Radio stars (Oct 1934-Sept 1935)

RADIO STARS HOW OFTEN HAVE YOU WONDERED IF THIS DIGNIFIED AND RESERVED MAESTRO IS THE REAL ISHAM JONES? ONE OF HIS "BOYS" GIVES YOU THE INSIDE LOWDOWN ON THE "OLD" MAN BEHIND THE MUSIC By Eddie Slone (Right) Next to leading a band, Jones likes best to play the piano. that course in second year chemistry and composition. Came the dawn, however, of the last day of the twentyseventh week. As head of the orchestra, I had been doing pretty well financially. I had bought a Packard and had plenty of money to spend. But when our booker got us St. Louis he had apparently done his day's work, for there weren't any more spots for us to move to. So I climbed into the Packard, with at least part of my last week's takings in my pocket, and headed for Chicago and the office of the erring agent. "Why don't you take a run over to Milwaukee?" he suggested. "Isham Jones is there at the Shrader with a new band he's just shaping up. He's still short a singer and you might get the job." "Thanks for the tip," I came back, "but I'm buying a round-trip ticket. Have another idea thought up by the time I get back tomorrow night." That afternoon at the Shrader I tried to see Isham Jones, but instead I drew his manager. This gentleman wasn't impressed and didn't think the boss would care to interview me. There was nothing to be gained by giving him an argument, so I inquired of the bellhop as to where Mr. Jones ate breakfast. The next morning I went down to the hotel's coffee shop and began drinking coffee. At about the fourth cup I saw him come in, alone, and order breakfast. I waited until it came and he began to eat. My heart was thumping. It was my first real attempt to land a job. but something made me resolve to get it or die in the attempt. I think it was annoyance at the manager's reception as much as the fact that I was down to my last six dollars. When I made myself go over to his table, tell my little story, and ask for a hearing, Isham looked at me dubiously. He wasn't sure he needed a singer. But his kindness of heart got the better of him. Before he had finished breakfast he had agreed that it would do no special harm to listen to me sing. Time for rehearsal came at last. I was hanging around and had tried to make friends with several of the boys. All new themselves, they were sympathetic. The manager glowered at me, but I pretended not to notice. My knees were trembling. I hadn't even brought my violin and I was to play along with the band, as well as sing by myself ! Then Jones came in and with a borrowed instrument under my chin I stood up for my ordeal. The Ikws, as they had promised, carried on pretty strongly and covered up the sour notes on the fiddle. When told to sing "just anything" I timidly warbled "I May Be Wrong." Jones looked non-commital and asked for another. I tried "Crying for the Carolines" and ended the second chorus on a note an octave higher than it was written. That smart trick was later to get me into trouble, but at the time Isham just said. "Okay, Kid, you're hired. Show up in your tux tonight at seven." My strong liking for "the old man" began at that moment. "Thank you. Sir," I answered, trying to control my joy. "But I'll have to run back to Chicago for the tux. I didn't bring any clothes, because how did I know I'd get the job!" The fact that I was still hired after this dumb crack will give you some idea of the decent chap that [sham Jones is ! The first week was so awful that I break into a cold sweat when I remember it. Nothing but Jones' faith in his hunches kept me with the band. Mrs. Jones, listening from Chicago to all of our broadcasts, sent word that: "Your new singer is pretty terribje. Isham. but he has something different." The fan mail confirmed the first part of her opinion in no uncertain terms! It looked as if everyone in Milwaukee and the environs had taken pen in hand to tell the conductor at the Shrader how little they thought of his scat singer. Finally I got up courage to go to Jones and try to explain that that high note at the end of "Carolines" was just an accident. My voice is pitched very low and the songs I was being given were all too high in their arrangements. Again the boss looked (Continued on page 78) 51