Radio and television mirror (May-Oct 1940)

"Meditation at Moonlight," written especially for Bob by Peter de Rose and Mitchell Parish. This pair of songwriters wrote "Deep Purple." * * * Jimmy Dorsey's new record, "Julia," is named for his sevenyear-old daughter. LOWDOWN RHYTHM IN A TOP HAT FROM the sun-flecked cabanas of Bermuda to the lofty Rainbow Room, society's skyscraper citadel, the name of Al Donahue had been synonymous with soft, soothing dance music. But Mr. and Mrs. Radio Listener rarely tuned him into their loudspeaker. The tall, thin Irish maestro was ever welcomed when lavish Long Island estates tossed their weeklong parties. Yet he couldn't fill a ballroom in Shamokin, Pa. Though social secretaries held his name high on the list when planning swank functions, Al's phonograph records collected dust in music stores, as the customers scrambled for the more democratic disks of Miller and Duchin. To most of us, Al Donahue's music was farther away than an invitation to sit in the Met's diamond horseshoe with the Astors. Then late last year, the 38-yearold bandsman turned his broad back on the so-called smart set, after receiving their polite plaudits ever since he left his home in Dorchester, Mass., more than a decade ago. ■ Left, a top-hat maestro who plays low-down rhythm — Al Donahue. Right, his pretty singer, Margie Stuart. Al quietly announced his decision to his lovely, blonde wife, the former Frederika Gallatin, of the socially prominent banking family. "I'm fed up with this society music," he said determinedly. "Hereafter I'm going to please the masses instead of the classes." Frederika interrupted breathlessly, "When are you going to change, Al?" "As soon as I finish my present engagement at the Rainbow Room." He hesitated a moment as if to prepare his wife for another shock. Then he continued, "As a matter of fact if you come to Manhattan Beach tomorrow you can hear my new band — and honey, it's hot!" Frederika went to the sprawling seaside spot in Brooklyn. All around her were bathers rocking back and forth to the solid swing. Like a rhythmic Dr. Jekyll, Al returned, a bit sheepishly, that night to the Rainbow Room for one of his last appearances as a society maestro. Today the band has just returned from a successful tour of one night stands. Plans were being set for a lengthy stay in New York where there would be an abundancy of network wires. I asked Al to define "society music" and why he decided to change musical oars in midstream. "A society band is strictly for society people. They rarely use arrangements. The band is chiefly concerned with rhythm and melody and not at all interested in such exciting things as color, variation, and style that a real musician likes to bring out. Do you know that a society band can play for more than thirty minutes without once using a special orchestration?" With that type of set-up Al employed a small brass section and three violins. Now the violins have been eliminated, including his own, and there are four saxes, three trumpets, and three trombones in addition to the rhythm section. AL'S shrewd business acumen also ^ was instrumental in his making the change. He knew that as a society bandleader, engagements in ballrooms and theaters were denied him. Then, too, his lucrative side practise of booking bands on cruise boats, was brutally hit by the war. With his new band, Al gets $1,500 for a college date. His record sales for Vocalion have increased almost 100 per cent. It wasn't by choice that the brown-haired creator of "Low Down Rhythm in a Top Hat," was labeled a society maestro. To put himself through Boston University law school, Al played violin in a flock of Boston bands. One night a booker spotted the handsome young fiddler. "Listen, kid, why don't you whip your own (Continued on page 76) AUGUST, 1940 35