Radio Digest (Nov 1930-Apr 1931)

14 You could never guess what brought me around to semblance of my normal self. It was a Gypsy band. Thursday morning as I sat propped up in bed the door opened and in walked eleven Gypsies, each carrying a musical instrument. Now I don't advise any doctor to prescribe eleven Gypsies as being the ideal dose of medicine needed for an ordinary case of sickness but I always shall believe that the manager of the hotel, who was responsible for the appearance of the musicians in my room, decided that I needed drastic treatment. And what do you think they started to play? Yes, you are absolutely right — The Blue Danube Waltz! At the sound of the first strains I rebelled and my shouts had the desired effect of bringing that selection to a sudden and untimely finish. I begged them to play anything but that. And play they did. Wonderfully. Gloriously. Wild strains of their folk tunes rang out in my room and, in spite of my determination to stay sick, I found myself well again. Literally, the magic of music had put me on my feet again. Yes, I kept the luncheon appointment and met the Princess. o. 'UEER, isn't it the idea we have of Royalty? My own idea, up to then, had been that a Princess was one of these stand-offish persons before whom mere human beings like you and me must bow very low and, did Her Highness permit it, kiss her hand. Perhaps some Princesses are like that but not this one. Of course, when I was introduced to the lady I bowed. But not very low. She didn't look a bit as though she wanted to see me bump my head on the floor. And she didn't offer me her hand to kiss. What a regular fellow she was. We talked about music, dogs, golf and motion pictures, even as you and I. I told her about my family and she told me of her own life and of her husband, who is not a Prince at all, but a railway executive in Hungary. Of course I told her all about the "gang." And that's the way it was during my entire vacation. The people I met meant so . much more to me than the sights I went so far to see. When we were in Berlin I dragged Ben out on a window-shopping expedition. From Unter den Linden we journeyed along Friedrich Strasse as happy as two kids on a lark. Here we could mingle with the crowds and no one would be liable to recognize us. Pasted on the window of a little restaurant I spied a bill of fare and paused to read it. The one item which commanded my attention was "sausages and mashed potatoes" and I must confess, after having lived on the best of the land at the various hotels, I actually craved sausages and mashed potatoes. I never remember wanting anything quite as badly before as I did a meal of sausages and mashed potatoes. And, furthermore, I didn't see how anyone could desire anything else that was on the bill of fare, so I insisted that Ben must also have sausages and mashed potatoes. The place was fairly well filled and, as we were unable to obtain a table by ourselves, we sat with a very dignified bewhiskered gentleman who had just ordered his dinner. Now, it is difficult for me to eat at the same table with a person and not strike up some sort of a conversation, and it wasn't long before the gentleman and I were chatting. Then came an exchange of cards. The one I received was large and as expressive of dignity as was the gentleman himself. It seems he was a retired Obermeister from a little town not far away. I watched him as he read the cards we handed him. Ve ERY graciously the Obermeister stated that it was a great honor to meet "Herr Rothafel" and "Herr Benjamine." And what do you suppose we talked about? Believe it or not, the principal subject was "beer". We learned that the water which goes into the making of beer is responsible for its grading, which is why, according to the good Obermeister, all beer is not of the same quality. It all depends on which part of Germany the beer is made. And for once I actually was able to "get away from it all." I'm sure he'd never heard of Roxy and how I did enjoy my "sausages and mashed potatoes" as I listened to his dissertation on brewing. He was a great old scout but I'm glad I don't have to wear the Obermeister's whiskers. Speaking of whiskers reminds me of what happened as the steamer reached Quarantine on its way into the New York Harbor. Early in the evening I had gone to the Radio operator's quarters and listened to the program being broadcast from the studio of the Roxy Theatre. It was "gang" night and Milton J. Cross was in charge. Familiar voices singing familiar songs! In my mind's eye I could picture the studio in its nook high above the stage and the realization swept over me that I was really and truly back. Then The original gang, when Roxy first went on the air. Left to right; top, Eugene Ormandy, Melaine Dowd, Dr. Billy Axt, Mme. Elsa Stralia, Louise Schearer, Frederick Jaegel, Yascha Bunchuk, Bruce Benjamin; seated, Carl Scheutze, Nada Reisenberg, Edna Baldwin, Roxy, Betsy Ayres, Evelyn Herbert, Editha Fleischer.