, and Ted Mack's Amateur Hour.

While she attended New Trier High School in Winnetka, Illinois, she continued to star in theatricals. In 1959, she enrolled at Northwestern University, where she was a member of the sorority Kappa Alpha Theta, but did not graduate. As part of a group known as the Suttletones, she performed at the Mist, a Chicago nightclub, and went to Las Vegas, Nevada, for a promised club date which fell through after the group arrived.

The group finally arrived at the Dunes in Las Vegas, which also headlined Tony Bennett and Al Hirt at that time. George Burns heard of her performance, and she auditioned for his annual holiday show, in which Burns and she performed a soft shoe routine. Variety proclaimed, "George Burns has a gold mine in Ann-Margret ... she has a definite style of her own, which can easily guide her to star status."

In 1961, she filmed a screen test at 20th Century Fox and was signed to a seven-year contract. Ann-Margret made her film debut in a loan-out to United Artists in Pocketful of Miracles, with Bette Davis. It was a remake of the 1933 movie Lady for a Day. Both versions were directed by Frank Capra.

Then came a 1962 remake of Rodgers and Hammerstein's musical State Fair, playing the "bad girl" role of Emily opposite Bobby Darin and Pat Boone. She had tested for the part of Margie, the "good girl", but seemed too seductive to the studio bosses, who decided on the switch.The two roles represented two sides of her real-life personality — shy and reserved offstage, but wildly exuberant and sensuous onstage. In her autobiography, the actress wrote that she changed "from Little Miss Lollipop to Sexpot-Banshee" once the music began. Her next starring role, as the all-American teenager Kim from Sweet Apple, Ohio, in Bye Bye Birdie (1963), made her a major star. The rest as they say is history...

Friday, April 21, 2017


For some reason I never knew that this song originated in England...

"Limehouse Blues" is a popular 1922 British song written by the London-based duo of Douglas Furber (lyrics) and Philip Braham (music). It was made famous by Gertrude Lawrence. It has been recorded hundreds of times since, and remains in the standard jazz repertory. Some of the most notable recordings include those by Sidney Bechet, Django Reinhardt, Count Basie, Louis Armstrong, Tony Bennett, Stan Kenton, The Dave Brubeck Quartet featuring Gerry Mulligan, the Ellis Marsalis Trio, Chet Atkins with Les Paul and The Mills Brothers. Outside jazz it has been recorded by a number of bluegrass artists, most notably by Reno and Smiley.

The song has been performed in such films as Ziegfeld Follies (by Fred Astaire and Lucille Bremer in Asian makeup), and Star (by Julie Andrews, again, in Asian makeup). The song's title was used for the 1934 film Limehouse Blues.

The song was inspired by the Limehouse district of east London, which housed the London Chinatown of the late 19th and early 20th century (until the London West End Chinatown was established). The Chinese references can be heard in both the lyrics and the melody...


Oh! Limehouse kid
Oh! Oh! Oh! Limehouse kid
Going the way that the rest of them did
Poor broken blossom and nobody's child
Haunting and taunting you're just kind of wild
Oh! Oh! Oh! Limehouse blues
I've seen the real Limehouse blues
Learned from chinkies those sad China blues
Ring your fingers and tears for your crown
That is the story of old China town.

Friday, April 14, 2017


Nat King Cole was and is one of the greatest singers of all-time. He is one of those singers whom I love and have a ton of his recordings, but I don't seem to play too much. After researching and compiling this article, I want to remedy that!

A KOOL menthol cigarette smoker, he would often smoke several cigarettes in a row before recording his songs. He believed they helped keep his deep, crooning voice low. He smoked approximately three packs of cigarettes a day.

In September of 1964, Mr. Cole began experiencing weight loss and severe back pain, harbingers of the lung cancer that had not yet been diagnosed.

Following a performance at the Sands Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada during this period, he collapsed from pain and had to cut the engagement short. Friends urged him to seek medical help a couple of months later while he was working in San Francisco. He had a chest x-ray done at that time and a cancerous tumor was found on his left lung. Doctors gave him months to live and urged him to stop working. He refused and kept working until he was unable to any longer.

He entered St. John's Hospital in Santa Monica on December 9th and began cobalt (radiation) therapy on the 10th. He then had surgery to remove his left lung on January 25, 1965. Sadly, his father died of heart problems on February 1. Throughout Cole's illness his publicists promoted the idea that he would soon be well and working, despite the private knowledge of his terminal condition. Billboard magazine reported that "Nat King Cole has successfully come through a serious operation and ... the future looks bright for 'the master' to resume his career again." On Valentine's Day Cole and his wife briefly left St. John's to drive by the sea. He died at the hospital early in the morning of February 15 at the age of 45.

Cole's funeral was held on February 18 at St. James Episcopal Church on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles; 400 people were present, and thousands gathered outside the church. Hundreds of members of the public had filed past the coffin the day before. Notable honorary pallbearers included Robert F. Kennedy, Count Basie, Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr., Johnny Mathis, George Burns, Danny Thomas, Jimmy Durante, Bing Crosby, Alan Livingston, Frankie Laine, Steve Allen, and Pat Brown (the governor of California). The eulogy was delivered by Jack Benny, who said that "Nat Cole was a man who gave so much and still had so much to give. He gave it in song, in friendship to his fellow man, devotion to his family. He was a star, a tremendous success as an entertainer, an institution. But he was an even greater success as a man, as a husband, as a father, as a friend."

According to an article published after his death in the Los Angeles Times, Maria knew for several days that her husband was dying, but kept it a secret from the media so that Nat, who watched a lot of television wouldn't see a bad news report. He did not realize he was dying. Right up until the end, he thought he was recovering...

Friday, April 7, 2017


URBAN LEGEND: Does Hollywood icon Orson Welles still haunt his favorite restaurant?

STATUS: The people who work at the restaurant say it is 100% true!

This actor, producer, director and writer is still Hollywood royalty for his role in what was a brand new industry in his time. He is most well known for playing the lead role in film student must-see Citizen Kane. Orson Welles’ ghost is said to still frequent his favorite restaurant for a cigar and a bourbon. Many of the staff of Melrose Avenue restaurant Sweet Lady Jane’s have had encountered with Welles from beyond the grave.

In these accounts, Orson Welles is generally wearing a wide-brimmed black hat and a dark cape. It is also said that someone interacting with his spirit will pick up the aromas of his favorite bourbon and cigars. Although the dark spirit is somewhat ominous not one restaurant employee has reported a malicious presence along with these paranormal experiences. Sweet Lady Jane’s is still running and diners still have the chance to sit with their favorite Hollywood legend...

Friday, March 31, 2017


Before Weird Al Yankovic was making hit parodies, the talented Spike Jones (1911-1965) was making the world laugh, cringe, and admire his talent with his many records. Jones has been dead for fifty years, and he is largely forgotten but his recordings were not only great parodies, but they showed the great musicanship and talent his band had.

Here are some of his great recordings:

Der Fuehrer's Face

In 1942, a strike by the American Federation of Musicians prevented Jones from making commercial recordings for over two years. He could, however, make records for radio broadcasts. These were released on the Standard Transcriptions label (1941–1946) and have been reissued on a CD compilation called (Not) Your Standard Spike Jones Collection.

Recorded just days before the recording ban, Jones scored a huge broadcast hit late in 1942 with "Der Fuehrer's Face", a song ridiculing Adolf Hitler that followed every use of the word "Heil" with a derisive raspberry sound, as in the repeated phrase " Heil, (raspberry), Heil (raspberry), right in Der Fuehrer's face!".

More satirical songs

Other Jones satires followed: "Hawaiian War Chant", "Chloe", "Holiday for Strings", "You Always Hurt the One You Love", "My Old Flame", referring to Peter Lorre's voice (impersonated on the recording by Paul Frees) and eerie scenes in contemporary movies, and many more. The romantic ballad "Cocktails for Two", originally written to evoke an intimate romantic rendezvous, was re-recorded by Spike Jones in 1944 as a raucous, horn-honking, voice-gurgling, hiccuping hymn to the cocktail hour. The Jones version was a huge hit, much to the resentment of composer Sam Coslow.

Ghost Riders

Spike's parody of Vaughn Monroe's rendition of "Ghost Riders in the Sky" was performed as if sung by a drunkard and ridiculed Monroe by name in its final stanza:
CHORUS: 'Cause all we hear is "Ghost Riders" sung by Vaughn Monroe.
DRUNK: I can do without his singing.
FRIEND: But I wish I had his dough!

The official American release edited out the dig at Monroe, because Monroe, a popular RCA Victor recording artist and also a major RCA stockholder, demanded it. The original version was released on the European market in 1949. (A few pressings containing the first ending were mistakenly released on the West Coast and are a prized rarity today.)

All I Want for Christmas

Jones' recording, "All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth", with a piping vocal by George Rock, was a number-one hit in 1948. (Dora Bryan recorded a 1963 variation, "All I Want For Christmas is a Beatle".)

Murdering the Classics

Among the series of recordings in the 1940s were humorous takes on the classics such as the adaptation of Liszt's Liebesträume, played at a breakneck pace on unusual instruments. Others followed: Rossini's William Tell Overture was rendered on kitchen implements using a horse race as a backdrop, with one of the "horses" in the "race" likely to have inspired the nickname of the lone SNJ aircraft flown by the U.S. Navy's Blue Angels aerobatic team's shows in the late 1940s, "Beetle Bomb". In live shows Spike would acknowledge the applause with complete solemnity, saying "Thank you, music lovers." An LP collection of twelve of these "homicides" was released by RCA (on its prestigious Red Seal label) in 1971 as Spike Jones Is Murdering the Classics. They include such tours de force as Pal-Yat-Chee (Pagliacci), sung by the Hillbilly humorists Homer and Jethro, Ponchielli's Dance of the Hours, Tchaikovsky's None but the Lonely Heart, and Bizet's Carmen.
In 1944 RCA Victor released his "Spike Jones presents for the Kiddies" version of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite, in three 10 inch vinyl 78 rpm records, P-143, arrangement credited to Joe "Country" Washburne with lyrics by Foster Carling. It was released as a three 7 inch 45 rpm vinyl set in 1949 as WP-143 and as a one 45rpm extended play EPA-143 in 1952. An abridged version is also included in the aforementioned album, with a complete version available on the CD collection Spiked: The Music of Spike Jones...

Friday, March 24, 2017


I remember growing up and one of my grandfather's favorite shows to watch on rerun was "Hazel". I don't think they show that on television anymore, despite being on the air from 1961 to 1966. However, the show and the star - Shirley Booth has remained with me through the years. A prolific stage performer of the 20th Century, she is beloved by film audiences as the emotionally tortured but devoted wife, Lola Delaney in Come Back Little Sheba (1952), and by television viewers as Hazel Burke, the headstrong yet lovable housekeeper in the 1960s sitcom "Hazel".

Born Marjory Ford in New York City on August 30, 1898, she began her theatre career in stock company productions, initially under the name Thelma Booth Ford. In 1925 she made her Broadway debut in "Hell's Bells", opposite then theatre regular Humphrey Bogart. During her decades on stage she achieved popularity in dramas, comedies and musicals. She went on to star on the successful radio series "Duffy's Tavern" (1941 to 1943). Her husband at the time, Ed Gardner, created, wrote and appeared in the show; They were married from 1929 to 1943. Booth's second marriage, to William Baker, lasted from 1943 until his death in 1951. 

She returned to the stage, appearing in "Goodbye, My Fancy" (1948) of which she received her first Tony Award - Best Supporting Actress (Dramatic). Her second Tony Award was for Best Actress (Dramatic), which she received for "Come Back, Little Sheba" (1950). Her dramatic success was immediately followed by the musical "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" (1951). 

In 1952 was was cast for the film version of  Come Back Little Sheba recreating her award winning stage role. She received an Academy Award - Best Actress, becoming the first actress ever to win both a Tony and an Oscar for the same role. The film also earned her Best Actress awards from the Golden Globe Awards, The Cannes Film Festival, The New York Film Critics Circle Awards, and National Board of Review. She would spend the next few years commuting between New York and Hollywood. Her time on the silver screen would be brief, appearing in only four more films: Main Street to Broadway (1953), About Mrs. Leslie (1954), Hot Spell (1958), and The Matchmaker (1958). 

In 1961, Booth was cast in the TV sitcom, "Hazel" based on a popular comic strip from the Saturday Evening Post about a domineering but lovable housekeeper. She won two Emmys for her role and a third Emmy nomination before the series concluded in 1966. Booth continued in television, gaining an Emmy nomination for her performance as Amanda in a TV adaptation of "The Glass Menagerie." She would make two final Broadway appearances in 1970 and two final television appearances before retiring in 1974. 

During her five decade career, she earned ten major acting awards and seven nominations. For her contributions to motion pictures, she has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 6840 Hollywood Boulevard in Hollywood, California. She died after a brief illness at her home in North Chatham, Massachusetts. By the 1980s, Booth's health began to decline. She reportedly suffered a stroke which caused mobility issues and blindness. After her death, Booth's sister said she had broken her hip in 1991 which further inhibited her mobility. On October 16, 1992, Booth died at age 94 at her home in North Chatham. Booth starred in countless roles, but she will always be Hazel to me. We all should be lucky enough to have a Hazel in our lives...

Friday, March 17, 2017


Everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day, and to celebrate the wearing of the green, here are some excellent pictures of classic Hollywood celebrating...







Saturday, March 11, 2017


One of my guilty pleasures when I was first collecting movies was The Boy With The Green Hair. At the time it was a rare movie that was just different. I liked it though. Here is the original 1948 review by Bosley Crowther from the New York Times of January 13, 1949...

A novel and noble endeavor to say something withering against war on behalf of the world's unnumbered children who are the most piteous victims thereof is made in the RKO picture, "The Boy With Green Hair," a fantasy-drama in color, which opened at the Palace yesterday. But the fact that the effort is earnest is no surety of its success. For all its proper intentions, the gesture falls short of its aim.

As mere sentimental entertainment, this tale of a lad whose hair turns green as a sort of miraculous token of the cruelty of war is unevenly appealing, it being, in certain respects, a beneficiary of the pattern of the charming "On Borrowed Time." The lad in the case is an orphan and he lives with a kindly old man who has a rare tenderness toward children—and who goes by the winning name of "Gramp." Furthermore, this attractive youngster becomes obsessed with a frightening idea, from which his gentle old guardian attempts to protect and deliver him.

In its scan of the poignant relations between the elderly man and the troubled boy, this film does project intimations of real compassion which are irresistible. And it profits in this projection from cozy performances by Dean Stockwell as the youngster and Pat O'Brien as the old man. Master Stockwell is lovable yet sturdy, diminutive yet strong, and Mr. O'Brien is softly sentimental without going into "Hearts and Flowers."

But, unfortunately, the idea with which the lad becomes obsessed—and which is, supposedly, responsible for his hair turning green—is weakly motivated. And the fanciful device of rendering his hair symbolic is not only arbitrary but vague.

It is not established, for instance, whether all this we see on the screen—the phenomenal hirsute coloration and the resentment of the townsfolk thereto—is supposed to be a boy's hallucination, just another of a couple he has, or whether it is intended as a strictly whimsical device. If the former, it isn't consistent with the evident fancies of this lad's mind. If the latter, it is strangely inconclusive, when pictured thusly. And, frankly, it's banal.

For it might stand to reason that a youngster of a particularly introverted sort could be so upset by anxieties that he would sense an extreme conspicuousness. And he might even tie up this fancy in a childish way with the victimizations of war. But to reason, in adult whimsey, that wars are caused by such a superficial thing as resentment of coloration is absurd and misleading.

It is very much to be regretted that Ben Barzman and Alfred Lewis Levitt, in writing this film's script from a modest little story by Betsy Beaton, and Joseph Losey in directing it, did not clarify the implication. Not only is it now confused, but one gets the uncomfortable feeling that it is just a bright adult notion gone wrong. The use of the by-now quite hackneyed "Nature Boy" as a musical theme does not dignify the conception. The supporting cast is adequate...


Saturday, March 4, 2017


"There’s No Business Like Show Business" was  Ethel Merman's signature song, and it encapsulates her image: brassy and camp, cheerful and a little abrasive. Most readers can probably hum a few bars of this and a few other Merman songs, maybe even offer a decent impression of her legendary singing voice, but how much do they really know about La Merm?

To celebrate Merman's birthday on January. 16, we offer 10 things you may not have known about the brash songstress

1. She recorded a disco album. In 1979, disco was king. And it wasn't just popular, it was versatile. You could set almost anything to a disco beat and end up with a catchy treat for the dance floor – Beethoven's 5th Symphony, the Star Wars theme, the quacks of a disco duck… or Ethel Merman's greatest hits. Merman recorded seven of her top songs, producers added disco beats, strings and background vocals, and a cult classic was born. Although the album only made a minor splash in the clubs and never charted, it has since found a cherished and campy place in gay culture. 

2. She named her daughter Ethel Jr. Merman had two children, and they were both juniors: her son Robert and her daughter Ethel, both born to Merman and her second husband, Robert Levitt. While "Junior" wasn’t a legal part of young Ethel's name, she was nicknamed "Ethel Jr." Ethel Jr. died of a drug overdose in 1967 at the age of 25.

3. She sang with the Muppets. In the 1960s and '70s, Merman made guest appearances on a wide variety of television shows. On The Carol Burnett Show she dueted with Burnett; on Sha Na Na she knocked the boys to the ground with the power of her voice; on That Girl she reprised her role from Gypsy and gave Ann tips for achieving stardom. And then there was her Muppet Show appearance, an unexpectedly sweet guest star turn in which Merman cheered up a despondent Fozzie Bear and went on to sing with the whole gang. 

4. She was self taught. That big voice didn't come from years of lessons, working and studying to increase her range and power. No, it was all natural – Merman never had a singing lesson in her life. And yet her powerful voice could reach every corner of a Broadway theater, right to the back row, without amplification. And her enunciation was so crystal clear that every word could be heard and understood by the folks in that back row. Composer George Gershwin was so impressed that he begged her never to work with a vocal teacher. 

5. Tonsillitis improved her voice. In 1929 the young starlet contracted a severe case of tonsillitis. Merman agreed to a tonsillectomy despite fears that it would ruin her greatest asset, her big and distinctive voice. To her surprise and delight, once she had recovered and tried singing again, her voice was even more powerful than it had been before the surgery. 

6. She was married to Ernest Borgnine for 32 days. Merman's marriage to Borgnine was her fourth, last and briefest. Merman admitted she didn't have the best judgment when it came to men: in a radio interview, she noted of her many marriages, "We all make mistakes, that's why they put rubbers on pencils, and that's what I did. I made a few loo-loos!" Her 1972 memoir Merman includes a chapter entitled "My Marriage to Ernest Borgnine" that consists of nothing more than a single blank page. But don't worry about Borgnine – he got off his own quip too, commenting about the marriage, "Biggest mistake of my life. I thought I was marrying Rosemary Clooney." 

7. Jacqueline Susann fell in love with her. It may or may not be true that Merman had an affair with Susann, queen of the trashy novel. Some say that Merman was spotted making out with the author on a couch at a party; others assert that Merman, though a staple of gay culture, wasn't interested in other women at all. But what's certain is that Susann once showed up at Merman's New York apartment, distraught and screaming "I love you!" Susann went on to base her Valley of the Dolls character Anne, an aging stage actress, on Merman. 

8. Her role in Gypsy was her biggest triumph – and her biggest disappointment. Merman loved playing Rose Hovick, mother of Gypsy Rose Lee and June Havoc, on Broadway in Gypsy. Her interpretation brought rave reviews from fans and critics alike – she was called brilliant and indomitable. Yet she didn't win the Tony that year (it went to Mary Martin in The Sound of Music, and Merman took it in stride, quipping "How are you going to buck a nun?"), and, surprisingly, she didn't land the role in the film. Merman fully expected to play Rose on the silver screen, having been assured by the director that the role was hers. But in the end, without much explanation, the film role was given to Rosalind Russell. Though Merman considered the loss of the movie "the greatest professional disappointment of my life," she stuck with the Broadway show, even continuing on the national tour with a severe back injury.

9. In 1954, Ethel made the splashy musical "There's No Business Like Show Business" featuring a slew of Irving Berlin tunes. Her co-stars included Dan Dailey, Mitzi Gaynor, Donald O'Connor, and the great Marilyn Monroe. Ethel did not think she was so great, and she hated Marilyn for her unprofessional behavior on the set. As a result, Merman made life miserable on the set for the blond bombshell and would intimidate Monroe so much that Marilyn would throw up after every scene they had together.

10. She loved dirty jokes. Merman had a blue sense of humor and a mouth like a sailor's. She delighted in opportunities to share vulgar jokes – whether she was shouting them across crowded rooms or including them in greeting cards...