Roll On Record

For this installment of Zayde’s Turntable I let my 2-1/2 year old daughter select the record and I’m very happy with the result! She certainly loved dancing to it – over and over again. A good reminder that, if you have 78 r.p.m. discs, it’s best to limit how often you play them on a traditional steel-needle phonograph (or, even better, not use one at all) and opt for a more modern player – that can spin at 78 r.p.m. – with a synthetic stylus. Also, she selected a record that, unbeknownst to me when she picked it, has a unique instrumentation: it’s a hopping jazz piano record from 1949/1950, but it’s not any old piano…

The record is on the short-lived Abbey label, not to be confused with Abbey Road. Searching for Abbey records background was a bit difficult. There is no entry for them in the Online Discographical Project.  Created by record producer Peter Doraine in New York City in 1949, Abbey represented Doraine’s attempt to become a big shot in the burgeoning post-war record industry. The label’s initial releases, in the R&B genre, had mediocre sales – including the Ben Smith Quartet performing the colorfully titled “I Ain’t Fattening Frogs For Snakes,” the Cabineers singing “Whirlpool,” which had some success, and some tunes performed by Bobby Marshall. The real shot in the arm, however, came later that year with Abbey 15003 – a disc featuring Lawrence Cook and The Jim Dandies (Cook also composed and performs on this week’s featured record below), with “The Old Piano Roll Blues” and “Why Do They Always Say No.” The record sold a then-remarkable 200,000 albums. What was especially remarkable about Abbey 15003, however, is that it was not a recording of a live pianist: it was a pianola playing a QRS piano roll. J.C. Marion, in Jamm Upp, writes:

 “…at this moment in history, memories and reminiscences of an earlier, simpler time were the biggest sellers… So, whether it was by design or merely by chance, ‘The Old Piano Roll Blues’ was a huge success. Quite a departure for the new R&B label in town! The tune by Lawrence (now nicknamed ‘Piano Roll’) Cook, was everywhere. But – Doraine continued on his R&B quest.”

“Nickel-Nabbers Sure!”

The label continued to sign and release recordings in the R&B genre, but had no more real hit records. Some of the other artists who released Abbey records in 1949-1951 included – and I include some of the more entertaining song titles here, as well – The Masterkeys, Art Long (“Blues Got Me Walkin, Talkin’ To Myself”), the Ray Parker Combo (performing with Bobby Marshall, on one album, the Inkspots’ song “Are You Lonesome Tonight,” later made famous by Elvis), the Eddie Wilcox Orchestra (“I Shouldn’t Love You, But I Do”), Ralph Willis, Billy Matthews, Elmer Crumbley, Johnny Felton (“You’re Spending My Money Too Fast”), Jewyl Lang, The Radars with the Conrad Fredrick Orchestra, Nellie Hill (“I’m Gonna Copyright Your Kisses”), Sister Dorothy Rivers and Her Gospel Singers, the Billy Ford Orchestra, Joe Candullo’s Orchestra (“I Cooed, I Wooed, I Wed in Tennessee”), Joan Shaw, Elaine Brent, and the King Odom Four (“Don’t Trade Your Love For Gold”). Despite having signed a few partners since 1949, Doraine is still the hear behind Abbey records and when he is signed as head of A&R for Allen Records in 1952 Abbey records fades away.

By the way, Doraine seemed to have something of a sense of humor. A 1950 news account related the following exchange over the phone between Doraine and a songwriter pitching a new tune: “He called up Peter Doraine…in New York and played it over the phone. ‘What’s its name?’ asked Doraine, adding that he liked it. ‘I’ll Write You a Letter,’ said Balee. ‘Why can’t you tell me now?’ said Doraine.”

This album, Abbey 15056, is in good condition, though it does skip twice at the beginning of the A-side recording. There is very little wear to the shellac or to the paper label. It is an electrically recorded 10-inch diameter 78 r.p.m. black vinyl disc with lateral grooves and a ¼” spindle hole. The A-side recording features Lawrence “Piano Roll” Cook and His Orchestra performing Cook’s own composition “The Mason-Dixon Boogie.” The matrix number is G-989 and it runs 2 minutes. The B-side is the same musicians performing “San Antonio Rose” written and originally performed by Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys in 1938. The matrix number is G-990 and it runs 2 minutes and 36 seconds. I could find no date for the recording of the album, though Billboard magazine of November 17, 1951 includes an ad for a store called Speedy Record Sales in Yonkers, in which the album is listed in their top picks (alongside Tony Bennett, Perry Como, Bing Crosby, and Hank Williams records) and available for 60-cents. It was probably recorded in very late 1949 or at some point in 1950. Abbey 15056 does not appear in Les Dock’s guide to record values, but I found one dealer online selling a copy in V+ condition for $4. Abbey later re-released “Mason-Dixon Boogie” on 45 r.p.m. as Abbey 3029; I found one dealer selling that record for $20 and another selling it for $5.

Jean Lawrence Cook (1899-1976), aka “Piano Roll” Cook, has been mentioned on this blog before, coincidentally quite recently, for his 1955 piano roll version of John Moore and Ewart Abner’s “At My Front Door,” which he recorded under the pseudonym “Pep Doyle.” Cook was wildly prolific and by some accounts made more piano rolls than any other pianist in history – as many as 20,000 different roll recordings (over his 56 year career, that works out to about one roll recorded per day, every day of the year). Remarkably, despite being one of the most high-volume musical artists of the 20th century he is barely known today –a search on Amazon finds just 11 products with Cook’s performances on them (some CD and some records) and he has no channel – not even a presence – on digital music stations Spotify or Pandora. Cook, from Athens, Tennessee, became an orphan at the age of three and was raised by relatives who introduced him to music, and the piano more specifically, at a very young age. In March of 1920 Cook headed to the Big Apple to try his luck in the Tin Pan Alley scene. He landed at U.S. Music Roll Company, where he made some piano rolls, before being hired away three years later by the behemoth in the piano roll industry, QRS Music Roll Company. Cook remained with QRS for five decades. While most of his rolls and recordings were released under his own name, some were not – as we’ve already covered here on Zayde’s Turntable. Interestingly, however, some of Cook’s rolls were marketed as being recorded by an actual other living artist – Fats Waller – perhaps in an attempt to increase sales. The site linked above (click on Cook’s name in the first sentence of this paragraph) has an extensive biography, document images, and more, about “Piano Roll” Cook.

Jahn’s storefront, shortly before it closed in 2007.

Cook made many of his recordings and rolls (including possibly this one), not in a studio, but on the nickelodeon piano at Jahn’s Ice Cream Parlor in Queens. Jahn’s (as in, “John’s” with an accent) was one of the neighborhood’s most popular dining establishments, serving dinner and ice cream. The business displayed many of the historic artifacts associated with the site’s long and proud history, including the working piano that Cook made his recordings on, until it went out of business in November 2007.

The site where Jahn’s once was is now a corner market.

Dink Embry

Cook’s tune “Mason-Dixon Boogie” has received very little play outside of this record, which is unfortunate because it’s a nice, jumping jazzy tune. Dink Embry (1920-1999) and the Kentucky Lads and Reece Shipley (1921-1998) made recordings of a song with the same name, but for which label and when I cannot find. I also could not confirm if their recordings were of Cook’s tune; I am skeptical that it was, as both Dink Embry and Reece Shipley were more rockabilly/country musicians than traditional “boogie” artists, but I may be mistaken. This is another instance where I believe this version (click the song title in the first sentence of this paragraph) is the only recording of it available online today – if you find any others, please let me know in the comments section.

Bob Wills, demonstrating one of the benefits of choosing a string instrument over a wind instrument.

“San Antonio Rose” was the signature tune for Bob Wills (1905-1975) and His Texas Playboys. Written originally as an instrumental song for the group in 1938, band members later added lyrics and it was renamed “New San Antonio Rose.” The melody is identical and hence the two titles are often used interchangedly for both songs, the instrumental and the vocal version. The song, which Wills derived from Mexican traditional “Spanish Two-Step” (the song’s melody is the Two-Step’s bridge in reverse), launched Wills and the Texas Playboys to national fame, selling over a million copies and becoming a standard hit for jukeboxes across the country. It’s been covered by countless professional musicians and groups from Patsy Cline to Willie Nelson to Carrie Underwood, and adapted into a variety of genres, including by Wills and the Playboys themselves, when they added drums and horns for a 1944 Grand Ole Opry appearance that “ruffled the feathers” of country music purists:

 “[Old-time country musician Uncle Dave Macon] ‘abut flipped his dipper,’ [drummer Monte] Mountjoy explained. ‘We were breaking tradition and all that. He went by a couple of time mumblin’ about ‘God-damn young upstarts’ and ‘What they doin’ with those drums here?’…Wills had remorselessly flouted Opry tradition…by the act of bringing a drummer.”

Q.R.S. piano roll of the “New San Antonio Rose” – the same tune as “San Antonio Rose” – performed by Lawrence Cook and written by Bob Wills. As a “word roll” the lyrics appear along side the piano roll’s perforations, hence the title “New San Antonio Rose.” Despite the inclusion of the written lyrics on the paper, however, I believe this roll is the exact same performance captured on Abbey 15056.

It may seem incongruous to have a “country” style tune opposite a boogie – maybe Doraine thought it could be sold as a “southern-themed” record. Whatever the reason it’s a fun album and I love sharing the up-beat music with my energetic daughter. The fact that the piano parts are most likely off another obsolete musical medium – the piano roll – makes it that much more of a delight.

Love me some Durium

In March, just before “the big hiatus,” my last featured record was Hit of the Week #1088, with the Vincent Lopez Orchestra directed by Hymie Wolfson playing Walter Donaldson’s foxtrot “Little White Lies.”

As you may recall, HOTW was a Depression-era label that pressed their albums on a paper-like product called Durium instead of on the standard shellac. The result was a very inexpensive and easy to transport record (albeit one-sided).

I was just sent this fun blog that is maintained by a fellow collector who has chosen to specialize in HOTW records. As with so many other collectibles, there are niche collectors who seek out records by specific artists, in specific genres, or, in this case, from a specific label.

In 2005 Archeophone Records released a four-volume set of 8 CDs with every HOTW master. The point being the music – the exact same music – is available in modern, convenient, and cleaned-up form. So why the Durium Project? Because to some the medium is as important as the content. The medium in itself has value as a historical, aesthetic, and even scientific object.

The notion of a paper recording medium is as close to the ephemeral nature of today’s digital music, that exists in microchips and in the “cloud,” as the great era of 78s ever came.

Ironically in attempting to make a media that delivered the music in as cheap and easily replaceable a format as possible, Hit of the Week created a unique historical artifact in its own right. It is one that captures a moment in American history and, through its constitution alone, illustrates the economic conditions of the nation.

“Look at me; I don’t know the song.”

The 1878 Edison cylinder phonograph with the foil on it.

The oldest recording of an American voice can now be heard. Is it something profound, you might ask? It’s a 19th century political reporter from St. Louis bungling the words to a classic nursery rhyme.

The recording can now be heard thanks to the efforts the Museum of Innovation and Science in Schenectady NY and Berkeley Lab’s Carl Haber.

The 1878 recording (click for a video with the recording) runs 1 minute and 18 seconds and also includes the world’s first recorded blooper. It consists of a 23 second cornet solo of an unknown song, followed by a man reciting “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” an unidentified woman stating “Old Mother Hubbard,” followed by the same man reciting the poem. The man stumbles over the words in the second nursery rhyme, laughs, and can be heard reprimanding himself: “Look at me; I don’t know the song.” The man is likely St. Louis newspaper writer Thomas Mason.

The recording was last played on June 22, 1878 at a phonograph demonstration by Mason, who had purchased the machine (Serial #8) from Edison in April of that year for the then staggering amount of $95.50. Mason perished (from sunstroke) less than one month after the demonstration.

The foil, with the oldest recording of an American voice, of music, and of a blooper.

Because of the materials used – tinfoil, essentially – the medium was normally only playable once or twice before it was destroyed by the mechanism playing it. The foil sheet, 5″ wide by 15″ long, was wrapped onto a cylinder that was then played on the Edison device; the needle would play the recording, but also tear up the foil in the process. The demonstrator in the 19th century would, after playing back the recording, tear up the remaining foil and distribute the pieces among the audience as a souvenir of the demonstration. This particular foil recording is one of only two still in existence that are playable (the other is from 1880 and is in the Henry Ford Museum in Michigan). Edison’s later cylinders were made from a more durable wax composite.

Haber and his colleagues used a scanning technology to replicate a phonograph’s stylus, transforming the grooves into a 3D image that can then be played back by a computer.

The achievement restores a vital link in the evolution of recorded sound, Haber said. The artifact represents Edison’s first step in his efforts to record sound and have the capability to play it back, even if it was just once or twice, he said. ‘It really completes a technology story,’ Haber said. ‘He was on the right track from the get-go to record and play it back.’

Equal All Ways

A “monstrosity” and an early jazz smash hit share the shellac on this entry of Zayde’s Turntable!

Triangle was a short-lived label affiliated with the New York Recording Laboratories (Paramount) and manufactured from September 15, 1922 to 1925 at the Bridgeport Die and Machine Company on Elm Street in Bridgeport, CT. The label touts the innocuous slogan “Equal All Ways.” Triangle, like most of Bridgeport’s labels at the time (Puritan being perhaps the most voluminous) drew on Paramount masters for their tracks until 1924, when Paramount collapsed in bankruptcy and the manufacturer turned to Emerson for masters. Their contract with Paramount restricted Bridgeport’s sales primarily to the east coast and mid-Atlantic, much of which was done through department store retailers and mail order firms.

With the move to Emerson in 1924, the company was able to branch out and took on the Hudson and Mitchell labels out of Detroit in 1924. Bridgeport was an incredibly prolific manufacturer of early 78s, as a sampling of just some of their associated labels makes clear – Baldwin, Belvedere, Broadway, Carnival, Chautauqua, Everybody’s, Hudson, Lyraphone, Mitchell, Music Box, National, Pennington, Puretone, Puritan, Resona, Supertone, Triangle, and Up-To-date, just to list a few.

Just a sample of some Bridgeport labels.

In addition to Paramount and its myriad affiliate labels (Broadway, Puritan, etc.), in their contract with Emerson the company pressed discs from Dandy, Grey Gull, Blu-Disc, Pathe, and Banner material. They even, briefly, issued their own master series (which can be identified by the master prefix “BDM”), which appeared on later Triangle labels from 1924 to 1925. Triangle classical records were also released (with catalog numbers in the 15000s), as were standards (9000s). Triangle met its demise with the July 1925 bankruptcy of the Bridgeport Die and Machine Company. Unlike other Bridgeport brands, which made their way into other company’s portfolios, Triangle did not live on, leaving just a four year window for their manufacture. To that effect, Triangle label records meet the general requirement for valuable records to be scarce. Of course, the quality, importance, and scarcity of the music still play a role.

This album, Triangle 11145, is in fair condition. It has wear to both sides, with the expected impact on the quality of the audio. The paper label shows considerable wear, rendering some of the text unreadable. It is an acoustically recorded 10-inch diameter 78-RPM black shellac disc with lateral grooves and a ¼” spindle hole. The A-side recording features the Society Syncopators performing “Hot Lips,” by Henry Busse, Henry Lange, and Lou Davis. The master number is 1101 and it was recorded June 29, 1922. It runs 3 minutes and 22 seconds and was published by Leo Feist Inc. of New York. The B-side recording is the same group performing “You Can Have Him, I Don’t Want Him,” by Dan Dougherty, with lyrics by William Tracey (though Tracey’s name does not appear on the label here, since this version is an instrumental only – no vocalist). The master number is 1100 and it was recorded the same day, June 29, 1922. It runs 3 minutes and 12 seconds. It’s interesting to note that the recording date actually precedes the establishment of the Triangle label by three months; this suggests that the recordings were likely made as a Paramount master and intended to be distributed on other labels, which, indeed, they were. The record does not appear in Les Docks’ value guide for 78 r.p.m. records, though there is one dealer selling the same recordings on Regal 9341 for $14.95 on Ebay.

“Hot Lips” (not a reference to the M*A*S*H character; the lyric is “He’s got hot lips when he plays jazz” and refers to the instrumentalist) was written by Busse, Lange, and Davis as a “blues fox trot” for male trio and solo trumpet, for George White’s Scandals of 1922. The Scandals were a string of revue style Broadway shows, produced by George White, that ran from 1919 until 1939. The 1922 cast included Lester Allen, Dolores Costello, Peggy Dolan, W.C. Fields, Winnie Lightner, Sally Long, Paul Whiteman and his orchestra, and the George White Girls. Busse was a founding member of the Whiteman orchestra and the song (released on Victor as 18920-A) went on to become a #1 hit for the group in 1922, holding the spot on the charts for six weeks. Legendary saxophonist Clyde Doerr played sax. Whiteman’s band recorded the song on June 23, 1922 – just six days before the Syncopators’ recording was made. The Whiteman recording was featured on the soundtrack to the Oprah Winfrey film The Color Purple in 1985. Busse himself led his own orchestra in the popular song 12 years later on a Decca, #25015-A, recording. Busse’s track was also used across the pond on Brunswick 03791-B, an English record, released the same year. The Decca track was also later re-released as a 45 r.p.m. Eventually it was the title track on a 33-1/3 r.p.m. LP.

Henry Busse on the record cover for the vinyl LP “Hot Lips,” featuring his signature tune as the title track.

The chorus to the song (not heard on this record, as it is instrumental only) is:

He’s got hot lips when he plays Jazz,

He draws out step, like no one has,

You’re on your toes and shake your shoes,

Boy, how he goes, when he plays Blues.

I watch the crowd until he’s through,

He can be proud, they’re cuckoo, too;

His music’s rare, you must declare, the boy is there

With two hot lips, he’s got hot lips.

After the Whiteman recording a plethora of other groups took on the hit song – including the Society Syncopators. Also in June 1922, the California Ramblers made a recording of the tune on Vocalion 14384-A. In August 1922 Bailey’s Lucky Seven pressed it for Gennett 4935-A. The Cotton Pickers made a recording of the song in July 1922 for Brunswick 2292-B. Henry Lange, one of the song’s composers, and his orchestra pressed it for Gennett 6263, Superior 306, and Genett Special 40102 concurrently in 1927. Even into the next decade, the song remained popular, with the Hoosier Hotshots releasing a recording of the “Novelty…Hot Dance with Singing” on Melotone 7-06-60 after recording it on October 5, 1936.

Henry Busse in 1921.

Henry Busse (1894-1955) was born into a musical family in Germany. Originally raised as a violinist, he had to abandon the instrument after a broken finger was set improperly and did not heal correctly; the boy picked up a trumpet in its place. Busse was made by his family to play in an “Oompah” band led by his uncle and he despised it; he made numerous attempts to escape, finally succeeding in 1912. Crossing the Atlantic, Busse found himself in the German neighborhoods of New York. Homeless and unable to speak English, Busse was picked up by the police while sleeping in Grand Central Station. After his release he found menial work on a ship heading to California; while at sea his English improved and by the time he landed in Hollywood the adventurous 20-year old was landing extra roles in Keystone Cop films (one can imagine his performances being inspired by his own run-ins with the police in the Big Apple a couple of years prior) and, fortuitously, playing his trumpet in movie theater pit bands. Busse initially played with the “Frisco Jass Band,” also called the Frisco Jazz Band (not to be confused with the Frisco Syncopators – see below) before forming his own “Busse’s Buzzards,” which went on to develop into the Paul Whiteman orchestra.

Despite being subject to discrimination due to his German accent, Busse found success in the California music scene. At one point in the 1920s eight of the top ten sheet music sales spots belonged to his band and Busse himself brought in more than twice the earnings of fellow band member Bing Crosby. Other members of the band included Tommy and Jimmie Dorsey. Busse began to tour and take his talents overseas and across the states. For a while in the 1930s he ran the house band at the Chez Paree in Chicago, where he worked directly for the club’s owner – Al Capone. Back in California Busse’s career found him leading bands appearing in feature films, including one with a speaking part for Busse – “Lady Let’s Dance”.

Busse in a promotional photo taken by the William Morris Agency when he was near the height of his celebrity.

Busse became a celebrity, with all the attendant scandal: after he partied hard at the Hotsy Totsy Club one night, he awoke the next morning married to a woman he had met the night prior. The legal wrangling for the annulment lasted 18 months, during which Busse toured Europe. Busse married twice more and professionally continued to lead his own dance orchestra, the Henry Busse Orchestra, until his death in 1955. Henry Busse’s fascinating life ends with not a little irony: the trumpeter was playing with the Shuffle Rhythm Band at a professional convention in Memphis when he suffered a heart attack. The meeting was the National Undertakers Convention.

Henry W. Lange (1896-1985), the “monarch of the ivories,” was introduced to music through a friend of his father: Arthur Kortheur, the conductor of the Toledo Orchestra in the early 1900s. After Kortheur’s death Lange’s musical education continued with the accomplished pianist Max Ecker. Lange graduated from the Illinois College of Music and went on to serve as music director for a handful of radio stations (WOAI San Antonio, WFAA Dallas, and WHIC Dayton) and pianist for a number of hotels across the southwest. From 1920 to 1924 he played with the Paul Whiteman orchestra in New York at the Palais Royale, where he crossed paths with Henry Busse. With the Whiteman band Lange served as one of the trio of pianists in the 1924 premiere performance of George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” – the other two being Gershwin himself and Ferdie Grofe, who shared a regular stint with the Whiteman band with Lange. Lange was apparently quite versatile, appearing both in dance bands and with the Ziegfield Follies, and in European tours performing classical concerts for members of the aristocracy and even royalty. His original piano compositions and performances were released on Ampico, Duo-Art, Melodee, Brunswick, Gennett, and Pathe, among others, and he spent some time as composer to the filmmaker Rudolph Valentino. Lange struggled with health problems for much of his life, and was forced to put his music career on hiatus for a period in the late 1920s. Unfortunately, when he was finally able to return to the circuit, the Great Depression struck and most of the bands dissolved. He performed solo under the moniker “Monarch of the Ivories” for a while, resumed his radio work, and eventually retired.

The final credited name for “Hot Lips” is Lou Davis, about whom I could find almost nothing. The always-helpful World Catalog does reveal an extensive collection of original songs from the period with him named as a composer, lyricist, or arranger (I couldn’t determine which), but there is no biographical information about him that I could identify. If you know anything about Lou Davis, please share it in the comments!

The B-side recording is the blues tune “You Can Have Him, I Don’t Want Him” – also called in some publications by the rather lengthy title “The You Can Have Him, I Don’t Want Him, Didn’t Love Him Anyhow Blues.” The song should not be confused with Irving Berlin’s “You Can Have Him,” from the 1949 musical Miss Liberty or with Roy Hamilton’s 1961 “You Can Have Her,” which has been occasionally rewritten for female vocalists as “You Can Have Him.” The Berlin tune was recorded by the likes of Allyn McLerie, Mary McCarty, Ella Fitzgerald, Nancy Wilson, Doris Day and Dinah Shore, Vanda King, Shirley Bassey, Anita Lindblom, Liza Minnelli, Dusty Springfield, Dionne Warwick, and Nina Simone. I cannot find many other references to the Tracey/Doughtery song, however, which predates the Irving Berlin tune and is here performed by the Society Syncopators. There was a recording of it made by the legendary blues singer Mamie Smith, with her Jazz Hounds, in August 1922 – around the same time as this recording – released on Okeh 4670. A little later, on October 3, 1922, the popular vaudeville duo Gus Van and Joe Schenck recorded it for Columbia A-3735. I cannot locate any other references to the tune being recorded after 1922. And the Van & Schenk and Mamie Smith recordings are the only two mentioned by Warren Vache in his 2000 book The Unsung Songwriters: America’s Masters of Melodies. The only critical review of the piece I could locate was a one sentence panning by Sigmund Spaeth in his 1948 History of Popular Music in America in which he simply called it “a monstrosity.”

Mamie Smith (left) and Van & Schenck (right). It is fascinating that two entirely different types of musicians/performers could record this song.

The catalog of copyright entries specifies that Dougherty penned the melody and Tracey the words to this “monstrosity,” though on this recording there is no vocalist and, hence, no lyrics.  A native New Yorker, William Tracey (1893-1957) was a staffer for a number of music publishers where he collaborated with a host of major composers from the early 20th century, including Lewis Muir, George Meyer, Maceo Pinkard, Doris Tauber, and Nat Vincent. A charter member of the American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers (ASCAP), Tracey penned the words to such Tin Pan Alley standards as “Gee, But It’s Great to Meet a Friend from Your Home Town,” “Bring Back My Daddy to Me,” “Them There Eyes,” “Mammy ‘o Mine,” “He’s Had No Lovin’ For a Long, Long Time,” “Dixie is Dixie Once More,” “Give a Little Credit to Your Dad” (I like that title), and “Is My Baby Blue Tonight.”

Dan Dougherty (1897-1955) of Philadelphia joined ASCAP in 1927 and saw many of his popular songs end up in early films. He composed for Sophie Tucker and collaborated with Nick Kenny and Jack Yellen. His most well-known popular works include “It Certainly Must Be Love,” “It’s All In Fun,” “Glad Rag Doll,” “Mollie,” “Alone in the Rain,” “Moaning for You,” “I’m Dreaming,” “Sittin’ on a Rainbow,” “You’re Still in My Heart,” Mr. Segal, Make It Legal” (“the story of a girl who sleeps with her boss and gets pregnant. Naturally, the boss won’t answer her phone calls, hence the lyric, ‘Mr. Siegel, please make it legal.’”), and the political ditty “Let’s Get Behind the President” written with George Jessel for Harry Truman in 1949. “Glad Rag Doll” is perhaps his most recorded and longest-lived song, with versions being pressed by Dolores Costello for the 1928 film of the same name, again in 1928 by Ted Lewis and his band, Arthur Briggs and His Boys and Earl Fatha Hines in 1929, Tommy Dorsey, Ruth Etting, Johnnie Ray in 1954, Kay Starr in 1955, Barbara Cook in 1975, Joyce Moody and Earl Wentz in 2007, and Diana Krall in 2012. Other films with music by Dougherty include shorts Aunt Jemima: The Original Fun Flour Maker (1927), The Wild Westerner (1928), Grace Johnston and the Indiana Five (1929), the 1929 and 1930 Metro Movietone Revues, The Grand Parade (1930), Crashing the Gate (1933) and feature films Glad Rag Doll (1929), Call of the West (1930), Brothers (1930), Rain or Shine (1930), The Range Feud (1931), Under Pressure (1935), and Follow the Boys (1944).

Specht’s Society Syncopators, sometimes called the Georgians or Specht’s Syncopators, in 1922. Paul Specht is at right with violin and trumpeter Frank Guarente is back center.

Who are the Society Syncopators? According to Michael Harris in The Rise of the Gospel Blues, when it came to the names of popular music recording ensembles of the early 1920s, “jazz was the most frequently used designation, with various forms of the word syncopated a close second…in 1923 appeared the Society Syncopators.” Initially, I thought the band on this record was Fate Marable’s Society Syncopators; Marable, a jazz pianist, led bands on Mississippi river boats that were the proving grounds for many of the legends of American jazz. That suspicion, however, was quickly rejected; Marable’s Society Syncopators only recorded one record – Okeh 40113, which has neither of these tunes. Strangely enough, the answer was suggested when I checked the recording date for Triangle 11145 at the Online Discographical Project: their database mistakenly lists two entries for this record, suggesting that it may have been issued with two different labels. The first, the one I have, only refers to the Society Syncopators; a second seems to refer to “Paul Specht and his Orchestra” on the A-side (that title may be an error – see below) and “Specht’s Society Syncopators” on the B-side.

Paul Specht and the Society Syncopators/Serenaders in 1921, with trumpeter Frank Guarente at the far left and Specht in center with his violin. That’s right: jazz violin.

Puritan issue of the exact same masters, using the exact same catalog and matrix numbers. Only the label is different; while Triangle is “equal all ways,” leave it to Puritan to claim it is “America’s best record.”

This recording, of June 29, 1922, was only the second made by Paul Specht’s orchestra – first coming five days prior with a recording session of “A Dream of Romany” and “In Rose-Time,” billed as “Paul Specht’s Society Serenaders,” a name which was used by the band in live performance from at least as far prior as December 1920. The band’s recording of the songs on this Triangle record appeared simultaneously on Banner 1090 and Imperial 1184 as “Specht’s Society Serenaders,” Paramount 20148 and Puritan and Triangle 11148 as “Specht’s Society Orchestra”, “Specht’s Society Syncopators” and, of course, simply as “Society Syncopators”, Emerson 10546 as “Emerson Dance Orchestra, and Regal 9341 again as “Specht’s Society Syncopators.” This illustrates the general lack of consistency in band names from the period, especially on printed labels, and also the on-going use of pseudonyms for, not simply solo musicians, but entire ensembles. Interestingly, studio records show the recording session of June 29, 1922 was booked for “Specht’s Jazz Outfit,” a name not found on any records issued by the group. The ensemble for the recording – and on this record – comprised of Paul Specht conducting, Frank Guarente on trumpet, Ray Stilwell on trombone, Johnny O’Donnell on clarinet, alto sax, and bass clarinet, Arthur Schutt on piano, Joe Tarto on tuba, and Chauncey Morehouse on drums.

Early jazz trumpeter Frank Guarente. Though Guarente left Specht’s ensemble, cordially, in the mid-1920s he is most likely the trumpeter on this particular recording.

Frank Guarente is likely the trumpet soloist featured on “Hot Lips.” Guarente was born in Avellino, Italy, in 1893 and emigrated to the U.S. out of Naples in 1910.

Paul Specht (1895-1954) was raised as a violinist by his bandleader father, Charles Specht. After graduating from Combs Conservatory in Philadelphia in 1916 Paul put together his first band. The group signed with Columbia in 1922, recording both as the larger band (called Paul Specht and his Orchestra – the reference to that ensemble having made this recording seems to be in error, as this record was pressed by the smaller jazz-focused set) and as a smaller jazz subset that Paul called The Georgians and, later, the Frisco Syncopators or the Society Syncopators. Specht and both of his groups were quite popular throughout the 1920s and starting in 1922 they toured several times to England, where Specht eventually established the “School for Jazz Musicians” in 1924. Specht’s ensembles started the career of many notable jazz musicians, including Charlie Spivak, Joe Tarto, and Chauncey Morehouse, among many others.

Paul Specht on board ship for one of his several trips to England in the early 1920s.

While overseas, however, the group ran into legal troubles: the British government refused to grant them work permits, a fact that Specht only learned after their ship was half-way across the Atlantic. Fortunately for Specht there was a delegation of attorneys, as well as American Secretary of State Charles Hughes aboard the same vessel; after playing some concerts for their fellow passengers, Specht made an entreaty and they intervened on the group’s behalf. There was some diplomatic and legal wrangling, but the group was allowed to disembark and perform. Specht was embittered by the experience, in addition to hassles he ran into with the British music unions, and did not return to England again after 1926, despite the existence of his school and the popularity of his music with the British people in general.

Specht (leaning forward with the white hat in his hand in the front row) and the band in England in 1923.

Specht’s group went on to become the first orchestra to broadcast for RCA, the first to broadcast on a nation-wide radio network (covering 109 stations in all), and one of the earliest to issue a “phonofilm” – sound on film – with a 1925 release. While Specht’s was the first orchestral phonofilm recordings, it was not the first phonofilm recording at all, as some have suggested; the very first phonofilms were made in 1922, with the first public presentations in 1923. Ironically, in 1929 Specht’s group was selected over Paul Whiteman’s (with Henry Busse and Henry Lange) to play at the inauguration of Herbert Hoover. Arthritis hampered his ability to play into the 1940s and he turned more to arranging music for radio and television until his death at age 59.

Guarente, center, is the star of the show in this performance by The Georgians in 1924, towards the end of his affiliation with Specht’s ensembles.

There are all kinds of fun little tid-bits of history associated with this record. The Bridgeport Company, the two “Frisco” bands, Busse’s fascinating career, brush with America’s most famous mobster, and his ironic death, Specht’s diplomatic drama and important role in early sound film, not to mention the “monstrosity” review. The fact that this record features a (once upon a time) hit back to back with a song that seemingly went nowhere is an extra historical treat. There’s still a lot of mystery around this record – why leave Specht’s name off the band’s credit if he was a relatively well-known celebrity? Why no vocalist for two songs written with lyrics? Who decided to do that? Who was Lou Davis? Maybe you know the answers to some of these questions or can provide more background on these tunes and this band. According to my research this record – truly drawn at random from my collection this time – has no monetary value. But I think it still adds another kind of value to my collection, nevertheless.

Developer of LP records passes away

Howard H. Scott, at right, with Aaron Copland (1974).

The New York Times has the full obit of Howard H. Scott. Scott, a piano student at Julliard, was drafted into the Army during World War II. When he returned in 1946, Scott was hired by Columbia Masterworks to work with a team of engineers on a secret project: the creation of a vinyl long-playing record that could replace the fragile shellac 78 r.p.m.

Where 78 r.p.m. discs could hold only about 4 minutes of music per side, the new, more durable LPs, spinning at 33-1/3 r.p.m., could hold around 22 minutes per side, increasing the amount of music per record by an incredible 550%. Scott’s musical training was essential to the project’s success.

In the days before magnetic tape came into wide use, the process of transferring music to the new discs (soon to be known as LPs) was complex. Long pieces of music, split among multiple 78 r.p.m. records, needed to be stitched together on the new discs without interruption. To do that, Mr. Scott and his colleagues lined up overlapping segments of music on 78s, and — with Mr. Scott snapping his finger in coordination — switched the audio signal at just the right moment from one turntable to the other.

Ironically, Scott was central to another revolution in recorded sound medium later in his career. From 1986 to 1993, when he retired, Scott was the producer at Columbia’s corporate descendent – Sony – in charge of the transition of the company’s recordings from LP to CD. Scott passed away on September 22nd in Reading, Pennsylvania; he was 92.

The 78 Project = Awesome

Back in March I shared a brief news story about a hipster band releasing an album as a 78-RPM in (of course) Portland, Oregon. The band used a 1947 lathe cutter to make the disk. It seemed, to me, a little bit phony, with the column’s author even taking a somewhat mocking tone in his piece: “Move over, cassette fetishists. Your infatuation with an outmoded medium has just been bested.”

Today I stumbled across this – the 78 Project – and my faith in contemporary recording utilizing 78-RPM disks was restored:

The 78 Project is a documentary and recording journey inspired by Alan Lomax and his quest to capture music where it lived throughout the early 20th century. Our project brings the spirit of his work into the present as we pair breakthrough musicians with the songs and the fascinating recording technology of the past. With just one microphone, one authentic 1930′s PRESTO direct-to-disc recorder, and one blank lacquer disk, musicians are given the opportunity to make a recording anywhere they choose. What we have found is that the film, music and feelings that result defy space and time, living music inspired by ghosts.

Watching some of the episodes of the web series has been a delight and I was pleased to see they have undertaken a Kickstarter campaign to fund a full length documentary of their project. One of the greatest discoveries from watching some of these phenomenal musicians record direct to acetate has been the realization that with this technology, you only get one take to cut your album. There’s no digital editing, auto-tuning, or “cleaning up.” If you screw up, you start again from scratch. And there’s certainly something exhilarating about that risk that is clearly absent from modern recordings: when it’s safe and easily sanitized “in post,” the magic of the moment and the rawness, the authenticity of the music is reduced or even removed altogether.

The original Vee-Jay (sorry, MTV): a doo-wop classic

Jumping 42 years ahead from the last post, this installment of Zayde’s Turntable gives us one of the classic doo-wop groups singing the song that made them famous. Vee-Jay Records 147 is a must-own for anyone serious about ‘50s doo-wop, rock, or R&B and it takes us from the last post, with one of the earlier 78s of the 20th century, to one of the last batch of 78s released before the onslaught of the 45RPM and the LP (33-1/3RPM).

The Vee-Jay label was founded in 1953 by the husband and wife team of Vivian Carter (“Vee”) and James Bracken (“Jay”) and was the first major record company to be owned and operated by African-Americans. Vee-Jay was a R&B powerhouse – their very first song made it onto the Top Ten of the national R&B charts. While they stayed fairly consistent with R&B and blues artists throughout the 1950s the company branched into soul in the 1960s and was the first to nationally release a recording by The Pips (later Gladys Knight and the Pips). After soul the label added on rock and roll acts, which is where some of their most famous talent would end up performing: The Four Seasons (Vee-Jay’s first non-black artists) and The Beatles. Down the road they added Little Richard and even an album with Jimi Hendrix and Billy Preston in 1965. The label started dabbling in other genres, including a small jazz line, some gospel albums, and even (on 33-1/3PM LP) some comedy records.

Vee-Jay only issued only style of label on their 78s (left) before changing exclusively to LP and 45-RPM records.

Vee-Jay was at its commercial peak from 1962 to 1964 thanks to The Four Seasons and their distribution of early Beatles albums (tracks included “Love Me Do,” “P.S. I Love You,” and “Twist and Shout” among several others). Beatles record sales exploded for Vee-Jay in 1964 after the British Invasion and the company’s high-water mark was the sale of 2.6 million Beatles singles in just one month.

This album is in fair condition. It has moderate wear and scratches on both sides, with the expected impact on the quality of the recorded audio (pops, hisses, etc.; the audio of my versions, linked to below, is not ideal and I strongly encourage you to search elsewhere on YouTube for better quality audio of these two great tracks). The B-side has two dried paint drops on it, which cause the disk to skip briefly at each point. It is an electrically recorded 10-inch diameter 78-RPM black vinyl disc with lateral grooves and a ¼” spindle hole. The label is not paper glued onto the vinyl, as was common on most 78s, but is, instead, painted directly onto the vinyl. The record catalog number is Vee-Jay 147. The A-side recording features the El Dorados singing their chart-topping hit “At My Front Door” by John Moore (?) and Ewart Abner (1923-1997); the master number is 55-257 and it was recorded on April 24, 1955. It runs 2 minutes and 32 seconds and was produced by Tollie Music.

The B-side recording also features the El Dorados singing “What’s Buggin’ You, Baby?” by Bob Drews and Riley Hampton (1918-2006); the master number is 55-274 and it was recorded on June 8, 1955. It runs 2 minutes and 19 seconds and was also produced by Tollie Music. Les Docks sets the value at $7-$10. To my surprise, I was not able to find any other copy of the 78RPM version of this album for sale online; there were fully 18 people selling the 45RPM version of the album (many calling it “rare”), for between $4 and $65, with an average asking price of $25. Given that the album is not terribly scarce and the quality of my copy of it is only fair, I would set the value of my Vee-Jay 147 closer to $4-$7.

The El Dorados, 1954

In Chicago in 1952 Pirkle Lee Moses pulled together a doo-wop vocal group that called themselves “Pirkle Lee and the Five Stars.” The other members included tenors Louis Bradley and Arthur Bassett, second tenor and baritone Jewel Jones, and baritone/bass singers James Maddox and Richard Nickens. Pirkle left the group briefly to serve in the Air Force and when he returned in 1954 they changed the group’s name to “The El Dorados.” Carter, from Vee-Jay, heard them sing in Chicago in 1954 and signed the group to the label. Their first three Vee-Jay albums were flops commercially but, in 1955, they released their fourth Vee-Jay record, number 147. It was a smash hit, quickly rising to #1 on the Billboard R&B chart and #17 on the pop chart. Their next album with Vee-Jay, number 165, also placed in the R&B top ten in 1956. That year Basset and Nickens left the group and The El Dorados tried to make a go as a quartet. It didn’t work out, though, and the group went their separate ways in 1957: Pirkle, still in Chicago, reformed the group with all new members and Bradley, Jones, and Maddox moved to California and formed a new group called The Tempos. Pirkle’s new group wasn’t to Vee-Jay’s liking and the label dropped them in 1958, after releasing a total of just eleven El Dorado singles from 1954-1958.

“At My Front Door,” also called “Crazy Little Mama,” was a smash hit and propelled the El Dorados to significant fame in the 1950s. It was covered by Pat Boone (in a version that was panned by some critics), Myron and the Van Dells, and Ringo Starr, among many, many others over the years. As a doo-wop/motown classic it is a standard for countless contemporary groups that perform the style (search YouTube for either version of the song’s title and you’ll see). In 1955 the wildly prolific piano roll artist J. Lawrence Cook (1899-1976) made the piano roll version under the pseudonym Pep Doyle. It was such a hit that Vee-Jay made it the title track on their first ever LP: “Crazy Little Mama” in 1957.

The cover of the LP (VJLP-1001), with the title track “At My Front Door (Crazy Little Mama)” by the 1955 El Dorados. Click to hear the original 78-RPM version from the album in my collection.

Ewart Abner, around the time Vee-Jay 147 was made.

Ewart Abner, credited on “At My Front Door,” joined the label in 1955, first as manager, then as vice president, and ultimately, as president from 1961 to 1963, when it was the most successful black-owned record company in the world. It was under Abner’s leadership that the label got The Beatles first U.S. albums – as a “throw in” in a deal with Trans-Global/EMI for the artist they really wanted, Frank Ifield. Cash flow problems caused by Ewart Abner’s tapping the company treasury to cover personal gambling debts led to the company’s active demise. He also kept many of the company’s books, not on paper, but in his head. When Beatlemania, and the ensuing blizzard of lawsuits, descended, Vee-Jay was overwhelmed and forced to temporarily cease operations in the second half of 1963, leading to royalty disputes with the Four Seasons and, of course, EMI. The Four Seasons then left Vee-Jay for Philips Records, and EMI’s Capitol Records picked up the U.S. rights for both the Beatles and Frank Ifield. Abner went on to become a key executive, and eventually president, of Motown Records, and principal of Chicago-based Constellation Records.

As for Abner’s partner on the hit, composer John C. Moore, I could find very little in my research outside of a connection to several other Motown and doo-wop records from artists such as Pat Boone, Dee Clark, and the Righteous Brothers. His most common reference, however, is in connection with the El Dorados “At My Front Door.”

“What’s Buggin’ You, Baby?” is the doo-wop song on the flip side of the album. It’s not a bad tune, but didn’t make the cut for the LP version of “At My Front Door (Crazy Little Mama)”. In fact, Vee-Jay and its affiliates did not place this track on any of their reissues on 45RPM or 33-1/3PM. It wouldn’t appear again on an album until the Collectables CD #7245 from October 2000 “The Very Best of the El Dorados.”

Bob Drews in 1961.

Bob Drews, who composed the song, was a moderately well-known radio personality of the period who ricocheted around radio stations throughout the 1950s and 1960s. A Billboard magazine ad placed by Vee-Jay in 1955 to promote the album touts him as “Dee-Jay Bob Drews”; interestingly the ad suggests that Drews composed both “What’s Buggin’ You, Baby?” and “At My Front Door,” though he is not credited with the latter track on the album itself. In 1955 Drews could be heard on WAAF in Chicago, before making the move to WRIT in Milwaukee in March of 1956. The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette of December 5, 1958 puts Drews in the Keystone State that year with this little dig: “Good Old Bob Drews, formerly of WAMP, will take over the 7 to 10 wake-up show on WMCK come Monday. Drews plans a give-away contest to get his program off to a good start. First prize will be a strait jacket [sic]. This is very appropriate, as listener [sic] to the ‘New Good Old Bob Drews Show’ will quickly discover.” By April of 1960 Drews was spinning a weekend show on WCAE out of Philadelphia and a regular program over WEEP in Pittsburgh. In 1961 Drews was on the move again; a Billboard Music Week column refers to him as host of the “Good Old Bob Drews Show” on WWL-TV in New Orleans. The column posed the question “Which recording artist would you like to interview the most and why?” to a series of DJs; Drews picked Annette Funicello to be on his show, but “for an off-the-record interview give me Julie London.”

Julie London, perhaps placing a call for an off-the-record interview with Bob Drews. But probably not.

Riley Hampton (on alto sax, the second musician from the right in the front row of the band) playing with the Red Saunders band. The dancers in front of the band were “The Hambone Kids.” Search YouTube for “Red Saunders Hambone Kids” to hear the band, including Hampton, playing.

Riley Hampton was an important, yet sadly unknown Chicago-based arranger who has been behind some of the most significant doo-wop, Motown, and R&B hits ever written. Hampton, originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, was playing with a band in Detroit in the early 1940s when he left the group to take a spot in the Jimmy Murray band in Pittsburgh. In 1942 the band was taken over by Fletcher Henderson and the following year Hampton was drafted into the Army. Upon his return in 1946 he returned to the Henderson Band, then playing at the Club DeLisa in Chicago. He played under a variety of directors at the club, finally finding a regular seat in the Red Saunders band at the same venue in 1952. Within a few years the musically talented Hampton was finding more work as a composer and arranger than as a performer.

Etta James found fame with “At Last,” arranged by Riley Hampton.

By 1955 he was a regular arranger for Vee-Jay, working on a number of songs – including “What’s Buggin’ You, Baby?” – before hanging up his sax for good around 1959 and being named the house bandleader for Chess Records. It was with Chess and a handful of other labels throughout the 1960s that Hampton was part of some of the recordings that made him famous, including Etta James smash hit “At Last.” James gospel style blues singing found a striking balance with Hampton’s pop-like string and horn-focused arrangements. The mixture was magical, producing most of James’ Top Ten R&B hits and launching her career as a major soul singer. Hampton went on to arrange for Walter Jackson (on Okeh), Curtis Mayfield, Ramsey Lewis, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, Dee Clark, Eddie Holland, Barbara Lewis, Billy Eckstine, Gene Chandler, Major Lance, Billy Butler and the Enchanters, the Impressions, and the Supremes.

Unlike many of the records in my collection and on this blog, the story of Vee-Jay 147 persists into the present time. After a few decades of fits and starts, Vee-Jay today operates as “The Vee-Jay Limited Partnership” under the management of Michele Tayler. The Connecticut company primarily overseeing the licensing and republication of Vee-Jay songs. The most recent I could find, from twelve years ago, was remastered and released by Collectables Records on CD, including a “Best of Vee-Jay” box set and individual “Best of the Vee-Jay Years” CDs.

As for the El Dorados, in 1969 Pirkle revived the group, with new members. Simultaneously the singer Johnny Carter, formerly of the Tempos, formed his own vocal group also called the El Dorados. After several years of competition, the two groups merged in the 1970s. The combined group toured and made records for many, many years and, when Pirkle died in 2000, the group renamed itself “Pirkle Lee Moses Jr’s El Dorados” in his honor. The group, under that name, continued to tour until 2009. After discovering the group persisted, in some fashion, until close to today, I went online to see if I could find out more about the group today – where are they performing, how to contact them, what they are singing in concert these days. Unfortunately, I could not find anything. I’d like to think that 2009 wasn’t their last live gig and if anyone reading this can tell me whether or not that was their last song, I would love to find out.