“Don…I have an arrangement with Abbott & Costello…we leave them alone, and they leave us alone…”

The title of this post is Jack Benny’s response to an atrocious pun from announcer Don Wilson, who is telling Jack that he was playing Santa Claus and became stuck in the chimney before finally falling down. (He says that he could have been seriously hurt in the fall, but fortunately he “caught the flue.”) But as I will soon reveal, Jack’s response proves to be a tad untrue…

I listened to a January 6, 1946 broadcast of The Jack Benny Program this evening as part of Radio Spirits’s Ultimate Jack Benny Collection. The show’s premise involves Jack going to the Rose Bowl game, a comic device that would be used in future broadcasts, and the program kicks off with Jack and Mary discussing what they did on New Year’s Eve (Mary cracks that Jack was such a "party animal" he drank two bottles of Coca-Cola—“without a chaser yet.”):

DON: Say, Mary—is Jack a good dancer?
MARY: I don’t know, it’s the first time I ever did the minuet…
JACK: Oh, stop, will ya—you’ve done the minuet before…
MARY: Yeah, but not while the band was playing “Cow Cow Boogie…”
JACK: Mary, now on New Year’s Eve—you gotta let yourself go…
DON: Say, Jack—what did you do at the stroke of twelve?
MARY: What did he do? He said “Happy New Year,” took an aspirin and passed out…
JACK: Well, I wasn’t out long, sister…and Don, when I came to I went around and kissed every woman in the place…
DON: You did?
JACK: Yeah…and Mary was so jealous she tried to stop me…
MARY: I wasn’t jealous…I was only trying to tell you that the place was closed and those women were mopping up…

Jack also greets the members of his cast, including Dennis Day substitute Larry Stevens:

JACK: Hello, Larry—Happy New Year!
LARRY: The same to you, Jack!
JACK: Did you…Jack? Why, Larry—what’s come over you? You’ve always called me “Mr. Benny…”
LARRY: Well, don’t you remember? On New Year’s Eve, you said I could stop calling you “Mr. Benny” and call you “Jack…”
JACK: When did I tell you that?
LARRY: Right after your second Coke…
JACK: You mean before the aspirin tablet? Well, Larry…I still the like the idea of you calling me “Mr. Benny”…I mean, it adds a little dignity to the program and shows you have respect for me…
MARY: Do you want me to call you “Mr. Benny,” too?
JACK: No…no, that won’t be necessary, Mary…
MARY: Gee…I can call him Jack…
JACK: …and now, folks…
MARY: …wait’ll the girls at the May Company hear about this…
JACK: Now wait a minute! Don’t get smart, Miss Livingstone…
MARY: Oh, do call me Mary…
JACK: Now cut that out!!!

Phil Harris arrives on the scene, and he demands that Jack pay off on a Rose Bowl bet (Jack had USC, Phil Alabama) but Jack refuses on account of he didn’t see the game (Phil: “Jackson, are you crazy—ninety thousand people were at that game and saw Alabama win!!!” Jack: “I don’t care if a hundred thousand people saw it, I’m not talking the word of a lot of strangers!”). The reason for this is related in flashback by Mary—she, Phil, Jack and Jack’s girl friend Gladys Zabisco (the wonderfully nasal Sara Berner) originally had tickets and plans to meet at the game:

PHIL: Say, Gladys—you still work at the Shamrock Café?
GLADYS: No, I’m back at the drive-in…Speedy thought I oughta be outside where it’s healthier…
JACK: Darn right…what’s the use of being in California if you can’t enjoy the sun?
GLADYS: Yeah, but I sure wish I could get off the night shift…
JACK: You will, honey…just save your tips…that’s all…
GLADYS: I do, but every time I get a little ahead you want to go to a movie or somethin’…
JACK: Well…it won’t always be that way…
LEFTY: Hey, look who’s here! Hiya Gladys! Happy New Year!
GLADYS: Same to you, Lefty!
JACK: Lefty? Hmm…you know everybody, don’t you?
GLADYS: That’s Lefty Flanagan—what a sport, he always orders a la carte…
JACK (angrily): Well, don’t talk to him…
GLADYS: But Lefty’s a big tipper…
JACK: Oh… (friendly) Hiya Lefty!

Before the game starts, Jack volunteers to rustle up some hot dogs, so he grabs the attention of a vendor, played by Artie Auerbach:

JACK: Hey mister! Four hot dogs, please…
KITZEL: Yes, sir… (sings) “Pickle in the middle and the mustard on top…just the way you like ‘em and they’re always hot…” Four puppies, coming up!
JACK: How much are they?
KITZEL: Three cents apiece…
JACK: Three cents???
KITZEL: Uh-huh…
JACK: Why do you sell them so cheap?
KITZEL: Taste ‘em!
JACK: Oh…say, do they look…they do look like pretty tough weenies…
KITZEL: Tough? Hoo hoo hoo! What suitcase handles they would make…

Although he’s not given a name in his first appearance, this vendor will later become a regular stooge on the Benny program as Mr. Kitzel, a Jewish gentleman given to malaprops much in the same fashion as Mrs. Nussbaum on The Fred Allen Show. Auerbach had played the character previously on The Abbott & Costello Show (so much for leaving them alone, eh?) and the earlier Al Pearce and His Gang. The hot dog vendor sketch was adapted from a similar routine performed on the show in 1941 with Benny regular Sam Hearn as Schlepperman (just to demonstrate that the Benny program could also lend out its talent, Schlepperman appeared on other programs as well, like Glamour Manor and The Great Gildersleeve). In fact, when Hearn returned to Jack’s program after a long absence, the Kitzel character had become so well established he was told he couldn’t revive Schlepperman—so Hearn developed a character from Calabasas that Jack often encountered at the train station (“Hiya, Rube!”).

Meanwhile, Jack is getting more and more steamed by the fact that everyone at the game seems to know Gladys—and I do mean everyone:

MARY: Look! Look, here comes the USC team!
JACK: Gee, they’re a husky bunch of fellas!
PHIL: Yeah, listen to that crowd!
MARY: Here they come running right past us!
TEAM: Hello, Gladys!!!

(snip)

JACK: That’s the last straw! I’m leaving! I’m not even gonna stay and see the game…and let me tell you something, Gladys—you and I are through! Our engagement is broken! Goodbye!
GLADYS: But, Speedy—if you’re breaking our engagement, what about the ring?
JACK: I’m not giving it back to you!

The second program I heard is also considered a Benny classic; Jack and Mary attend a concert by violin virtuoso Isaac Stern, and cross paths with Ronald and Benita Colman in the process. Jack meticulously prepares for the evening’s festivities, assisted by Manches—I mean, Rochester:

ROCHESTER: You’re certainly going to a lot of trouble gettin’ dressed tonight…
JACK: Well, Rochester—all the important people in town will be at the concert…after all, Isaac Stern is one of the world’s greatest violinists…
ROCHESTER: Oh come now, boss—you play the violin as good as he does…
JACK (slightly embarrassed): No I don’t, Rochester…no…
ROCHESTER: Oh yes you do…
JACK: I do not!
ROCHESTER: Well, I think so…
JACK: Rochester, you’ve never even heard Isaac Stern…
ROCHESTER: Well, take advantage of it, boss—take advantage!!!

Before finding their seats, Jack informs Mary that he needs to pay Stern a visit backstage:

JACK: When I heard you were giving a concert in Los Angeles, I sent you money for two tickets, knowing that you’d get me the best seats available…
STERN: Oh yes, yes, Mr. Benny…I have the tickets right here…here you are…
JACK: Thanks…wait a minute…these tickets are a dollar-ten…I distinctly remember sending you…
STERN (interrupting): I did my best, Mr. Benny, but the house was sold out…and they didn’t have any more seats available at the price you requested…
JACK: Oh…
STERN: So I added thirty cents of my own money, and… (the audience’s laughter and applause drowns him out at this point)
JACK: Well, thank you very much, Mr. Stern—I hope I didn’t impose on you too much…you see, you being a concert violinist, naturally I felt that we…have something in common (laughs) yes, sir…
STERN: We have something in common?
MARY: Yes…Jack’s violin has four strings, too…
JACK: Mary (Mary laughs) Mary, please…
MARY: Jack, give Mr. Stern the thirty cents you owe him and let’s go…
JACK: Oh yes, yes…just a minute (SFX: clink of coins) here you are…ten, twenty, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty…there you are, Mr. Stern…
STERN: Thank you…
MARY: Okay, Jack—put on your shoe and let’s go…

Jack and Mary are, as you may have already guessed, seated in the mezzanine (a French word meaning “nosebleed”)—and Jack spots the Colmans sitting below:

BENITA: Ronnie…isn’t that Jack Benny up there, trying to get our attention?
RONNIE: Yes, it’s embarrassing…but don’t look up…
BENITA: Maybe we should at least wave to him…after all, he is our next-door neighbor…
RONNIE: Benita…that is a situation which the housing shortage prevents me from doing anything about…
BENITA: He’s going to so much trouble to attract your attention…he’s dropping little bits of paper…no! He’s dropping peanut shells…
RONNIE: If he spits—there’s going to be trouble…oh, what’s he doing way up there, anyway?
BENITA: Well, perhaps his doctor recommended a higher altitude…
RONNIE: Where he’s sitting, it’s cheaper than the Alps…
BENITA: It’s higher, too…
RONNIE: So it is…
BENITA: Well anyway, dear—he won’t be throwing any more peanuts…
RONNIE: Oh? How do you know?
BENITA: I just got hit on the head with the bag…

Colman also reads the winning entry of the six-week “I Can’t Stand Jack Benny Because…” contest, which ended the previous week—the prize was $10,000 in Victory Bonds, and it was judged by such notables as Goodman Ace, Peter Lorre and (natch) Fred Allen. The winning entry, as submitted by Carroll P. Craig, Sr.:

He fills the air with boasts and brags
And obsolete, obnoxious gags
The way he plays his violin
Is music's most obnoxious sin
His cowardice alone, indeed
Is matched by his obnoxious greed
And all the things that he portrays
Show up my own obnoxious ways

Colman accurately points out that the poetic entry proves “the things we find fault with in others are the same things we tolerate in ourselves.” I can think of no finer testament to a man who made the world laugh for close to half a century on radio and television, and who continues to do so today.

“Have you got two dimes for a nickel?”

I spent some more time with the DVD player this morning (it seems like the only time I ever get to watch movies is on my days off), watching The Accused (1988). It doesn’t quite fit into the whole scheme of things here at Thrilling Days of Yesteryear—but I followed it up with a pair of Abbott & Costello features from the DVD set I mentioned in yesterday’s post.

Bud and Lou’s 1942 comedy Who Done It? does occupy a place in this blog’s purview—it’s a mystery-comedy set against the background of a fictional radio network. The head (Thomas Gomez) of the General Broadcasting System is murdered during the network’s popular mystery program “Murder at Midnight” (no relation to the 1946-47 series of the same name), and the boys are two mystery-writer-wannabees who masquerade as detectives in an effort to solve the murder. I think it’s one of their best vehicles—it’s certainly a favorite of mine—with some uproariously funny sequences including a reworking of the old burlesque chestnut “Alexander-2222”; Lou is attempting to win a radio giveaway show’s prize of $10,000 but can’t get the operator to put him through even though he’s calling from a drugstore located across the street from the broadcast. My favorite bit features William Bendix (The Life of Riley) as a cop who’s even dumber than Costello, who lets Lou trick him into his own handcuffs. Other old-time radio pros in the film include Mary Wickes, William Gargan (who was in Keep ‘Em Flying), Paul DuBov and Walter Tetley (The Great Gildersleeve), who has a great bit with Lou where he bets him a nickel he can drink orange juice faster than Costello can set ‘em up (keep in mind that a glass of orange juice costs Lou fifty cents).

Others in the supporting cast include Patric Knowles (who would also appear in A&C’s Hit the Ice), Louise Albritton, Don Porter (Gidget’s dad and Ann Sothern’s romantic interest in both Private Secretary and The Ann Sothern Show), Jerome Cowan, Ludwig Stossel and an uncredited Norman Lloyd at the organ. Who Done It? was directed by Erle C. Kenton, who also directed A&C’s Pardon My Sarong and It Ain’t Hay; he was a very underrated comedy director who was at the helm of classics like W.C. Fields’ You’re Telling Me! (1934) and the Joan Davis/Leon Errol vehicle She Gets Her Man (1945).

I finished up with Pardon My Sarong (1942)—I used to love this one, but the romance has kind of soured somewhat. I still think it’s a worthwhile A&C entry; with Bud and Lou as Chicago bus drivers who wind up matching wits with evildoer Lionel Atwill on an island in which Atwill is stealing precious jewels from the natives. Most of the best stuff is in the film’s first thirty minutes—including songs by the Ink Spots (“Do I Worry?”) and an eye-popping tap routine from Tip, Tap and Toe. The boys also have several amusing encounters with filmdom’s lovably cranky William Demarest (including a bit where they masquerade as magicians), but the comedy comes to a screeching halt once they set sail for sea and are shipwrecked. The comedy routines do rebound (including the famous “Tree of Truth” sequence) but you have to sit through an indeterminable number of musical numbers from the island’s inhabitants before the film nicely wraps up with a zany chase sequence.

I skipped watching Buck Privates (1941) on this DVD set, because I saw it not too long ago (it was originally released separately on Image a while back), and as for One Night in the Tropics (1940) and In the Navy (1941)—I saw both of these movies once and that was enough for me. There are a couple of good routines in Navy (one of my all-time favorites is the one where Costello proves to Abbott that 7 x 13 = 42), but Tropics—their first feature film appearance—is almost too painful to watch. The DVD box says the film runs 83 minutes, but the movie is actually much shorter than that (it’s been re-edited a time or two and the missing footage has since vanished from the scene), and even then it seems longer than it is.

“I’m a baaaaaaaad boy…”

Last night, I decide to temporarily abandon old-time radio for a brief respite and kick back with some movies on the DVD player. (My night off from work, you see.) Some time ago, I purchased a copy of The Best of Abbott and Costello Volume 1, an outstanding 2-DVD set from Universal that contains the first eight Bud & Lou feature films: One Night in the Tropics, Buck Privates, In the Navy, Hold That Ghost, Keep ‘Em Flying, Ride ‘Em Cowboy, Pardon My Sarong and Who Done It? I commend the folks at Universal for finally releasing these classic comedies to DVD, and in a package that’s easy on the wallet. Of course, when you slim down the collection to two DVDs, you’re naturally going to lose a lot of the fancy-shmancy extras—but I’m not the kind of DVD buyer who buys discs just to hear some director who’s in love with the sound of his own voice describe what lens he used during the making of a film. (As my friend Leslie Talbot of Singular Existence would say: “John Frankenheimer, I’m talking to you!” Of course, I have to talk a little louder than normal—since he’s since shuffled off this mortal coil.)

I first treated myself to Hold That Ghost (1941), which has always been in a tight-race with Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) as my all-time favorite Bud & Lou romp. (The rest of the top five: Who Done It? (1942), The Time of Their Lives (1946) and Abbott & Costello Meet the Invisible Man (1951).) It’s really difficult to choose sometimes; A&C Meet Frankenstein is a true classic of horror and comedy, and so is Hold That Ghost—but Ghost was made early on in the team’s career, and there’s a verve and refreshing energy to their performances in this movie and others that unfortunately began to dissipate with each successive film, once the two comics became genuinely bored with the filmmaking process. The plot is pretty thin: Bud and Lou inherit a roadhouse from a deceased gambler and are forced to spend the night in the ramshackle joint along with Richard Carlson, Evelyn Ankers and Joan Davis—unbeknownst to them, some no-good bad guys are attempting to scare them away.

There are so many wonderful bits in this movie, but of course the classic is the “Moving Candle” gag, in which Lou becomes paralyzed with fright when he sees a candle moving on its own power (“Oh Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chuck!!!”). This routine generated so much laughter among audiences that each successive A&C film always made sure to include a scene in which Costello was scared out of his wits. There’s also a classic “ballet” with Lou and Joan Davis (I think this is one of Davis’ finest hours, and it’s a pity that she didn’t appear in more A&C films—she would have been ideal in the Mary Wickes role in Who Done It?, for example) and a rib-tickling sequence (also repeated in the many movies to follow) in which Costello’s bedroom keeps transforming into a gambling den but when he goes to get Bud to show him, the room has changed back.

Many of the Abbott & Costello films suffer from a lot of unnecessary musical number padding—but the songs in Hold That Ghost (from Ted Lewis—“Is everybody happy?”—and the Andrews Sisters) blend in pretty well. (The Andrews Sisters’ numbers were, however, grafted onto the movie as a result of their popular appearances in the A&C films Buck Privates and In the Navy.) Add a terrific cast of great supporting players: Mischa Auer, Marc Lawrence, Shemp Howard (as a soda jerk), Russell Hicks and Thurston Hall; and a great comic script from Robert Rees, Fred Rinaldo and longtime A&C jokemeister John Grant, and I think you’ll see why Hold That Ghost is a real winner.

After Ghost, I decided to watch Keep ‘Em Flying (1941)—a comedy that I hadn’t seen in a long while, and…well, the bloom is sort of off the rose on this one. I think Bud & Lou’s best military vehicle is their first, Buck Privates (1941), and anything after that great film kind of pales in comparison. (I also don’t care for In the Navy that much, either.) There are some good moments in Flying, though—Martha Raye has a lot of the best scenes playing twins, and she’s involved in a really funny gag in which she kisses Lou while he’s holding a sandwich, turning to bread to toast. There’s a sequence in an amusement park haunted fun house that, as I stated earlier, was put there just to let Costello do his scared shtick, but it does produce a laugh-out-loud dialogue exchange (Bud: “Remember, every time you enter a saloon—the Devil goes with you.” Lou: “Well, if he does—he buys his own drinks.”). Keep 'Em Flying does benefit from a good supporting cast, including Dick Foran (in his second of three A&C vehicles), Carol Bruce and William Gargan (star of radio’s Barry Craig, Confidential Investigator).

I finished up the A&C marathon with Ride ‘Em Cowboy (1942), which is to me one of their more underrated pictures. Bud and Lou are two peanut vendors who go West along with Foran, he plays a Western pulp writer named “Bronco Bob” Mitchell who’s actually never been west of the Hudson River. There are some extremely funny gags in this one, including one of their classic burlesque bits, “Crazy House” plus a great chase sequence and a sprightly supporting cast—Anne Gwynne, Johnny Mack Brown (!), Ella Fitzgerald (who sings her big hit “A Tisket, A Tasket”), the Merry Macs and Douglass Dumbrille (as an Indian chief who demands that Lou marry his daughter). My only gripe with this film is that this would have been a great vehicle for the Andrews Sisters as well—it’s a shame they weren’t invited to be in it.

Universal will be releasing a second 2-DVD set of Abbott & Costello films on May 4 of this year—which will include Hit the Ice, In Society, Here Come the Co-Eds, The Naughty Nineties, Little Giant—and three of my very favorites: The Time of Their Lives, Buck Privates Come Home and the woefully underrated The Wistful Widow of Wagon Gap. Included in this collection is the television special Abbott and Costello Meet Jerry Seinfeld.

OTR on the (small) screen

I was doing a little random surfing earlier this morning, and I skated on over to Finders Keepers, a nice little video/DVD business overseen by the Grams siblings, Martin, Jr. ("the Isaac Asimov of OTR books") and Virginia. I have been meaning to make a purchase from them for quite some time now, yet something always seems to cut in line--but I had a little disposal income this payday, and I figured I would order a few titles. (Martin scored a VHS copy of Abbott & Costello's It Ain't Hay for me a while back, so I knew the movie quality was top-notch.)

They have so many great offerings over at the website, it's difficult not to go hog wild--but I settled on five choices, which I hope to be able to review here on the blog in the upcoming weeks: Goin' to Town (1944), the fifth Lum & Abner feature (I decided not to wait on Critics' Choice Video for this one); Look Who's Laughing (1941) and sequel Here We Go Again (1942), the two RKO films starring Edgar Bergen & Charlie McCarthy and Fibber McGee & Molly (I saw these years ago when I still had TCM, but it will nice to revisit); The Life of Riley (1948) (I've not seen this one but the positive buzz is that it's one of the best OTR-to-film offerings); and Charlie McCarthy, Detective (1939), another film that I have not seen but am anxious to view.

Martin gave the OTR Digest a heads up sometime back that they were going to discontinue a few titles, and I noticed that the Our Miss Brooks television episodes they had for sale have disappeared. (I could kick myself for not ordering those sooner.) I should get the above titles in about 2-3 weeks, so as soon as they arrive I will offer up my thoughts.

“You gotta start off each day wit’ a song…”

The legendary Jimmy Durante has been gone for close to a quarter of a century, but even those people who have never heard of “Schnozzola” are familiar with his unforgettable catchphrases like “Ev’rybody wants to get inta da act!” and “I got a million of ‘em!” His lengthy show business career encompassed stage, screen and television—but it was radio that made him a household word during the 1940s.

Born on New York’s Lower East Side in 1893, Durante learned to play the piano at seventeen, and managed to eke out a living pounding the keys in beer gardens and nightclubs (he once worked at a club with a singing waiter named Eddie Cantor). In 1923—with his partners Eddie Jackson and Lou Clayton—he opened up the successful Club Durant, a thriving hot spot that soon ran afoul of the law and was closed by Prohibition agents. By that time, the trio of Durante, Clayton & Jackson had a toehold on Broadway, and though they disbanded the act in the 1930s, the three remained friends for life—both Clayton and Jackson became Durante’s business managers when he took his solo act to Hollywood.

Durante’s first radio gig had him substituting for his singing waiter friend on his phenomenally popular The Chase and Sanborn Hour from September-November 1933. He then replaced Cantor on a permanent basis in April of the following year, inheriting Eddie’s sixty-minute show with announcer Jimmy Wallington and orchestra leader Dave Rubinoff in tow. By this time, however, the show was drawing its last breath, and it departed NBC on September 30, 1934.

His next venture appeared a year later in October 1935 with The Jumbo Fire Chief Program—one of the most notorious flops of Radio’s Golden Age. Based on impresario Billy Rose’s stage musical (which Durante was concurrently appearing in on Broadway), it was a lavish spectacle whose weekly $15,000 bill was paid for by the good folks at Texaco. Its extravagance was naught, however—its rating was a dismal 4.1 in January 1936 and it departed the airwaves a month later, following by the stage show which at that time was also awash in a sea of red ink. (Durante would later appear in a film version of the musical in 1962.)

Although he continued on in the public eye, mostly with a series of second-rate films, it wasn’t until 1943 that Durante was presented with a pair of opportunities that would allow him to pull himself out of his then-financially dismal straits: one was a booking at the Copacabana in New York (where he soon packed the place every night) and the other a guest appearance on NBC’s Camel Caravan. On that broadcast, producer Phil Cohan noticed a contrast between the veteran Durante and a young comic also on the program named Garry Moore. Moore had been tapped as the summer replacement for Camel’s The Abbott & Costello Show, but Cohan approached both men with an idea of teaming up for a possible fall series. Fate stepped in when Lou Costello was struck down with a case of rheumatic fever, which forced him off the air and necessitated a quick replacement—the agency, a little nervous about Garry’s youth and lack of name recognition, found themselves sold on Cohan’s idea on a Durante-Moore teaming, and rushed the show into production in only two weeks.

It took some time to catch on, but Durante and Moore found their niche, moving to CBS in the fall of 1943 with The Jimmy Durante-Garry Moore Show. It lasted four seasons before “The Nose” (Durante) and “The Haircut” (Moore) agreed to an amicable parting of the ways. So Durante found himself back at NBC on October 1, 1947 with The Jimmy Durante Show, a half-hour comedy-variety program sponsored by Rexall Drugs. Announcer Howard Petrie would introduce the star as “Rexall’s prescription for a pleasant evening” as Roy Bargy’s orchestra broke out into a rendition of “Inka Dinka Doo” (Durante’s theme song, which he had introduced in the 1934 film Palooka).

Listening to Durante’s Rexall program made me a convert to his unique brand of music and comedy; before that he was always kind of an acquired taste for me. (This stems from the fact that my exposure to Durante was in a series of cringe-inducing MGM “comedies” in which he co-starred with silent comedy great Buster Keaton—though 1932’s Speak Easily is The Blind Squirrel Film Theory™ exception here.) Jimmy’s supported by fine writing, exuberant musical numbers (I love “I Know Darn Well I Can Do Wit’out Broadway, But Can Broadway Do Wit’out Me?”), and a superb cast of stooges including Florence Halop (who specialized in a Mae West sound-a-like named “Hotbreath” Houlihan), Candy Candido (“I’m feelin’ mighty low…”), Alan Reed, and Arthur Treacher, who played Durante’s butler (I guess Jack Carson let him go as a result of The Sealtest Village Store). Later in that first season, comic actor Victor Moore also joined the show as Durante’s foil and “the Lothario of the lumbago set.” There’s even the presence of a young Peggy Lee, who was the show’s female vocalist. I sampled a broadcast from April 7, 1948 last night, as announcer Petrie engages in a little banter with the Schnozzola:

PETRIE: Ah, Schnozz…I’ve never seen you so happy…what’s the cause of all this gaiety?
DURANTE: It’s ineveritable, Howard—you can’t help be…(the audience laughs at Durante’s mispronunciation of “inevitable,” so he ad-libs) that’s what it says…it’s ineveritable, Howard—you can’t help bein’ jolly when ev’rybody is nice ta you…why, this mornin’ on da bus I gave my seat ta a little ol’ lady…and as she sat down, she grabbed my nose and said “As long as you’re standin’, I’ll hold your bundle”…chivalry is not dead…
PETRIE: Durante the politician…always mingling with the people…uh, but Jimmy—do you think it’s wise for someone running for office to openly support another candidate?
DURANTE: Whaddya mean?
PETRIE; Well, look at you…you’re wearing Dewey buttons all around your waistline…are you supporting him?
DURANTE: No, he’s supportin’ me...my suspenders are busted! If da Dewey buttons give out, I’m in trouble…all I got is a Hoover button holdin’ up my undies…
PETRIE: Well, Jimmy…now that your name is on the ballot, I suppose you’ll start campaigning in earnest…what’s the main plank in your platform?
DURANTE: Howard, I got an idea that’ll non compos your mentis…if I’m elected, I’m gonna move all da men outta the state of South Carolina, move in nuttin’ but women and appernt myself Honorary Governor…
PETRIE: But, Jimmy…if you did that, you’d be the only man among ten million women…
DURANTE: Dat’s what I like—even distribution! (laughs) Ah, Durante—you musta been readin’ Oliver Twist, you’re full of the dickens tonight!

On this broadcast, Jimmy’s guest is “sarong girl” Dorothy Lamour:

DURANTE: Ah, Dorothy—seein’ you again fills me wit’ more joy than da tinkle of da Good Humor wagon…whaddya been doin’ wit’ yourself?
LAMOUR; Oh, same old thing, Jimmy…in Hollywood, a girl gets so bored…out every night with men that are tall, glamorous, exciting, debonair…I’m tired of going out with that type of man!
DURANTE: You are?
LAMOUR: Yes…what are you doing tonight?
DURANTE (laughing): I know dere’s a million good lookin’ guys but I’m a novelty…but, Dottie—you and I were made for each udder…can’t ya picture us on a desert island…livin’ an exotic, lazy life beneath da banana trees…just you…me…and Lana Turner…
LAMOUR: Lana Turner? What’s she doing there?
DURANTE: Somebody’s gotta peel da bananas…!!!

Most of Durante’s solo shows available today are from his 1947-48 season for Rexall (I think there’s only about a half-dozen missing), which are populated with guest appearances from the likes of Bing Crosby, Lucille Ball, and Boris Karloff. There’s even a brief four-week period where Durante is off the show due to his being hospitalized, and several big-names fill in during his absence, including former partner Garry Moore, whose December 31, 1947 broadcast with co-guest Red Skelton is a hysterical half-hour of fun.

I also listened to a rare December 24, 1948 show—rare in that apparently only three programs are in circulation of Durante’s 1948-50 series for Camel Cigarettes, which began on October 8, 1948. Bargy, Reed, and Halop made the transition to the new program, and Durante inherited both a new announcer (Verne Smith) and a co-star in comedian Alan Young. Young, who had previously headlined his own series on ABC from 1944-47, brought back memories of the previous Durante-Moore partnership, and even though NBC gave him his own show in January 1949, he stayed with Durante until April, when he was replaced by Don Ameche. The 12/24/48 program is, of course, a Christmas Eve-themed broadcast:

YOUNG: Jimmy, I guess now’s a good a time as any…here’s my Christmas present to you…
DURANTE; Aw, Alan—you shouldn’ta done it…it’s a beautiful gift…I’ll lift da cover (SFX: cover opens, music plays) ah, just what I wanted—a musical garbage can…
YOUNG; Well, Jim—with all your important friends I’ll bet you forgot about poor little me…
DURANTE: Alan (laughing, then ad-libs) he said dat kind of shy…Alan, you’re laborin’ under a mispreaprehension…
YOUNG: Jimmy, I’m afraid you’re laboring under a mispronunciation…
DURANTE: Wait a minute…but dat’s neither Kris nor Kringle…here’s my present to ya…don’t spread dis around, but I knitted it myself…
YOUNG: Well! That’s a lovely tie—but what’s this lump hanging on the side of it?
DURANTE: Dat’s da big toe…it started out ta be a pair of socks…

Jimmy and Alan are joined by Rose Marie—who, in the 1930s, was the Brenda Lee of her day; a young girl (billed as “Baby Rose Marie”) with an adult voice who appeared on radio with Rudy Vallee and several programs of her own. Rosie does a cute Durante impersonation (Durante: “How do you like dat—I’ve been transcribed to a more convenient body!”) and sings a great duet with the Schnozz to boot. It’s a wonderful seasonal show, with appearances from Arthur Q. Bryan and Ruby Dandridge (on loan from The Judy Canova Show?), and it’s a treat to enjoy both Young and Rose Marie, years before their successes on Mister Ed and The Dick Van Dyke Show, respectively.

June 30, 1950 brought an end to radio’s Jimmy Durante Show, giving the veteran entertainer one more chance to close with “Good night, Mrs. Calabash…wherever you are” before conquering television with All Star Revue (1950-53) and The Jimmy Durante Show (1954-57). The “Calabash” line was for many years the subject of speculation as to just who the mystery woman was; Durante’s widow revealed after his death in 1980 that it was simply something Jimmy had created for radio—but as George Burns observed. “She gave Jimmy one of the most important things any entertainer can have—a great finish.”

I’m a big fan of The Jimmy Durante Show, and what ultimately makes the program so entertaining is the man himself—his gregarious manner and infectious good cheer makes the proceedings an absolute joy to listen. I’ve learned that it’s practically impossible to dislike Durante; he mastered the art of malaprops (I chuckle when he remarks that a gesture “warmed the cocktails of my heart”) long before Jane Ace married husband Goodman or Leo Gorcey became a Bowery Boy. His singing voice, growly and ragged, certainly wasn’t the finest (“I got dat note from Bing Crosby—and boy, was he glad ta get rid of it!”) but could nevertheless put across a ballad that would bring a tear to your eye and a lump to your throat (I think his version of “Young at Heart,” featured in the closing credits of the 1976 film The Front, is miles and away better than Sinatra’s). His partner Lou Clayton succinctly sums up the unique person that was Jimmy Durante: “You can warm your hands on this man.”

”Heeeeeeyyyyyy Abbott!!!!”

Nowadays, we remember the team of Bud Abbott and Lou Costello primarily for their entertaining movie comedies made between 1940 and 1956, but they were also mainstays on the airwaves for nearly a decade during Radio’s Golden Age. They were regulars on The Kate Smith Hour for two years beginning February 3, 1938, starred in a summer replacement series for The Fred Allen Show in 1940, and were featured performers on The Charlie McCarthy Show during the 1941-42 season before finally settling into a weekly radio gig for Camel cigarettes (“C-A-M-E-L-S”) Thursday nights over NBC beginning October 8, 1942.

The Abbott and Costello Show was a hodgepodge of skits and routines that played to the comic duo’s strengths of clever wordplay and verbal slapstick. Lou was the child-like innocent who played patsy to Bud’s whip-smart con man. Sophisticated the show wasn’t; many of the program’s jokes and gags made the lowbrow material of Judy Canova and Red Skelton look as if it had graduated from finishing school. The show adhered to a simple formula of raucous corn, but it caught on quickly with the radio audience, particularly the younger set.

Bud and Lou were aided and abetted by a solid cast of second bananas: Mel Blanc, Frank Nelson, Sid Fields (who later played their landlord on TV), Iris Adrian, Verna Felton, and Artie Auerbach (who played Mr. Kitzel on this show prior to relocating to The Jack Benny Program). Their longtime announcer Ken Niles also played a large part in the comedy proceedings, as did character actress Elvia Allman, who played Mrs. Niles—a shrewish battleaxe often engaged in verbal fisticuffs with Costello. Skinnay Ennis and his orchestra provided the show’s music throughout most of its run, and several wonderful female vocalists were also prominently featured, including Connie Haines and Marilyn Maxwell.

On the DVD box set Looney Tunes: Golden Collection are printed some of the familiar one-liners that were frequently heard in these classic cartoons, and I chuckled when I read “I’m only three-and-a-half years old.” That phrase certainly got a workout in many Warners shorts, but it originated on Abbott & Costello, being a pet expression of Lou’s nephew Sebastian (played by Costello himself). Others include “I’m a baaaaaad boy” and “Come over here and kiss your poor old father,” uttered in a quavering voice by Lou when in the presence of a pretty girl.

In March 1943, Lou Costello was laid low by a bout of rheumatic fever and forced into a brief vacation from the show. (In the interim, Jimmy Durante and Garry Moore were thrown together as a last-minute replacement for Lou and Bud; the two worked so well together that they continued to headline their own CBS comedy series from 1943-47.) No sooner had Costello returned to the fold in the fall when another tragedy befell the man known to many as “Hard Luck Lou”; he was notified during dress rehearsal of the death of his year-old son, who had accidentally fell into the family swimming pool while unattended. Lou insisted on going on with the evening’s broadcast, and it was not until the program signed off and Lou broke down crying that Bud informed the stunned studio audience as to what had happened.

Though I’m personally more a fan of their film work than their radio series, I do have a handful of their shows in my collection, and I decide to take a brief respite from the Suspense project to listen to a broadcast from April 17, 1947. Costello has been asked to substitute for an ailing Joe DiMaggio of the New York Yankees:

LOU: DiMaggio probably heard about my playing with the Cucamonga Wildcats last year…
BUD: You a ballplayer? I don’t believe it, Costello…you know nothing about baseball…
LOU: Oh no? I eat baseball…I live baseball…all night when I’m asleep I dream about baseball…
BUD: Well…don’t you ever dream about girls?
LOU: What, and miss my turn at bat?
BUD: Oh…that’s ridiculous…what’s the matter with you?
LOU: Yes…and another thing, Abbott….(ad-libs) What page are you on?
BUD: Never mind what page I’m on…
LOU: …and another thing, Abbott…not only that, in Paterson, New Jersey—I worked out with a baseball team…I used to stay out till four o’clock in the morning…
BUD: Why did you stay out until four o’clock in the morning?
LOU: This was a girls’ baseball team…
BUD: Costello, if you’re going to play with the New York Yankees…you really have to know something about big-league baseball, Lou…
LOU: I know all about baseball…
BUD: All right…suppose there’s a left-handed pitcher pitching…what do you do?
LOU: I’d put in a right-handed batter…
BUD: Now, suppose there’s a right-handed pitcher pitching…
LOU: I’d put in a left-handed batter…
BUD: But now, I trick you…I take out the right-handed pitcher and put in a left-handed pitcher…
LOU: Then I double-cross you…I take out my left-handed batter and put in a right-handed batter…
BUD: Now wait a minute…where are you getting all these right-handed batters?
LOU: The same place where you’re getting all those left-handed pitchers!

(snip)

BUD: Well, Costello…if you want to be a big-league ballplayer, you’ve got to get yourself in shape…now, from 8 am to 9 am you lift weights…from 9 to 10, deep knee bends…10 to 11, skip rope…11 to 12, run five miles…
LOU: 12 to 1 I’ll never make it…
BUD: Aw hey, look…you idiot, you’ll never be a ballplayer…staying up late and going to nightclubs…eating rich foods, running around with beautiful girls…do you know what can happen to you?
LOU: Yes…I can become manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers…
BUD: Costello…I don’t even know why DiMaggio picked you…you don’t even know how to swing a bat…
LOU: I know all about swinging bats…when I was a kid, my father used to hit me with a baseball bat…my brother used to hit me with a baseball bat…my Uncle Artie Stebbins used to hit me with a baseball hat…and my mother used to hit me with a tennis racket…
BUD: With a tennis racket?
LOU: Yes…she didn’t like baseball…

(snip)

BUD: ...now you’ve got to get ready for the opening game…
LOU: Yeah, I think we’re going to play the Cleveland Indians…
BUD: Cleveland Indians, eh…?
LOU: Uh-huh…
BUD: Feller pitching?
LOU: Certainly there’s a feller pitching…what do you think they’d use, a girl?
BUD: Oh, I…I know they don’t use a girl…I said, “Feller pitching…”
LOU: What feller?
BUD: Feller, with the Cleveland Indians…
LOU: Look, Abbott…there’s nine guys on the Cleveland team…which feller are you talking about?
BUD: Feller that pitches…there is only one Feller with Cleveland…
LOU: You mean nine Yankees are going to play against one feller?
BUD: That’s right.
LOU: You mean there’s no fellers in the outfield?
BUD: No!
LOU: And there’s no fellers in the infield?
BUD: No…Cleveland only has one Feller…
LOU: Well, this feller must be pretty good if he don’t need any other players but himself…
BUD: Look, all the players will be out there helping him…
LOU: You just said that there was only one feller on the team…
BUD: That’s right!
LOU: Then where did all those other fellers come from?
BUD: Why, you idiot…when I say there’s only one Feller on the team, I mean that there is only one Feller that pitches…
LOU: Well, Abbott…when the manager of the team wants this pitcher, what does he call him?
BUD: Feller!
LOU: You mean he just hollers “HEY FELLER!” and this guy knows that they mean him?
BUD: That’s right.
LOU: Hoo hoo…
BUD: His name is Feller! Feller! Bob Feller! And when I say that there is only one Feller on the team that pitches, that’s it…and the feller that pitches is Feller…there’s other fellers on the team, but there’s only one Feller…
LOU: Boy, are you mixed up…oh, you mean the feller that pitches is Feller…and there’s other fellers on the team but they aren’t fellers?
BUD: Now you grasp it…
LOU: Yes…I grasp it…but it keeps slippin’ out of my hands!

Naturally (is he pitching today?), it wouldn’t be a true comedy baseball broadcast if Bud and Lou didn’t perform “Who’s on First?” which they do with absolute relish. I’ll spare you the blow-by-blow, since I’m certain we’re all familiar with that one. (This classic routine plays on an endless loop at the Baseball Hall of Fame for anyone in the Cooperstown, NY area.)

The fall of 1947 saw Abbott and Costello switch networks to ABC—Arthur Frank Wilheim mentions briefly in Radio Comedy that ABC’s leniency regarding transcribed programs is probably what lured the comedy duo away from NBC. In addition to their prime-time show, they also broadcast on Saturday mornings The Abbott & Costello Children’s Program, a show geared towards their younger fans. Both shows left ABC in 1949, and they soon conquered television with appearances on NBC’s big-name The Colgate Comedy Hour and their own filmed TV series from 1952-54 that is often cited by comedian Jerry Seinfeld as an influence on his self-titled TV sitcom. While the radio comedy of Bud and Lou could certainly be subject to shucking large husks of its corn, they perform with such vitality that it’s easy to get carried away along with the audience laughter which was loud and appreciative in the Golden Age of Radio.