Radio Digest (June 1932-Mar 1933)

big hits and realize a worthy reward. pLEASE HANDLE WITH CARE. It ./was the night before Christmas, or, as I should say, one of the nights before going on the platform to do our supper session at the Pennsylvania Hotel, when Walter Gross and I waded through a raft of manuscripts brought down for my inspection by Sam Wigler, one of the best -liked song pluggers or music publishers. Most of the tunes seemed rather flat; one, however, caught my fancy, not only with its title, but with its different melody. I have humorously referred to it as "the postman's song," or "the parcel post song," because it has the odd title, usually seen on wooden and paper boxes, "Please Handle With Care." I, forgot all about it for several months after suggesting to Sam Wigler that his firm, Mario Music, publish it. It was not until we were playing Detroit on our road tour with "Scandals" that I heard the melody over the air, and asked myself where I had heard it before. Upon hearing the title of the song, I recalled the night at the Pennsylvania, and immediately programmed it on the Fleischmann's Yeast Hour, where it was played in due course of time on our first broadcast in Chicago. Another song that will never set the world on fire, but one which helps to pass away some of the otherwise tedious moments of a radio program, and which will make exceptionally good fodder for the Lombardos, Ted Black and his orchestra, in fact, all such bands who play their fox trots in extremely rhythmic style. You will surely have heard it by this time, and I hope my judgment will be vindicated. We take about one minute in the playing of each chorus, and as related above, it is published by the Mario Music Co. T AZY DAY. Jack Robbins again, in J— ' his attempt to Americanize an English tune, to make it a hit. I am rather pained indeed when it is not possible for me to turn on what is popularly known in the music profession as a "rave" during the course of this article, but it looks as though I would be tied down to remarks like "It's a great song — a good song — a fine song — or a song that is a credit to any publisher's catalogue." Happy indeed am I when I can turn on the words "terrific, gigantic, stupendous, and colossal," as I felt I could in the case of "Goodnight Sweetheart." I am rather afraid that song-writers are beginning to get disgusted with it all, Latest Portrait of Rudy Vallee especially photographed for Radio Digest by Harold Stein. realizing that when they have created something unusually good they get next to nothing for their efforts, since sheet music and records which formerly remunerated them, bring in little or nothing today. With that situation all our songs seems to be in the mediocre vein, none of them crashing through for that tremendous smash. It has often been said that song-writers through vanity alone will always be spurred on to write great songs; I doubt it! Most of them have to live, and if they don't find a livelihood in song-writing, they will turn to some other profession, and use song-writing as a side-line, and no man ever succeeded doing great things when those things 25 were side-lines. Song-writing is an art, just as difficult as painting a beautiful picture, or sculpturing a beautiful statue, and a song-writer has to give all his time and attention and thorough effort to putting over the job in hand. This, and only this, may account for the fact that most of our songs today are good songs, but not great songs. At any rate, may I offer the fervent hope that this situation will not always continue, or at least may we hope for some alleviation in the unfortunate situation of small remuneration for the writer and publisher, which remedy will result in a stimulus to writing greater songs. Remember that a song which is played on many radio programs does not, by its being played, reward the writers' pockets with onetenth the amount as formerly when you purchased the sheet music and records of that particular song. It is this almost free enjoyment of songs on radio programs that is giving the writers and publishers gray hair, and when I campaign this way I am not campaigning for myself, as I do not consider myself a dyed-inthe-wool song-writer, and the royalties I have received from songs are not half as important to me as they are to so many others who have no other livelihood. If the time ever comes when an announcement that musical radio programs of the popular and dance nature will have to be discontinued due to a lack of material, then and perhaps not till then, will those of us who enjoy these programs on the air realize just what popular music has meant to us. To be sure, there are those who abhor popular music, and would probably welcome that day; I do think, however, that they are in a minority, as popular music is one of the few sources of solace and comfort to the masses in their idle moments, and even during their working moments. But to get back to "Lazy Day." It is a good song; having seen the English version, I can compliment Gus Kahn and his wife for having done a fine job with the American version. There is only one song which treated the word "lazy," to my way of thinking, almost super-perfectly, and that was that masterpiece of Irving Berlin's, in which he went on to