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DECEMBER, 19 2 9
29
Apeda.
The Palmolive Ensemble in Rehearsal. Director Haenschen is seated to the left. Frank Black is at the piano. Olive Palmer is seated front center. Paul Oliver (Frank Mnnn) tenor, is standing to the left in the rear
the piano, which is placed within arm's length of their place. This calls attention to the pianist, who has gone unnoticed until now. The dark Mephistophelean countenance and angular figure proclaim him Frank Black,, who makes the Reveler's special arrangements, and, in addition, conducts orchestras on other programs. Before this program is over. Director Haenschen will consult him for sound musical advice on how to handle a number for which the time has grown too short.
But the Revelers begin, and they are again the center of all eyes. A glance ranges across the four faces, assuring the beholder that they are there in person — Lewis James and Jimmie Melton, tenors ; Elliott Shaw, baritone, and the only Wilfred Glenn, basso profundo. This summer Paris audiences yelled for nine encores, made them take fourteen curtain calls — and then cried for "Speech!" France likes the Revelers more every year.
As the quartet completes its number and moves away from the mike. Director "Gus" steps down from the dais. Simultaneously a dozen hand-picked jazzmen in the big orchestra stand up and bring their instruments closer. Haenschen now stands in profile towards the audience. All the feminine members lean forward in their chairs.
Then Haenschen starts his men on a madcap tune by means of a series of contortionist waves. His whole body moves now, and he is never on more than one foot at a time. Is he skipping rope or leading the jazz group? Listen to the sounds, and receive an answer. A wide grin wreaths his own youthful face as he remounts the stand at the end of the number.
Olive Palmer Sings a Solo
Next a solo by Olive Palmer, displaying the coloratura ability which was lost to grand opera when radio gained a star. Another concert selection by the orchestra — or perhaps a symphonic fragment. Then the most curious assortment of all steps before the microphone.
Andy Sannella, virtuoso of many instruments, stands closest to the mike with a Hawaiian guitar slung across his chest. Behind him stands Murray Kellner, no longer the dignified first violin but now a jazz fiddler. Nearby is Larry Abbott, "one of the sweetest alto saxes in New York," — -but that is no saxophone he holds. It is an ordinary comb, with tissue paper wrapped over the side nearest his lips. At a nod from Haenschen they go into action, this weird assortment, — and what action. Sannella leaps like a jumping jack with the guitar on his chest, making sounds for which no guitar was intended. But this music can not be described. A gleam lights the faces of the audience as they see the solution of the puzzling music they had heard in other Palmolive Hours. They knew it was somewhat different but they couldn't tell why or how.
And so the minutes fly, with a rapid succession of solos and combination vocal and instrumental groups that maintain the swift pace set by the opening rhythmic selection. A grand finale by the whole company brings the hour to its climax and finish — and there is a deathly pause while Phillips Carlin makes the closing announcement. He (Continued on page 48)