A lot of highlights in this week's Theme Time Radio Hour, which was either titled "(We Climb Aboard) Noah's Ark" or "Animals: Part 1" dependent on which teaser from Pierre Mancini you want to use.
Stand-out for the show for me had to be Bonnie Raitt's stunning version of Baby, Mine. The song was originally sung as a lullaby to Dumbo the elephant by his Mom in the Disney cartoon. Raitt turns it into a torchy love song that, as Mr. D. says, sounds as if she's singing it to the man she loves. In fact, Our Host seems so awed by Raitt's version that he uses that exact same phrase in both introducing and closing the song.
A little searching uncovered that Baby Mine appears on Stay Awake: Various Interpretations of Music from Vintage Disney Films a compilation from 19 and 88 that immediately went into my Amazon shopping cart. The song's arrangement was by Don Was, of Was (Not Was), and impressed Bonnie Raitt so much that she recruited Was to produce her next album.
One of the fun - sometimes frustrating - games to play with TTRH is "Name That Tune" or sometimes "Name That Clip," identifying the various snippets from song, film and T.V. that are used as bed music and underscores throughout the show. I'm still trying to figure out the name of the jazzy piano piece used underneath this episode's "Nighttime in the Big City" intro, as Ellen Barkin re-appears and relates to her audience that, "a burly man sells factory-second tube socks out of his car's trunk."
There's also a great bossa nova version of the theme from The Monkees playing as Mr. D.'s explores the social organization of bonobo monkeys, which have "large sexual repertoires" according to Wikipedia, and sadly relates that he misses the `60s.
I immediately recognized the clip from Cool Coz's wonderful "Noah" routine, which appeared on his first album, Bill Cosby Is a Very Funny Fellow Right!recorded live at The Bitter End club in Greenwich Village way back in 19 and 63. If your only knowledge of Bill Cosby is as the Huxtable patriarch, check out the video above and recordings of his early work.
It's possible that Mr. D. saw Cosby do "Noah" live. They were both working the same clubs, and Suze Rotolo mentions in A Freewheelin' Time that Dylan and The Coz "bonded in ambition early on."
Other show highlights included "Cousin Emmy" opening with one of her signature tunes, Groundhog and Tex Ritter doing one of the many variations of Froggy Went a-Courtin', with Our Host, as always, avoiding mention of the fact that it's a song he's covered himself. Cousin Emmy, by the way, deserves a Dreamtime post of her own, and I'm going to hold off saying anything more about her until I get around to doing it. I should also take a look at The Monkey Speaks His Mind, which, as Mr. D. notes, has a much longer history before Dave Bartholomew put it to music. I'm pretty sure that song originated from the Black oral tradition of "toasts."
Mr. D. tells a dreadful joke about giraffes, which he's told us before. There's a lengthy phone call from a "Tempest Foxx," who's working in a, uh, club, in Australia and who tells us more than any of us probably needed to know about the oeuvre of Grizzly Adams.
Tempest seems to share the same confusion about songs of The Beatles as the caller from the "Money" show, Carol, did as she asks for I Am The Walrus by The Who. Unlike Carol, though, Tempest is willing to accept Mr. D.'s correction, noting that all those English bands sound alike to her anyway, and changes her request to a song about kangaroos. Mr. D. complies with Rolf Harris' Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport, and solos - he claims - on the didgeridoo after the song. I kept on hoping for a didgeridoo version of Blowin' in the Wind, but no joy.
Our Host closed the show noting that he had decided 20 minutes into it that he was going to have to do a second show on the subject, not having time to play among others, Memphis Minnie's Mean Red Spider. So we'll have "Animals: Part 2" to look forward to next week.
The Castaways, with their one and only hit single, Liar, Liar. Note that the clip is pixalated for the first few seconds, but then straightens out. Thanks to Dreamtime pals, Doug, "CamLwalk," and "Dreamtime Fan," among others for answering that question that was bugging us, man, about what Mr. D. was playing at the opening of the "Truth and Lies" episode.
The reason the song seemed so familiar to me, beach movie addict that I am, is that The Castaways perform Liar, Liar in It's A Bikini World, a movie released in 19 and 67, two years after Liar, Liar had charted. One of the last of the great AIP beach movies, It's a Bikini World was shot in 19 and 65, when Liar, Liar was still a hot ticket, but for reasons unknown the film was held off the market until 1967, when the beach movie craze was in intensive care and heading towards the morgue.
Although never officially released, the ever-useful Video Beat offers It's a Bikini World on DVD-R. If you like beach party movies like we like beach party movies, you can't go wrong with It's a Bikini World, which has about every thing you would want from a beach party movie except Annette. Ignoring that one flaw, It's a Bikini World does have a Disney connection, as it stars Tommy Kirk, who does his best Frankie Avalon, with Deborah Walley standing in for Annette. As well as The Castaways, The Animals perform We've Got To Get Out of This Place, and girl group The Toys offer Attack.
And because Dreamtime is all about Theme Time Radio Hour, we'll also provide a TTRH connection. If you catch the movie, dig Tommy Kirk's sidekick. That's one "Bob Pickett," who would be better known as Bobby "Boris" Pickett, creator of that graveyard smash, The Monster Mash, which you can read all about right here.
The Castaways, boys from Minnesota, as is Prince, and a certain musician who moonlights as deejay, never again caught the wave as they had with Liar, Liar, and eventually broke up. Two of the original members formed a new group in California with the same name and were active into the `70s. There's still a band called The Castaways around today, although only one original founding member, Jim Donna, is involved with the latest incarnation of the group. The Castaways are available for "community concerts and dance party events to the intimate settings of the country club or wedding reception," according to their web page, playing everything from The Righteous Brothers to Bruce Springsteen. And, one can assume, Liar Liar.
We have a couple of TTRH-related miscellanea to talk about, nothing weighty enough for a post by itself, so we're hereby initiating the Dreamtime Theme Time Radio Hour Roundup Day, which, as all good Mouseketeers know, always comes on a Friday.
Our readers probably know by now that the "deluxe" edition of Together Through Life will include as a bonus disc the "Friends & Neighbors" Theme Time episode, first broadcast way back in Season 1, August of 2006. The track listing on Amazon matches up to the aired show, and I think one can safely assume that Our Host's commentary will be included.
"Friends & Neighbors" will be the second "official" full TTRH show to be released. The first, of course, was the "Baseball" show from Season 1, itself a not-for-sale promotional CD that was haphazardly distributed to some stores such as the now-defunct Circuit City. As I remember, you had to buy both Modern Times and at least one other Dylan CD at onerous CC prices in order to get your "free" copy of the "Baseball" show. Being the total TTRH fanboy that I am, I have two copies of the show. It still remains one of the best TTRHs ever aired, if, for no other reason, Mr. D's a capella rendition of the full Nellie Kelly version of Take Me Out To The Ball Game.
The Fan's Conundrum
Speaking of "official," there's been a minor kerfuffle in various online forums about Our Host's comments to a supposed email in this week's "Family" show. In reply to a listener's aside that she copies various TTRH episodes to pass on to her family, Mr. D. notes that he "can't condone that," goes into Ann Landers' mode to straighten out the listener's family problems, and concludes his commentary with a stern, "And stop giving my shows away!"And stop making copies of my show! (Dylan's actual statement courtesy of our friends over at RightwingBob).
The comment generated some angst among fans. Is he talking about us? Does he mean it? What does that mean in relation to Mr. D.'s remark in an earlier show that listeners should go "illegally download" TTRHs that they've missed?
"Who knows?" is what we say here at Dreamtime. You can drive yourself crazy trying to parse any Bob Dylan remark, of course. If he said, "the sky is blue," there would be several articles - if not books - written on its exact meaning, postulating everything that it had been an ironic commentary on the American political situation to proof positive that Dylan was a Freemason.
On the other hand, he might have meant that the sky was blue.
The whole bootleg/download thing is something that any Bob Dylan fan has to confront and deal with on an individual basis. At Dreamtime we subscribe to Sirius XM as a means to assuage our conscience, and we encourage others in a position to do so to do the same. We also make copies of the show, usually for personal use only. Occasionally we make copies for family and friends. We don't sell them.
That still doesn't make it right. Plus, we have to deal with the fact that bootlegging is one of the few issues I can remember where Dylan's position has been unchanging and unyielding. Space travel is the only other subject I can think of where his opinion has been the same each time it's been brought up. He doesn't like either, period. He's compared bootleggers to thieves and house-breakers and complained that they've diluted his artistic opus. He won't play any new work on tour until it's been released on album for fear that the first release would be a bootlegged release... which, of course, it would.
So, we're dealing with a revered figure that has flatly said that he doesn't want us doing what we're doing, while we grasp at straws like, "some of these bootleggers they make pretty good stuff," in our defense.
Yet we still do it. Such is the conundrum of the fan.
It's a conundrum that even Our Host has fallen into at times. In at least three instances Theme Time Radio Hour has played bootlegged music: a Frank Sinatra commercial for Pete Epsteen Pontiac in the "Cars" episode of Season 1, and more recently, the "Blood" and "War" shows featured two Jerry Lee Lewis songs that have never been officially released. An obviously delighted Bob Dylan noted, "You know, if anybody ever asks me why I do this radio show, I could just play them that - Jerry Lee Lewis singing Shakespeare. That's what this show is all about."
Indeed. And we all would have been the poorer if he hadn't played them. Such is the conundrum of the fan.
Name That Tune
We'll leave it at that and with a question for our readership which is bugging the usually infallible crack Dreamtime research team. At the beginning of the "Truth & Lies" show, when Mr. D. claims that we're listening to Little Steven's Underground Garage, there's a song playing in the background. It's annoyingly familar to me, I can even hum it all the way through, but damned if I can think of its title or the artist. Can anyone clue me in?
"A lot of musicians have always been proud to have commercial affiliation. Sonny Boy Williamson sold flour. I can't imagine Sonny Boy saying, 'My blues is too sacred. I wouldn't sell flour.' Jimmie Rodgers sold biscuits. Sheryl Crow sells hair dye. More power to her.
"And Jackie, have you ever seen a Victoria's Secret ad?" - Bob Dylan, Theme Time Radio Hour, "Days of the Week" episode.
A couple of commercial affiliation notices. First, a heart-felt thanks to the various messages of support - some from unexpected sources - we've received over the past few weeks. It's much appreciated. Dreamtime has weathered various storms over the years, We'll weather this one too.
A number of our Great Britain and European reader/listeners asked if we could put up affiliate links to amazon.co.uk, since that's where they did their shopping rather tham amazon.com. If you look over in the right column now, you'll find a link to Dreamtime amazon.co.uk as well as an amazon.co.uk. search box. The deal is the same as with the U.S. amazon. Start your visit to Amazon through Dreamtime, and if you make any purchases, we get a small piece of the action, at no additional cost to you. Can we make a living from it? Nope. Does it help offset our Jones for books and music? Definitely yes.
You'll also see a new web widget at the top of the page, this one a promotion for Mr. D's forthcoming Together Through Life. I'm still tinkering with it, but it currently has a live news feed about the album; a Twitter feed from DylanTweets; one of my ubiquitous countdown clocks; and a purchase link to amazon.com. I'll be adding more stuff as bobdylan.com/Sony releases it. You'll see a small "Share" button at the bottom right, or you can go to this link to see a list of various platforms you can embed the widget on. So if you're into Facebook, iGoogle, MySpace, et al; feel free to grab the widget and use it on your own site. That's what it's there for.
Our Host: We must have a lot of sugar and candy fans out there. Let's see who's on line number two. Hello, caller, you're on the air!
Candy McNeal: Hi!
OH: Hello there, what's your name?
CM: I'm Candy McNeal.
OH: Where ya calling from Candy?
CM: I'm calling from Rockville, Maryland.
OH: Rockville, Maryland?
CM: Yeah, Rockville, Maryland. It's the "Valentine City."*
OH: Oh, sure, of course. What can I do for you, Candy?
CM: Well, I remember when I was a kid, there was this song I used to hear. It was something about "peppermint trees" and there were "streams of lemonade." And I think there was a lake of soda pop? People just think I'm crazy when I talk about it. Could you possibly tell me if I'm dreaming, or if that's actually the song.
OH: Well, Candy, you're not dreaming, and you're not crazy.
[music] There is a song like that. We talked about Harry McClintock. We played him on our "Rich Man, Poor Man" show.**
We told you about him being an actor, poet, and painter... and a songwriter. He wrote a song called The Big Rock Candy Mountain from the perspective of a hobo. He gained experience from traveling all over the land with the unemployed. He had great respect for the hobos and bums, and became their musical voice. The song Big Rock Candy Mountain is about a heaven for the homeless. The dogs have rubber teeth. The police have wooden legs. The jail bars are made of tin. They're going to "hang the jerk who thought of work."
Well, it's got a catchy tune, and kids loved it, but these weren't appropriate words for kids. So, they changed it. The cigarette trees became the peppermint trees that you remember. The streams of alcohol - that's right - they became the streams of lemonade. And that lake of soda pop you asked about is really a lake of whiskey.
People like Burl Ives recorded the kid's version, and it's great for kids to learn songs like this, but here on Theme Time Radio Hour we're all grown-ups. So why don't we listen to the original version: Big Rock Candy Mountain by Harry McClintock. I hope that helps you out, Candy, and have fun in the Valentine City!
CM: Thank you so much. I'm so glad to have cleared that up.
~ Phone call during the "Sugar & Candy" episode of Theme Time Radio Hour
Notes and Corrections
Some notes before we get started.
* Rockville, Maryland may well be known to someone, somewhere, as the "Valentine City," but if so, the City Fathers don't go out of their way to advertise that fact. I can't find any mention of Rockville ever having any nickname. Maybe if Dreamtime has any listeners in the Rockville area, they can straighten us out.
On the other hand, there is a Valentine, Nebraska, so maybe Candy was really from there and concealing her location in order to thwart stalkers.
** After nearly 100 shows, Mr. D. can be forgiven for occasionally mixing up episodes. And no Tim Ziegler, we, or us, or something. However, Harry McClintock's Hallelujah, I'm a Bum didn't appear in "Rich Man, Poor Man" but in the first Theme Time Radio Hour potpourri show, "Thanksgiving Leftovers," way back in November of 2006.
As I write this addendum in late 2018, I've probably received more email on this article than any other Dreamtime post, almost all from lawyers or people who have run afoul of the current copyright holders of Big Rock Candy Mountain.
When I originally posted the story in 2009, my research indicated that Harry McClintock had lost his case against Billy Mack, and the song had been ruled in the public domain. Wherever I found that claim has long disappeared from these here Webbernets, and if true, appears to be unprovable, at least as far as my later research now indicates. What is true is that McClintock's heirs are not shy about defending their rights to Big Rock Candy Mountain including obtaining a settlement from Burger King for its unauthorized use of the song's music in a 2005 commercial.
I still have my doubts that McClintock authored Big Rock CandyMountain, no more than Bob Dylan wrote the music to Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, but can I help you prove it? Nope, sorry. If I do ever come across that long-ago case, I'll be sure to post it here. Normally I resist making after-the-fact corrections or edits, preferring to let my mistakes stand, but in this case, I've revised my article to reflect the facts, such as they are, so as not to raise any more false hopes for those thinking Big Rock CandyMountain is in the public domain.
On with our show...
***
Episode 61 - Oh, That Big Rock Candy Mountain
[Harry McClintock on The Big Rock Candy Mountains]
Harry McClintock, known at various times in his colorful career as "Haywire Mac," "Radio Mac," sometimes simply as "Mac," and maybe once as "Hats McKay," (more on that one later) claimed to have written Big Rock Candy Mountain - originally as The Big Rock Candy Mountains - sometime around 1898 when he was 16 years old, on the bum, and singing for his supper on street corners.
"But my new trade," McClintock told an interviewer. "brought new dangers. I was a shining mark; a kid who could not only beg handouts but who could bring in money... a valuable piece of property for the jocker who could snare him... there were times when I fought like a wildcat or ran like a deer to preserve my independence and virginity..."
That last word, virginity, is key. McClintock is referring to one of the dirty little secrets of the Romance of the Open Road. Rather than yard bulls and train wheels, the biggest danger a rail-riding youth faced was being besieged by predatory hobos, known as "wolves" and "jockers," who promised food, protection, booze, and what-all in exchange for the boy's, ah, sexual favors.
Ghost Stories
"The Big Rock Candy Mountains may appear a nonsense song," noted a commentary that accompanied the first publication of the adult version. "But to all pied pipers in on the know it is an amusing exaggeration of the 'ghost stories' used in recruiting kids."
"Ghost story" was a hobo slang term for any plausible - but untrue - story, whether told to a housewife in order to promote a handout, or told to a young boy to entice him into the hobo life. As ghost stories go, The Big Rock Candy Mountains was one big fable of fun and adventure, where cigarette trees, lemonade springs and soda water fountains were always at hand for the taking. Harry McClintock's claimed original is pretty much recognizable as the better-known Big Rock Candy Mountain. At least until we get to the final stanza, where a sadder but wiser lad tells his older traveling companion:
The punk rolled up his big blue eyes
And said to the jocker, "Sandy,
I've hiked and hiked and wandered too,
But I ain't seen any candy.
I've hiked and hiked till my feet are sore
I'll be God damned if I hike any more
[To be buggered sore like a hobo's whore]
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains."
The exact wording of that penultimate line is in question, as both published transcripts of The Big Rock Candy Mountains blank the line out to spare the tender sensibilities of their readership. Musicologists have extrapolated gentler versions of that missing line, and some even randier versions. But in all cases, the ah, thrust, is the same.
For obvious reasons, Harry McClintock never recorded his "adult" The Big Rock Candy Mountains, although he comes teasingly close in the interview I played at the beginning of the show. He did record a clean version for Victor in 19 and 28, and promptly launched a plagiarism suit against a "Billy Mack," a ukulele player who had copyrighted the sheet music for his take on Big Rock Candy Mountain that same year. McClintock produced his lyrics, including the final stanza featuring the buggered boy, as evidence of his authorship to what must have been a very bemused judge.
Evidence about whether McClintock won or lost that particular case is shrouded in the mists of history, with some writers noting that the court ruled that Big Rock Candy Mountain was a traditional tune and in the public domain, fair game for any musician to try his hand at. However, at some point McClintock definitely won a ruling about his ownership of Big Rock Candy Mountain, as to this day his heirs take aggressive legal action against anyone, including at one point, Burger King, who use the song without their permission. McClintock complained bitterly about the appropriation of Big Rock Candy Mountain in a letter to the League of Composers, asking how they thought so-called "hillbilly" songs could apparently be written by no one.
"The theory seems to be they are created by some sort of spontaneous generation," he wrote.
***
Actually, that's not a bad theory. And, we'll talk about that it a moment, but first:
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Thanks for your time, friends, and now back to our show.
***
The Strange Case of Miss Peggy Lee and Mr. "Hats" McKay
It's likely that Harry McClintock's version of Big Rock Candy Mountain was one in a long line of songs that derived from an English ballad that first appeared in written form in 16 and 85, called An Invitation to Lubberland. In Lubberland, all the brooks and streams ran with fine wine, and the hills were spun of sugar candy. There's even a sexual element to the old song. In Lubberland, if one found himself without a wife, you simply borrowed your neighbor's.
Wherever Mac first heard the source song of The Big Rock Candy Mountains, it's obvious that it was itself a variation of another, much more explicit, song called The Appleknocker's Lament, which Harry McClintock also may or may not have written. The only known written copy of The Appleknocker's Lament was sent to the Library of Congress by a collector in 19 and 27. The big rock candy mountains make an appearance in that song, as does the disillusioned kid, who relates very explictly that he's tired of sitting on a hobo's peg and of being a "punkerino."
Harry McClintock made something of a career of claiming authorship of traditional songs and trying to copyright them, usually without much success from a monetary standpoint, although he was persistent enough to get credited by History for several works that he probably didn't write.
John Greenway, who first collected the randy version of McClintock's The Big Rock Candy Mountains for his book, American Songs of Protest, was willing to give Mac the benefit of the doubt, although he did note that McClintock offered virtually the same evidence as he had for his claim that he wrote Hallelujah, I'm a Bum. That is, he produced a version of the song with some added and some changed lyrics, which he claimed was the true original. McClintock probably wasn't the original author of Hallelujah, I'm a Bum either. It's more likely he heard the original of that song at some I.W.W. meeting in the early 1900s, although Mac claimed he authored it at around the same time he wrote The Big Rock Candy Mountains, when he would have been age 15 or 16.
And then there's the strange case of Peggy Lee and "Hats" McKay.
In 19 and 47 Peggy Lee had a Number One hit with a song she co-authored, Manana. One "Hats" McKay, described in reports as an "elderly banjo player," filed a plagiarism suit against Lee and company, claiming that Manana was a reworking of a song "Hats" had written way back in 19 and 19, Midnight on the Ocean.
Here's where things start to get interesting. According to her biography, Fever: The Life and Music of Miss Peggy Lee, "Hats" McKay real name was "Harry McClintock". Whether this was our Harry McClintock, I can't determine, but I'm pretty sure it was. Harry McClintock was also the author of a song called Ain't We Crazy, which was a variation of yet another traditional tune titled - you guessed it - Midnight on the Ocean.
Our Mac or not, "Hats" McKay followed in Harry McClintock's grand tradition, losing his case against Peggy Lee. This may have been partially due to "Hats" habit of strumming his banjo while court was in session, irritating the judge no end. More likely the scales of justice tilted in Peggy's favor when Jimmy Durante made a surprise appearance, wheeling in a piano and launching into his Laughing Song, which also shared musical similarities with Manana and Midnight on the Ocean.
With the Ol' Schnozolla on your side, how could you lose? The court ruled that the melody Manana shared with Midnight on the Ocean was in the public domain. "Hats" retired back into the mists of history. Manana, however, wouldn't be a particularly happy memory for Peggy Lee. Her co-author husband, who had a drinking problem, went out on a binge to celebrate their winning the case, and tried to sell the rights to the song for two tickets to the Rose Bowl that same night.
***
A Poet, Pirate, Pauper, Pawn and a King
Haywire Mac would move into radio in a big way in the mid-20s, becoming "Radio Mac" and hosting a popular children's show in San Francisco called "Mac and his Gang." He'd later try his hand in Hollywood, and Mr. D. might have even seen him on-screen, as Mac made it into several Gene Autry films, although his part was usually limited to saying "He want that-away."
In the early `50s, Mac returned to San Francisco and radio, and eventually even television. He passed away at age 74. He was at various times in his life a bum, street musician, cowboy, railroad brakeman, poet, painter, actor, labor organizer, magazine writer, and model for several fictional characters...
... and maybe the composer of Big Rock Candy Mountain and Hallelujah, I'm a Bum...
...or maybe not.
Thanks as always for reading and listening to Dreamtime. Remember you can find out what we're up to as well as Bob Dylan and Theme Time Radio Hour-related news on Twitter at DylanTweets.
Sources:Various entries on Harry McClintock and Big Rock Candy Mountain at the always invaluable Mudcat Cafe.
Haywire Mac's Big Rock Candy Mountain story and song is from a 1972 Folkways recording and can be found on Amazon in mp3 format, as can the complete album. A bargain at $8.99.
This show was suggested by a friend of Dreamtime, Mr. Adam Dean.
Opening segment courtesy of Arnold Stang from, The Clock That Went Tock-Tick.
***
You've been listening to the Dreamtime podcast – occasional commentary on Bob Dylan's Theme Time Radio Hour. Dreamtime is researched and written by Fred Bals and is a Not Associated With production. As the name says, we're not associated with XM Radio, Bob Dylan, or much of anything else.
Some of the music on Dreamtime is provided via the Podsafe Music Network. Check it out at music.podshow.com.
... was yesterday, March 5, in 19 and 63, when Patsy Cline, Cowboy Copas, and Hawkshaw Hawkins were killed in a plane crash outside of Camden, Tennessee. Randy Hughes, who was Copas' son-in-law, Patsy Cline's manager, and the pilot of the plane, was also killed.
You might point at the crash as proof of the old adage that bad luck comes in threes. The group was returning from a benefit show in Kansas City for the family of a disc jockey, Cactus Jack Call, who had recently died in an automobile accident. Jack Anglin, of the country duo Johnny and Jack, would himself be killed in a car accident a few days later on his way to a memorial service for Cline, Copas, and Hawkins.
Of the three, Patsy Cline is the best-remembered today. But at the time, all three were superstars of the Grand Ole Opry. Hawkins had just recorded Lonesome 7-7203, which would, posthumously, become his biggest hit.
Here's Hawkshaw Hawkins with Lonesome 7-7203...
... After a stint selling stocks and bonds, and dabbling in managing other performers, Copas at age 50 had just revived his career with a major hit, Alabam. Patsy Cline with Cowboy Copas on I'm Hog-Tied Over You...
I'm hog-tied over all three of them. They are missed, but never forgotten
You start off doing one thing, and end up doing another. Coming up, a post on the location where the Dreamin' of You video was shot. But first, this amazing video of The Brown Sisters performing Underneath the Harlem Moon.
Underneath the Harlem Moon was written by Mack Gordon, née Morris Gitler, in 19 and 32 when Gordon was 28, and was his first big hit. Gordon would later go on to write many more memorable - and less racist - songs, including Chattanooga Choo-Choo, You Make Me Feel So Young, and Etta James' signature song, At Last.
Except for the urban references, Underneath the Harlem Moon was a straight-ahead minstrel show number, and a 21st century perspective might find it surprising that it was popularized by black performers - it was a favorite of Ethel Waters - and popular with black audiences, although it was also a huge hit among whites. Billie Holiday notes in her pseudo-biography Lady Sings the Blues that she used the song in an audition "because it was so popular," and subsequently lost the job when Waters, who was heading the bill, said that nobody else sang Underneath the Harlem Moon except Herself and The Brown Sisters.
Ethel Waters would introduce Underneath the Harlem Moon to film in 19 and 33 in a short called Rufus Jones for President starring Sammy Davis, Jr. as a seven-year-old whose mother, played by Waters, dreams he gets elected president. We'll pause for a moment to reflect on all the obvious ironies. You can find Rufus Jones for President on YouTube, although the usual caveats about this sort of material apply. If you're offended by Underneath the Harlem Moon you'll almost surely be more offended by Rufus Jones.
Waters' version, which you can hear about 4 minutes into Part 2 of Rufus Jones for Presidentis notable as it deals head-on with the racism of the original lyrics, zapping the Jewish composer in the process with a change of “darkies” to “schwartzes.”
“You may call it madness” turns into “white folks call it madness.” And then Waters adds a series of brand-new lyrics, creating, as a review at the Faking It blog terms it, "... an incredible act of reclamation, changing racism to triumph."
Once we wore bandannas, now we wear Parisian hats,
Once we were barefoot now we wear shoes and spats,
Once we were Republican but now we’re Democrats
Underneath our Harlem moon.
We don’t pick no cotton, pickin’ cotton is taboo.
All we pick is numbers, and that includes you white folks too,
’Cause if we hit, we pay our rent on any avenue
Underneath our Harlem moon.
We just thrive on dancin’;
Why be blue and forlorn?
We just laugh, grin, let the landlord in--
That’s why house rent parties were born!
We also drink our gin, puff our reefers, when we’re feelin’ low,
Then we’re ready to step out and take care of any so-and-so.
Don’t stop for law or no traffic when we’re rarin’ to go,
Underneath our Harlem moon.
Love and Theft, baby. Love and Theft. Throw the stereotype at us, and we'll just turn it on its head and sell it right back to you.
As Mr. D. might say, I don't know very much about The Brown Sisters, although they apparently were very popular on stage and radio during the `30s, at least on the East Coast. Several YouTube commentators noted the heavy influence of The Boswell Sisters in this clip. Certainly true, as were any singing sister act of the time - including The Andrews', who would eventually overshadow The Boswell's.
The Brown Sisters never recorded, and Underneath the Harlem Moon is all we have left of them. The clip is from a so-called "race" film, Harlem Revue, created by the Feeber Film Corp. circa 19 and 38, presumambly in an attempt to popularize the featured "all-star cast of radio performers" to theater goers. The setting appears to be a stage set for an actual theater production, and Harlem Revue may be one of the few documents left of a complete black burlesque minstrel show of the late '30s .Harlem Revue can be found at the internet archive, and again, I have to provide the warning that much of the material - especially the opening blackface routine - is extremely racist and offensive. Nevertheless, it is our past, and one ignores the past at his peril.
In honor of the forthcoming "Questions" show, an update to the classic Abbot and Costello Who's On First? routine, performed by the Animaniac's Slappy Squirrel and her nephew Skippy in Woodstock Slappy.
As older Dreamtimers know, the original skit was performed by the great comedy team, Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, and is the most famous of many burlesque routines centered around word confusion. The earliest example may be a skit designed for a straight man and comic probably written at the start of the 20th century called "The Baker Scene," where the straight man relates that he's getting paid for loafing in a bakery.
Comic: I'd like to get a job in that bakery. Who's the boss? Straight Man: Yes. Comic: That's what I'm asking. Who's the boss? SM: Yes. C: Who's the guy you're working for? SM: Exactly. C: I'm asking you for the last time, what's the name of your boss? SM: No, Watt's the name of the street.
And we're off. Abbott and Costello originally introduced Who's On First? in their stage act, and eventually trotted it out to a larger audience during their run on The Kate Smith radio show in 19 and 38. By 19 and 44, the duo had had the routine copyrighted, and it became a staple of their radio and television appearances.
The first rock'n-roll version seems to have been done by the L.A.-based comedy group, The Credibility Gap, in the mid-70s. The Credibility Gap's routine centered around a music promoter trying to write a newspaper ad about a concert to feature The Who, The Guess Who, and Yes. Hilarity, as one could guess, ensued. I've heard the Credibility Gap version, and it's not half as funny as Woodstock Slappy.
Although it took some 60-odd years, life finally imitated art in 2007 when the Los Angeles Dodgers added an infielder named Chin-Lung Hu. After Hu singled in a game against the San Diego Padres, Dodgers announcer Vin Scully solemnly remarked "And Hu's on first."
"I've waited my entire life to say that," Scully later added.
"Nothing less than a re-interpertation of one of the great Greek myths."* ~ Bob Dylan on La Muerte de Fred Gomez Carrasco
"When the legend becomes fact, print the legend." Maxwell Scott in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
Our Host: I told Steve Earle the subject of this week's show. He put down his coffee cup and said, "I gotta tell you something 'bout a guy named Fred Gomez Carrasco. He took people hostage at the Huntsville Prison in Texas. It ended in a bloody massacre."
Actually, let me let Steve tell you about it.
Steve Earle: Well Bob, I do have a favorite robber or desperado by the name of Fred Gomez Carrasco, and there are a 150 corridos that I know of like 10 of which were released on the day that he was killed, which was like in 1969 or '70. He broke out of Huntsville Prison in Texas with three other guys. They made a huge Trojan Horse out of cafeteria tables. And they negotiated for hours. Big stand-off. And they tried to roll the thing out and to get into a van that was waiting for them. The Texas Rangers knocked it down with fire hoses and killed him and all of the hostages.
(laughs)
The next day there were like three different corridos already on the air in San Antonio when I was growing up.
Our Host: Steve sent me this song all about Fred Gomez Carrasco. A one act sacramental drama, the song. Nothing less than a re-interpertation of one of the great Greek myths.
"La Muerte de Fred Gomez Carrasco"
El sabado 3 de agosto del año 74 en la prision del estado mataron a Fred Carrasco lo acribillaron a tiros en compañia de otros 4
On a Saturday, August 3rd
in the year `74
at the State Prison
they killed Fred Carrasco.
Riddled him with bullets
in the company of four others.
The first impulse is to write that the loathsome Fred Carrasco was an unlikely hero to be featured in any ballad, but that's coming from an Anglo, middle-aged perspective of the ought-years, and God knows, middle-aged Anglos of any yearhave enough of their own unlikely heroes of song, including Pretty Boy Floyd and Jesse James among others. Not a coincidence that Mr. D. also featured both of those desperados on the Cops & Robbers show, nor his notation that La Muerte de Fred Gomez Carrasco was a one act sacramental drama - not something meant as truth. Meant for legend, as were Poor Jesse James and Pretty Boy Floyd.
On the hot barrio streets of San Antonio in the mid-70s, with not much going on in your life except despair, the story of one of your own going down in a blaze of glory, spitting defiance to the end, probably sounded pretty good.
Print the legend.
Un año tenia en la carcel
sentenciado de por vida
tenia planeado fugarse
frente de la policia
queria enseñarles 'quel hombre
que miedo no les tenia
Sentenced to life,
after a year in jail
he planned his escape
wanting to show that he was a man
and that he had no fear.
As befits the re-telling of a myth, Steve Earle gets almost all the facts wrong in the space of less than a minute. Carrasco was no robber, but a stone-cold drug-dealing killer who had been imprisoned in 1974 with a life sentence after a shoot-out with a dozen San Antonio plainclothes officers. Among other crimes, Carrasco had been charged with armed robbery, auto theft, possession of heroin, and assault with intent to murder during a criminal career that stretched over 25 years. He was also rumored to have killed over 50 people.
Carrasco listed his occupation on arrest reports as "farmer and laborer."
Se hizo de 13 rehenes
para proteger su vida
pidio chalecos de malla
y casco a pruebas de balas
tambien un carro blindado
para lograr su escapada
They took 13 hostages
to protect their lives.
Demanded bulletproof helmets and vests,
even an armored car
to achieve their escape!
On July 24, 19 and 74, when Steve Earle would have been 19 years old, not 15 or 16, the longest prison siege in U.S. history began. Along with two compadres, Carrasco took eleven prison workers and four other inmates hostage.
Over the next several days the convicts made demands for tailored suits, dress shoes, toothpaste, and cologne. Having apparently satisfied their sartorial needs, they also demanded walkie-talkies, bulletproof helmets and an armored getaway car. With the approval of the Texas Governor an armored car was rolled into the prison courtyard. Carrasco claimed that they were planning to flee to Cuba, noting he preferred to take his chances of being shot by Castro rather than remain in Texas. Some stories have it that Carrasco was deliberately stalling for time with his increasingly weird demands in the hopes that his drug gang would come to rescue him.
Diez dias duró negociando
pidiendo su libertad
si no cumplen lo que pido
muy pronto les va a pesar
de a uno por uno a los 13
voy a empezar a matar
Negotiations lasted for 10 days.
He demanded freedom
"If you do not give me what I ask,
you will regret it.
I will kill the 13 one-by-one."
But after an 11-day standoff, the convicts tried a break-out to the armored car, using a makeshift mobile shield not built of cafeteria tables, as Earle said, but of blackboards on wheels covered with legal books. On reporting the shoot-out a Texas reporter, apparently thinking it all just great Mexican fun, dubbed the escape shield the “Trojan Taco,” possibly forgetting to mention that besides the legal volumes, the "taco's" shielding consisted of live hostages.
The Texas Rangers did indeed blast the Trojan Taco with a fire hose, but did not then go on to kill all the convicts and their hostages. That was the rumor on the streets of San Antonio, that in order to get to Carrasco the Rangers had deliberately fired through the bodies of their hostages, killing two in the process. However, an autopsy showed that Carrasco himself had shot one of the hostages, his accomplice another. Both women, and I'll note their names here, as songs seldom get written about the victims. Elizabeth Beseda, 57, a prison school teacher, and Judy Standley, 43, a librarian, both brave people who had volunteered to accompany their kidnapers into the armored car, which led to their deaths. Like a scorpion on fire, Carrasco lashed out at the closest living thing he could find when he knew he was going to die. He then committed suicide with his own gun.
Vuela vuela palomita
parate en aquel peñasco
anda avisa a San Antonio
que mataron a Carrasco
en la prision del estado
en compañia de otros 4
Fly little bird, fly
Fly away from this rock
Go to San Antonio
and tell of how they killed Carrasco
at the State Prison
in the company of four others.
Whether 150 songs were written about Fred Gomez Carraco as Steve Earle claims, I don't know. But he is right that in as little as 24 hours, corridos about his death were appearing on San Antonio Spanish language radio stations and even in juke boxes around the city, as improbable as it seems that they could be written, recorded, and printed that quickly.
As Mr. D. has noted in another context, songs often act as cultural memes, especially in societies that don't have access to more usual ways of distributing news, and can spread like wildfire when needed. Corridos are like a good news story: the date and place of the event, characters' names, and quotations. "On an afternoon of March in the year of '48, the plague of blond rats began stealing without hesitation," goes one famous song, El Corrido de Mazapil which details the sufferings of Mexicans at the hands of "blond rats" during the Mexican- American War.
La Muerte de Fred Gomez Carrasco was written by Salome Gutierrez, a well-known figure in the San Antonio music scene: BMI Award Recipient, owner of the Del Bravo Record Shop in San Antonio since 19 and 67, songwriter, publisher, owner of the DLB label and who recorded and released La Muerte de Fred Gomez Carrasco literally the morning after. The author of over 1,000 corridos, Gutierrez' wife woke him up at 2 a.m. to tell him of Carrasco's death. He immediately wrote a corrido, taped it, and rushed it down to local station KEDA, which aired the corrido later that morning.
And some 35-odd years later La Muerte de Fred Gomez Carrasco would air again, on Theme Time Radio Hour. And now you know its story.
Print the legend.
Prision de Consdil mentada
guardianes y policias
aunque quisieran negarlo
no olvidaran el mal rato
que les daria ese gallito
llamado Gomez Carrasco
The prison officials, guards, and police
although they wanted to forget it
could not deny the hard time
that fighting cock Gomez Carrasco
had given them!
* Thanks to the keen-eared Dreamtime fan who pointed out in the comments that in the context of the "Trojan Taco," Mr. D. was more likely saying "Greek" than "great."
"Here at Theme Time Radio Hour we don't have time to give you all the facts, but we like to think that we can point you in the right direction to find them." ~ Bob Dylan
A fun, fact- and music-filled episode this week, in what's turned into what may arguably the best season of TTRH. Some trivia highlights from Cops & Robbers...
10-4
For the third time this season, TTRH abandoned the Ellen Barkin "Night in the Big City" intro, replacing it with...
Whenever the laws of any state are broken, a duly authorized organization swings into action.
It may be the called the State Police, State Troopers, Militia, the Rangers, or the Highway Patrol.
These are the stories of the men whose training, skill, and courage, have enforced and preserved our state laws.
You might need to be from my and Mr. D's generations to recognize that as the classic opening to the syndicated television series from the `50s, Highway Patrol, starring Broderick Crawford. But any American over the age of 40 can probably remember Crawford bellowing "10-4" into his microphone. The story goes that the California Highway Patrol, annoyed by the publicity the Los Angeles Police Department was getting thanks to Dragnet, sent their publicist to Hollywood to get the CHP its own show. Jack Webb was interested, but was tied up with another project, and a syndicator, ZIV Productions, picked up the show instead.
Highway Patrol was one of the most popular syndicated series of the era, a hit for ZIV Productions, which also brought Sea Hunt, Bat Masterson, and Ripcord to the small screen. Again, if you're of a certain age, you probably rushed home from school to catch all those shows on the tube.
You poor kids today don't know what you're missing.
The Way Homer
Our Host: "I saw the oddest thing today. I was driving over to the Abernathy Building, and in the other lane was a woman. And while she was driving, she was also knitting! A policeman pulled up next to her, and she rolled down her window, and the policeman yelled, 'Pull over!'
She said, 'No, I'm knitting some socks.'"
...[and after playing Willie Walker's Dupree Blues]
Our Host: "... you're just getting that joke. That's what we call a 'way homer.' That means you get it on the way home... Where was I?"
Ricky Jay on Titanic Thompson
Our Host: "I ran into Ricky Jay. I asked him about his favorite con man. You're not going to believe this story."
Ricky Jay: "One of my favorite confidence men was Titanic Thompson - Alvin Clarence Thomas - he was a remarkable athlete..."
Jay goes on to relate one of the most famous stories about the colorful Titanic Thompson, master of the prop bet. Thompson was said to be the model for the Damon Runyon character, Sky Masterson, flawed hero of Guys and Dolls.
Thompson also liked to take promising and still-unknown golfers under his wing, teaming up with the young ringers to relieve opponents of their money. Among his apprentices was Ray Floyd, who Thompson once matched against a Tex-Mex kid from Dallas no one had ever heard of. That kid was Lee Trevino, who ended taking Thompson for $9,000.
The Line Up
Sticking with the crime and punishment theme, the closing credits were modified to the following...
***
You've been listening to Theme Time Radio Hour with Your Host, Commissioner Bob Dylan.
It's produced by Lieutenant Eddie Gordetsky.
And the Associate Producer is Sargent Nina Washington.
Continuity is courtesy Patrolman "Eats" Martin.
And the editor is Damien Rodriguez (undercover).
Supervising editor and the Officer of the Day is Rod Macomber.
The CSI Team is Diane Lapson, Bernie Bernstein, and additional research by our Usual Gang of Suspects.
Our Court Librarian is Robert Bower.
And Assignment Coordinator is Debbie Sweeney.
Special Thanks to The Brave Men and Women including Randy Ezratty, Coco Shinomiya, Samson's Diner, and Lee Abrams.
The Fred Gomez Carrasco corrido was courtesy of Chris Strachwitz and The Arhoolie Foundation. Check them out at Arhooloe Foundation dot org.
Studio Engineer is Tex Carbone.
This is recorded in Studio B of the historic Abernathy Building in the center of the crime scene. It's a Gray Water Park Production in association with Big Red Tree.
This is your announcer - always on the straight and narrow - Pierre Mancini, speaking.
***
Associate Producer Nina apparently either married (or divorced), as her last name changed from Fitzgerald to Washington in this episode. On the other hand, a detective might find it suspicious that Nina Fitzgerald-Washington is the third associate producer of TTRH, none of them seeming to last more than a season, and even her expanded name shares a common, ah, theme with her predecessors, Sonny Webster and Ben Rollins.
We leave it as an exercise for the criminologists among Dreamtime's readership.
"Pierre" also gives a special shout-out to Chris Strachwitz and The Arhoolie Foundation for providing TTRH with La Muerte De Fred Gomez Carrasco. Located on the Web at http://www.arhoolie.org/ the Arhoolie Foundation was established in 1995 "for the purpose of helping to document, present, and disseminate authentic traditional and regional vernacular music." Chris Strachwitz is the foundation's current President.
Fred Gomez Carrasco seems a fairly rare recording, written by a Salome Gutierrez and released by Los Socios De San Antonio as a 45 on the DLB label, probably in 19 and 74, as Carrasco's attempted breakout from the Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville took place in late July of `74.
For me La Muerte De Fred Gomez Carrasco was the highlight of a great TTRH episode. Those interested in other recordings from Los Socios De San Antonio can find a discography at the Arhoolie Foundation.
Snooks Eaglin, the idiosyncratic New Orleans rhythm & blues guitarist with fleet-fingered dexterity and a boundless repertoire, died Wednesday afternoon. He was 72.
"He was the most New Orleans of all the New Orleans acts that are still living," said Mid-City Lanes owner John Blancher.
Even in a city and musical community known for eccentric characters, Mr. Eaglin stood out. Extremely private, he lived with his family in St. Rose. For many years, he refused to perform on Friday nights, reportedly because of religious reasons.
The digits on Mr. Eaglin's right hand flailed at seemingly impossible angles as he finger-picked and strummed a guitar's strings. A set by the so-called "Human Jukebox" could range from Beethoven's "Fur Elise" to Bad Company's "Ready for Love."
Liberty Media has agreed to loan Sirius XM Radio $530 million to help save the satellite radio provider from bankruptcy.
Liberty Media, which owns DirecTV, and Sirius said in a news release that the loan will go to paying $175 million in debt that comes due for Sirius today. The remainder of funds will be used to pay other debts coming due in May and at the end of the year, and for general working capital to run the satellite radio business.
In exchange, Liberty will receive 40 percent of Sirius's common stock and get seats on Sirius's board of directors. Liberty Chairman John Malone and chief executive Greg Maffei are expected to take those seats. Liberty Media, based in Englewood, Colo., owns several television media entities including QVC and Discovery.
"We are excited to be investing in SIRIUS XM. We have been impressed with the company, its operations and management team," Maffei said in a release. "SIRIUS XM's ability to grow subscribers and revenue in a difficult financial and auto market is indicative of how listeners view this as a 'must have' service."
According to yesterday's New York Times, Sirius XM Radio is preparing for a Chapter 11 bankruptcy filing. No surprise to those who follow the Theme Time Radio Hour News & Views column or our DylanTweets.
What that means for the remaining episodes of Season 3 or a Season 4 of TTRH is unclear, and will probably remain unclear for some time. From what I've read, it's a probable "good news/bad news" scenario.
The Good News is that it's unlikely that SIRIUS XM would just flip the switch to "off" if they file for bankruptcy. As the Times reports, they're preparing for a Chapter 11 bankruptcy, which, in theory, could allow the company to reorganize and continue in some form. However, the "in theory" part is an important caveat. See "Fly in the Ointment" below.
The Bad News part is that its likely that the bankruptcy would cause SIRIUS XM to cancel or attempt to renegotiate its contracts with "high-priced talent" (to quote the Times) such as the odious Mr. Stern, Martha Stewart, and, although he isn't named, Mr. D.
If so, that might affect the remaining shows of Season 3 (I'm guessing that there are still between 8 and 11 episodes to go, counting today's "Happy" show), and would certainly impact any Season 4. I would assume that the continuation of Season 3 will depend on the shows that have already been delivered to XM, and the contracted payment schedule.
There's one more fly in the ointment, which you'll see if you review the various news reports. Echostar, the TV satellite company, has been buying up SIRIUS XM debt. The exact reasons why they're doing it are unknown. Echostar may see satellite radio as a complement to their other offerings. The company may want SIRIUS XM's most desirable assets, which are the satellites and related equipment. In any case, a threat of bankruptcy could trigger Echostar to force an immediate takeover of SIRIUS XM or, if the bankruptcy goes through, Echostar could petition the courts to allow it to take over the company. What that would mean is again unclear, but would probably be the end of SIRIUS XM as it exists today.
The Future?
I've been thinking about this for the past month or so, after it became pretty obvious that the End Days were upon SIRIUS XM Radio, and the future for TTRH continuing on satellite is cloudy.
This is just blue-skyin' of course. While I know enough to know that it's technically feasible, I'm not sure the whole royalty system - especially with all the ongoing controversy around royalty payments for music played on internet radio - would make it economically worthwhile or even possible.
Here's my idea. Gray Water Park Productions/Big Red Tree create a subscription-based TTRH site, and move the show over to the Web if SIRIUS XM goes down and the contract is voided.
Subscribers worldwide get to hear a streaming new TTRH 24 x 7 each Wednesday - similar to the old XMX - plus have 24 x 7 streaming access to archives of the older shows.
The site charges a subscription fee - somewhere around $2.99 to 7.99 per month - for access to the site. Maybe they take advertising too, similar to the page that XM/Cadillac put up (and which is still there, btw).
With your subscription you get the shows, plus member bennies... forums, maybe stories behind the shows, like Dreamtime (I'm not angling or anything, Mr. D ), maybe a virtual walkthough thru Studio B. Maybe Mr. D. really reading your emails on the show. Stuff like that. The imagination runs wild... An iPhone app that streams TTRH!! ...streaming video of Our Host Live from Studio B!!!!
Now, one of the bennies is that people worldwide get easy access to the show, and all the shows, as opposed to now, where you have to jump through hoops to listen to the show at its scheduled broadcast times or wait for the torrents/mp3s to show up.
The whole torrent/mp3/streaming over at dylanradio thing is a conundrum, of course. I'll note that I'm internet friends with most of the people who do that work. Whether their continuing efforts would have a significant financial impact on a streaming TTRH radio show, I dunno. And, if so, if they were politely asked to stop so the show could go on, would they? And you know that whoever stopped, boots would continue to show up, 'cause that's the nature of these digital days.
Would most people subscribe to a TTRH stream or would they want to download the shows to CD/mp3 player? Would they want both? Me, that's what I would want. I've been a XM internet subscriber since 2006, but I also "illegally download" the shows, because I want a permanent record.
Again, I'll say I dunno, and I'm not interested in the debate about the legalities/ethics. I just want my TTRH to go on... at least as long as Our Host wants to do it.
Bottom line is that big changes are coming to SIRIUS XM, and my advice is to enjoy the TTRH we have while we still have it. I think it won't be long till we're telling newbies, "Boy you should have been around when Mr. D. was broadcasting every Wednesday. Sure you can still download the shows, but it's not the same."
A little over a year ago, we featured the lady with the wonderful name and voice in a Blossom and Jack episode of the Dreamtime podcast.
You never know what's going to spark audience reaction. Certainly I wasn't expecting the number of emails I received after releasing that show. But a lot of people loved Blossom Dearie, and a lot of people were concerned about her well-being, as by 2007 she seemed to have completely disappeared from the scene.
As is noted in her New York Times obituary, Blossom went into retirement after her long-time watering hole, Danny's Skylight Room, closed its doors in 2006. Her personal record label, Daffodill, shut up shop, as did her web site. I had some fragmentary reports that she had moved to Woodstock, another anonymous comment that she was still in Greenwich Village, but preferred her privacy and not to pursue my inquiries further. And I didn't.
As her obit also alludes too, Blossom did not suffer fools gladly and had a reputation among her friends as being a bit, ah, difficult, and among others as being downright divaish. This probably startled many who expected a personality to match the baby-doll voice. Here's a long, but rewarding, especially if you're a Blossom Dearie fan, article about "The Blossom Experience" originally posted in a Yahoo group and reproduced in this blog post. Bill Reed's post on the subject is also recommended for the compleat Blossom fan. I also recommend a tour of YouTube, and especially of this video from circa 1985, which Mr. Reed also posted, but for his own reasons has embedding disabled.
The Blossom Experience By Joel E. Siegel
In the early '80s, I produced a concert series at the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington D.C. called "Great American Songwriters." The idea was to match up first-class jazz and cabaret performers with GAS composers or, in rare cases, special themes. The series ran for three and a half years in a lovely 197-seat auditorium with a superb Steinway piano. Many of the programs were taped by and subsequently broadcast on National Public Radio.
Overall, there were about 30 concerts spread over three years. Here's a sample of the programs: Jackie and Roy doing concerts of Stephen Sondheim, Alec Wilder and a collection of songs they introduced; Pinky Winters and Lou Levy doing Johnny Mandel; Carol Sloane doing Rodgers and Hart; Charles DeForest doing Harry Warren; Ethabelle doing Harold Arlen and John Latouche; Sheila Jordan doing songs by jazz musicians; Buddy Barnes doing Cole Porter; Shirley Horn doing Duke Ellington and Curtis Lewis' "The Garden of the Blues Suite"; Mark Murphy doing Dorothy Fields; Julie Wilson doing Arlen and Kurt Weill, Sandra King making her American debut with a Vernon Duke program. Well, you get the idea. Others in the series included Chris Connor, Margaret Whiting, Carol Fredette, Ronny Whyte, Rose Murphy, Dardanelle, Bob Dorough, Dave Frishberg and many more. (Apologies to anyone I forgot to mention. My box of materials with the full list of performers is stored in my attic.)
Obviously, this was a perfect venue for Our Blossom. My negotiations with her were rather complicated. From the outset, she rejected the idea of preparing a special program as all of the others did. ("I'm a Great American Songwriter myself," she informed me.) I decided to bend the rules because Blossom is special and I knew she would draw a full house. So I gave her carte blanche to do whatever she wanted. I told her that traditionally we had a celebration dinner at a restaurant in Chinatown after the 4 p.m. concerts, to which a handful of people associated with the series were invited-Jennifer, my helpful and charming young intern-assistant from the Corcoran, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell, several patrons of the series, etc. Blossom told me that her brother Walter and his wife would be coming from Winchester, Virginia, and asked that they be invited to dinner and that a driver be assigned to them. The Blackwells graciously volunteered provide them with transportation.
On Saturday, I picked Blossom up at Union Station and drove her to her hotel, a comfortable place just across the bridge from Georgetown. She was tired so I left her to rest after checking her in. The next morning, I was awakened at 8 a.m. by a call from her. She said that she needed to rehearse and had to find a place with a piano. This struck me as rather odd since she was performing solo and doing songs she had performed hundreds, probably thousands of times before-"I'm Shadowing You", "My New Celebrity Is You" etc. I told her that I had a piano, albeit not a very good one, and would be happy to drive into D.C. from Arlington, Virginia, and bring her to my place. She said she needed to have breakfast first, and would call me as soon as she was finished. I couldn't fall back to sleep, so I awaited her call.
9 a.m. 10 a.m. 11 a.m. 12 p.m. No call. Finally, I began phoning her, but got no response. 1 p.m. 2 p.m. I'm getting nervous because we have a 3 p.m. sound check. Finally, she called me at 2:30. I told her that I was worried that something had happened to her. She sternly said, "I told you that I was going for breakfast." "But that was more than 6 hours ago," I pointed out. "Oh," she said, "They were very slow." End of explanation.
I hurriedly picked her up and took her to the Corcoran. I had told her in advance that NPR was taping the shows and outlined the terms of their contract with the artists. When we arrived at the Gallery, she saw the sound truck, turned to me and imperiously said "It is not permitted." When I inquired WHAT was not permitted, she replied the taping of her show. This was the first time I had been informed of this stricture. An angry NPR sound crew, working overtime on Sunday, was turned away.
We entered the auditorium where the obliging Jennifer was setting things up. Nothing this young woman did satisfied Blossom. The lights were too bright. The lights were too dim. The piano had to be moved numerous times. Instead of requesting changes politely, Blossom kept snapping at the flustered young women in the most insulting manner. Embarrassed by her behavior, I drew Blossom aside and quietly said "You know, you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar." She looked at me blankly and replied "I don't know what that means."
Finally, we managed to set things up to Blossom's apparent satisfaction. Just before we were to open the doors, she walked out into the seating area, called me over and asked "Where are all the flowers?" Totally disgruntled by her, I replied "I didn't bring them, Blossom. Did you?"
The audience enters-a packed house with standees-and I introduce Blossom. She takes elaborate bows, then notices a woman standing by the entrance door holding a baby. Blossom points to her and asks "Is that a baby?" The woman indicates that it is. "Does it cry?" Blossom inquires. The woman says "He's asleep. If he wakes up and cries, I'll take him outside. That's why I'm standing by the door." Blossom repeats her earlier mantra "It is not permitted" and the woman and her baby are banished. This behavior does not endear her to the audience.
Blossom performs the first half of her program. Not one of her shining hours. She hits a number of keyboard clunkers. (Maybe she was right about needing to rehearse.) Just before the intermission, she spots Felix Grant, the famous Washington jazz disc jockey, in the audience. She comes to the front of the stage, introduces him and makes a little speech. "I have never performed in the nation's capital before, and for years Felix has been trying to arrange a concert for me here. I guess this must be a pretty big day for you, right Felix?" On that modest note, she retired to the dressing room.
During the intermission, Shirley Horn, who was in the audience and had known Blossom since her New York debut with Miles Davis at the Village Vanguard, popped backstage to say hello. Shirley returned a few minutes later with a puzzled look on her face. I asked whether Blossom was acting strangely. Shirley nodded her head and said, metaphorically, "I think she's gone inside, locked the door and now she can't get out."
The second set unfolded without incident, apart from a few pianistic clangers.
Afterwards, Blossom briefly received her audience. Two gay men, who were regulars at the series, told her how much they enjoyed her, and made a point of saying that they had attended her PREVIOUS D.C. appearance at a gay-owned supper club called the Way Off Broadway, where Barbara Cook, Anita' O'Day. Helen Humes and others had also worked. (Blossom had revised history so that the venerable Corcoran, which she must have perceived as a more reputable venue, was now the site of her "official" Washington debut.) She pretended that she didn't know what they were referring to.
Concert is over. Time for dinner. The Blackwells escort Blossom's brother and wife to the restaurant. We close the auditorium, and I start to drive Blossom to the same location. Only she doesn't want to go there. "I want to see the monuments," she insists. "But everyone's waiting for us," I reply. "I'm not hungry," she pouts. "I want to see the monuments." I give her an abbreviated tour of Tourist Washington and take her to Hunan Gourmet where everyone has grown restless waiting for her.
Arriving at the large round table I reserved that seated 10 people, Blossom complained that she didn't like the chair that was left for her. She made everybody stand up and forced them to exchange seats to suit her. Then she announced to the starving gathering that she was not hungry. Helpfully, I suggested that we could just have drinks and snacks.
"No snacks!" she commanded.
We ordered drinks and, despite her instructions, some appetizers. Before the order arrived, she announced that she was leaving and asked if someone would hail her a cab. In a moment worthy of a Lubitsch comedy, every man at the table leapt up to escort her to the street and get rid of her. I can't recall whether or not her nice relatives remained with us, but I think they did. (Bill Blackwell probably can probably clarify this.) As soon as she was gone, we trashed her roundly before ravenously consuming a huge meal. Subsequently, I learned that Blossom had taken that cab to Charlie's, a jazz club in Georgetown, to see if she could secure a future gig. Had she bothered to inform us of her intention, we could have convened at Charlie's rather than in Chinatown.
To this day, I have yet to solve the mystery of her six-hour breakfast.
After Karl Erik, at Expecting Rain. ER has a special February 3, 1959 section today, in memory of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson, and the pilot of that fateful flight, Roger Peterson.
While cruising around the 45 RPM Records site, I came across this delightful graphic history of King Records, first published in September 2000. Click on the graphic or link for the full cartoon. It's too large to reproduce on Dreamtime.
Any regular listener to Theme Time Radio Hour will be familiar with Syd Nathan's voice and his recorded rants on everything from how to make (and sell) a hit record to the perils of overseas travel. In the early `40's, Syd Nathan was successful enough selling used records out of his downtown Cincinnati dry goods store that in 19 and 43 he decided to try his hand at his own record label. He set up shop in an old icehouse on Brewster Avenue in Cincinnati and released the first records on the King label. King liked to target niche audiences, country western and hillbilly for the whites and rhythm and blues for the blacks. But Syd Nathan's real genius was having his black acts take a turn at covering country western tunes and vice versa. In some ways, Syd Nathan was the real godfather of rock-n'-roll.
As well as Hank (and Jimmy) Ballard, the roster of artists who recorded for King and its affiliate labels included Little Willie John, Billy Ward and the Dominos, Bill Doggett, Earl Bostic, Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson, Wynonie Harris, Bullmoose Jackson, the Delmore Brothers, Moon Mullican, Grandpa Jones and Cowboy Copas. Indeed, as we mentioned in an earlier Dreamtime, Cowboy Copas was one of Nathan's talent scouts who scoured the South for new songs, and missed the chance to buy The Tennessee Waltz for all of $50.
As you'll read in the cartoon, the biggest King star of all was James Brown, who was brought to the label by A&R man Ralph Bass in early 1956. “I would be telling a lie if I said I would be a world star without the help of men like Mr. Nathan. He was the first one willing to take a chance on me.” Brown once said.
a compilation from 19 and 88 that immediately went into my Amazon shopping cart. The song's arrangement was by Don Was, of Was (Not Was), and impressed Bonnie Raitt so much that she recruited Was to produce her next album.
recorded live at The Bitter End club in Greenwich Village way back in 19 and 63. If your only knowledge of Bill Cosby is as the Huxtable patriarch, check out the video above and recordings of his early work.
), maybe a virtual walkthough thru Studio B. Maybe Mr. D. 
