The Obsolete Collection (Food Division)

I hope you will indulge me as I venture into one more Obsolete Collection - this time the Food Division. You can find the first Obsolete Collection here; and the Retail Division here.

For the Food Division, I've chosen both the foods themselves and the means of delivery. Let me illustrate by moving on to the first category.

The Cafeteria

Oh, I'm sure that cafeterias still exist; there's possibly one in your local junior high school. But their popularity has declined.

For those not versed in cafeteria culture, let me explain that in each such establishment, you pick up a heavy plastic tray and push it along a set of rails that unites all the food stations and ends with the cashier. You help yourself to a prepared delight such as pudding, and at certain points you ask the attendant for an entree - say, mashed potatoes and meat loaf.

These places did have a sort of plebeian atmosphere, so they have fallen from favor with many people. For example, the art museum near where I live once had an excellent cafeteria, which they have now changed into a fancy restaurant and a lunch spot where you have to move among disconnected stations to find what you want. It doesn't work well, but then again - it's not a cafeteria! (Well, yeah, it is - only atomized.)

To memorialize this once-proud institution, we hear from Cal Stewart and his hayseed character Uncle Josh, via "Uncle Josh in a Cafeteria." Previously Josh visited a big city department store; this time he takes the train from his New England home to New York to visit a cafeteria - a questionable enterprise to be sure. The record is from 1919.

The Hot Dog Stand

In this section, I intend to honor specifically the hot dog stand, not the hot dog carts that clutter up urban sidewalks. (For all I know there are hot dog carts on the moon.) These stands were small buildings where you could get a dog, perhaps a burger, and something to drink. I can't remember the last time I saw such a place, although ice cream stands still abound.

Hot dog stands and the wiener itself have been celebrated in song for some time. Back in 1939, there was a popular number called "At a Little Hot Dog Stand," where of course two hearts met to enjoy an encasement of processed meats and fillers. The song was recorded by several artists, but today we have Dick Todd, the "Canadian Bing" complete with Crosby's mid-period mannerisms, in a charming rendition of the Sam Coslow-Larry Spier tune. Todd finishes by inviting the listener to his wedding celebration - at the hot dog stand. Big spender!

There are also songs honoring the frankfurter itself, so I've included a few of them. First we have Chris Powell and the Five Blue Flames in a 1949 record of "Hot Dog," in which they declare their affinity for this sausage, which to their taste has to be accompanied by a cola. A good record, but I wish they would have revoked that man's tenor saxophone.

Finally, a terrific 1935 disc from Texas' Roy Newman and His Boys called the "Hot Dog Stomp." It's advertised on the label as "Hot Dance" music, and so it is. The group is a string band with guitar, clarinet, fiddles and all the trimmings.

The Diner

A giant "EAT" sign is the universal insignia of fine dining

Diners are still around, but few are the type that I am describing here. Like Chicago's Burlington Diner above, these were marooned old streetcars or Pullmans that were converted for the food trade. The interior presented a lineup of stools at a long counter. On the other side of the counter were the attendants and food apparatus.

Such diners often appeared in movies. The one that comes to mind is the Owl Diner in the Goldwyn Follies of 1938, with short-order cook Kenny Baker serenading Andrea Leeds via the Gershwins' "Love Walked In." You can see the clip here.

We have two songs today that are set in a diner. First is "Dinky's Little Diner" from 1946, with ex-Harry James vocalist Connie Haines. She was an expressive singer, but her diction isn't so good, so you may have a hard time following her. I did learn that Dinky fashioned his diner out of an old caboose.

You'll have less trouble following Harriet Clark as she tells her tale of finding love "At a Dixie Roadside Diner," which songwriters Edgar Leslie and Joe Burke located in Carolina because it rhymes with "diner," sort of. Harriet was the vocalist with the Charlie Barnet band. This comes from 1940.

The Automat

These days - and even back then - most people who are familiar with the Automat were exposed to it not in person but as a movie setting - such as Doris Day and Audrey Meadows carrying on a conversation through the Automat's windows in 1962's That Touch of Mink.

Let me explain. In the Automat, rather than having the food handed to you cafeteria-style, you would be confronted by what seemed like hundreds of small windows, each offering a delicacy (or some such). You plugged coins into a slot so as to unlock the window of your choice. An attendant would then refill the station.

It's the sort of thing that appealed to me in my youth, so I did eat at one. I don't remember the food but I do remember reading a book I had just purchased from Scribner's, a gorgeous store on Fifth Avenue. So the Automat had to be around there somewhere.

Anyway, in New York the Automat was also referred to as "Horn & Hardart," its proprietor (see photo at top of section). The format was invented in Germany, I believe.

In 1965, musical satirist Peter Schickele decided to immortalize the chain with his "Concerto for Horn and Hardart," which married the solo horn with his own semi-musical invention, the "Hardart." This instrument was essentially a baroque Automat, where you plugged in your nickel and received a toy instrument that then would become part of the musical proceedings.

Schickele (in his persona of P.D.Q. Bach) started out by performing send-ups of 18th century music. The audience for this live performance sure seemed to enjoy it - you may as well. I've included an edited version of Schickele's introduction followed by the opening Allegro movement. This is from his first LP, from 1965.

Thanks to my friend Ernie for suggesting the Automat as a subject!

The Bakery

Where I live, the shops that call themselves "bakeries" sell fancy cupcakes, fancy bundt cakes or fancy macarons. They ain't nothing like the old Indianapolis shop you see above. For that, you go to a supermarket, but it isn't the same. Instead of the uniformed attendants you see above, you get a adolescent in a cat t-shirt and ripped jeans.

There aren't a whole lot of songs about bakeries, but the young Jo Stafford did record "Bakery Blues" with her "V-Disc Play Boys" back in 1945. The bakery is an elaborate metaphor concocted by writer George Simon, and Jo presents the tale smoothly. She did have a tendency to croon, though, which is not exactly idiomatic to the blues, or to the style of  her "Play Boys," some of the finest traditional jazz musicians then active.

The Ice Cream Man

"Look like you're enjoying it. The photographer's paying."

He used to crawl down the street in a white truck, tinkling a bell or playing a jingle. He had to go slow to get the kiddies a chance to cadge money from mom or pop. He was selling ice cream along with popsicles and a few other delicacies.

The ice cream man was a beloved character with the young ones, if not mom or dad. After all, children are price-insensitive, so he almost could charge whatever he wanted.

This stealthy purveyor of treats has been the focus of a few songs. Today's selection is the highly enjoyable "Ivan, the Ice Cream Man" from the Kidoodlers, dating from 1939. Yes, this is a kids' record, but the Kidoodlers were a sophisticated novelty group that sang and played toy instruments, somewhat in the mode of the Foursome with their ocarinas. The whole record is great fun.

Ice cream is and was primarily sold as a packaged good, and in the days before snob brands, one of the major players was Sealtest, first as a franchiser and later as an operator of a chain of dairies. One of Sealtest's mainstays was ice cream, until that business was acquired by Good Humor-Breyers, which discontinued the Sealtest ice cream business five years ago.

But back at mid-century, Sealtest was busily producing promo records, including the "Sealtest Ice Cream Polka," with jingle specialists the Lande Trio, Julie Conway and "Johnny Cole's Music." It sounds like lots of other polkas, but you could make that statement about lots of other polkas.

Finally, the original version of "I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream," from 1927. This odd tune takes you to the land of the Eskimos, as they were then known, and introduces you to a football team whose fight song is "I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream." Paul Johnson is your guide to this strange land. Warning: ethnic stereotypes ahead!

Leg of Mutton

"Guess what we're having for dinner!" "That better be pot roast!"

And now we move on to some foods that have lost at least some of their market. (Actually, these are all foods that I roundly dislike, so I may be trying to hasten some of them off the market altogether.)

Mutton leg is definitely hard to find. Anyone who has had mutton can explain why - it tastes gamy. Mutton comes from older sheep; the more tender veal from the younger ones. At one time mutton was more widely available, when wool production was higher in the US, and thus there were more sheep.

As you might imagine, there are few songs that mention this meat, but I did find one called "Mutton Leg" from tenor saxophonist Illinois Jacquet and band, from 1947. The riff tune is by Count Basie and trumpeter Harry Edison, but the name is in honor of trombonist Ted Donnelly, whose nickname it was. Jacquet plays the piece as fast as possible without running out of the grooves. I enjoyed the solos by baritone saxophonist Leo Parker and the young J.J. Johnson on trombone.

Liver

"Woof - liver!"

In my view, liver is only suited for dogs. Trouble was that my mom would cook it up - for the dog AND her.

Liver is apparently a great favorite with the canines (and some people), although my mother's pooch actually preferred boiled kidneys. I learned early to stay out of the kitchen when the fire was under the kidney pot. A more disgusting smell is hard to imagine.

There actually was a song about liver (if not boiled kidneys), and predictably it involved a dog. "Jump, Fritz, I Feed You Liver" was recorded in 1924 by Billy Jones and Ernest Hare under their own names for Columbia and OKeh, and as the Happiness Boys for Victor. I've chosen a competing version from the English label ACO by the Webster Brothers, who have particularly ripe falsches Deutsch accents. Warning! Ethnic stereotypes ahead (and liver)!

 

Bologna

Swift had it all going on in 1956 - sausage, hot dogs, bacon and bologna

When I was young, there were few things I detested more than bologna (invariably pronounced "baloney" around here), unless it were its processed meat cousins Dutch loaf and chopped ham. My sense is that bologna's popularity is on the wane, although that may be wishful thinking.

Bologna was popular enough in 1930 to inspire "The Bologna Song," which is in the nature of an elaborate ethnic joke with the Flanagan Brothers getting the best of their companion - a "Hebrew," as they identify him. Warning - ethnic stereotypes ahead!

Buttermilk

Not even a famous cow could get me to try buttermilk

I'm sure there are people who like buttermilk, but by gosh, I'm not one of them. I don't think it's as popular as once upon a time, and may be even less so after I explain to you that it is fermented milk. The thought of it makes me sweat like Elmer the cow above.

Surprisingly, I found two songs with "buttermilk" in their titles. Let's start off with the better-known tune, "Ole Buttermilk Sky," written by Hoagy Carmichael and Jack Brooks for Hoagy to sing in the 1947 film Canyon Passage. There were several popular versions of this song, but I've selected the one by its composer. The piece was nominated for an Academy Award, but lost out to Judy Garland and "On the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe." Judy on the rails was tough to beat.

I never figured out what "buttermilk sky" refers to, so I asked the great god AI for enlightenment. "The small, puffy white clouds that make up a buttermilk sky are often said to resemble a pattern of clabbered milk." OK, so what is clabbered milk? "Clabbered milk is a type of cultured milk product that's made by letting unpasteurized milk thicken and sour through fermentation." You can have it.

The second song is something of a bonus - a lively tune called "Buttermilk Polka" by Chet Ososki and his Blue Diamond Orchestra. A pleasant diversion probably from somewhere in the 1950s.

Pigeon

I was looking at a fancy restaurant menu from the 1850s, and was surprised to find pigeon on the bill of fare. Perhaps I shouldn't have been. Back then, passenger pigeons were so numerous that in some places the flocks blotted out the sun. They were so easy to kill that all a hunter had to do is shoot at the flock and be sure of hitting something. The passenger pigeon was extinct by 1914.

As you might expect, few if any songs survive extolling the pigeon, so I have resorted to using a song called "Bayou Pigeon," which is not a song about a bird in the swampland, rather about a small, unincorporated place on the bayou in Louisiana. It comes from Lou Millet, a Baton Rouge musician who ran Lefty Frizzell's band for several years. Lefty probably got Lou a Columbia contract, thus this very accomplished record.

These selections all come from Internet Archive, as fermented by me. The sound is by and large very good.

LINK

The Songs of Dana Suesse

Dana Suesse in 1932

For today's post we examine the songs of Dana Suesse (1909-87), who wrote popular works while maintaining an interest in classical music, which her success in pop music later allowed her to pursue.

Suesse was versatile: her best known piece is "You Oughta Be in Pictures," but also popular is the gorgeous, moody "My Silent Love," which began as an instrumental.

We have recordings of both works, along with many more worthy songs in this collection of 21 of her compositions dating from 1929 to 1954.

About Dana Suesse

Like many songwriters, Dana did not start out to compose popular music. Classical music was her inspiration and aspiration. But in the 1930s, there wasn't much of an appetite for her "serious" works.

"I had arrived in New York with a trunk full of instrumental music ... I quickly found that there was no market for them; publishers didn’t want things like that. They were too expensive to publish and they simply were not going to be popular with the public. So I looked around and saw that people were making money writing popular songs."

She found out she was good at it, too, and began working with noted lyricists such as Edward Heyman and Leo Robin. But her initial efforts were focused on instrumental music.

"At that time popular instrumentals were in vogue, sort of a hybrid between a serious piece and a pop tune. Duke Ellington, Lou Alter, and Rube Bloom were writing these kinds of works. There was a very distinctive, certain style and form to this kind of melody."

Our collection starts with just such a composition.

1929-32 Recordings

"A Syncopated Love Song" was the title of the first recording in the set, a 1929 work that is listed as a collaboration between Suesse and Nathaniel Shilkret, although it's not clear how much of it was Shilkret's work. Even so, he was an proficient musician who was director of light music for Victor and a prolific recording artist.

It's a strikingly well-wrought piece, with a memorable main strain. Dana presumably wrote that melody, for the credit to Shilket was nowhere to be found a few years later when it was turned into the torch song "Have You Forgotten?" with lyrics by Leo Robin and recorded by Ruth Etting.

Rudy Vallée

Also from 1931, "Whistling in the Dark" has another catchy melody and words by Allen Boretz, whose later claim to fame was writing the hit farce Room Service. Presenting the song was bandleader Rudy Vallée, who hadn't much of a voice, but did have a polished band, fine taste in music and a record contract. He must have liked Dana's songs - he appears later in the collection as well.

George Gershwin, Paul Whiteman and Dana Suesse

Suesse continued to compose works that were the classical-jazz hybrid that George Gershwin favored. In 1932, Gershwin champion Paul Whiteman commissioned her to write a "Concerto in Three Rhythms" for one of his concerts. The New Yorker proceeded to dub her the "girl Gershwin.” You can hear the piece on YouTube.

Loyce Whiteman

With "Ho Hum!" Dana attracted the attention of another important figure, bandleader Gus Arnheim, who engaged vocalists Loyce Whiteman and Bing Crosby for the record. Whiteman was then 19; it was her first record. This is the first song in this collection with lyrics by the young Edward Heyman, a distinguished figure with whom Suesse would work extensively. 

"Jazz Nocturne" is a second instrumental that would become a popular song. Nathaniel Shilkret is again the leader but does not share the songwriting credits for this one. With Heyman's lyrics, the work turned into "My Silent Love," an exceptional song. We will get to it later in this collection.

Edward Heyman

1933-35 Recordings

For our first selection from 1933, Rudy Vallée returns with "Free," a good pop song with one of the bandleader's better vocals. Heyman was again the lyricist.

Also from 1933, we have a recording of "Moon about Town," written for the Ziegfeld Follies production that opened in early 1934. It's not one of lyricist Yip Harburg's best efforts, although the song is occasionally revived. 

Another song from the same show, introduced by the same singer, Jane Froman, is "You Oughta Be in Pictures." An irresistible combination of clever words and cheerful music, it became a huge hit.

As far as I can tell, Froman did not record either song. Our version of "Moon about Town" is the one for Columbia by society bandleader Emil Coleman with a vocal by Jerry Cooper. 

For "You Oughta Be in Pictures," we return to Rudy Vallée for his popular recording. One oddity is that Vallée's Victor label says the song is from a film called New York Town. I can't find evidence of such a film from that year, nor of the song being used in another movie of the time. Also, IBDB does not list "You Oughta Be in Pictures" as being part of the 1934 Follies, which may mean it was added after the opening. In any case, Vallée's disc was not recorded until March 5, 1934, a few months into the run of the 1934 Follies.

"Missouri Misery" from the Dorsey Brothers is much different. Pianist Peter Mintun, who edited a collection of the composer's works, said that "Suesse preferred this over any other commercial recording of 'Missouri Misery.' She liked the bluesy treatment rather than the danceable versions." Singer Bob Crosby, who was working with the Dorseys at the time, did not care for the record; he thought the key was too low for him. Harburg was the lyricist.

Another miniature concert piece is next, with Dana on piano accompanied by Paul Whiteman and his orchestra. It's the highly enjoyable, Gershwinesque "Blue Moonlight."

The next two songs come from a 1935 film called Sweet Surrender, filmed in Astoria, New York, and featuring radio and stage personalities such as Frank Parker and Tamara. It's a shipboard musical with a labyrinthine story line and seven numbers from Suesse and Heyman.

First we have the Jan Garber band and singer Lee Bennett with "The Day You Were Born," a predictable song in a grainy pressing. Much better, musically and technically, is "Love Makes the World Go Round," which may not have been the first time that was used for a title and certainly wasn't the last.

The Al Donahue Band; the leader is up front with violin

Even so, it's a pleasing song in a creditable performance from the Al Donahue band and singer Tommy Norato.

1936-37 Recordings

In 1936, Suesse spent three months in Fort Worth, Texas, composing the music for impresario Billy Rose's Casa Mañana, an attraction for that city's Frontier Days Celebration, which was designed to compete with Dallas's concurrent Texas Centennial Celebration. Casa Mañana was a 4,000-seat outdoor dinner theater and stage show that turned out to be very popular.

The big hit from the show was one of Dana's greatest songs, "The Night Is Young and You're So Beautiful," with lyrics by Rose and Irving Kahal. The story is told that Rose ran into Kahal in the lobby of his Fort Worth hotel and convinced him to stay and write with him and Suesse.

Our first version of "The Night Is Young and You're So Beautiful" comes from Jan Garber, this time with vocalist Russ Brown. It starts off with a martial cadence, for some reason, but Garber quickly turns things over to the overripe saxophones and choppy brass that were favored by the sweet bands of the time. Brown is a little too ripe himself, but this period piece nonetheless has its charm. We'll have a better performance later in the program.

Jolly Coburn

Also from the Casa Mañana show is "Gone with the Dawn," from the Jolly Coburn band, with a vocal by the pleasant Bill Hawley, who sounds like he could have been from Texas himself. Coburn hailed from New York, where his band played at the Rainbow Room.

There is a 20-minute short with excerpts from the Casa Mañana show on YouTube.

The Aquacade on Lake Erie

Rose next turned his attention to the Great Lakes Exposition in Cleveland, where he dreamed up an "Aquacade," another dinner amphitheater, this time with a water show along the shores of Lake Erie. "Happy Birthday to Love" comes from the score, heard here in the version by Tommy Dorsey with the talented Jack Leonard on the vocal. Dana worked with four different lyricists to concoct this number.

Post 1937 Recordings

Bob Allen and Hal Kemp

Rose transported his Aquacade concept to the 1939 New York World's Fair, bringing Suesse along to provide the music. She worked with the impresario and lyricist Ted Fetter on "Yours for a Song," the Aquacade theme, which we have in a recording by Hal Kemp and his orchestra. The vocalist is Bob Allen, who had replaced Skinnay Ennis the year before. Kemp was to die in an auto accident the following year.

Dick Todd

For our next number, we greet the sonorous Dick Todd, "Canada's Bing Crosby," as he was called, with a fine recording of "A Table in a Corner," which Dana wrote with the experienced Sam Coslow. Todd was in the midst of his brief heyday, when he recorded prolifically for Bluebird.

Next is one of Dana's most accomplished songs in one of the standout performances in this set - "Time for Me to Put My Heart Away," in a Liberty Music Shop disc from the esteemed cabaret singer Greta Keller, with backing by a Cy Walter band.

Greta Keller

In addition to the music, Suesse apparently wrote the lyrics for this song, which she seldom did. "Lyrics, I think are very difficult," she once said. "It took me approximately 20 years of apprenticeship to write what I’d term a presentable lyric. What I mean is, a lyric that satisfied me, that was up to the standard I felt a lyric should be. I learned a great deal from Billy Rose, and I worked with some extremely competent and gifted writers such as Yip Harburg, and the wonderful, creative Ira Gershwin."

The Viennese Keller had come to the US in 1938 and was already a feature in some of New York's top locations. Her voice may remind you of Marlene Dietrich; that's because Dietrich based her singing on Keller. Whatever you may think of her voice, her identification with the lyrics is total.

"This Changing World" was one of the composer's own favorites. "In 1940, I wrote a song called 'This Changing World,' with a wonderful lyric by Harold Adamson," she said. "The song is so relevant even today, and the lyric, as well as the melody, was ahead of its time. It had a strong harmonic progression, although simple in structure, but the song didn’t go anyplace. There were several recordings, but it just didn’t hit the charts the way I had hoped." The fluent performance is by Ginny Simms with the Kay Kyser band.

In the 1940s, Dana continued her association with Billy Rose, writing songs for his Diamond Horseshoe club, which operated from 1938-51 in New York's Paramount Hotel. Following the war, she studied with Nadia Boulanger in Paris for three years.

Dick Haymes, who appears to be orbiting the moon

I wanted to include two later recordings of Suesse songs that were discussed above. First we have Dick Haymes' disc of "My Silent Love," made in 1947 with the backing of Gordon Jenkins. The second is Ray Anthony's 1950 recording of "The Night Is Young and You're So Beautiful," with a sterling vocal by Ronnie Deauville.

Finally, two recordings of the theme song from the hit stage production of The Seven Year Itch, which opened in late 1952 with incidental music by Suesse. First "The Girl Without a Name," performed by pianist Art Lowry and his orchestra. The published version lists lyrics by Dana and Scott Olsen, but I haven't found a recording of that version. The Lowry record credits "Engvick" presumably lyricist William Engvick, along with Suesse, but it's an instrumental.

There's yet another version of the tune. Eddie Bracken, who had succeeded Tom Ewell in the leading male role on Broadway, wrote his own words for  Suesse's music and recorded it under the name "That Girl" for the R&B label Chance, where he and Barbara Cooke coo to one another. (Update: my friend Geoconno informs me that "Barbara Cooke" is actually the wonderful Barbara Cook, in what must be one of her first recordings.)

Most of these recordings were remastered from Internet Archive 78s.

LINK

More by Dana Suesse

In 1941, Dana contributed to an album of "Modern American Music" put together by then radio conductor Meredith Willson. Her composition was "American Nocturne," a lovely piece somewhat tentatively played by the ensemble. You can hear the work - and the entire album - newly remastered via this post. "American Nocturne" is a different composition from the "Jazz Nocturne" above.

Finally, I am preparing a post of recordings by the short-lived jazz harpist Casper Reardon that will include Suesse's suite "Young Man with a Harp." I hope to finish that project soon. 

20 Christmas Tunes from Vintage 78s

My record record-transferring paraphernalia has had a bad case of the troubles for some weeks now. The main turntable isn't tracking properly and is having some speed issues. My usual analog-to-digital converter has been flaky. And even my audio drivers are acting up, resetting themselves to mono repeatedly for no good reason.

While these problems get sorted out, I've been plunging into the limitless depths of the Internet Archive in search of items to bring to you. Today I am kicking off the Christmas sharing season with a selection of 20 holiday tunes taken from vintage 78s, as extensively remastered and repitched by me. The sound on all these is very good, with the one exception noted.

The selections date from 1945 to 1957, when 78s were being phased out. (I am just old enough to have purchased quite a few new 78s myself - I've been a record collector as long as I can remember.) I've selected familiar items in versions you may not heard and unfamiliar songs, sprinkling R&B, jazz and country selections among the pop platters, plus a polka!

The earliest item in our collection is from orchestra leader Mark Warnow and vocalist Dick Todd, the "Canadian Crosby." Both were mainstays of radio's Your Hit Parade in 1945. As far as I know, "All Around the Xmas Tree" was only recorded by them.

Next we have one of the innumerable jazz takes on "Jingle Bells." This specimen comes from a 1946 single helmed by veteran pianist Frank Signorelli, who was in the Original Memphis Five way back in 1917, and later in the ODJB. He's best known for writing "I'll Never Be the Same."

Also in 1946, Johnny Mercer and the Pied Pipers had a success with "Winter Wonderland." Capitol had a habit of reissuing this number during subsequent holiday seasons. This pressing is from 1950.

Steel guitar virtuoso Leon McAuliffe made his name with Bob Wills' band during the 1930s. In 1947, he recorded "A Cowboy's Christmas Song" for Majestic, with a vocal by Gene Autry sound-alike Jimmy Hall.

Another little known song, "A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year," comes from 1948 and the tonsils of Crosbyite John Laurenz, who recorded for Mercury, Pan-American and Jubilee during his career. If there are any Bowery Boys fans out there, you may be interested to know that Laurenz dubbed Huntz Hall's vocals in the great Blues Busters, in which Satch becomes the world's most unlikely romantic crooner.

Also in 1948, country artist Doye O'Dell became the first to record "Blue Christmas." It wasn't a hit then, but the following year, Ernest Tubb did well with it, as did Hugo Winterhalter with the pop version in today's collection.

"Baby, It's Cold Outside" has endured so many awful recordings since it debuted in 1949 (in Neptune's Daughter), that it's refreshing to encounter one that throws away the coy aspect of the song in favor of a more straightforward approach. That's what you get from Pearl Bailey as the knowing female who is all too willing to be ensnared by the raspy wolfishness of Hot Lips Page, a trumpeter by trade. Their version came out on Columbia's budget label, Harmony, which Pearlie Mae manages to name-check during the proceedings.

Poor Hot Lips Page didn't even rate a mention in this ad

Frankie Yankovic, the most popular polka artist of the time, came up with "Christmas Polka" in 1949. As with many of Frankie's records, the chorus is nothing exciting, but the break is a wonder to behold. Yankovic also recorded a "Merry Christmas Polka" in 1950, but I believe the bigger hit version was by the Andrews Sisters.

Al Hibbler taped "White Christmas" for Decca later in the 50s, but today's version is an earlier one he did with the Ellingtonians for Mercer Ellington's label right at mid-century. The Ellingtonians were a side group from Duke's band led by Johnny Hodges, Harry Carney and Billy Strayhorn. Duke himself even showed up on one of their record dates. There is some overloading on the peaks here, which I have tried to moderate. This was caused by the transfer being done at too high a level, a no-no in digital recording.

Nineteen fifty also was the year for "Silver Bells," from Bob Hope's epic The Lemon Drop Kid. The hit versions were by Bing Crosby and Carol Richards for Decca and Margaret Whiting and Jimmy Wakely for Capitol. Here we have Mercury's entry in this race, performed by Richard Hayes and Kitty Kallen.

Our final work from 1950 is the first of three tunes set down by the great Billy Eckstine for M-G-M - another version of "Blue Christmas." Skipping ahead slightly to 1953, we have Eckstine's two-sided holiday effort for the year, the unfamiliar "Christmas Eve" and the all-too-familiar "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve." The label says the conductor here is Lionel Newman. My ears say the arranger on "What Are You Doing" is Nelson Riddle.

M-G-M's holiday lineup for 1953

From 1952 or 1953, we have a "White Christmas" from the combination of adenoidal crooner Jack Russell and the Honey Dreamers, a vocal group that has appeared on this blog before. Russell was unknown to me, although he does appear on some Peter Pan children's records, as do the Honey Dreamers.

We move to Nashville and 1954 for an Ernest Tubb side called "Lonely Christmas Eve," with strong backing by some talented studio vets, including Owen Bradley on piano and Billy Byrd on guitar.

Also from 1954, jump blues artist Oscar McLollie joins us for a two-sided entry on Modern, the boisterous "Dig That Crazy Santa Claus" and the lugubrious "God Gave Us Christmas." As with many of McLollie's efforts, these are Leon René productions.

Johnny Desmond, who has been featured here a few times, offers up "Happy Holidays to You," which comes from 1955. This is the flip of "Santo Natale," which I vaguely recall sharing here before.

To close things off, we have two earnest efforts from Big Maybelle, "Silent Night" and "White Christmas," on Savoy. Maybelle started out as the less colorfully named Mabel Smith, band singer for Tiny Bradshaw. Okeh records bestowed the fancier name on her when she joined its roster. This single comes from 1957, when the 78 era was drawing to a close.

Please enjoy these tunes, and the entire festive season! More soon, if my recording apparatus cooperates.

Dick Todd

Dick Todd had the fortune or misfortune of sounding like Bing Crosby - so much so that he was called "the Canadian Crosby." He was, nonetheless, a good singer in his own right, although the vocal resemblance didn't stop with timbre; he adopted some of Bing's mannerisms, too.

Todd's first brush with fame came during his four-year period of recording for the Victor subsidiary, Bluebird, which ended in 1942. This particular LP picks up his recordings for the small Rainbow label, which began in 1949. The high point of that association was a hit recording of "Daddy's Little Girl," included here. With that success, Rainbow continued to pair Todd with sentimental family songs, including "Daddy's Little Boy," "Be Good to Your Father and Mother" and the ghastly 1920 chestnut "Daddy, You've Been a Mother to Me."

Circa 1952, Rainbow collected these items in this obscure 10-inch LP of "American Family Songs," with cover image of Todd gazing down at the ideal family unit of mom, dad, brother and sis. I hail from a unit very much like this one, although Dad, something of a fashion plate, never would have allowed us to sit on his lap while he was wearing a suit. Papa would occasionally regale me with his own version of "Daddy's Little Boy," which had an ironic tone foreign to the Todd recording.

Rainbow filled out this LP with a few love songs and the saga of "Michael McInerny" (whom Todd insists on calling "McInereny"), who was noted, the lyrics tell us, for tickling the chins of the married women of the neighborhood. He seems hardly the type of fellow to be featured on a disc of family songs.

On most of these tunes, Todd has the spartan accompaniment of a pianist that I believe to be Eddie (Piano) Miller. (Miller was called "Piano" to distinguish him from the tenor saxophonist of the same given name, I think.) Todd also is aided by a small and not very well-drilled vocal group. The simply-miked sound is just to my taste.

Following these recordings, Todd sank into obscurity, reputedly becoming alcoholic, destitute and estranged from his own family before his 1975 death. These recordings may be period pieces, but he was a talented singer who is worth remembering.