TV Radio Mirror (Jul - Dec 1956)

the State of Nevada — whereas Allan Copeland appeared, fresh and triumphant, for the regular 9:00 A.M. Crosby rehearsal. . . . Possibly you saw the show in which The Modernaires became a trio composed of announcer Jack Narz, who emits a reasonably pleasant baritone in such laments as "Sixteen Tons," Bob Crosby, and anti-aircraftman Allan Copeland. Incidentally, Allan is the newest member of The Mods, having completed eight years with the group, and is known among his associates as "our juvenile delinquent" because of his sunny blondness, his impish inclination to insinuate into the quintet, at odd times, the voice of Clark Gable, Charles Boyer, Rudy Vallee, or some equally unexpected personality. But more of Allan later. Founder and namer of The Modernaires is tenor Hal Dickinson, a big, bluff, hearty man who would be type -cast in motion pictures as a high-minded attorney, a kindly doctor, or a successful but hardworking business man — which he is. Born in Buffalo, New York, Hal earned a sextuple-threat reputation by excelling at tennis, basketball, baseball, hockey, song, and tympani. His first musical job cast him in a trio called "Three Weary Willies," which sang over station WGR, Buffalo, sponsored by a furniture"" company. Pay was $10.00 per month plus all the furniture polish they could use. "Three Weary Willies" was one of Hal's titles. Another was "Don Juan, Two and Three," for the trio singing in New York on NBC. A bridge addict, Hal was never really happy with a trio, so (after a 26-week stint with Ted Fio Rito in Hotel Hollywood) Hal returned to New York to captain a quartet by acquiring a fourth for bridge. That done, the foursome joined Ray Noble, and Hal — agreeing with Ray that the quartet should be given a distinctive title — spotted an advertisement for bringing a home up to date. "Modernize your furniture," the billboard suggested, and the wheels of the elevated took it up, "Modernize your furniture and give your home an air — modern air — modern air. . . ." The Modernaires were born. After their Noble experience, The Modernaires joined Charlie Barnet for six months, then spent some time with Fred Waring and Paul Whiteman. In 1940, they were approached by an erstwhile buddy of the Ray Noble days, a chap who had played tantalizing trombone. He had formed his own band, and he wanted The Modernaires to add vocal zest to the organization. His name was Glenn Miller. It was with Glenn Miller that Hal acquired some motion picture experience in "Orchestra Wife" and "Sun Valley Serenade." And, during the war, Hal was on the plane with the rest of the band when it made a safe flight from England to France. Glenn's smaller plane disappeared. To backtrack a little: In the early twenties, a girl named Paula Kelly was born in Grove City, Pennsylvania. She was still in pigtails when she talked her two older sisters into forming a trio to sing over Pittsburgh's KDKA airwaves. When Major Bowes came to town, Paula arranged an audition for the trio which resulted in a fifteen-month tour with the Bowes unit. Occasionally, a singing group named "The Modernaires" would share billing with the Bowes unit, so Paula got to know a chap named Hal Dickinson. When her sisters tired of life on the road and decided to remain at home, marry, and start families, Paula accepted v a Dick Stabile singing offer, followed by a R season with Al Donohue, followed by engagements with most of the top name bands of the country. Somehow, wherever she went, The Modernaires seemed to be 94 appearing at a rival theater or a rival supper club — and Hal Dickinson seemed to be available for dinner after the last show. Each meeting was more enchanted and each parting became more painful, so they decided to do the sensible thing: Form a domestic duet. This union was celebrated on New Year's Day, 1939. The Modernaires had thus become a quintet ... so Paula also learned about picturemaking in "Orchestra Wife" and "Sun Valley Serenade." It is pleasant to report that, about two months ago, Paula was stopped on the street by a well-known agent who said, "I think you could succeed in motion pictures. Right now there is a part for which you'd be right. Would you be interested in interviewing for it?" Paula said that her three daughters kept her rather busy and that she also aided her husband in his profession, so her time was quite taken up. Then she said, "But thank you — thank you very much." The gentleman was exhibiting rare taste in his attempt to interest Paula in films. Her hair is dark auburn, closecropped and curly. Her eyes are wide-set and the color of tiger's-eye quartz. Her figure is that of an active teenager. Paula was taught violin during her formative years, but hasn't played for some time. An expert swimmer, she hasn't much time to indulge that ability, and her golf has suffered from neglect since last summer. However,' she is an avid antiquer and has studied her reference books to the point where she not only knows whether a piece is authentic or not, but whether the worm leering from a chair-rung is tenth or twelfth generation. As previously mentioned, Paula and Hal now have three daughters: Martha, fifteen; Paula, Jr. thirteen; Juliann, nine And as things stand now, Paula, Jr. thinks she, too, would like to be a singer. There's one other tidbit about Paula Sr. that you should know: She has a terrible time shopping. Not long ago, she absently picked up from the local market shelf a product not advertised on the Bob Crosby show. One of those "innocent" bystanders— who should be shot — observed, "Wouldn't you think that people who are earning a living by advertising a certain product would buy the same brand?" Tomahawk, anyone? John Drake is the tall, blond, New Englandish member of The Mods. He could be type-cast as a successful writer, a popular professor in a Midwest college, or the hero of Ray Milland's life story. He's the librarian and the bass for the Mods, and — when he isn't filing or bassing — he's likely to be playing sax for kicks, or working in his garden. He is an expert at dialects and can reproduce an accent perfectly after a little exposure to same. Born in St. Paul, John became a musician at nine, when he was given a clarinet. He earned his way through college (U. of Missouri) by playing for college and fraternity dances. . . . Career-wise, he has played and sung with the Slats Randall, Emerson Gill, Dick Stabile, Eddy Duchin and Jan Garber organizations before he joined The Mods in 1942. Seems that Hal Dickinson had caught John Drake one Sunday night in Chicago, in 1940, and had kept the talented bass in mind until a vacancy in the anchor department of The Mods occurred. John took a leave of absence from the group during the war years when he served with the Coast Guard. John is married to his high-school sweetheart and they have two daughters — Elizabeth, six, and Carole, two — who dig up dear Daddy's petunias in order to have a little gift for him when he comes home at night. Fran Scott was born in Huntingdon, Pennsylvania, where he learned to play violin in a home not too closely adjacent to other houses. Next came banjo, and — after he had broken his leg playing football— he embraced the bass viol. From strings, he went to the trombone . . . and, recently, after having noted John Drake's virtuosity on sax, Fran took up that instrument. He has challenged his fellow baritone to a sax duel, and a rehearsal hall is being cleared at CBS. Fran started his career by spending four years with Ray Pearl, then worked with Freddy Martin, Red Norvo, and Blue Barron. He joined The Mods in 1943, and serves as chief arranger for the group. In his spare time, he used to raise boxer dogs, but his wife, Elsie Mary Cook, discovered that she had an allergy to boxers, so that hobby was ended. Fran is a shutterbug. His favorite subjects are son Johnny, eleven, and daughter Deborah, nearly three. Also, he is an antiquer having an enthusiasm quotient equal to that of Paula Kelly . . . when the Scotts built their home in The Valley, the size and shape of the rooms were determined entirely by which precious piece of early Americana was to go where. Allan Copeland, youngest in point of years and youngest in point of service with the quintet, joined the group in 1949. Before that he had been a member of Los Angeles' famed Mitchell Boys' Choir (Allan was born in L.A.) and had sung his way through University High, near the University of California at Los Angeles. ... He had also served in the U.S. Navy, married Dolores Barty, and spent a year with Jan Garber, building vocal group arrangements, singing, and organizing his own singing combo, The Twintones. When a vacancy occurred in The Mods' baritone-tenor department, Hal Dickinson sent for Allan, having had him spotted for some time. Allan took the train to Minneapolis to join the group. He is very inclined toward loud sport jackets, incandescent sport shirts, and whatever sartorial fashion is the moment's last word. His three youngsters (Christina, six; Mike, four; Ricky, just past one) think he is a visual wonder. Clearly, The Modernaires are — as originally stated — one big, happy family. All exchange notes on how to be successfully reared as parents. All are steeped in music by natural inclination and training. The Dickinsons share their interest in antiques and dog raising with Fran Scott. Fran shares his gardening hobby and his multiple-instrument rating with John Drake. John shares his interest in visual music and his lyric-writing ability with Allan . . . and Allan shares his sports outfits with anyone bold enough to wear them. Occasional troubles? Misunderstandings? Problems? Every family has them, so naturally The Mods must expect an occasional rumble. But, years ago, Hal Dickinson established the tradition of a group business meeting on the first day of every month. It is known affectionately as "the barbecue," because everyone is expected to bring his prize beef. The session has always proved to be a picnic, ending in mutually affectionate agreement. Critics believe that this harmony of personality is reflected in the virtuosity of their recordings. If you don't now own the following Modernaire discs, you should add them to your library: "Juke Box Saturday Night," "Dipsy Doodle," "Salute to Glenn Miller," "To Each His Own," and "April in Paris." Prize records ... to go with the prize record of one big, happy family — The Modernaires.