The Jazz Singer (Warner Bros.) (1927)

AL JOLSON RE-LIVES HIS OWN LIFE Warner Bro. Present AL JOLSON in “THE JAZZ SINGER” FEATURES FOR NEWSPAPERS Striking caricature AuerbachLevy —_ Production | tiful; | was Author Reveals How Inspiration for Noted Hit Was Furnished by Al Jolson, Star of Film Version Just Presented There used to be a colored come|dian in the ten-twenty-thirty who | box over which a few rubber bands were drawn. He would clutch this grotesque instrument to his mouth and blow into it. It sounded very bad. Looking dolorously at the audience, the comedian then would say, “When I put it in! it’s beaubut when it comes out— phooeey!” That comedian reminds me of myself when I was a kid on the East Side of New York. There a choir in the Pike Street Synagogue where Cantor Cooper | (whose sons later became the Em-pire State Quartette) sang on the | Sabbath and on holy days. I would | have given my eye teeth to be in that choir. I knew by heart all ; the little threnodies which a cer tain golden-voiced alto sang. I ha’ America’s Greatest Entertainer Reveals a Chapter of His Autobiography in His Moving Picture Role as “The Jazz Singer”’ By EVE BERNSTEIN Years ago an unhappy little boy used to sit at Sunday School in his father’s class and sing mournful Jewish hymns. He had a meéelodious, pathetic voice with a wail in it | which his father was training for the Synagogue. Cantor Yoelson, with all the earnestness of a profoundly religious man, conducted | his home just as he had done in. Russia where his boy was born. He had decided long ago that America was not going to interfere with his religious views or those of his children, But Asa did not want to sing in the Synagogue. He wanted to sing and play the bright, happy tunes which Cantor Yoelson always called wicked. Asa wondered why they were wicked. They seemed beautiful to him. When things at home finally became too drab for Asa, he ran away and joined a circus as_ballyhoo man. Some time later he returned to Washington, his home town, not to devote himself to religion as his father had hoped, but to sing in a cabaret. The Cantor was _ heartbroken. No son of his was going to sing sinful songs in a music hall. He had the boy placed under surveillance in a home, but he could have spared himself the trouble, for all the good it did. Asa joined a burlesque show as soon as he was free. After all he was a Yoelson, and if his father could be adamant, so could he. He was fully grown when he appeared in vaudeville, under the name of Al Jolson, with his brother and a friend of theirs. Things were not so rosv as he had thought they would be. Wages were small, and he hardly ever had enough to get along on comfortably. He was still a white face comedian at that time, and perhaps he would have been to this day if not for an old negro who sometimes helped him in dressing. He was not able to employ a rerular dresser then. “Boss, if your skin’s black, they always laugn,” the darkey said. Jolson decided to try it. He blacked up with some burnt cork and rehearsed before the old negro. “You’s jus’ as funny as me, Mistah Jolson,” chuckled the old man. Al Jolson in white face was just a vaudeville performer. Al Jolsor in black face was an overnight hit. That was in 1909. He joined Dockstader’s minstrels, and one night in 1911, J. J. Shubert watched him perform. It was a most fortunate occasion for Jolson, for it was the | year of the opening of the Winter | were | Garden, and the Shuberts looking for talent. There was a conference, and Jolson was given his first real opportunity. In “Bow Sing” and “La Belle Paree” he came to be known as the “Mammy Singer.” His popularity increased with every succeeding Winter Garden Show, and in 1914 he was featured alone in “Dancin’ Around.” Two years later he received his first starring role in “Robinson Crusoe, Jr.” In 1918 he starred once more in “Sinbad.” By the time “Bombo” was produced, Jolson was recognized as America’s greatest entertainer. Jolson holds his audience with a' no voice, however. The nearest I got to “making” that choir was the day I got the alto into a fight and | licked him. Ten years later, in May, when I was a junior at the University of Illinois, it became very necessary that I should impress a certain young lady. I had a date with her for a certain evening. I wanted to show her the best time to be had in the town of Champaign, Illinois. I borrowed ten dollars ° it tha and bought two tickets for the! 1 one-night performance of Al Jol-| Story 1 had ever written. son in “Robinson Crusoe, Jr.” |}came on the stage holding a cigar | By SAMSON RAPHAELSON hurtled through the house like a swift electrical lariat with a twist that swept the audience right to the edge of that runway. The words didn’t matter, the melody didn’t matter. —the emotion of a cantor. 4 Hsu wy sassy Asiciiuy 4ucics a Devdy dak sss ——~ A ULGiadule Deus y. A weil VACRSIABE aivcl wie pol | 4Usitiadtiec au 4 tdincu ww duiovuil. | DUANE I had lone ago forgotten about | the choir. In college my interest was to avoid books and write stories. I had never seen Jolson before. I had heard of him. I shall never forget the first five minutes of Jolson—his velocity, the amazing fluidity with which he shifted from a tremendous absorp | | | | Vay ot Atonement.” 4a€ WS VELY Vudy, Vue 2 Suralt CVE 4ULBCL Lilie 40Cidiig 2 LAU aGvuur wiiar a wali ucceimse Buy 11s Wad. Was @ yuulgosvcl uccply stiricu Wy W Ahead Sedereu tun aS wiuci as lt Ulu dic. aac SeUSCU Lidl. dil LUUDeE UaYS ue Mau aireauy veCaine Lue “worlds: a | Stcalese elvercaiier,’ aud a ive v1 | ; Selrreu youngsvlers Wiust Nave tried vw Say hotning in parvicuiar vo nim. aac Vehaved as 1I L Were tne rst. , sie LOld me a iittie of his background. but 1 had already guessed lu. 4 Knew there was ine spirit ot cantors In him, tne biood OL canvors in him, 1 wrote the story. I called it “The My stories at tnat time were being publisned in various Magazines. 1 was a proIesslonal writer. 1 knew most oI the editors and they knew me. 1 Said to myself, the first editor tnac sees tnis will jump at it. For 1 it was easily the besc ‘The story was turned down by tive magazines, Sewell Haggard, editor Ol “tiverybody’s” bougnt it. When it appeared 1 got letters trom my other editors saying, “Why don’t you send us stuff like that?” Solomon should have added to a certain remark, “And the ways oi /an editor with an author.” Se : ‘vabl i; tion in his audience to a tremenpower that Is almost inconceivable. dous absorption in his song. I He can captiv ate it almost the very | still remember the song, “Where moment he steps on the stage. He the Black-Eyed Susans _ Grow. has a personality and a sense of; When he finished, I turned to the h in lectric | itl beside me, dazed with memhumor that Pa Peeps. ectri¢ | ories of my childhood on the East current from him to his audience. | Side—memories of the Pike Street | Strangely enough, he can come out Synagogue and of the little alto | on the stage and sing the cheapest boy oo nose I bloodied because kind of a song, and the house will I loved : sad hiss aye = : . . +s ' “This isn’t a jazz singer,” I said, ring with applause. His jazz songs “thie te 6 eankort” always sung by him with a haunt| 2 ag Bee This grotesque figure in blacking, plaintive note, are reminiscent | face, kneeling at the end of a run-| of the Jewish chants that his father’ way which projected him into the taught him to sing in the stuffy heart of — a out : es m iy his white-gloved hands, was emlittle Sunday School room down in bracing tien oniiaiak th Washington, D. C. | prayer—an evangelical moan—a (Continued on page 8) \ tortured, imperious call that A scene from “The Jazz Singer,” Jolson at piano | | SSS SE SSS Ss SSS SSS SS Ss SSS _this play because I wore him out. Production No. 11—Cut or Mat 'rights on this. | makings of a play. Mr. Haggard, when he accepted the story, wrote me: “For good-| ness’ sake, don’t sell the movie | You have the Write the play | first.” | Three years ago I wrote the | play. I felt about it as I did about ; the story. I sent it to Sam H.| Harris, who turned it down. I. /couldn’t believe it and wouldn’t believe it. /genuine concern for Mr. Harris’ I went to his office with welfare, fretted him into a state | where he handed me over to Al Lewis. Mr. Lewis pointed out certain things in the play which could not be done on any stage. _He suggested that if I rewrote it 'he might be interested. I rewrote it and read it to him. When I finished, there were tears in his eyes. |He said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t produce this play.” I said, “Then why were you crying—because it broke your heart to refuse me?” I really think Mr. Lewis accepted If anyone had told me ten years | ago, when I first saw Jolson, that he would be in a movie of a play inspired by my seeing him, it would _have sounded like a bit of a fairy tale to me. is being written the motion picture |of “The Jazz Singer” has had its | thunderous | thing At the time this article But the thrilled premiere. I am_s chiefly about is that Jolson, whom I would rather see than Barrymore any day; Jolson, who was so damn decent to me in Champiagn, Illinois, in 1916; Jolson, who came up to me in Stamford after the opening of “The Jazz Singer” two years ago and said, “Boy, if there’s anything I can do to make this show a success, just say the word. If it flops I'll put my own money into it to keep it alive”—Jolson, electric, palpitatine. the most American figure in the world today—Jolson is in it. Was I eager to see Jolson in “The Jazz Singer?” Tremendously so. And my eagerness in going to the Warner Theatre on its memorable opening night last week was as keen as if the movie had been It was the emotion ulluvuuecuy | -——) The Birth of “The Jazz Singer”, °*™°°% "4?HA#tS0N ee g ad 5 N Production No. 12—Cut or Mat based on Jolson’s play, not mine. As for the art that is all Jolson, my respect and admiration is greater than ever. I bow to an artist, a singer with a laugh and a tear in his voice—From “The American Hebrew.” How AI Jolson Won Hollywood Now Appearing at Strand in “The Jazz Singer” Al Jolson is an enthusiast. This is not news to the vast number of people who have applauded the black-face comedian on the stage, for they know him as a dynamic bundle of energy. Jolson, however, never put so much pep, vim and enthusiasm into anything as he did into “The Jazz Singer,” the motion picture in which he is now making his local screen debut at the .... Theatre. In the first place, Jolson was in love with the story of the picture, which is said to parallel incidents in his own life, and in the second, he was more than anxious to score a success that would place him in the same rank on the screen as he had won on the legitimate stage. When Jolson came to Hollywood everyone in the cinemetropolis was curious as to what he was like. Prominent stage people had come to town to grace and adorn the screen and began by “high-hatting” everyone. Would Jolson do the same thing? At the first assembling of the people, who were to take part in the picture, Jolson was introduced to everyone by Jack Warner, Warner Bros.’ production executive. He |seemed very friendly and amiable. This was taken as a good sign. But he showed his colors when he found Alan Crosland, who was to direct the picture making. “I am going to call you Alan,” Jolson exclaimed as he warmly grasped the director’s hand. “We’re going to be pals. I think I know something of all this,” and he waved his hand around the studio, “but you’ll undoubtedly find that I don’t know a thing. Now, I want to be told. Don’t hesitate to tell me when I’m wrong. Just hand it to me and I will thank you for it. I want to be one of you and | want to be a hit.” That speech was repeated all over Hollywood that evening after the sun went down and it established the comedian instantly. Hollywood immediately took him to its arms and he became one of the community. The result of it all was that Jolson says the pleasantest experience of his life was that which he had during the four months he had to be up at daybreak every morning to go to work with the sun on “The Jazz Singer.”