Swing (Jan-Dec 1953)

APPLE-POLISHING, BACK-STABBING AND OTHER SPORTS 99 Some Small Complaints ALWAYS on the alert to guard that citadel of American culture — the popular song — I'm sounding the tocsin right now against a practice which I consider subversive. You know what television producers are doing to blues songs? They're putting happy endings on them. I seen it with my own eyes. The other day on "The Hit Parade," a young lady, conceivably Dorothy Col' lins, was moaning that popular lament that she wished he were here because they were painting the sky a different color this year or some such nonsense. At the end of this anguished cry, he showed up, the answer to a maiden's prayer. A little while later, another forlorn maiden was shown singing "Somewhere Along The Way." She hoped she'd find him somewhere along the way and damned if she didn't. As I say, I consider this tampering with the fundamental intent of a songwriter unAmerican. When a songwriter writes about a girl sitting alone by the telephone, he darn well wants her to be alone. Heartbreak is the most precious element of the songwriter's precarious career. If I were a songwriter, I'd rise in revolt against these TV producers who are trying to mend the hearts he has shattered in song. Next thing you know some singer will be shown singing "My Buddy" out in No Man's "You've got a record crowd out there today, boy — give 'em everything you've got!" Land over the body of his fallen comrade and the corpse will rear up and proclaim that it was only a flesh wound. A MY South American intelligence service, normally a somnolent operation, came to life briefly the other day. At any rate, the mail packet brought a letter concerning television in Rio De Janeiro. "We are the proud possessors of one TV station. It works from 5 to 6 each afternoon during which time they show old Charlie Chaplin or Laurel and Hardy pictures — at the end of which a trailer clearly states, in English, that the picture is not licensed for TV. "The second period of television runs from 8:30 until about 11 P. M. It can't go on longer than this because the transmitter (not the studio) is located atop Sugar Loaf mountain and the last cable car from there is at midnight. So if the program runs any longer, all technicians are marooned on top of the mountain until the morning after. "As to the programs, there was one unforgettable version of 'Othello' in which the opening sentence was T^ao entrai simply because the fool in charge of the script didn't know enough Portuguese to realize it should be nao entreis. That's like saying Ts I in love, I is', no less. On top of that, Othello was the only actor in the entire cast you could positively swear had no Negro blood in him whatsoever. "Our picture is never sharp except in the background or foreground. This isn't too objectionable since it always seems to be seen through waves of gelatin, and focus wouldn't be appreciated anyway. Another thing the TV people like to do here is to stop a picture right in the middle, run off an ad and then go on to another program. I find it frustrating. However I get back at them by calling the station and, after they answer, leaving the phone off the hook (after explaining why) for half an hour. Our phone system is so constructed that their phone cannot make nor receive calls until the calling phone (in this case mine) is replaced on the hook." ▲ SO we take leave of romantic, sundrenched Rio and return to New York, where there is an early morning weather