Radio mirror (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

Audiences loved it, even if Jolson's producers, the Shuberts, didn't. The lighthearted way in which Jolson could upset the carefully worked-out schedule of a show drove them wild. It resulted in "Standing Room Only" signs which grew dog-eared from too much use, but the Shuberts couldn't ever be sure that Jolson wouldn't go too far. It wasn't showbusiness as they knew it, and it confused and worried them. Naturally, he was one of the hardest men in the world to work with. Sometimes he and Goodman would argue bitterly over something one or the other of them had done — call each other fearful names and end up by not speaking to each other. Then Goodman would punish Jolson by standing in the pit and listening to the comedian's gags with an expressionless face. Nothing upset Jolson more. He'd come to regard Goodman as his best and most appreciative audience, and he was convinced that if Goodman didn't laugh the jokes were no good. "Laugh, darn you, laugh," he'd mutter in agony through clenched teeth so only Goodman could hear. "So help me, if you don't laugh I'll kick you right in the face." SIDE by side with Jolson's frequent and unpredictable flashes of temper ran his loyalty and his generosity. Goodman learned things about him no one else knew — things Jolson would never allow to be published. He knew that every year, when Jolson organized a benefit show for sufferers from tuberculosis at Saranac Lake, he not only paid all the expenses of the show, including salaries for everyone who took part, but added a personal gift of three thousand dollars himself. He knew that in spite of numerous tempting offers RADIO MIRROR from rival producers, Jolson consistently refused to leave the Shuberts. He knew of almost daily furtive acts of charity and kindness which Jolson performed impulsively and without thought of return. Long before that ten years' association between Goodman and Jolson was over, the orchestra leader had become general musical director for the Shuberts. Whenever a new show was to be produced it was his duty to whip its music into shape and to stick with it during its preliminary tour and until after it had opened on Broadway. All this took time — time which Goodman had to take off from the current Jolson show. And to lose his favorite orchestra leader, even for a short time, was something Al Jolson didn't like at all. He used to invent means of getting Goodman away from general Shubert duties to particular Jolson duties. A smoothrunning Jolson show on tour would suddenly develop acute orchestra-trouble. There would be a pitched battle between Jolson and the unfortunate wretch who happened to be waving the baton; and then there would be a hurry call to New York: "Send Goodman quick." On one occasion, while Jolson was playing in New York, Goodman had been rehearsing a new show for the Shuberts daytimes and conducting for Jolson at night. The new show was an important and expensive one, and Goodman expected to conduct for it on the opening night, turning the Jolson performance over to an assistant. But when Jolson heard of the plan he blew up and insisted that Goodman must stay with him — and there was nothing to do but let the assistant conduct the opening night of the new production. It's easy enough, if you don't belong to the theater, to stand back and murmur "Childish!" But remember, to Al Jolson it was serious. Al Goodman was part of his success. Moreover, Goodman was his friend; he was comfortable only when Goodman was in the pit. Finally, and perhaps most important, Jolson was all of the theater, that topsy-turvy world of exaggerated loyalties, prejudices, superstitions. BECAUSE Jolson was his friend, because ■* he remembered the days after the death of his child, Goodman never hesitated in choosing between furthering his own career and giving his time to Jolson. Many a time he was in Jolson's orchestra pit when he should have been somewhere else. Many a time he worked longer than was good for his health, in order to be with Jolson and at the same time do work he had to do for the Shuberts. With all its bad effects upon his own career and upon his health, it was little enough to do for his friend. That's the way it was, and that's the way it continued to be until Jolson left the stage for the broader fields of Hollywood and radio — for work in which he did not so greatly need the help Goodman could give him. The two old friends don't see each other often nowadays. Jolson spends most of his time on the West Coast; Goodman most of his in New York; and there are only brief reunions when one of them visits the other's territory. It doesn't really make much difference to their friendship, though. Two people who know each other as well as these two do, can't forget. You know that, when you know that every time either has a birthday the other always calls him by long distance, from the other edge of the continent, just to say, "Many happy returns." JUNIORIF YOO 'OOMT !'U SCREAM SO RUN-DOWN EVERY LITTLE THINS GOT ON HER NERVES VITAMINS A. BCD