Radio stars (Oct 1933-Sept 1934)

RADIO STARS How Song Hits Are Born Apologize," "Suzanne" and "Fit as a Fiddle." If you happen to be in this business of song-writing, you've probably heard many versions of the manner in which "My Blue Heaven" was born. This is the lowdown. All the men figuring in the yarn will corroborate these facts. Walter Donaldson, since then, has authored "Mammy," "You're Driving Me Crazy," "Those Little White Lies" and many others. At the time, Donaldson had a ple'asant little tune which he brought to Sammy Lewis and Joe Young to supply the lyrics. But they were busy, so they asked a mutual friend, George Whiting, to furnish the words. Whiting, at the time, was on the vaudeville stage, a member of the team of Whiting and Burt. With much pleading, by Lewis and Young, Whiting consented as a friendly gesture. And so, after several huddles with Donaldson, the words were adapted to the melody, labeled "My Blue Heaven" and placed at the mercy of Feist. Eureka ! But the yarn begins to be woven at this point on. Feist took it and for three years it gathered dust on one of the office shelves. TOMMY LYMAN, a young night club entertainer, obtained a manuscript copy. The guests at his club liked the song. He was always called upon for an encore. And before long, Lyman had sung it so many times that it became a part of him. The lilting strain spread. People began to ask for it at music counters. And the reply was invariably the same, "Sorry, we haven't it, but we'll be glad to get it for you." And so many telephone calls did Feist get, and so many visits from agency men, orchestra leaders and arrangers that he had to replace the worn carpet leading to his office and print "My Blue Heaven." The rest is musical history. Apropos of this, it is interesting to note that Gene Austin made a Victor record of the song. So much royalty did he realize on the sale of these discs, that he was able to buy a yacht and christen it "My Blue Heaven." And now a story about Al Lewis. Lewis was thrilled when Fall weather and the sight of the pigskin boosted his spirits. Flash ! An idea ! He pounced before the piano keys. When he rose, he had a rough copy of "All-American Girl" in his hands. The next day he placed a copy with a publisher who had Rudy Vallee under his wing. Vallee's thoughts perhaps were elsewhere. No consideration was forthcoming and the publisher turned as cold as an Eskimo's kiss. He returned the script to Lewis. Meanwhile, the football season had heard its last whistle, and rah-rahs died from the field. Christmas was on the way, then Spring, Summer, and Fall came around again. (Continued from page 57) Once more the cry of the gridiron was heard. This time Lewis confronted George Olsen and all his pearly teeth. The publisher's record will show you that "All-American Girl" was the Number One seller in 1932. It would be futile to attempt to set down everything DeSylva, Brown and Henderson have composed. A short while ago, these ambitious fellows decided to combine their talents. Discouraged in their attempts to obtain new tunes for their catalogues, they chose to write their own. "It all depends on the public," said Brown one afternoon to his confederates. And that was the birth of their initial production, "It All Depends on You." Thus their first song was dedicated to the multitude of music lovers. The people had faith in them, they had faith in the people and it all led to one of the strongest triumvirates in the business. THEN, for some reason or other, the lads drifted and went their separate ways. Buddy DeSylva is directing motion pictures for Fox. Lew Brown is also associated with that camera company. Ray Henderson is thinking up funny songs and sayings for George White's "Scandals," which the latter will construct for Fox. After all, they will be under one banner again, and it may result in their putting their shoulders to the same wheel once more. Intimate friends of Bing Crosby will tell you that Bing croons "I Apologize" to his wife each time he commits a faux pas. The song is linked with him and whenever he asks for a suggestion, someone in the audience is bound to call out, "I Apologize." Bing was instrumental in the success of this number. Secondly, let me say that it came from the hands of Al Hoffman, Eddie Nelson and myself. Every important publisher was sought and refused to have anything to do with it. We became desperate. We would sooner listen to the death penalty inflicted upon us than another "No." Much to our surprise one day, we learned that we had skipped Bobby Crawford of the aforementioned DeSylva, Brown and Henderson. Here was the last straw. Whether Crawford sympathized or actually liked it, we didn't know. But he did take it and allowed it to hibernate for nine months. Crosby was on the West Coast and fast becoming popular. The Cocoanut Grove in California was beginning to rival Niagara Falls and the Thousand Islands for guests. My patience was coming to an end. I broke into my penny bank and mailed Crosby a copy of "I Apologize." You probably know how the song was received. Let me mention, in passing, that this was the first of the torch songs and was responsible for creating a vogue which has become permanent. Now, let's hop from torch songs to nursery rhymes. No doubt you've seen Walt Disney's classic, "The Three Little Pigs." To begin with, Ann Ronnell, who is to be given most of the credit for "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf," is a member of Disney's staff. Before this, she wrote "Baby's Birthday Party," the best remembered of her compositions until this. When she and Frank E. Churchill, who collaborated, saw and heard their brain-child on the Trans-Lux screen, when they heard the people exit from the theatre, humming the three little pigs and the big bad wolf, Miss Ronnell suggested to Mr. Churchill that they work on the strain and attempt to draw up a standard size piece of music. COR a time "The Three Little Pigs" and its theme song, "The Big Bad Wolf" became a mania. The conductor on the train hummed it as he punched your ticket. The waitress drummed it on the table as she took your order. The reception of "The Big Bad Wolf had an immediate effect on all Disney products. Now, they are to be accorded the same respect as feature pictures insofar as advertising, exploitation and publicity are concerned. The movie-minded radio fan might like to know that Disney spends an average of $20,000. on his single reelers which require three months for a staff of technicians to complete. "Mickey Mouse," incidentally, earned Disnev more than $2,000,000. Which all goes to prove to the poor song-writer that he doesn't need a star or an inspiration or a popular jazz major-domo to make his song. Even a little pig will do. "Poor Butterfly" made Raymond Hubbel a rich man. Also, it gave John Golden, the theatrical big gun, a push up the ladder of success and enabled him to begin a partnership with Winchell Smith. Hubbel is now an officer of the American Society of Authors, Composers and Publishers. Charles Dillingham had assigned him to write the music for a show. Golden was to furnish the 1 yrics. After many pow-wows the task was completed. "Poor Butterfly" was in the production folder. For divers and sundry reasons, Dillingham and the other overlords wrinkled their noses at it. Another number would have to replace it. But time and the premiere crept forward and before you could say "Charlie Dillingham," it was opening night. It was too late to accept any substitutes. Several had been tried but failed, and "Poor Butterfly," per schedule, swept across the auditorium. Suffice it to say that Raymond Hubbel's tune and John Golden's lyrics remained in the show. Myrt and Marge use it to introduce their program each evening over WABC. Should you study the career of Irving 68