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Happy Birthday, Jim Jordan!

During my formative nostalgia years, my sisters and I rarely went to the movies unless there was a “G” rating attached and “Disney” mentioned somewhere in the credits.  We saw all the new Disney films and re-releases, and such was the case in 1977 when the Walt Disney studios unveiled their latest animated feature The Rescuers—based on the book series created by Margery Sharp.  The movie was about a pair of mice (they work for an organization known as The Rescue Aid Society) who help a little girl escape the evil clutches of a villainess colorfully dubbed Madame Medusa.  It provided much entertainment for me, because I got such a kick out of the vocal talent. The mice, Bernard and Bianca, were voiced by Bob Newhart and Eva Gabor, for example, with Madame Medusa’s ineffective henchman Snoops played by Disney mainstay Joe Flynn (his last feature film work before his passing in 1974).

There was a minor character named Orville, an albatross who provided the transportation for the film’s rodent heroes to journey to the bayou where the little girl was being held captive.  From the moment Orville opened his mouth I knew right away the identity of the actor who lent his voice to this fine-feathered friend; my blossoming love for old-time radio came to the fore as I shouted out “It’s Fibber McGee!”  (I believe both of my sisters relocated to another section of the movie theatre following my outburst.)  Jim Jordan, born just outside—where else?—Peoria, Illinois on this date in 1896, did indeed voice Orville; it would be his last feature film credit before retiring a few years later.  He had certainly earned a rest after a lifetime of entertaining radio audiences as one-half of the medium’s most beloved comedy couples.

For young James Edward Jordan, life in Illinois loosely translated to life on a farm.  His family eventually “moved to town” in time for him to complete eighth grade at St. Marks School, and then transition to Peoria’s Spaulding Institute for a few more years of formal training.  Across the street, his future wife Marian Driscoll was enrolled at the Academy of Our Lady…though the couple wouldn’t officially meet until December of 1915, at a Christmas choral rehearsal for St. John’s Catholic Church.  Jim and Marian bonded over their love of music; Jim was singing tenor with a local trio while Marian was a contralto who played both piano and violin.  They began dating in January of the following year when Marian invited Jim to a piano recital.

Both Jim and Marian had boundless ambition to be entertainers, and while Jim made inroads into this by getting work as a tenor singer with a Chicago vaudeville act, his work often kept him on the road…and he missed Marian terribly.  Returning to Peoria, he found work as a mail carrier, while Marian made ends meet as a piano coach.  Jim was able to win over Marian’s family when he asked for her hand in marriage, and they tied the knot on August 31, 1918. He got a letter from his Uncle Sam just five days later and was shipped to France, where his exploits during WWI would become legend.  Okay—that’s a tall tale worthy of Fibber McGee; Jordan contracted dysentery not long after his arrival, and was hospitalized long past the Armistice signing.  He served out his hitch touring U.S. hospitals throughout France as part of a military camp show.

Returning stateside, Jim Jordan worked any number of odd jobs (selling vacuum cleaners, washing machines, and life insurance) before deciding to give show business another try…and suggesting that wife Marian join him as his partner.  Performing in vaudeville was not always peaches and cream; the Jordans started out well, but ended up broke. (Jim had to wire his family for money at one point in 1923 so they could return home.)  Their home life encountered instability as well, particularly after the births of daughter Kathryn (1920) and son Jim, Jr. (1923).  Marian elected to stay home to look after their kids while Jim continued with the vagabond vaudeville life, interrupted by periods of employment as a dry cleaner and selling toys in a department store.

Radio would be the Jordans’ ticket into show business.  Goaded by his brother Byron into performing at a Chicago station (after Jim bragged that he could give a better performance than the act that was on the air), WIBO hired both Jim and Marian to perform as The O’Henry Twins in 1926 for $10 a week.  It wasn’t huge money, but the couple worked at enough radio stations to keep body and soul together.  At WENR, Jim and Marian were the stars of The Smith Family, an early example of daytime drama that a few radio historians have suggested may have been the first radio “soap.”  At WMAQ, the Jordans headlined a weekday comedy serial entitled Smackout that became so popular it eventually moved to the national NBC Blue network.

The writer on Smackout was Don Quinn, who became acquainted with Jim and Marian at WENR in their Smith Family days (and he wrote for that program as well).  Quinn would create Fibber McGee and Molly for the couple, which got the greenlight as a half-hour comedy program for Johnson’s Wax beginning April 16, 1935 over NBC. (They were championed by the wife of ad executive John J. Louis, who suggested that the stars of her favorite show [Smackout] would be perfect for the new Johnson’s venture.)  The Johnson’s Wax Program with Fibber McGee & Molly started out slow in the ratings, but a few years later it was on its way to becoming a Tuesday night institution (the Jordans and Bob Hope were a one-two punch that clobbered any competition in the ratings).  Jim and Marian soon joined the ranks of radio’s top funsters, along with such popular mirth-makers as Hope, Jack Benny, and Edgar Bergen (and Charlie McCarthy).

Jim and Marian Jordan portrayed “Fibber McGee and Molly” from 1935 to 1956, and for a period in the late 1950s appeared in short skits on NBC’s Monitor.  The couple enjoyed radio immensely, and were a rarity in that they chose not to make the transition to television like so many of their fellow clowns. (When Fibber McGee & Molly did finally arrive on the small screen in 1959, the characters would be played by Bob Sweeney and Cathy Lewis).  The Jordans did do a little work in motion pictures, beginning with 1937’s This Way Please…and with Edgar Bergen and his dummies headlined two successful movies in Look Who’s Laughing (1941) and Here We Go Again (1942).  But with the completion of Heavenly Days in 1944 (sans Bergen and the gang), the duo pretty much stuck to radio (though they did appear in the occasional film short).  The Jordans were quite content portraying the wacky couple from Wistful Vista, whether it be on their own show or guest starring on someone else’s.  When the Jordans appeared on Suspense on February 3, 1949 for a classic episode entitled “Backseat Driver”…they were billed as Fibber McGee & Molly.

Marian Jordan passed away in 1961, which necessitated that Jim Jordan carry on solo.  He did several TV commercials as his famous radio character (fittingly for Johnson’s Wax) and made the rounds on small screen talk shows (Jack Paar, Mike Douglas), with an occasional guest appearance – like his memorable turn on a 1976 episode of the sitcom Chico and the Man.  One of Jim Jordan’s last radio assignments before he slipped into semi-retirement was a February 20, 1979 appearance on The Sears Radio Theatre (“The Troublemaker”). I remember it only because I had difficulty wrapping my mind around listening to “Fibber McGee” swearing (and it wasn’t “dadrat the dadratted”).  Jim Jordan would eventually join his longtime radio spouse Marian when he, too, went on to his greater reward in 1988 at the age of 91.

As we edge closer and closer toward the holidays, Radio Spirits believes that it’s not a proper Yuletide celebration unless you’re listening to Fibber, Molly, and all the Wistful Vista regulars on such Christmas compilations as Christmas Radio ClassicsThe Voices of Christmas Past, and Radio’s Christmas Celebrations.  You can also hear today’s birthday boy in our potpourri collections of Comedy Goes West and Great Radio Comedy…plus the origins of McGee’s famed hall closet can be tuned into on Burns and Allen: Gracie for President.  Of course, for pure undiluted Wistful Vista fun, be sure to check out our newest Fibber & Molly set Gone Fishing…and past releases Wistful VistaFor Goodness Sakes, and Cleaning the Closet (with liner notes by me!).  I don’t care if Molly thinks your jokes “t’aint funny”—you always brought a smile to my face, and I wish you the happiest of birthdays!

Happy Birthday, Art Carney!

No one could have possibly seen it coming.  On the night of April 8, 1975, as the live telecast of the 47th Academy Awards was calling it a wrap for the evening, the Best Actor Oscar was handed out to a real “dark horse” in the race.  The winner wasn’t Al Pacino—who would appear to have been the favorite for his portrayal of Michael Corleone in The Godfather: Part II.  Oscar also overlooked one of Jack Nicholson’s finest film performances (in Chinatown), not to mention Albert Finney (Murder on the Orient Express) and Dustin Hoffman (Lenny).

No, the Best Actor prize went to a veteran actor whose simple, sweet performance as an elderly man traveling in the company of his pet cat in Harry and Tonto (1974) completely won over the Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences.  That thespian was christened Arthur William Matthew Carney on this date in 1918, as he was welcomed into this world by his parents Helen and Edward Michael in Mount Vernon, NY.  We know this man, best-remembered as the one-of-a-kind Honeymooners character Ed Norton, as Art Carney.

Art was the youngest of six sons in the Carney clan, and his performing ambitions began early in life. He amused family and friends with impressions, and won talent contests in both elementary and high school.  After graduating from Mount Vernon’s A.B. Davis High School in 1936, Carney quickly set about getting into show business. He talked his way into a job with Horace Heidt’s orchestra, traveling with that musical aggregation on the road for three years doing impersonations and novelty songs.  Heidt and his boys were the house band on the popular radio quiz show Pot o’Gold (Art was the show’s announcer), and when the program was brought to the silver screen in 1941 as a feature film, it provided Art with a bit role and his feature film debut.

Art Carney was drafted into the Army during World War II, as an infantryman and machine gun crewman.  He served in the 28th Infantry Division during the Battle of Normandy, but took some shrapnel that resulted in a shortening of his right leg (3/4 inch) and a limp for the rest of his life.  Carney returned to find opportunities waiting for him in radio. Before being drafted, he had worked as an actor on such shows as The Columbia WorkshopJoe and Ethel TurpLand of the LostThe Man Behind the GunReport on the Nation, and Words at War…and having been mustered out, he began to appear regularly on the likes of Gang BustersCasey, Crime Photographer, and The March of Time.  On Time, Art impersonated political figures (having previously done so on Report) like Winston Churchill, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and Elmer Davis (Carney once joked that to do Davis all you had to do is imitate nasal comic Ned Sparks), and he would mimic Dwight D. Eisenhower on Living 1948.

Carney soon began to build credits on shows like The Adventures of Frank MerriwellThe Big StoryBroadway’s My BeatThe Ford TheatreThe MGM Theatre of the Air, and The Mysterious Traveler.  Though Art would be primarily identified as a comic performer, he always stressed that he was first and foremost a serious actor…yet this didn’t matter much to comedian Henry Morgan, who hired Carney to join his company of second bananas on his ABC and NBC shows that aired between 1946 and 1950.  (Art would also be a regular on Henry’s early foray into television, The Henry Morgan Talent Hunt.)  Art also appeared in a comedic capacity on mr. ace and JANE, and from 1950-51 was a co-star on the underrated Monty Woolley sitcom The Magnificent Montague, portraying Montague’s father (and other roles when needed).

Art Carney started to make inroads into television by this time, with a high-profile gig on The Morey Amsterdam Show as “Newton the waiter” (Morey’s show was also broadcast on radio, and a few recordings have survived).  But when Art was asked by comedian Jackie Gleason to portray prissy Clem Finch, the hapless victim to Gleason’s obnoxious loudmouth Charlie Bratten on his DuMont series Cavalcade of Stars, his small screen career was set in stone.  Carney also played Sedgwick van Gleason, the disapproving father of The Great One’s wastrel playboy Reginald van Gleason III, but Art’s most famous character was cheerful “underground sanitation expert” Ed Norton, the next-door neighbor and bosom chum of bus driver Ralph Kramden (Gleason) in “The Honeymooners” sketches.  When Gleason was lured away from DuMont by CBS in 1952, Carney went with him, and Art also joined Jackie for “the classic 39” episodes of The Honeymooners when it became a filmed sitcom from 1955-56.  Playing Ed Norton on The Jackie Gleason Show (both on the 1952-57 original and 1966-70 revival) and The Honeymooners would net Art Carney a total of seven Emmy Award nominations…of which he won six trophies.

Though Ed Norton would be Carney’s famous alter ego, it would be a discredit to the actor not to note that he distinguished himself in other television ventures as well.  Art was much-in-demand as a guest star on the popular TV variety shows of the day (Martha Raye, Dinah Shore, etc.); he even headlined a series of popular variety specials in the late 50s and early 60s.  He performed more serious roles on television shows such as The Twilight Zone (the classic Yuletide-themed “The Night of the Meek”), Batman (as arch-villain The Archer), and The Virginian.  In 1976, he portrayed Chief Paul Lanigan on Lanigan’s Rabbi, a short-lived mystery series loosely based on the popular novels by Harry Kellerman.  One of his last boob tube forays was making regular appearances as James “The Weasel” Cavanaugh on the short-lived sitcom The Cavanaughs (1987-89).

Art Carney was also no slouch when it came to performing on stage.  His Broadway debut was in 1957’s The Rope Dancers, and subsequent turns in the footlights include Take Her, She’s Mine (1961) and Lovers (1969)—the latter garnering him a Tony Award nomination.  His most famous stage role was originating the character of Felix Unger in Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple from 1965-67; when offered the chance to reprise that role in the 1968 feature film version (opposite Walter Matthau, the original Oscar Madison) he declined.  Art was certainly no stranger to feature films, having appeared in such features as The Yellow Rolls-Royce (1964) and A Guide for the Married Man (1967).

But one movie role he was hesitant to take was the one that would win him his Best Actor Oscar.  He initially turned down director Paul Mazursky to play the “Harry” in Harry and Tonto, primarily because he felt he was too young for the part (Harry was a 72-year-old man and Carney was only 55 at the time).  Mazursky persisted, and Carney’s performance paved the way for outstanding feature film work to follow. My personal favorite of Art’s movies is The Late Show (1977), an endearing tribute to hard-boiled detective fiction. (Lily Tomlin plays his reluctant sidekick, and former radio Sam Spade Howard Duff is Carney’s ex-partner.) But the actor also shone in the likes of W.W. and the Dixie Dancekings (1975), House Calls (1978), Movie Movie (1978), and Going in Style (1979—simply superb alongside co-stars George Burns and Lee Strasberg).  Art’s also the best thing in The Muppets Take Manhattan [1984]. (“If you two are in love—I don’t wanna know about it.”)  Carney’s cinematic swan song was the 1993 Arnold Schwarzenegger comedy-actioner Last Action Hero (1993). He died of natural causes five days before his 85th birthday in 2003.

At the time of Art Carney’s death, one of his obituaries featured an observation from fellow actor Richard Widmark, who had worked with Carney in radio on such shows as Gang Busters.  Widmark confessed that, until he saw his friend perform as Ed Norton, he had no idea Art could do comedy!  Radio Spirits features collections that spotlight our birthday boy’s dramatic range: The Big Story (As It Happened), The Mysterious Traveler (Dark Destiny), and Words at War: World War II Radio Drama.  Happy birthday, Mr. Carney!

Happy Birthday, Dale Evans!

On January 14, 1953, TV’s This is Your Life paid tribute to “The King of the Cowboys”—none other than Roy Rogers himself.  Host Ralph Edwards presided over some predictably teary-eyed moments during the half-hour broadcast, including a touching reunion with Roy and his parents, his three sisters, and the musical group known as The Sons of the Pioneers.  (No kidding, friends and neighbors—you’d have to be a robot not to have cried during all this.)

But there were lighter moments to go with the sentiment, too.  One of these occurred when Edwards asked the man of the hour if anything significant happened during the production of one of his B-Westerns, Cowboy and the Senorita (1944).  Before Roy could answer, a female voice from backstage cried out: “If he doesn’t, he just better not come home tonight!”  The audience roared with laughter, recognizing the voice as that of Dale Evans, a.k.a. Mrs. Roy Rogers.  The actress-singer born Frances Octavia Smith on this date in 1912 in Uvalde, Texas had by this time already ascended the sagebrush throne to become “The Queen of the West.” Of course, radio listeners were already well acquainted with the talents of Her Majesty long before she climbed aboard her trusty steed Buttermilk.

About that “Francis Octavia” handle—Dale’s parents Walter and Betty Sue decided that would be the birthname of their first child…but for unexplained reasons, the doctor recorded her name on the birth certificate as “Lucille Wood Smith.”  (Dale didn’t learn about this faux pas until the 1950s, when she was applying for a passport.)  The young Dale spent her childhood years on a farm in Ellis County, and because her mother played piano at the local Baptist church, Dale would delightfully sing gospel hymns in accompaniment.  Evans was a very bright and precocious girl, skipping several school grades while hungry for a performing career. She learned to play the piano through a combination of lessons and by ear, and this led to singing and playing that very instrument in high school with a ukulele band.

After a failed first marriage (which resulted in the birth of a son at age fifteen that her movie studios would claim was her brother to stave off any tongue-wagging), Dale ended up in Memphis with her mother. The aspiring young vocalist had a habit of singing while she worked at her secretarial job in an insurance firm.  The boss was impressed and suggested that she demonstrate her talent on a local radio show sponsored by the company.  That led to multiple engagements performing at service clubs, followed by gigs at Memphis radio stations WMC and WREC.  By then, the one-time Frances Octavia had already decided on “Dale Evans” as her professional name.

Dale Evans endured two additional unhappy marriages in her continued determination to pursue a show business career. From Dallas to Chicago, she performed with jazz, blues, and big band aggregations, slowly burnishing her professional credentials.  It was in the Windy City that she was offered a screen test and then a contract with 20th Century-Fox, resulting in small roles in such films as Orchestra Wives (1942) and Girl Trouble (1942).  A year later, Dale would start punching a time clock at Republic Pictures. One of the movies that she made there was Here Comes Elmer (1943), in which she co-starred with comedian Al Pearce…who played himself and his radio alter ego, Elmer Blurt (from the long-running Al Pearce and His Gang).

In the fall of 1942, Dale landed a plumb gig as the female vocalist on radio’s highly-rated Edgar Bergen-Charlie McCarthy Show.  Evans sang and joshed with Bergen and his dummies for two seasons, and when she wasn’t needed at that microphone she made appearances on the likes of Command PerformanceThe Fitch BandwagonThe Kraft Music Hall, and Mail Call.  If you came in after the opening paragraph, I’ll let you know that in 1944 Dale was assigned to work on a movie called Cowboy and the Senorita with the man who would become her fourth and final hubby: Roy Rogers.  The chemistry between the couple was undeniably appealing, and Roy and Dale continued to make onscreen magic in B-Westerns like The Yellow Rose of Texas (1944), Bells of Rosarita (1945), and Don’t Fence Me In (1945).  Dale would also grace Republic’s non-Rogers features like The Big Show-Off (1945) and Hitchhike to Happiness (1945); the latter re-teaming her with Al Pearce.

Roy and Dale’s onscreen romance gradually led to a real-life one. When Rogers’ second wife, Arline, died a week after giving birth to their son Dusty in 1946, Dale divorced husband number three and married Roy on New Year’s Eve (the fourth time’s a charm!) a year later, officially becoming Mrs. King of the Cowboys.  Dale, in addition to her feature film duties as Rogers’ leading lady, also assumed that role on Roy’s radio program, The Roy Rogers Show, beginning in the fall of 1946 when the series moved to NBC from Mutual.  Oddly enough, Republic Pictures was convinced that Rogers’ fans wouldn’t tolerate a married couple in his westerns and for a brief period, Roy worked with the likes of Jane Frazee and future Annie Oakley star Gail Davis in his oaters.  But the fans protested so loudly that the studio returned Dale to her rightful co-star status in 1949; she would make six features with Roy in 1949 and 1950 before taking a break to give birth to a baby girl…then she resurfaced to appear in her husband’s final two westerns for Republic, South of Caliente and Pals of the Golden West (both 1951).

Roy and Dale kept wishing radio listeners “Happy Trails” on the weekly Roy Rogers Show until 1955 (the series aired on Mutual from 1948-51, and then returned to NBC until it left the airwaves).  Occasionally, the couple would appear as themselves on such shows as The Bob Hope Show and The Kraft Music Hall (with Al Jolson)…with Dale going solo on the likes of The Philco Radio Hall of FameThe Jimmy Durante-Garry Moore ShowAll-Star Western Theatre, and The Dean Martin & Jerry Lewis Show.  The Rogers’ radio years overlapped with the run of their successful television show that began airing on NBC-TV in the fall of 1951 (one of the reasons why Roy and Dale made no more movie westerns is that Republic did not want their stars working on the small screen). The TV Roy Rogers Show ended in 1957, and continues in heavy rerun rotation to this day.  Excepting a brief return to the boob tube in 1962 with a variety series, The Roy Rogers and Dale Evans Show (it lasted just a season), Roy and Dale rested on their laurels and made the rounds on various variety programs in a guest star capacity.  Roy and Dale were the envy of all Hollywood couples with a marriage that lasted until Roy’s passing in 1998—Dale followed him in 2001 at the age of 88.

Here at Radio Spirits, we recommend celebrating Dale Evans’ natal anniversary with a mini-marathon of episodes from the Roy Rogers TV series, and in-between changing DVDs in the player, one might listen to some Yuletide Dale (and Roy) on the 2-CD collection The Sounds of Christmas.  (Roy and Dale also warble a few tunes on another 2-CD offering, Saluting the Stars.)  Later, when the party’s quieted down a bit (that’s what happens when the guests get into the buttermilk), you can enjoy Dale’s song stylings on our Edgar Bergen-Charlie McCarthy compendium, Smile a While.  When the cake and ice cream are served, enjoy some Western radio action on the ol’ Double-R Bar with Roy Rogers: King of the Cowboys.  Happy birthday to the Queen of the West!

Happy Birthday, Joan Banks!

In 1949, at the height of the success of radio’s My Friend Irma, actress Cathy Lewis—who originated the character of roommate Jane Stacy on the popular sitcom—was forced to briefly hand over the role of Jane while she recuperated from illness.  Filling in for Cathy as sidekick to the lovably ditzy Irma Peterson (Marie Wilson) was Joan Banks, a veteran radio thespian who had been a familiar voice to listening audiences since 1936, when she made her debut in front of a radio microphone (at the age of 16) with Walter O’Keefe.  Born on this date in 1918 in Petersburg, WV (shout out to a fellow Mountaineer!), Joan would move beyond radio to appear on television and in films, occasionally in tandem with her equally accomplished husband, Frank Lovejoy.

The daughter of Edith and Nelson Banks, Joan Banks attended a Russian ballet school where her performing talents were encouraged…and her hard work paid off in the form of a scholarship to the American Academy of Dramatic Art.  Joan also attended Hunter College, but working in radio held an enormous appeal for her, and she began to get a great deal of work on various daytime dramas.  Her radio resume of “soaps” (she was once described as a “soapbox queen”) would go on to include such favorites as Aunt Jenny’s Real Life StoriesDeadline DramasHer Honor, Nancy James (she played Nancy’s secretary), A House in the CountryJohn’s Other Wife (as Roberta Lansing), Mary Foster, the Editor’s DaughterThe O’Neills (as Peggy O’Neill Kayden), One Man’s FamilyPortia Faces Life (as Arline Harrison Manning), Today’s Children (as Carlotta Lagorro), Valiant Lady (as Joan Barrett), Whispering StreetsYoung Doctor Malone (as Phyllis Dineen), and Young Widder Brown (as Camille).  In fact, it was while portraying Eleanor MacDonald on the CBS serial This Day is Ours that Banks would meet soul mate Frank Lovejoy, who joined the program’s cast in January of 1940.  Four months later, their love scenes on the radio would provide a textbook example of life imitating art. The duo tied the knot on May 31, 1940.  (The newlyweds couldn’t even make time for a honeymoon…because they both had to be back at work the following Monday!)

Joan Banks’ radio work wasn’t all soap suds, however.  She emoted on many of the medium’s popular anthology programs, among them The Bakers’ Theatre of StarsThe Columbia WorkshopDoorway to LifeThe First Nighter ProgramHallmark PlayhouseHollywood Star TheatreThe Lux Radio TheatreThe NBC University TheatrePresenting Charles BoyerScreen Directors’ Playhouse, and Theatre of Romance/Romance.  Some of Joan’s earliest radio work was on the venerable Gang Busters, and she also made the rounds on such hits as The Adventures of Christopher LondonThe Adventures of Philip MarloweThe Adventures of the SaintBarrie Craig, Confidential InvestigatorBroadway’s My BeatEllery QueenEscapeInner SanctumThe Man Called XThe Man from HomicideNight BeatPursuitRichard Diamond, Private DetectiveThe Roy Rogers ShowThe Silent MenSuspenseTales of the Texas RangersThis is Your FBIThe Whistler, and Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar.

As you can see, Joan Banks was one busy radio actress…and in the fall of 1948, she’d get even busier. This was when she received an emergency call from CBS while at her doctor’s office for an appointment.  Cathy Lewis, who played Jane on My Friend Irma, had collapsed during rehearsal and they needed Joan to take her place.  Banks was no stranger to performing comedy, having played Nora on a radio version of the comic strip Bringing Up Father (she had also worked on Mickey Rooney’s Shorty Bell).  She did run into some difficulties with her debut on the show, however – her automobile ran out of gas on her way to the studio (she had rushed home to change).  She had only a half-hour to look over the Irma script, and was as nervous as a first-time bride…but star Marie Wilson provided some helpful coaching, and the broadcast went off without a hitch.  Joan continued as Jane until Cathy Lewis was hale, hearty, and ready to return to work.  Banks’ other laughter-generating turns included appearances on The Adventures of Maisie and Meet Mr. McNutley.

Just as hubby Frank Lovejoy leapt into moviemaking with 1948’s Black Bart, Joan decided to try her luck on the silver screen with her motion picture debut in 1951’s Cry Danger.  She continued to make an impression in such films as Bright Victory (1951), Washington Story (1952), My Pal Gus (1952), Mister Cory (1957), and Return to Peyton Place (1961).  Banks was also constructing an impressive small screen resume with assignments on such shows as I Love LucyMake Room for DaddyThe George Burns and Gracie Allen ShowDecember Bride, and Alfred Hitchcock Presents.  Joan appeared multiple times as “Sylvia Platt” on Ann Sothern’s sitcom Private Secretary, and made two guest appearances on her husband’s TV venture The Adventures of McGraw (a.k.a. Meet McGraw).  (Joan and Frank would work in tandem on two more occasions in presentations on Four Star Playhouse and The Star and the Story…and Joan made certain to be around when Ralph Edwards told Frank “This is Your Life” on an October 16, 1957 telecast of the popular program.)

Since their initial meeting on This Day is Ours, Joan and Frank often worked side-by-side on radio (on Today’s Children, Frank portrayed “Christopher Barnes”…and Joan also appeared a few times on Night Beat). The couple were appearing together in a 1962 production of the Broadway hit The Best Man (written by Gore Vidal—Lovejoy had appeared onstage in the original 1960 version) when tragedy struck as they were enjoying a night off: Lovejoy passed away in his sleep in their hotel room at the age of 50.  Joan would later remarry, but her interest in TV performing began to wane, with her only primetime credits being guest shots on Perry Mason and Bewitched.  Banks would later make multiple appearances on the 1970s radio revival of The CBS Radio Mystery Theatre, indulging her fondness for the aural medium.  Joan Banks succumbed to lung cancer in 1998 at the age of 79.

Joan Banks Lovejoy’s role as Jane Stacy on My Friend Irma is present and accounted for in the Radio Spirits collection On Second Thought (with liner notes by yours truly), as well as a Yuletide Irma (from December 20, 1948) on our holiday compendium Radio’s Christmas Celebrations. We’ve also got plenty of Joan in such sets as The Adventures of Philip Marlowe (Lonely CanyonsNight TideSucker’s Road), Broadway’s My Beat (Dark Whispers), Escape (Escape EssentialsThe Hunted and the HauntedPeril), Inner Sanctum (Shadows of Death), The Man Called XThe Man From HomicideNight Beat (Human Interest), Richard Diamond, Private Detective (Dead MenHomicide Made Easy), Stop the Press!, and Suspense (Wages of Sin).  Happy birthday, Joan!

“Personal notice: danger’s my stock-in-trade…”

While attempting to make a name for himself as an actor in motion pictures, Bob Bailey did a little freelancing in radio.  Though under contract to 20th Century-Fox, he discovered that he enjoyed performing in the aural medium.  “If you know how to handle your voice in radio,” Bailey once observed of the craft, “it’s almost impossible to destroy an illusion.”  That very skill would help the actor deliver his definitive portrayal of the titular insurance investigator on Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar.  However, on this date in 1946, Bob began emoting in a different detective role — one that would become every bit as beloved as “the man with the action-packed expense account” — on a program called Let George Do It.

George Valentine didn’t start out as a private investigator.  In the early years of Let George Do It, he was just a guy willing to tackle unpleasant tasks on behalf of his clients.   In fact, his motto was: “If the job’s too tough for you to handle, you’ve got a job for me.”  (Hence the title of the series—a reference to the old idiom “let George do it.”)  Early audition records for the series introduced George as an ex-G.I. who got into the “problem solving” business to address the issue of his rapidly depleting bank account.  Let George Do It functioned, at times, as more of a situation comedy than the crime drama it eventually became.

George’s gal Friday, Claire “Brooksie” Brooks, was with him from the get-go.  She was “volunteered” to be Valentine’s assistant by her brother Sonny, who was working as George’s office boy.  The working relationship between George and Claire was an interesting one — he affectionately called her “Angel,” and she returned the favor with “Darling.” One might say that the two of them enjoyed an innocent Lamont Cranston-Margo Lane-type flirtation.  It was a bit one-sided, to be honest; Brooksie was seriously carrying a torch for her boss and was looking forward to a day when she might trade in her nickname for the title “Mrs. George Valentine.”  The object of her affection wasn’t quite ready to move into the proverbial little cottage with the white picket fence…and went to great lengths to change the subject whenever Brooksie hinted about “happy ever after.”

“A lady of initiative, courage, and foresight, whose efforts made her his partner, in all but name” is how author Jack French described the Brooksie character in his seminal old-time radio reference Private Eyelashes.  Jack identifies actress Lillian Buyeff as the first to play Claire, but fans of the show acknowledge that it was Frances Robinson who made the role her own.  Robinson would emote as Brooksie until 1949, when she turned the role over to Shirley Mitchell (who would be followed by Virginia Gregg).  Claire’s brother Sonny only appeared in the early episodes of Let George Do It, portrayed by radio veteran Eddie Firestone.  The same goes for the character of Caleb, an elevator operator and general jack-of-all-trades, essayed by Joseph Kearns.  Wally Maher played Valentine’s contact on the police force, Lieutenant Riley, and while there was a little antagonism between the two men (standard crime drama conflict, you understand) the chemistry in the Bailey-Robinson-Maher years was among radio’s best.  When Maher suddenly passed away in 1951, actor Ken Christy joined the show as Lieutenant Johnson.  (Johnson was a bit more hard-nosed than Riley, who often called his friend Valentine “chum-boy.”)

Let George Do It stood out from many of the shows broadcast over Mutual in a number of ways.  First, it attracted the sponsorship of Standard Oil (now known as Chevron) at a time when much of the network’s programming functioned on a sustaining basis (announcer John Hiestand did the company’s commercials).  George also boasted exemplary scripts from a team of scribes that included Polly Hopkins (who developed the character of Brooksie), Herbert Little, Jr., David Victor, and Jackson Gillis (who later enjoyed a long period of employment on TV’s Perry Mason as a writer and associate producer).  The performances on the show were also the very picture of professionalism; the crème de la crème of Radio Row worked steadily on George—familiar names like William Conrad, Howard McNear, Hans Conried, Jeanette Nolan, John Dehner, Betty Lou Gerson, Lurene Tuttle, Herb Butterfield, and Harry Bartell.

The list of radio actors above makes it obvious that Let George Do It originated from Hollywood…and this is why it’s been speculated that more people listen to the series today than when it was originally broadcast.  George, like The Whistler, was heard by West Coast audiences only — it wouldn’t reach the opposite coast until 1954-1955, when New York radio listeners were introduced to transcriptions of the series.  (That same New York syndicator also provided transcriptions to audiences in Canada…minus the Standard Oil commercials, of course.)  Listening to surviving episodes of Let George Do It reveals that it was a most underrated program, and it’s no surprise that a new generation of fans rate it highly among crime dramas of its type.  Some of that might be due to the presence of Bob Bailey, of course, who had Johnny Dollar waiting for him in the wings (Bailey left George in its last season, and was replaced by Olan Soulé), but however you slice it, George remains a most entertaining listen.

George Valentine made a good living as an investigator…but here at Radio Spirits, we’re in the entertainment business—and we’ve got a brand-new Let George Do It collection, Sweet Poison, ready for your edification with sixteen action-packaged broadcasts from the series.  To complement this, why not check out our earlier release Cry Uncle, another fine set containing sixteen episodes (and a liner note booklet written by yours truly) from your friends at Radio Spirits!

Happy Birthday, Jean Vander Pyl!

Universal Pictures brought a live-action version of the classic TV cartoon series The Flintstones to the big screen in 1994, and had the novel idea of casting Jean Vander Pyl (the actress who voiced Wilma Flintstone on the original show) in a small role. (Vander Pyl was the only surviving cast member of the Flintstones starring quartet, which also included Alan Reed, Mel Blanc, and Bea Benaderet).  Portraying Wilma in the live-action treatment was Elizabeth Perkins, who received this bit of advice from Jean: “To do Wilma, all you have to do is remember ‘Fred’ is a two-syllable word.”  (As in Fr-ed.)  Vander Pyl, born in Philadelphia on this date in 1919, originally had her heart set on becoming a theatrical actress…but circumstances beyond her control steered her into radio.  Fans who instantly recognize her distinctive voice from that medium — and a slew of animated cartoons that followed in its wake — are extremely grateful.

Born to John H. and Kathleen Hale Vander Pyl, young Jean moved with her family to Los Angeles in the mid-1930s, and by the time she graduated from Beverly Hills High School in 1937 she knew she wanted to conquer Broadway.  (Winning a Best Actress award for portraying ‘Juliet’ in a citywide Shakespeare festival cinched her career plans.)  But an illness put the brakes on her stage ambitions, and she decided instead to look for work in radio while attending UCLA.  Juggling college and radio was difficult. (“My sorority sisters told me I either had to go to work or go to class,” she reminisced in 1989.) Vander Pyl chose radio, freelancing at any number of Hollywood stations. She gained exposure on network shows like Calling All Cars and The Lux Radio Theatre, and appeared as “damsels in distress” on various dramatic series.

By the 1940s and 1950s, Jean Vander Pyl was making the rounds on the likes of The Cavalcade of AmericaChandu the MagicianFamily Theatre, and Wild Bill Hickok.  Her vocal talents were much in demand playing characters on comedy programs starring Jim and Marian Jordan (Fibber McGee & Molly), Joan Davis, and Alan Young.  She also landed frequent roles on BeulahThe Halls of IvyMeet Mr. McNutley, and My Favorite Husband.  If Andrew Brown (Charles Correll) needed a girlfriend for that week’s broadcast of Amos ‘n’ Andy, Jean was usually pressed into service to play Andy’s latest romantic conquest.  The actress’ steadiest gig was emoting as Margaret Anderson, wife of insurance salesman Jim Anderson (Robert Young) on the popular NBC sitcom Father Knows Best.  As Margaret, Jean patiently acted as a sounding board to her husband, and doted on the three Anderson children (Betty, Bud, and Kathy) from 1949 to 1954.  (Jane Wyatt would portray Margaret on the TV version of the series).

Jean didn’t shy away from the visual mediums of movies and television, but has only one feature film to her credit, 1954’s Deep in My Heart.  She made guest appearances on TV hits like The MillionaireMedicLeave it to BeaverPlease Don’t Eat the Daisies, and Petticoat Junction.  But Jean knew that her voice was her fortune, and that she “lived without the burdens of stardom.”  “Then a few of us got lucky and got into cartoons,” she reminisced in 1989, and this was no exaggeration: she became one of the fledgling Hanna-Barbera studio’s most dependable thesps.  Vander Pyl voiced characters in their theatrical Loopy de Loop shorts, and also for TV’s The Huckleberry Hound ShowThe Quick Draw McGraw ShowThe Yogi Bear Show, and Top Cat.  When Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera developed the prime time animated series known as The Flintstones, Vander Pyl was hired to voice Wilma Flintstone.  The actress later said that the long-suffering spouse of bombastic Fred (Alan Reed) “had a great ‘housewife whine’ to her voice.”  (Jean also provided the voices of the Flintstone’s baby daughter, Pebbles, and the wife of Fred’s boss, Mr. Slate.) The Flintstones ran on ABC-TV from 1960 to 1966, and in countless Saturday morning incarnations to follow (Pebbles and Bamm BammThe Flintstones Comedy Hour, etc.).  There was even a feature-length cartoon based on the series and released in 1966: The Man Called Flintstone.

Wilma Flintstone was Jean Vander Pyl’s best-remembered work in the world of cartoons, but she also voiced such characters as Rosie the Robot on The Jetsons, Ogee (the little girl who always wanted to know “How much is that gorilla in the window?”) on The Magilla Gorilla Show, Winsome “Winnie” Witch (“Ippity-pippity-pow!”) on The Secret Squirrel Show, and Ma and Floral Rugg in the “Hillbilly Bears” segments on The Atom Ant Show and The Banana Splits Adventure Hour.  She continued her long association with Hanna-Barbera throughout the 1970s on shows like Where’s Huddles?Scooby Doo, Where are You?Inch High Private EyeYogi’s GangHong Kong PhooeyDinky Dog, and Captain Caveman and the Teen Angels.

By the 1980s, Jean Vander Pyl was still voicing Wilma in various Flintstones specials while occasionally appearing on such TV shows as Murder, She Wrote and Hardcastle and McCormick.  It would be no exaggeration to say that she may have been the most known unknown actress in the business (people instantly recognized her voice…and yet she was able to live in San Clemente for many years in relative anonymity).  As for the role that made her famous, Jean opted for a lump sum of $15,000 upon cancellation of The Flintstones (she made $250 per episode when the show was running in prime time) instead of receiving residual payments.  “If I got residuals I wouldn’t live in San Clemente,” she told an interviewer in 1995.  “I’d own San Clemente.”  Vander Pyl succumbed to lung cancer at the age of 79 in 1999.

By the way, the lung cancer that claimed Jean Vander Pyl’s life was the result of a lifelong smoking habit…and if you were ever curious as to why the Wilma Flintstone and Betty Rubble characters on The Flintstones laughed with what has been called “the closed-mouth giggle,” that’s your answer.  Jean’s son explained to author Tim Lawson that his mother and Bea Benaderet (the voice of Betty, until her work on Petticoat Junction dictated she relinquish the role to Gerry Johnson) were heavy smokers and that if they laughed out loud they’d succumb to a coughing jag.

Radio Spirits features classic Jean Vander Pyl performances on our two Father Knows Best collections, Father Knows Bestand Maple Street.  If you listen closely to our Chandu the Magician collection and our Amos ‘n’ Andy compendiums (Volume TwoRadio’s All Time Favorites), you’ll also hear today’s birthday girl, plying her trade at what she truly did best.  Happy birthday, Jean—yabba dabba doo!

Happy Birthday, Groucho Marx!

If comedian Groucho Marx—born Julius Henry Marx in New York City on this date in 1890—had achieved his childhood ambition of becoming a doctor…well, the world would know a little less laughter.  Fortunately for audiences who enjoyed the quick, insulting wit of the premier funnyman in movies, radio, and TV, Julius was “persuaded” to go into show business by his domineering mother Minnie, who believed that he and his brothers—collectively known as Leonard (Chico), Adolph (Harpo), Herbert (Zeppo), and Milton (Gummo)—were destined to conquer the show business world.  Although the term “stage mother” often conveys negativity, we owe Mother Minnie a debt of gratitude for riding herd on her “boys.”

Stories differ on just why young Julius was discouraged from pursuing a medical career; one account states that he was needed to supplement the family’s income (his father Sam—known to the family as “Frenchie”—never really achieved success in the tailoring business), while another puts the blame on his limited formal education.  Minnie herself had a tenuous connection to show business in that her father had once made a living as a traveling magician and her brother Al (Shean) Schoenberg was one-half of the popular vaudeville duo, Gallagher and Shean.  Julius’ first show business job was with a singing trio that paid a handsome $4-a-week.  Unfortunately, a member of that group made off with Julius’ salary and left him stranded in Colorado—he had to work a series of odd jobs to earn his fare back home.

Julius would have better luck letting Minnie run the show; in 1909, she put together a quartet consisting of Julius, Adolph (who changed his name to Arthur), Milton, and non-Marx brother Lou Levy.  Collectively they were known as “The Four Nightingales,” and for several years the brothers got by as an average vaudeville act.  It was only during a particularly dismal performance in Nagadoches, Texas when the Marxes discovered that they had a flair of comedy; they started heckling the audience giving them grief during their act…and the crowd ate it up.

The Brothers Marx took an old comedy routine from Gus Edwards, “School Days,” and refashioned it as “Fun in Hi Skule”—an act that they dutifully performed to appreciative laughter over the years until eventually they arrived at the Mecca of Vaudeville, The Palace Theatre, in 1919.  Along the way, the group started to develop their characters (Chico the phony Italian, Harpo the silent sprite) and their nicknames, bestowed upon them by fellow performer Art Fisher during a card game.  Julius would go by “Groucho” for the rest of his career, and the Marx Brothers went on to conquer Broadway with three smash stage hits: I’ll Say She Is (1924), The Cocoanuts (1925), and Animal Crackers (1930).

If those last two production sound vaguely familiar, it’s because they were the first two films featuring the Marx Brothers when they began making movies for Paramount in 1929.  The team would follow those successes with Monkey Business (1931), Horse Feathers (1932)…and the film many consider to be their finest screen comedy, Duck Soup (1933).  All five of those films featured Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo (Gummo quit performing after he was drafted in World War I), and when the siblings were hired by MGM to make A Night at the Opera (1935), Zeppo had quit the motion picture business as well.  The three Marx Brothers followed the giant success of Opera with A Day at the Races (1937), and later made three additional films for Leo the Lion: At the Circus (1939), Go West (1940), and The Big Store (1941).  The three remaining movies featuring Groucho, Chico, and Harpo were Room Service (1938; RKO), A Night in Casablanca (1946; United Artists), and Love Happy (1949; also UA)—though Groucho’s participation with Chico and Harpo in this last production is rather fleeting.

In the Marx Brothers’ films, Groucho handled most of the verbal comedy; in his trademark glasses and greasepaint eyebrows-and-moustache, he’d sidle up to wealthy dowagers (generally played by favorite foil Margaret Dumont) and let loose with a barrage of rapid, cut-to-the-quick insults—in fact, his entire character was built on a foundation of defying authoritarian figures and deflating pomposity.  In 1932, he and Chico took a stab at radio with a comedy program over NBC Blue entitled Flywheel, Shyster and Flywheel (Harpo did not appear, owing to the silent nature of his comedy).  The series did well in the Hoopers, but sponsor Standard Oil was disappointed that it didn’t match the audience of Texaco’s The Fire Chief Program (with Ed Wynn), and pulled out after one season.

Groucho and Chico would later join the all-star cast (Cary Grant, Carole Lombard, etc.) of NBC’s The Circle in January of 1939, later described by the show’s writer Carroll Carroll as “radio’s most expensive failure.”  In subsequent radio ventures, Groucho went solo…without much success.  He was the host of CBS’ Blue Ribbon Town from 1943-44, a show that surviving broadcasts reveal isn’t quite as bad as its reputation (Groucho got solid support from regulars like Virginia O’Brien, Leo Gorcey, Fay McKenzie, and Kenny Baker—who inherited the program after Marx left in June of 1944).  Groucho was depressed that radio popularity eluded him despite getting appreciative laughs while guesting on shows headlined by the likes of Rudy Vallee, Eddie Cantor, Jack Benny, and Dinah Shore (Marx was practically a regular on Dinah’s Birds Eye Open House).  Even his good friend Irving Brecher couldn’t create a hit for the acerbic funnyman; a pilot entitled “The Flotsam Family” flopped (though Brecher later refashioned it into The Life of Riley for William Bendix).

An appearance on a Walgreens’ special would be the catalyst for Groucho’s eventual radio success.  As Groucho and host Bob Hope deviated from a prepared script with some fast-and-furious ad-libs, producer John Guedel (the man behind People are Funny) was convinced he had the perfect radio format for Marx.  Groucho would host a quiz show—which eventually became You Bet Your Life—and exercise his talent for sharp wisecracks “interviewing” the contestants.  Marx was reluctant, to say the least; he believed that playing the role of “quiz show host” was a considerable comedown.  But as he gradually grasped that You Bet Your Life’s “quiz” was merely a backdrop for allowing him to do what he did best—improvised conversation—he enthusiastically embraced the project.  You Bet Your Life premiered over ABC Radio on October 27, 1947 for Elgin-American watches and quickly became one of the fledgling network’s big hits.  It later transitioned to CBS in October of 1949 for a season and then moved into its permanent home on NBC a year later.  Because of the simplicity of its format, You Bet Your Life was broadcast simultaneously on radio and TV (where it quickly made a nest in the Top Ten of the Nielsen ratings); the radio version bowed out on June 10, 1960, but the boob tube incarnation lasted one additional season (and was retitled The Groucho Show).

Before his death on August 19, 1977 at the age of 86, Groucho Marx continued to be a beloved TV presence, both as a guest on the medium’s many talk shows and appearances on variety hours like The Hollywood Palace and The Kraft Music Hall.  He’s revered by students of comedy for his take-no-prisoners wit, and his quotable lines (like “I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member”) are cherished by those who took pleasure in Groucho’s fearless mockery of society’s conventions.  Radio Spirits invites you to enjoy Groucho on radio in our Jack Benny & Friends collection, as the birthday boy trades quips with Jack on a February 20, 1944 broadcast.  The 3-DVD set Groucho Marx TV Classics presents the comedian at his finest with a compendium that includes telecasts from You Bet Your Life and The Hollywood Palace, and the Marx Brothers TV Collection not only features Groucho but brothers Chico and Harpo in clips from fifty rare and vintage television appearances.  Finally, we recommend you peruse the Radio Spirits bookshelf until you locate Marx & Re-Marx; written by Andrew T. Smith, it’s a fascinating history of Groucho and Chico’s “lost” radio show, Flywheel, Shyster and Flywheel—with the scripts from the original series and the story of how they came to be revived by BBC Radio in the early 1980s.  If Groucho were here, he might say, “Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”

“Laugh a while/Let a song/Be your style…”

Though he had firmly established his persona as a flashy, hard-drinking playboy with an eye for exquisite female pulchritude on The Jack Benny Program, bandleader Phil Harris would find himself “domesticated” in 1941 after marrying singer-actress Alice Faye.  His home life with Faye started to work its way into the Benny broadcasts. For example, the episode from April 11, 1943 featured the following line by Phil: “Say, Jackson—I got a surprise for ya…Alice Faye, now appearing in Hello, Frisco, Hello, made a dozen doughnuts for you with her own little hands.”  (When Jack asks “Curly” where they are, Phil cracks: “Out in the car—I’ll get Rochester to help me carry ‘em in.”)

The marriage of Phil Harris and Alice Faye (it was the second for both) was truly a love affair—the couple remained together until Phil’s passing in 1995.  Though both were enjoying successful solo careers—Phil with his music and work with Benny, Alice a major star at 20th Century-Fox—the two of them eventually joined forces for one of radio’s last great situation comedies.  That series premiered on this date in 1946, as Phil and Alice became the headliners of radio’s The Fitch Bandwagon.

Alice Faye was one of Fox’s hottest properties…but after her marriage to Phil Harris, she expressed more interest in becoming a mother and homemaker after the births of their daughters, Alice, Jr. and Phyllis.  She cut her work schedule at the studio to one production a year, and in 1945 decided to retire from motion pictures entirely after her scenes in Fallen Angel ended up on the cutting room floor (studio head Darryl F. Zanuck was distracted by Fox’s newest “flavor of the month,” Linda Darnell).  Faye was enjoying “retirement,” but when she was offered the opportunity to work with her husband on a radio series, she warmed to the idea of reading a script for one half-hour weekly before calling it a day.  She agreed (after some initial hesitation) to start broadcasting alongside Phil for Fitch in the fall of 1946.

The Fitch Bandwagon had been on radio since 1938, and in its early years it functioned as a showcase for big bands frontedby the likes of Tommy Dorsey and Harry James.  In the fall of 1944, the program allowed Dick Powell to host and sing, and the following season Cass Daley inherited Bandwagon duties.  Sponsor F.W. Fitch, impressed by the popularity of radio’s The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet, decided to propose a format change (situation comedy mixed with music) to Harris and Faye, and after a well-received July 10, 1946 audition Mr. and Mrs. Harris earned a berth on NBC’s Sunday night schedule.

The Sunday night scheduling was one of the reasons why The Fitch Bandwagon was so popular with radio audiences.  It was sandwiched between Jack Benny and Edgar Bergen (and Charlie McCarthy), a time slot any performer would have committed murder to get.  But it provided an additional benefit for new host Phil Harris; in the program’s early years, Bandwagon would begin with Phil bidding his boss a fare-thee-well as he headed home to the Harris household.  Alice would be waiting for him, of course, along with “Little” Alice (portrayed by Jeanine Roose) and Phyllis (Anne Whitfield).  Life at Rancho Harris was not all beer and skittles; Phil also had to put up with Alice’s annoying brother Willie—played to creampuff perfection by Robert North.

Frankie Remley was a left-handed (honest!) guitar player in Phil’s musical aggregation, and was often joked about (but never heard) on Jack Benny’s program.  It was decided to make Remley a regular character on Harris’ show because of Frankie’s well-established reputation as an imbiber (now that Phil had a family, the Bandwagon writers de-emphasized the drinking jokes that were a staple of Phil’s character in the Benny broadcasts).  It was thought at first that Remley would play himself…but an unsuccessful audition soon convinced the real Frankie he should stick to guitar playing.  In his place, actor Elliott Lewis was tabbed to play the fictional Remley…and the seed for classic comedy was planted.

In the early years of the Harris-Faye Bandwagon, Frankie came across like a dimwitted hoodlum…but with the hiring of writers Ray Singer and Dick Chevillat in the show’s second season, the Remley character began to take on the characteristics of the sardonic wisenheimer radio audiences would soon come to know and love—always willing to get his buddy (and boss) Phil into trouble.  Singer and Chevillat soon infused Phil and Alice’s show with a sarcastic sensibility that gives it a contemporary feel when listened to by modern-day audiences.  In addition, they beefed up the presence of the character of Julius Abbruzio (portrayed by The Great Gildersleeve’s Walter Tetley), a smart-alecky grocery boy who lived to make life miserable for his nemeses Phil and Frankie. (“Are you in trouble, Mistuh Harris?  Is there anything I can do to get you in deepuh?”).

After two years with Fitch, Phil and Alice got a new sponsor—Rexall Drugs—in the fall of 1948, and the show underwent a name change to the now-familiar The Phil Harris-Alice Faye Show.  Their ratings for Fitch had always been solid, owing to their Benny-Bergen hammock, but when Jack jumped ship to CBS in January of 1949 the Harrises lost their edge in the Hoopers.  It didn’t keep the program from being funny, however; the writing remained razor-sharp. With the addition of a new regular—a Rexall company representative portrayed by radio veteran Gale Gordon—the belly laughs continued even after a portion of their audience wandered over to the Tiffany network to check out what Jack and Amos ‘n’ Andy were up to.  Rexall wrote the checks for Phil and Alice’s show for two seasons before switching their allegiance to Amos ‘n’ Andy, and then RCA Victor became the show’s “angel.”  Though the audiences continued to dwindle with each passing year (blame television), The Phil Harris-Alice Faye Show soldiered on until finally calling it quits on May 28, 1954 (they were still being sponsored by RCA…at a time when many programs were sustained).

Alice Faye observed in later years that while she would have been amenable to doing a television version of their popular radio sitcom, it was husband Phil Harris who put the kibosh on the idea.  Nevertheless…to paraphrase Casablanca, “we’ll always have radio.”  Radio Spirits has several collections of what I personally believe was one of the aural medium’s top comedy programs, beginning with The Fitch Bandwagon years in our latest Phil and Alice compendium, Buried Treasure…not to mention Stepping Out and A Song and a Smile (with liner notes by yours truly!).  The couple’s RCA years are represented by Quite an Affair and Smoother and Sweeter, and there’s a stray Bandwagon broadcast (from January 19, 1947) to be checked out on our potpourri collection, Great Radio Comedy.  Last—but not least—Phil, Alice, and the family spread a little holiday cheer in a December 26, 1948 Rexall show on Christmas Radio Classics—it’s a gift you definitely will want to unwrap first!