“Benny was born ignorant, and he’s been losing ground ever since…”

I played the second CD of The Ultimate Jack Benny Collection earlier this morning, and I was delighted with the first track: the classic March 14, 1937 confrontation between Jack and his longtime “nemesis,” comedian Fred Allen. The classic Benny-Allen feud had been building on both programs since December 1936, and their appearance on this Benny program was billed by NBC and promoted in the press as “The Battle of the Century.” At that particular time, it generated a tremendous radio audience rating, something that Benny didn’t necessarily need to worry about but it did help Allen’s anemic ratings tremendously (Allen once joked that he had “hitched his gaggin’ to a star.”)

The setting for the “Battle” is the Hotel Pierre in New York City, as announcer Don Wilson introduces his boss:

DON: And now, ladies and gentlemen…we bring you a fellow who’s a big man in Hollywood, a giant in Waukegan…but just another actor in New York—Jack Benny!
JACK: Hello again, this is Jack Benny coming to you from the Grand Ballroom of the Hotel Pierre…and listen, Don—I’m not such a small guy in New York either…
DON: Well then, Jack—how come they won’t even let you broadcast from the NBC Studios? First you’re at the Waldorf-Astoria, now the Pierre…
JACK: Well, it’s because NBC is crowded, that’s why…
DON: Well, how long are you going to stay in New York, anyway?
JACK: Until we run out of hotels…I’ve been hanging around so many ballrooms I feel like a chandelier…of course, there’s a certain amount of class and prestige broadcasting from a place like this…(SFX: knock on door) Come in…?
HOTEL MANAGER: Mr. Benny?
JACK: Yes?
HOTEL MANAGER: On behalf of the management of the Hotel Pierre, I bid you welcome and trust that the broadcasting facilities here are satisfactory…
JACK: They certainly are!
HOTEL MANAGER: Now, if there’s anything I can do for you don’t hesitate to call upon me…
JACK: Well, thank you…is there anything I can do for you?
HOTEL MANAGER: Yes—don’t mingle with the guests…
(SFX: door slam)
JACK: Hmm…that’s what I get for slumming on the avenue…anyway, Don, it’s still a distinction to be able to do our program here…not every entertainer would be granted that privilege…particularly one that I know of…
DON: And who’s that, Jack…?
JACK: Well, I don’t want to mention any names…but I don’t see how Harry Von Zell can laugh at him every Wednesday night…
DON: Oh, Von Zell…that announcer…
JACK: Yes…yes…
DON: Say, Jack…what product do they sell, anyway?
JACK: Nothing that you can put sliced bananas on…

Jack decrees that Fred’s name shall no longer be mentioned on the program: he is to be referred to as “Boo” (when Mary makes her entrance and Jack asks her where she’s been, she tells him she was out with “Boo and Portland Hoffa”). Jack is, by the way, missing two members of his cast on this particular broadcast: new bandleader Phil Harris (conductor Abe Lyman fills in) and tenor Kenny Baker, though Mary reads a funny telegram from Baker—who is back in Hollywood making a picture (Kenny mentions that he enjoyed traveling through Pennsylvania on his return trip home, particularly a stop-over in “Boo”-town).

Jack engages in some comic banter with “Schlepperman,” a stooge played by Sam Hearn who was a major presence in the 1930s Benny broadcasts (sort of an embryonic Mr. Kitzel). After Mary and Jack finish their respective renditions of You Do the Darndest Things, Baby, it’s time for the fireworks to start, as Fred bursts in to complain about Benny’s singing:

JACK: Well, as I live and regret that there are no locks on studio doors, if it isn’t Boo Allen…now listen, Allen—what’s the idea of breaking in here in the middle of my singing?
FRED: Singing?
JACK: Yes…
FRED: Now listen, Benny…I didn’t mind it when you scraped that overnight bag two weeks ago and called that playing “The Bee”…but when you stand here tonight and set that whooping cough to music and call that singing—you’re going too far…
JACK: Oh, you didn’t like it, huh?
FRED: Like it? Why, you make Andy Devine sound like Lawrence Tibbets…
JACK: Now look here, Allen—I don’t care what you say about my singing or my violin playing on your own program…but when you come up here, be careful…after all, I’ve got listeners…
FRED: Keep your family out of this…
JACK: Listen—my family likes my singing and my violin playing, too…
FRED: Your violin playing…
JACK: Yeah!
FRED: …you’re using the verb loosely, Mr. Benny…why if I was a horse—if I was a pony, even—and found out that my tail…found out that any part of my tail was being used in your violin bow, I’d hang my head in my oat bag from then on…
JACK: Well, you listen to me, you Wednesday night hawk—another crack like that and Town Hall will be looking for a new janitor…

The insults continue to fly fast and furious (Fred: “You lay a hand on me, Benny, and you’ll be hollering strawberry, raspberry, cherry, orange, lemon and help…”) and finally the two of them go out into the hall to settle it like men. They soon return, however, laughing and joking about their good old days in vaudeville—so the feud ends in a temporary truce, with Benny and Allen reprising You Do the Darndest Things, Baby. (Of course, as fans are aware, this armistice would be very short-lived, providing many memorable programs—and laughs—for years to come.) I enjoy all of the Allen-Benny encounters, and because I had only heard this program previously in excerpt form, it was a real treat to hear it in its entirety.

The second broadcast is from June 20, 1937, and it marks the first appearance of Eddie Anderson as Rochester Van Jones, Jack’s wisecracking manservant-valet. It wasn’t, however, Anderson’s first appearance on the show, however—he debuted on the March 28, 1937 program as a comical train porter. A few supporting roles later, Jack decided to use the talented black comedian on a permanent basis. (Originally, the character was to be named “Syracuse,” but Benny felt that he could get more mileage out of Rah-chester.) Benny is in the makeup chair, as he is busy getting ready to film his role in the 1937 comedy-musical Artists and Models:

JACK: Oh, Rochester…Rochester!
ROCHESTER: Yes sir, boss?
JACK: Did you lay out my full-dress suit?
ROCHESTER: Yes, sir…
JACK: Did you?
ROCHESTER: You mean the one with the red stripes?
JACK: No, the black one with the tail…you’ve been pressing the pants for an hour…are they done yet?
ROCHESTER: Yes, sir…dey is done to a crisp…

A little later on, Jack inquires as to the state of his dress shoes:

JACK: Hey, Rochester—have you got my shoes?
ROCHESTER: Here they are, boss…
JACK: Those are my sport shoes…where did you ever see sport shoes with a full dress suit?
ROCHESTER: In the Harlem Esquire…
JACK: Well, run over to my dressing room and get my plain black ones and hurry…
ROCHESTER: Black coat, black shoes, black pants…you is de most monotonous man I ever worked for…
JACK (after Rochester exits): I’d fire him if he didn’t have an iron-bound contract…

Listening to this show today will certainly make listeners wince a little, since, in the early broadcasts, the Rochester character was very much a shuck-and-jive stereotype. (One thing that has always puzzled me is how “Rochester” escaped a lot of the criticism that befell Amos ‘n’ Andy—after all, Rochester was only a servant; Amos ‘n’ Andy were homeowners and independent businessmen.) Yet there was something about Rochester that transcended all that; a sort of wide-eyed, mock innocence that played against the otherwise negative traits of his character. (In one program, Jack reminds Rochester that he carries a razor, and Rochester responds: “Yeah, but it’s a Gillette and I’m all out of blades.”) As the series progressed, Rochester became more of a pal than valet to Benny—this is particular noticeable in the post-World War II broadcasts, as the character transformed into sort of a black Jeeves, playing opposite Jack’s Bertie Wooster. (It has also been observed that Rochester, in many ways, functioned as Jack’s “wife”—one broadcast has him joking that his contract with Benny contains the clause “till death do us part.”)

Other than the two or three sequences introducing Rochester, the broadcast is pretty much your standard—but funny—Benny outing. While Benny prepares to shoot his big scene, his “gang” come along to watch—including recurring regular Andy Devine:

JACK: Well, I guess they’re about ready to shoot…you know, I’m a little nervous today for the first time—funny, an old trouper like me…
DON: Oh, you’ll be all right, Jack—why don’t you sit down and relax?
JACK: Oh, I thought I was sitting down…say, Mary, were you this nervous when you shot your first scene?
MARY: Yes, but I was doing a rhumba and nobody noticed it…
JACK: Oh…oh, I see…
KENNY: Hey, Jack—look who’s here!
JACK: Oh! Hello, Andy!
ANDY: Hiya Buck! Thought I’d come over and watch you work!
JACK: Well, I’m glad you did…gee, it’s hot under these lights—I hope my makeup isn’t running…how do I look, Andy?
ANDY: You look like Crosby’s horse on a muddy track…
JACK: Gee, I am a little splotchy, ain’t I…I don’t know what’s the matter with me today, I feel kind of faint and…dizzy-like…
KENNY: Why don’t your hold your breath and count ten?
JACK: Kenny, I haven’t got the hiccups…
MARY: You will in a minute…
JACK: I will not…imagine me kissing Ida Lupino while hiccupping…
ANDY: I tried it once and caught her right between the eyes…
JACK: Oh, that’s terrible…
ANDY: Well, it was better than nothin’…

All in all, an entertaining broadcast—which also contains appearances by Arthur Q. Bryan (who plays director Raoul Walsh, the real-life director of Artists and Models) and Charles Winninger, who appears on the last few moments of the program to promote his July 8, 1937 return appearance to Maxwell House’s Show Boat. Show Boat was a popular variety program (though it was entering its last season on NBC) based on the stage-movie musical of the same name; Winninger had appeared earlier in the show’s run, but left the program in 1935 after a contract dispute. Winninger had played the part on Broadway and in the 1936 film version as well.