“Your money or your life…”

March 28, 1948: The Jack Benny Program introduces a gag that will achieve both radio and television immortality; a joke that the comedian considered “my masterpiece of stingy jokes” and “the finest joke I ever performed on radio”:

CROOK: Hey Bud…Bud!
JACK: Huh?
CROOK: Got a match?
JACK: Match? Yes, I have one right here…
CROOK: Don’t move, this is a stick-up…
JACK: What?
CROOK: You heard me…
JACK: Mister…mister, put down that gun…
CROOK: Shaddap…now come on…your money or your life! (There is a pause, as the audience laughs) Look, Bud—I said your money or your life…
JACK: I’m thinking it over!!!

For years, many old-time radio books and sources reported that this classic routine got the longest audience response in the history of the show, but listening to it today it’s obvious that that claim is widely exaggerated; the laugh lasts only about six seconds, though it could have been longer had Benny chosen to “milk” the gag (however, he was concerned about the show running over). From the start of the program, you’d never know that it was destined for greatness; it begins with Jack’s grumbling about having to do Rochester’s chores (“That’s the last time I play gin rummy with you,” he tells Rochester on the phone.), and then the doorbell rings. Jack answers the door, forgetting that he’s still wearing a dust cap and apron, and he finds not only Dennis Day but a package waiting as well:

DENNIS: Gee, look—it’s a picture script from Warner Brothers…
JACK: Well, thank goodness…I’ve been waiting for it all week…
DENNIS: …and here’s a letter with it from Harry Warner…
JACK: A letter from Harry Warner? What does he say?
DENNIS: He says, “Dear Jack…enclosed find script and contract for your next picture as agreed upon…and that’s the last time I’ll play gin rummy with you…”

The script is for a Western film entitled “Bad Man of Bullock’s Basement,” which Jack is convinced that had he done the film last year, he would have copped a Best Actor Oscar instead of neighbor Ronald Colman. (“If you’d made it in that dust cap and apron you’d had won it instead of Loretta Young,” cracks Rochester.) Dennis suggests that Jack ask Colman to appear in the film in a supporting role, so Benny journeys next door to pay his neighbors a visit; naturally, Ronnie and Benita are less than thrilled:

RONNIE: I still feel that this is a trick—he’s over here to borrow something…
BENITA: Oh, why do you always suspect that, Ronnie?
RONNIE: Well, he already has my electric shaver, portable radio, phonograph, bridge lamp, cocktail shaker, electric blanket, fountain pen, tuxedo—and Wednesday night was the last straw…
BENITA: Why? What happened?
RONNIE: He told me he was going to the Palladium, his girlfriend had to work—and he wanted to borrow you…
BENITA: Why didn’t you tell me? I haven’t done the shimmy in years…

Both Ronald and Benita “audition” with Jack’s script (this is actually the weakest part of the broadcast, mining laughs mostly from the sophisticated Colmans speaking in Western drawls) but Colman takes a pass. On his way out, Jack asks Ronnie if he can “borrow” the Oscar to show Rochester. (Benita: “Darling, why did you agree to let him take the Oscar home?” Ronald: “It might as well be with the rest of my things.”) Jack is then held up by the robber, who hightails it with Jack’s wallet and Colman’s Oscar.

In The Jack Benny Show, a splendid book with anecdotes from writer Milt Josefsberg, he discusses the origin of “your money or your life”:

As we started to write the scene with the holdup man, I paced the floor while [John] Tackaberry reclined on the sofa. We threw a few tentative lines at each other, none worthy of discussion. Then I thought of a funny feed line but couldn’t get a suitable punch to finish it. I told this to “Tack,” saying, “Suppose we have the crook pull the classic threat on Jack, ‘Your money or your life.’ Jack will get screams just staring at the crook and the audience—and if we get a good snapper on it, it’ll be great.”

Tackaberry seemingly ignored me. I kept thinking of lines and discarding them as mediocre or worse. Finally one line seemed better than the rest, and I threw it at him, half-confidently: “Look, John, the crook says, ‘Your money or your life,’ and Jack stares at him and then at the audience, and then the crook repeats it and says, ‘Come on, you heard me—your money or your life?’ and Jack says ‘You mean I have a choice?’”

Now frankly that wasn’t too bad of an answer, but Tackaberry made no comment, good or bad. I got angry and yelled, “Dammit, if you don’t like my lines, throw a couple of your own. Don’t just lay there on your fat butt daydreaming. There’s got to be a great answer to ‘Your money or your life.’”

In reply, Tackaberry angrily snapped at me, “I’m thinking it over.”

In a split second we were both hysterical. We knew we could never top that.

As funny as the March 28, 1948 program is, the following week’s show is even funnier, because every time Jack relates the story, he embellishes it more and more:

CROOK: Hey, Bud…Bud!
JACK: Huh?
CROOK: You got a match?
JACK: Yes…I have one right here…
CROOK: Don’t make a move, this is a stick-up…
JACK: A stick-up? (angry) Put down that gun or I’ll thrash you…to within an inch…of your life! Put it down, I say…
CROOK: Now, now…now…now just a second, mister…don’t you come any cl-closer…
JACK: So you think you can scare me with a gun—why, I’ll break your arm…
CROOK: Look, mister…I didn’t want to do this, but I had to…I had to get money for my wife and children!
JACK: Well, you didn’t have to pull a gun on me…if you wanted money, all you had to do was ask…I’m gonna take that gun away from you, and you’ll see that…
CROOK: Now, look…I’m warning you, don’t you come any closer…all right, you asked for it…take that…
(SFX: punch)
JACK: Oh yeah? Well, you take that…and that!
MARY (interrupting Jack’s flashback): Uh, Jack…what were you doing to the crook when you said “Take that…and that!”?
ROCHESTER: He was handin’ him his wallet and the Oscar…

Later, Jack’s story has two thugs that approach him, and are so intimidated by Benny that they have to call in additional members of their “gang,” who enter in a marching style reminiscent of the classic opening of Gangbusters. While Jack continues to wring his hands over just what he’s going to tell Ronald Colman, Phil comes in with hat and hand, wanting to borrow $10,000 to purchase a ranch:

PHIL: Aw, wait a minute, Jackson—I don’t like askin’ ya, but I went to the bank and they turned me down…now if you turn me down, too, well…well, I’ll…well, I’ll just have to go to Alice…
JACK: Well, Phil, I…I’d like to help you, but…
PHIL: Now wait a minute, Jackson—I ain’t askin’ ya to give me nothin’…we’ll make it a regular business deal like when you loaned me money before…I’ll sign papers for the loan, pay ya interest and everything…
JACK: Well, are you…are you willing to put up security?
PHIL: Yeah, but…not like last time, we missed the kids…

The writers’ original idea for the stolen Oscar story arc was to have a different Academy Award® winner appear on the show each week, and Jack would borrow their Oscar—always leaving him one Oscar short. On this show, having been informed by Ronnie that he and Benita are throwing a party and that he wants to show off the Oscar, Jack and Mary drive out to Bing Crosby’s place—Crosby’s Oscar for Going My Way (1944) is kept in his trophy room:

JACK: Now, Bing…how about going to the Trophy Room?
BING: Oh yes, the Trophy Room…right down this hall… (SFX: walking, sudden stop) Here, Mary…I’ll lift you over…
MARY: No, I’ll just…walk around him…
JACK: Hmm…fine place for a horse to sleep…I can’t understand (SFX: horse whinny, sound of hooves clopping) Bing! I was stepping over him and he got up! Help me off!
BING: Ah, don’t worry, Jackson…he can’t stand up long…
JACK: What? (SFX: fall to ground) I guess you’re right…poor ol’ thing…
BING: Yeah, the veterinarian said he was gonna die yesterday…but none of my horses ever finish on time…

(snip)

JACK: Well, look, Bing—the trophy I’m most interested in is the Oscar you won for Going My Way…
MARY: Yes, we’d love to see that one, Bing…
BING: Oh…the Oscar…why didn’t you say so, I’ll get it for ya… (SFX: footsteps, pounding on door) Lenny! You in there?
LENNY: Yeah, Pop…whaddya want?
BING: You’ll have to give me my Oscar…
LENNY: I can’t right now, I’m takin’ a bath!
BING: Oh, for heaven’s sake…why don’t you use something else for a stopper?

(snip)

JACK: Hmm…well, I’m really anxious to see the Oscar, Bing…but we can wait until your boy gets through with his bath…
BING: He’ll be through in a minute…
MARY: Say, Bing…
BING: Hmm?
MARY: …while we’re waiting, how about singing a song for us?
JACK: Oh, Mary…Bing doesn’t want to sing…
BING: I do, too!

And of course, the Old Groaner doesn’t disappoint, regaling the audience with a rendition of Haunted Heart. But the big musical treat on this broadcast comes not from Bing, but from the Ink Spots, the popular vocal group who transform their mega-hit If I Didn’t Care into a commercial for Lucky Strikes. This proved so popular that they later returned to Jack’s program for a reprise of the parody on February 12, 1950, prompting Milt Josefsberg to observe that “the Ink Spots finished to the loudest applause I ever heard a commercial get.”

“Happy holidays…happy holidays…while the merry bells keep ringing…may your every wish come true…”

Last evening, I sampled a pair of old-time radio Christmas programs that made for enjoyable holiday listening—the first of which starring a man whose rendition of the Irving Berlin chestnut (roasting on an open fire?) “White Christmas” has become virtually synonymous with the spirit of the season. Yes, it’s Bing Crosby and Christmas Sing With Bing, originally broadcast over CBS Radio December 24, 1958.

The Old Groaner (backed by the Paul Weston Orchestra and the Norman Luboff Choir) tosses off some great Christmas carol classics (“The First Noel,” “Adeste Fideles”) while taking a globetrotting tour around the world and sampling selections from other choirs in places like Australia, Italy, France, and Canada—as well as U.S. cities like Salt Lake City and Philadelphia. Longtime Crosby announcer Ken Carpenter makes certain that the show’s tab is taken care of by singing the praises of the Insurance Company of North America. (“Does your insurance taste different lately?”)

Highlights include a visit with Governor William A. Egan—the first governor of the newly-admitted state of Alaska (49th!)—and a chat with Cmdr. William R. Anderson, skipper of the atomic submarine Nautilus; which made headlines in August by cruising under the polar ice pack—1800 miles from the Pacific to the Atlantic, a total of 96 hours under ice. Several of the crew members are game enough to launch into a pre-karaoke rendition of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” but it sounds to me like a few of them have been making a little too merry, if you get my drift.

Der Bingle is also joined by Mrs. Bingle—Kathryn (Grant) Crosby—and the two Bingles sing a pretty duet of “Away in the Manger” for their four-month-old son. Add an equally pleasant rendition of “White Christmas” to this entire party mix and the result? An hour of great Christmas tunes, the equivalent of listening to a Crosby Christmas album (the Decca people, in fact, did release an LP with the title Christmas Sing With Bing).

Next up—an entertaining Christmas edition of The Jack Benny Program, unusual in that it was originally broadcast in December of 1956, long after Benny called it quits on May 22, 1955. The program, however, continued in reruns (as The Best of Benny) over CBS until 1958, sponsored by the Home Insurance Company (apparently Crosby’s not the only one in the insurance biz). This special (which, by the way, is the AFRTS version from December 1957 since it is sans the original 3M commercials) features the familiar Jack Benny regulars: Eddie “Rochester” Anderson, Mary Livingstone, Dennis Day, Don Wilson and Bob Crosby (Bing’s brother, who took over the bandleading chores from Phil Harris in 1952):

DON: And now, ladies and gentlemen…it is with great pleasure and deepest respect that I present the star of our show…a man who’s not only the dean of American comedy, but who like the tide, keeps rolling along month after month, year in and year out…who, despite the wearing of the elements and the ravages of time, only gains in quality…and who, although failing in memory, has managed to grope his way to the microphone and here he is…Jack Benny!

JACK: Thank you…thank you…thank you, ladies and gentlemen…welcome to ’Life with Methuselah…”

The program starts out as a conventional Benny broadcast, but soon shifts gears to let Jack and Mary do the show’s traditional Christmas-shopping-in-the-department-store shtick. Jack is trying to locate a suitable gift for his sister, Florence:

JACK: It ought to be something nice…you know, Mary, I have no brothers and no other sister…Florence is my only close relative…I ought to get her something nice…

MARY: What did you get her last year?

JACK: A pencil sharpener…

MARY: Oh…how sweet, Jack…but then, she is your only sister...

JACK: We’ve always been very close…she writes to me all the time, you know…

MARY: When you have a house full of sharp pencils, you gotta do something…

The pencil sharpener soon takes center stage as the show’s “boomerang” gag, as Mary tries to decide on a gift for Jack:

CLERK: May I wait on you, miss?

MARY: Yes, I’d like to get something for a gentleman…

CLERK: A gentleman? Your husband?

MARY: No, my boss…I’ve worked with him for an awfully long time and I’d like to show my appreciation…

CLERK: Well, here’s something nice…a gold tie clasp…

MARY: A gold tie clasp? No.

CLERK: How about a gold key chain?

MARY: No.

CLERK: Well, how about gold cufflinks?

MARY: Look, mister…I don’t want to get him anything he can melt down…

(snip)

CLERK: Well, well…he is quite a problem…well, perhaps I could help you better if you told me how closely you two are associated…are you engaged?

MARY: No, we’re not…

CLERK: Well…heh…is he your boyfriend?

MARY: No, as a matter of fact, he treats me more like a sister…

CLERK: How about a pencil sharpener?

Not to be left out, Rochester is doing some last minute shopping for Jack as well:

CLERK: May I wait on you?

ROCHESTER: Yeah, I’m looking for a Christmas present for my boss…

CLERK: For your boss, huh…well, how about a tie?

ROCHESTER: Naw…he’s got lots of those…

CLERK: Well, how about a wallet or a money clip?

ROCHESTER: Money clip? What’s a money clip?

CLERK: You know, it’s a thing to hold your folding money…

ROCHESTER: I’ve never had any that folds…how’s it work?

CLERK: Well, it’s a spring-like metal clip that holds the money tight…

ROCHESTER: He’s got a fist that does that…

The Christmas special also features guest appearances from Frances Bergen (wife of Edgar, she sings “The Very Thought of You”) and June Allyson. The Bergen spot is a bit ho-hum, but the scenes with Junie are a laugh riot:

JUNE: …and Jack, I’m so glad I ran into you today…I want to thank you very much for remembering me…

JACK: Oh, did you get my present already?

JUNE: Oh no…just the card telling me that you’re going to send me one…

MARY: Jack sent you a card?

JUNE: Uh-huh…I think I’ve got it here…oh yes, here it is…”I’m sending you a present…the twenty-fifth is the date…so you’ll have plenty of time…to reciprocate…”

JACK: Isn’t that a nice poem?

MARY: Sounds more like a ransom note…

JACK: It does not…

JUNE: Then why did you throw it through my window tied to a rock?

June also gets in a plug for her latest film, 1956’s You Can’t Run Away From It (a musical remake of It Happened One Night), directed by her husband, Dick Powell:

JACK: Well, frankly, June…I’m very disappointed in Dick and I wish you’d tell him when you get home…you see, he led me to believe that I would have the leading role in that picture…

JUNE: Well, he was going to use you, Jack…but then at the last minute, he changed his mind…

JACK: Why?

JUNE: Well, he figured that if on the marquee it said “Jack Benny: You Can’t Run Away From It” people wouldn’t know if it was a title or a warning…

Of course, Jack also encounters many of the dues-paying members of the Benny Show repertory company: Artie Auerbach (Mr. Kitzel), Mel Blanc, Benny Rubin, Sam Hearn, Joseph Kearns, Herb Vigran and Elliott Lewis as the perfume counter “mooley” (“Don’t take my word for it—smell me!”) All in all, a fun program, a truly enjoyable holiday romp.

"Presented each week and every week...'til it's over Over There!"

It would appear that I was perhaps a bit too hasty in posting that yesterday's Elgin Christmas Party broadcast of December 25, 1944 was the best Christmas program I’ve listened to so far this month. Now I have to ransack my vocabulary for superlatives to describe the December 25, 1945 Command Performance show I treated myself to earlier this evening.

Command Performance was once lauded as “the best wartime program in America” by Time magazine, but I think I would eliminate the “wartime” part; it is one of the best programs, period. Not too shabby for a show that many Americans weren't able to hear its first-time around—the reason being that the show was produced exclusively for “the men and women of the United States Armed Forces around the world” and broadcast over the Armed Forces Radio Service (AFRS). This star-studded variety program, featuring a glittering roster of top-name performers, debuted over AFRS on March 1, 1942, with a lineup that included Eddie Cantor, Bea Wain, Merle Oberon, and Joe Louis. The show was created by Louis G. Cowan (creator of such radio quiz show hits as The Quiz Kids and Stop the Music) at the behest of the War Department, who wanted to find a suitable format to present "American radio" to the troops overseas. Cowan decided to let the G.I. audience “choose” their own entertainment, in the form of requests—examples include a song by Frank Sinatra, a “fiddle duel” between Jack Benny and Jascha Heifetz, or even a long, lingering sigh from actress Carole Landis. Celebrities donated their time, gratis, to support the war effort and the program—and it was once estimated that the talent budget for a comparable civilian effort of Command Performance would cost $75,000 weekly.

Perhaps Command Performance’s best-known broadcast is a show that originally aired February 5, 1945; a “comic-strip operetta” entitled “Dick Tracy in B-Flat; or For Goodness Sake, Isn’t He Ever Going to Marry Tess Trueheart?” with Bing Crosby (as Dick Tracy), Dinah Shore (Tess Trueheart), Harry Von Zell (Old Judge Hooper), Jerry Colonna (Chief of Police), Bob Hope (Flat Top), Frank Morgan (Vitamin Flintheart), Jimmy Durante (Mole), Judy Garland (Snowflake), the Andrews Sisters (the Summer Sisters), Frank Sinatra (Shaky), and Cass Daley (Gravel Gertie). The show is every bit as impressive as its cast, with some first-rate parodies of then-popular songs and hilarious fluffs and ad-libs thrown in to boot.

The Christmas broadcast of December 25, 1945 is equally top-notch; in addition to appearances from Crosby, Shore, Colonna, Hope, Durante, Garland, Sinatra, and Daley the show features Mel Blanc (as Private Sad Sack), Ed Gardner (Archie from Duffy’s Tavern), Harry James, Kay Kyser, Francis Langford, Herbert Marshall, Johnny Mercer, the Pied Pipers, and Ginny Simms. (Something tells me that that $75,000, even adjusted for inflation, couldn’t even begin to put together an equally star-studded extravaganza today.) Among the highlights of this program are an insult contest between Bing and Frank (the two crooners had a mock “rivalry” at that particular point in time); a hillbilly skit set in Kansas with Hope, Crosby, Mercer, and Garland (when Judy points out to Johnny that there are no hills in Kansas he changes it to a “flatbilly” skit); and some wonderful old tunes, particularly Bing’s “On the Atcheson, Topeka and the Santa Fe” (written by Mercer) and a great “Two O’Clock Jump” by Harry James and his orchestra.

Some of my favorite bits:

BING CROSBY: But you say this is going to be a masquerade party, huh? What are you coming as, really?

BOB: I’m coming as The Thin Man…

BING: The Thin Man? Everybody’ll think you’ve got Asta under your vest-a…but still, I’m just in a dither…I don’t know how I should appear…

BOB: Well, why don’t you make up as one of your own horses…then you wouldn’t even have to show…

(snip)

BING: Are you going to Bob’s party?

DINAH SHORE: Yes, Bing, I am…as a matter of fact, Bob suggested we have a progressive party—you know, at my house we have the hors d’oeurves, turkey, cranberry sauce, dressing, vegetables, dessert, coffee, and brandy…and then we all go over to Bob’s house…

BING: What for…to burp?

(snip)

BOB: Harry, I suppose you’ll be at my party tonight…

HARRY JAMES: Well, Bob, I don’t know if I can make it…

BOB: Oh, Harry, you gotta be there…

HARRY: I don’t know…I’m awfully busy…

BOB: Harry, the party just can’t go on if you’re not there…

HARRY: Well, gee, Bob…I’d like to come…

BOB: But you must, Harry, you must…you’re my best friend, my closest companion…there’s no one I like better…please come…

HARRY: Well, I don’t know if I can…

BOB: Well, okay, if you can’t make it…send your wife…

For the Hollywood gossip-impaired, I would be remiss if I didn't mention that at the time, Mrs. Harry James also went by the name of Betty Grable.

JIMMY DURANTE: It was lucky I met you tonight, Herbert…you don’t mind if I call you by your maiden name…?

HERBERT MARSHALL: No…no, please do…

JIMMY: You know, Bob Hope is going to give a big party tonight…

HERBERT: Yes…I understand it’s going to be quite a soiree…

JIMMY: That’s all right…I’ll leave before the cops come…by the way, Mr. Marshall…you being British, and coming from a long line of Brits…makes you just the man I’m looking for…I may have a job for you…

HERBERT: A job?

JIMMY: Yes…I need a valet…

HERBERT: You mean a…?

JIMMY: Yes…I want you to be my gentlemen’s gentleman…

HERBERT: No, it won’t work…we’re short one gentleman…

(snip)

ARCHIE (Ed Gardner): Uh, Mr. Hope, I heard you’re throwin’ a Christmas party so I says to meself, I says “Archie, why don’t you help Hope out and get him some talent?” And not just plain first-rate talent, you know…

BOB HOPE: Better than that?

ARCHIE: Second-rate…

BOB: So you want to get me some entertainment for my party, eh, Archie?

ARCHIE: Yeah, for an allotment, of course…you know, you ain’t talkin’ to no bum…

BOB: We live and learn…

ARCHIE: Yeah…now, I could get you a certain person who’s in great demand at parties…

BOB: Oh, you can…well, who is he?

ARCHIE: I can get you Bing Crosby…

BOB: You mean my straight man in the movies?

ARCHIE: Yeah…the fella they all laugh at…the guy’s a very good singer, you know…quite a career this Crosby’s had…he studied for eight years before he found out he couldn’t sing and…by that time, he was too famous to quit…

(snip)

KAY KYSER: I don’t know how I’m gonna come to your party, Bob, if I can’t find a girl…

BOB: Oh, Kay, don’t worry, there’s a girl waiting for you in some nook or cranny…

CASS DALEY: Well, whaddya know? Men!!! Wahoo!!!

BOB: It’s Cass Daley!

CASS: Loooove men…!!!

KAY: Well, there’s one from the cranny…

BOB: Here’s where I kill two birds with one stone…say, Kay, you want a nice, pure girl, don’t you?

KAY: I sure do…

BOB: And Cass, you want a nice, simple fella, don’t you?

CASS: I do…

BOB: I now pronounce you pure and simple…

KAY: Oh, well…maybe we can still have fun…after all, beauty is only skin deep…

CASS: Yeah…who peeled you?

(snip)

FRANK SINATRA: So only thirteen-year-old girls like me, huh?

BOB: That’s what I hear…

FRANK: All this stuff about thirteen-year-olds and me is just plain propaganda…I know one beautiful movie star who goes for me and she isn’t thirteen, either…

BOB: Really? I didn’t know Lassie cared…

FRANK: Well, she does!

BOB: Yeah, come to think of it, Frank—why shouldn’t Lassie love you? It’s a great thrill for a dog, hearing a pile of bones sing…

FRANK (after a pause): You been talking to Crosby lately, boy?

BOB: Well, after all, Frankie—the guy works at the same studio with me, I gotta talk to him sometime…you see, he has the key to the washroom…

FRANK: I thought Crosby was behind all this…why does he insult me that way? Why, I wouldn’t hurt a fly…

BOB: Not even if you sat on one…

FRANK: Honest, Bob…I don’t know why Bing should treat me like this…why, I’ve never said anything but the nicest things about that…fat, old gentleman…

BOB: Frankie, look, this is Christmas…the time for goodwill and brotherly love…you shouldn’t call Bing a fat, old gentleman…

FRANK: Well…he’s fat, isn’t he?

BOB: Um…yes…

FRANK: He’s old, isn’t he?

BOB: Um…yes…

FRANK: He’s a gent…

BOB (cutting him off) See how wrong you are?

This is really a first-rate production, with outstanding music and some hilarious comedy (including much of the ad-libbing that was prevalent on the previous Elgin show), and concludes with some good old-fashioned Christmas caroling, courtesy of Judy Garland, Dinah Shore, Francis Langford, Ginny Simms and Der Bingle. Ken Carpenter is the announcer for the holiday proceedings. (Talk about a busy guy!)

Although the peak of Command Performance’s popularity was during wartime, the program continued on AFRS until March 14, 1950; it is estimated that there nearly a total of 400 shows and specials were produced. An attempt was made to make lightning strike twice with a civilian version of the program called Request Performance, which began over CBS Radio Sunday nights on October 7, 1945. Again, the format was similar—audiences would request personalities such as horror film star Boris Karloff performing in a comedy sketch; one request had Phil Harris and wife Alice Faye appearing together for the first time on radio, which may very well have laid the groundwork for their popular radio sitcom that began in the fall of 1946. But with only $15,000 budgeted for talent every week, the program fell short of matching the star wattage of its AFRS sister and it closed its doors April 21, 1946.

The most frequent guest star of Command Performance was Bing Crosby, who appeared on the program a total of 29 times (Bob Hope was second with 26). It’s only fitting, I guess, that Crosby also benefited in one small way from the popular program. Many of the most popular shows on the American airwaves were shipped over to AFRS during the war so that they could be heard by the troops, and sophisticated editing techniques were used to eliminate the commercials and other unnecessary references for the G.I. crowd. These early editing efforts no doubt encouraged Crosby to jump ship from NBC to ABC, where he started his own prerecorded series, Philco Radio Time.

"Well, did you evah...what a swell party this is..."

Last night at work, I listened to what I am convinced is one of the finest Christmas holiday shows I’ve experienced since I began this project at the beginning of the month. Originally broadcast over CBS Radio December 25, 1944, it was a two-hour “Christmas party,” an all-star extravaganza—sponsored by the Elgin Watch Company—featuring Barbara Jo Allen (as Vera Vague), Eddie “Rochester” Anderson, Jack Benny, George Burns & Gracie Allen, the Charioteers, Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, the Les Paul Trio, the Louis Silvers Orchestra & Chorus, Carmen Miranda, Ginny Simms, the Army-Air Force’s “Swing Wing,” and Joseph Szigeti. The always affable Don Ameche was master of ceremonies, and Ken Carpenter the commercial announcer.

Ginny Simms kicks off the festivities with a rendition of “Hallelujah,” and then tells m.c. Ameche that she was originally supposed to do the song “You’ll Never Know” with Jack Benny accompanying her on the violin but things went slightly awry. There is a flashback to a few hours earlier, with Rochester answering the phone with “Mr. Benny’s residence…star of stage, screen, radio and delivers The Examiner to the Beverly Hills area”:

JACK: Come on in the living room, I want to talk to you…

ROCHESTER: This is the living room…you just don’t recognize it…

JACK: Oh…oh…oh, yes…well, what do you know, we’ve got a rug in here…say, Rochester…were there any calls for me?

ROCHESTER: Just one…Miss Ginny Simms…

JACK: Miss Simms?

ROCHESTER: Uh, yeah…she said she’s coming over here to rehearse that number you’re supposed to do on the Elgin show…

JACK: Oh, well, why didn’t you tell me? I’d better get my violin and limber up…now, Rochester, you finish straightening up the house and get the rest of these things out of the living room…my shirt, my shoes, my socks, my garter belt…I mean, my garter and my belt…and my bathrobe…pick ‘em up and get ‘em out of this room…

ROCHESTER: Don’t you want me to get your violin?

JACK: Yes, but I want you to get all my things out of this room…

ROCHESTER: I won’t have to…you start playing, and they’ll be glad to leave by themselves…

JACK: Oh, stop exaggerating…

ROCHESTER: Exaggerating? Boss, the last time you played your violin your tuxedo came out of the closet, tiptoed down the hall, went out the front door and we haven’t seen it since…

JACK: Rochester, will you stop being ridiculous…how could my tuxedo tiptoe down the hall and go out the front door?

ROCHESTER: That ain’t the mystery…the thing that bothers me is—how did it leave that note on the hanger?

JACK: What note?

ROCHESTER: The one that said “I can go if I want to, I ain’t paid for…”

Next on the program, Don Ameche introduces the “Swing Wing,” a congregation of former big band musicians “caught in the draft”, so to speak. The group play two numbers, “Bugle Call Rag” and some selections from the opera Carmen, and Technical Sergeant Manny Klein is their spokesman:

DON: Now, before you boys wrap up another number…could you tell us where the men in the group come from?

KLEIN: Well, we took one from Harry James…one from Benny Goodman…and one from Jimmy Dorsey…

DON: I heard you also took one from Spike Jones…

KLEIN: Ah, we didn’t have to take him…he was glad to escape…

A song selection from the Charioteers (who were the resident choral group of Bing Crosby’s Kraft Music Hall) follows (“Poor Little Jesus Boy”), and then we pay a visit to the “people who live in the Burns house, George and Gracie”:

GEORGE: Hurry, Gracie…we have to leave for the Elgin broadcast pretty soon…

GRACIE: George…um…before we go…promise me something?

GEORGE: What?

GRACIE: Well…uh…you’re terribly talented, you know…

GEORGE: Yeah…?

GRACIE: …and this is Christmas…

GEORGE: Yeah…?

GRACIE: So…promise me you won’t do your best today…

GEORGE: Won’t do my best…? With Bob Hope, Don Ameche, Bing Crosby and Jack Benny there?

GRACIE: Well, that’s why, dear…I wouldn’t want you to make them look bad today…

GEORGE: Oh, Gracie…

GRACIE: Well, this is Christmas…you know, goodwill to men…and practically all four of those fellows are men…

GEORGE: But, Honey…be sensible…if I had more talent than Hope, Ameche, Crosby and Benny…I’d be the biggest star in the world…

GRACIE: …and you will be someday…in fact, people can’t understand why you aren’t right now…

GEORGE: Really?

GRACIE: Sure! Why, every time we walk down the street together I hear someone say “I wonder what’s holding him up?”

GEORGE: I see…

GRACIE: Oh, you’re loaded with talent, George…I’m just afraid you’ll go down there today and embarrass those poor men…

GEORGE: Oh, honey…you just say that because you’re my wife…what if you were married to Bob Hope? What if you were married to Don Ameche? What if you were married to…

GRACIE: Wait a minute…I’d like to stay married to Don Ameche a little longer…

Ginny Simms does another number, her hit tune “Wish You Were Waiting For Me,” and then a dramatic sketch featuring Ameche, Joel Davis, Ann Stone and Tyler McVey is presented; a touching Christmas-themed story about a pilot on a dangerous flying mission whose thoughts drift back to last Christmas and his telling his son the story of the Star of Bethlehem. The sketch was included to promote a series called Keep Up With the World—what was apparently a dramatic anthology based on stories in a Collier’s column by Freling Foster (there wasn’t any information on this program in the Dunning book, and Jay Hickerson lists it as Keeping Up With the World).

The nice thing about this Christmas presentation is the wide range of musical talent; there’s something for every taste present, from Carmen Miranda (who does “Tico Tico” and a zippy, South-of-the-Border rendition of “Chattanooga Choo-Choo”) to the Les Paul Trio (“Danger, Men at Work”). There’s also music for the highbrow crowd, as concert violinist Joseph Szigeti performs a few classical pieces. Szigeti had recently appeared alongside Jack Benny in the 1944 feature film Hollywood Canteen:

DON: I hope I’m not being forward when I ask if it’s true that most concert stars have some protégé…

SZIGETI: Yes, that’s true…

DON: …and you…do you know of some undiscovered, potential genius of the violin?

SZIGETI: I do…

DON: Oh…and is he talented?

SZIGETI: Amazing technique…

DON: Ah…and young?

SZIGETI: Very young…

DON: And what’s his name?

SZIGETI: Jack Benny…

DON: Ah, of course…you made your movie debut recently with Jack…that must have been fun, huh?

SZIGETI: Lots of laughs…

DON: At his jokes?

SZIGETI: At his fiddle playing…

Barbara Jo Allen, an actress-comedienne who portrayed the memorable man-chasing Vera Vague on The Bob Hope Show, also has some amusing moments with straight-man Don Ameche:

VERA: Thank you, thank you…and Merry Christmas. Mr. Ameche (giddily) oooh, Noel, Noel…oh, Christmas time, I don’t know…I’m so happy, I just love everybody…anyway, half of everybody…the male half…

DON: I suspected, Miss Vague, it was something more romantic than just the Christmas holiday that brought that sparkle to your eyes…

VERA: Oh, you’re so right, Mr. Ameche…only this morning my boyfriend Waldo told me that I’ll be the next cover girl of the country…

DON: Oh…really?

VERA: Yes…I suppose you’ve heard of Chili Williams?

DON: Oh, yes…of course…

VERA: Meet “Beans” Vague…

DON: Uh…Miss Vague…how did you meet your boyfriend Waldo?

VERA: Uh, Waldo? I didn’t exactly meet him…I overtook him…but he’s such a sweet boy, really…this morning, there he was waiting for me by the mantle when I came down…he says, “Look, Vera—your Christmas stockings are all filled with walnuts.” Made me so mad…

DON: But why…?

VERA: Oh, I was wearing them at the time…

The highlight of The Elgin Christmas Party are the appearances of Bob Hope and Bing Crosby—Hope warms up the proceedings with his I-don’t-leave-home-without-it monologue:

BOB: But everything in Hollywood is done in the spirit of Christmas…if you get hit by a car while crossing the street they send you home wrapped as a gift…I just mailed some Christmas packages back East…everybody else had to mail theirs December the 10th but I sent mine yesterday and they got there in plenty of time…thanks, Eleanor…and don’t think the manpower shortage didn’t hit the Santa Claus situation this year…I saw one Santa Claus at a department store hitting a little boy and I said, “That’s no way for Santa Claus to act.” And Santa said, “I can do anything I want…I’m this boy’s mother…”

Hope then introduces his friend Bing (“All you can hear on the radio this weekend is Bing singing ‘White Christmas’…he’s the only man who can entertain and give frost warnings at the same time.”), who warbles his big hit, “Don’t Fence Me In.” Then, the fun begins as the two of them engage in a fast-and-furious insult and ad-lib war (Bob: “We’re gonna look at the paper once in a while, aren’t we?”):

BOB: That was wonderful…maybe I’m just full of the ol’ holiday spirit, but you know…that didn’t sound bad at all…

BING: Thank you…

BOB: …for a man your age…

BING: You still considered yourself a boy when you were my age…

BOB: At least I never played “Ring-a-Round-the-Rosie” with Cleopatra…

BING: This is hardly the place…hardly the time or place to discuss what you played with Cleopatra…well, look…

BOB (ad-libs): He’s got Broadway Rose writing for him now…

(snip)

BING: You know, I’m doing a double act with Sinatra next year…

BOB: You are, really?

BING: Yes…we’re going out to play some of the camps…sing some songs, sing some duets…fine double act…

BOB: Well, I think it’s nice to have a fella from each generation…what are you, uh (interrupted by audience laughter) you’re going to do a double act with ol’ No Blood, huh? Well, tell me…what are you going (more laughter) it’ll be a nice act, No Blood and No Hair…

(snip)

BING: Say, Blub…no kidding…let’s be nice…Christmas only comes once a year…

BOB: I don’t think you should knock Sinatra…because I wanna tell ya, singers like Sinatra come once in a lifetime…

BING: That’s right…why did he have to come in my lifetime?

To close the program—well, what Christmas special wouldn’t be complete without Bing singing the classic “White Christmas”?

The Elgin Christmas Party is part of a ten-CD package entitled Christmas—On the Air! Volume 2 which is available from First Generation Radio Archives. To call this fine program a “special” is really damning it with faint praise—it just wouldn’t be possible to do this kind of program today without having to take out a second and third mortgage to put a down payment on the participants’ salaries. Of course, back then—every performer appeared on the show gratis, as the broadcast was prepared for broadcast over AFRS and shortwave for the benefit of those individuals then fighting overseas. Even some fifty years later, it continues to entertain and delight through the magic of old-time radio.

A cold winter’s night

I listened to a pair of interesting shows this evening—interesting in that both programs are dated March 9, 1949 and were broadcast over NBC’s WMAQ in Chicago, one right after the other. According to First Generation Radio Archives, the two programs came from opposite sides of two 16-inch transcription disks. (Transcription disks are large records from where most of the old-time radio broadcasts that are still around today originate.)

First off the bat, at 9:30pm (8:30pm Central), is Mr. District Attorney, a long-running NBC crime drama (it debuted on April 3, 1939) about an unnamed D.A. (usually referred to by his associates as either “Boss” or “Chief”), a fearless crusader devoted to justice and truth. (The character was loosely modeled after real-life 1930s New York racket-buster Thomas E. Dewey.) During its nearly fifteen-year run on radio, Mr. District Attorney was one of the most popular—if not the most—crime dramas on the air. According to John Dunning, “It was a year-round operation. In the summers, when such comics as Jack Benny and Bob Hope were on vacation, Mr. DA often soared to the top of the ratings; it was seldom out of the top ten, even in midseason.” (Doesn’t sound like Mr. DA had much time for Mrs. DA, does it?)

Mr. District Attorney also had one of radio’s most memorable openings:

ANNOUNCER: Mister District Attorney! Champion of the people! Defender of truth! Guardian of our fundamental rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness!

(Orchestra up full)

VOICE OF THE LAW (from echo chamber): …and it shall be my duty as district attorney not only to prosecute to the limit of the law all persons accused of crimes perpetuated within this county but to defend with equal vigor the rights and privileges of all its citizens…

Pretty strong meat there, no? The program was sponsored for many years by Bristol-Myers (1940-52); in fact, at the time of this broadcast, the Bristol-Myers people were footing the bill for a whole hour (9-10pm) on NBC’s Wednesday nights—the show preceding Mr. District Attorney being the popular comedy series Duffy’s Tavern. It’s also rare to find a network broadcast (complete with commercials) of Attorney; for a long-running series, it would seem that most of the episodes in circulation are from the 1952-53 syndicated version produced by Ziv Productions.

The episode I listened to was “The Case of Murder a la Carte,” a drama about a restaurant headwaiter named Nicky Sylvania who is operating a robbery racket with two accomplices, husband-and-wife Stanley and Hannah Price. Nicky is able to glean information from the customers he is serving as to whether they will be away from the house for an extended period of time; then he calls Hannah to tip her off as to their absence and she and her husband "liberate" the customers' furs, jewelry, etc.

Stanley is kind of an amiable dolt who’s obsessed more with building birdhouses than embarking on a life of crime; even Nicky is convinced that the three of them should lay low for a while. But Hannah is a real bad egg; a greedy, manipulative rhymes-with-witch who insists on committing more and more burglaries. She has a bit of a gambling jones, and has lost much of the robbery take betting on horses; Stanley is outraged by this (he sort of had his heart set on a trailer for the two of them, where he could build birdhouses to his heart's content) and in the ensuing struggle between him and Hannah she manages to strangle him in what she politically-incorrectly refers to as a “Jap choke.” She and Nicky then dump poor Stanley's corpse near the railroad yards. (I should also point out here that there is a very strong implication that Nicky and Hannah are starting to…well, know one another in the biblical sense. They don’t come right out and say it, of course—but the two of them share a cigarette, and it’s not too hard to figure out where that is going.)

In the meantime, our heroic D.A. (Jay Jostyn) and his associates, Len Harrington (Len Doyle) and Edith Miller (Vicki Vola) are investigating the robberies, and the crafty public servant has put 2-and-2 together, realizing that the common thread in the capers is that the victims all dined at the swanky Regency Club--and were waited on by the same headwaiter. Nicky attempts to warn Hannah that the heat is on, but the audience is pretty much onto her by now; she wants more, more, more. A robbery attempt at a residence owned by a couple named Phillips goes awry when Hannah is surprised by their butler; backed into a corner, she puts the same choke-hold on Jeeves and kills him, too. So Mr. D.A. sets a trap for the two villains by having Harrington and Miller pose as a couple of society swells and when Hannah breaks into their apartment, catches both her and Nicky red-handed (“Well, a clean sweep, eh, Harrington? Looks like this time they’ve ordered the full meal…” Oh, I'll bet he's a riot at the annual office Christmas party.).

Mr. District Attorney is, despite my occasional forays into snarkiness, a pretty entertaining crime drama that—for reasons I can’t quite fathom—apparently has to recap what took place in the half-hour, apparently for the slower people in the listening audience:

MILLER: Golly, that was one assignment I liked, Chief…I’ve never eaten such good food in my life…

HARRINGTON: Yeah! And oh boy, did you look swell in all those furs that you rented, Miss Miller!

MILLER: Why thank you, Harrington…but of course, I look good in just anything…

D.A.: Well, it was certainly good work, Miss Miller…you and Harrington sent Hannah right to the apartment where I was waiting, simply by displaying those furs…

HARRINGTON: And when we got there, we picked up Nicky right in front of the joint, Chief…

D.A.: Yes…actually, it was Hannah’s peculiar method of choking her victims that helped, Harrington…

HARRINGTON: Yeah…that’s the Japanese choke…brother, that one’s the works!

D.A.: Yes…it nearly always kills and without much effort as is sometimes needed…fortunately, it leaves a characteristic discoloration on the neck as well as abrasions on the lower jaw…

MILLER: You saw those in the morgue, Chief…

D.A.: Yes, I did, Miss Miller…on both Stanley and the butler…and that’s why I was ready for Hannah when she tried the Japanese choke on me…

HARRINGTON: Yeah…and you can thank the Army service for that, huh, Chief?

D.A.: Right.

HARRINGTON: …bring your arms down hard and you can break it…

D.A.: And break the case, I’m glad to say…

I’m guessing after this display of gratuitous back-patting the three of them head for a bar and then drink the night away, bemoaning their empty, unfulfilled lives—and in the case of Mr. D.A., bemoaning the fact that he has no real name.

Following Mr. District Attorney is The Big Story, another successful crime drama that premiered over NBC Radio April 2, 1947. (This program was so popular that in its first year it began to chisel away at Bing Crosby’s Philco Radio Time audience, since his program was on ABC opposite Story. Der Bingle ended up moving his show back a half-hour earlier as a result.) The show was created when independent radio show producer Bernard J. Prockter came across an account in Newsweek of how two reporters from the Chicago Sun-Times had cracked a 14-year-old murder case that resulted in the pardon of the man wrongly convicted of the crime. (This story would later be retold in a favorite James Stewart movie of mine—the 1948 docu-noir Call Northside 777, directed by Henry Hathaway.)

ANNOUNCER: The Big Story…here is America…its sound and fury…its joy and its sorrow…as faithfully reported by the men and women of the great American newspapers…

Pall Mall cigarettes picked up the tab for the program, awarding $500 to the reporter with “The Big Story.” The dramatizations on the show changed the names of the people involved, with the exception of the muckraker who covered it, of course. This episode features Ike McNelly of the Cleveland News, “a reporter who found that death can make a piece of fiction come to life.”

There is a report of a car explosion at a nearby dam—and it is determined that Dr. David Wagner, prominent chemist, is the victim. The only problem is—his body has not been found. It is assumed that his body may have been thrown into the river, but without a corpse, his insurance company refuses to pay off on his $50,000 policy, leaving his widow and kids in a bit of a financial pickle.

McNelly is interviewing the Widow Wagner when he gets a call from his newspaper and learns that a gentleman at a Philadelphia bank has cashed $5,000 worth of travelers’ checks, with the signature of…Dr. David Wagner. McNelly is convinced that the Doc is playing dead for some reason, but Murray, the insurance company investigator, pooh-poohs the idea. In talking with Wagner’s widow, he spies a portrait the doctor painted and, on a hunch, decides to talk to the young woman—one Jenny Logan—who posed for the painting.

Logan claims to know nothing of Wagner’s whereabouts, and in fact, clings to the conventional wisdom that Wagner is dead and that the reporter should drop the matter. But a open book on a table in Logan’s apartment makes McNelly suspicious—it’s Leo Tolstoy’s The Living Corpse, a novel about a man who fakes his own death to get away from his wife. In an investigative feat that rivals the discovery by Dallas police of Lee Harvey Oswald’s whereabouts shortly after the JFK assassination, McNelly locates Jenny at a train station, as she has bought a one-way ticket to New York.

JENNY: Well, what’s on your mind?

MCNELLY: That book, Jenny…The Living Corpse by Tolstoy…David Wagner gave it to you…

JENNY: No…

MCNELLY: He gave it to you…and now you’re leaving to meet him…

JENNY: You’re crazy…I haven’t seen him in months…

MCNELLY: You’re lying! Wagner’s in love with you…

JENNY: Why don’t you let me alone!

MCNELLY: How can I…this isn’t just between you and Wagner, he’s got a wife and kids, remember?

JENNY: What can I do about it…

MCNELLY: You can let him alone…and you can tell him to come back where he belongs…

JENNY: You don’t know what you’re asking…there’s some things you can’t stop…jump in front of a train and see if you’ll even slow it down…this is the same way…David…me…you and his wife…none of us can do anything about it…

MCNELLY: Then…you are in love with him…

JENNY: Sure…you know…this isn’t a thing I want to lie about…it’s something too good for that…

One minute you’re covering a weekly meeting of the Rotarians, and the next you’re in some bad romantic movie with equally risible dialogue. It’s a funny old world sometimes. Anyway, McNelly extracts a promise from the woman that she and Wagner will let him know where they are, and that the doctor will continue to provide for his family. But, the two-timing dame reneges on her pledge, and McNelly is put on the spot—he reluctantly informs Wagner’s widow that her husband is still alive and is shacking up with someone else; months later, the insurance company investigator is ticked at him because Wagner’s insurance premium is due to expire and there’ll be nothing for his wife and kids once it does.

Just when all seems lost, it is discovered that the chemist and his floozy have been jet-setting across Europe and are currently residing in Vienna as “Anna” and “Joseph.” The two of them exchange more bad-movie dialogue, expressing no regrets about their whirlwind affair—and then commit double suicide, leaving behind a note as to their real identities so that Wagner’s wife can cash in, insurance-wise. (If anyone can explain to me why this guy could afford to cavort around Vienna but couldn’t bother to send in a measly insurance premium payment, I’m dying to hear it.)

At the conclusion of each episode of The Big Story, the real-life reporter would often appear at the show’s tag to collect his cash incentive from the good folks at Pall Mall; here, the hard-working McNelly sends a telegram—I’m guessing he may have been a little embarrassed at how they dramatized his story. But the program enjoyed a healthy eight-year run over NBC, finally giving up the ghost on March 23, 1955; Pall Mall paying the bills until 1954, when Lucky Strike (actually the same company) took over as sponsor.

Listening to both of these shows, I got a feeling of what it might have been like to be gathered around the radio on a cold winter night in March of 1949--and that's not easy, especially when it's a balmy fall night in November 2003.

“When the blue of the night…meets the gold of the day…”

The year was 1945, and to paraphrase Frank Sinatra, it was a very good year—well, it was for Bing Crosby, anyway. Bing was a successful million-selling recording artist, the movies’ number-one box-office attraction (he had just copped a Best Actor Oscar for the previous year’s Going My Way), and a popular radio star with his top-rated Kraft Music Hall program (which he had been the star of since 1936). But Bing was also at war with both his sponsor and NBC, and it arose from a simple matter of...recording tape.

During the 1930s, German technicians had been successful at developing a method of recording on plastic-backed tape, and by 1945 had upgraded both the tape and recording machines to near professional quality. Crosby spotted an immediate advantage to pre-recording his program on audio tape—scheduling shows in advance would free up more spare time for him to indulge in his outside interests, like golfing and horse racing. He would also have the luxury of being able to prepare programs when his singing voice was at the peak of perfection. (The fact that Bing also owned a financial interest in a small magnetic-tape company called Ampex probably didn’t hurt, either.)

Kraft and NBC were both vehemently opposed to Crosby’s scheme. They argued that audiences simply would not cotton to what they termed “canned radio.” On the surface, they had a valid argument—part of the magic of old-time radio was its live spontaneity; the fact was that sometimes things could go horribly awry, and the hallmark of any radio professional was his or her ability to steer things back on course. (Some of OTR’s classic comedy moments sprang from these types of situations; one of the best known is a Fred Allen broadcast from March 20, 1940 in which a “trained” eagle decides to exercise a little independence, flying above the audience’s heads and registering his criticism with the program via a bowel movement, as his frustrated trainer tries to get him to return.) The truth of the matter, however, is that NBC (and CBS as well) was skittish about stars prerecording programs because they feared that said stars could market their shows directly to individual stations, thus eliminating the network-as-middleman. (NBC claimed to have an “iron-clad” rule against transcribed programs; although the fact that their hit quiz show series Information, Please managed to get around that policy didn’t seem to crop up in their negotiations with Crosby.)

Whatever the reason, there was no denying there was a standoff; Bing refused to budge from his desire to pre-record his shows, and NBC/Kraft were dead set against it. Since his network and sponsor had dug in their heels, Crosby walked off the Kraft Music Hall, setting off a legal battle between him and Kraft that eventually reached a settlement by where Bing would finish out his contract by returning to the Music Hall for the program’s final thirteen weeks. Since these conditions made him a free man, Crosby began to shop around his new concept to the other networks.

He received one taker: the fledgling ABC Radio network, which sprang forth from the sale of NBC’s Blue network to Life Savers tycoon Edward Noble in 1942. The network was responsive to Bing’s idea, but their embrace of the popular crooner was due mostly to the desperation of ABC to have a star of Crosby’s caliber on their network. The Philco Radio Company agreed to pick up the tab for the new program, and on October 16. 1946 Philco Radio Time debuted on Wednesday nights over ABC. The program started off strong at first, dipped a little in November, and finally regained its footing to become a successful hit and to allow Philco to sell a slew of radios and phonographs. Crosby had launched a “transcribed” revolution; his friend Bob Hope soon followed his lead, and was joined later still by the other popular comedians (like Jack Benny) as well.

Philco Radio Time was a good radio series, a splendid mix of comedy and music from Der Bingle—but in my experience, the best Crosby Philco shows are those that feature great comedians for the laid-back Bing to play off of. Crosby is joined on this April 30, 1947 broadcast by the one and only Groucho! (Marx), and after Bing squeezes in a couple of tunes ("The Belle of Albuquerque" and "Guilty"), the laughs get underway:

BING: Anyhow, Groucho, before we go completely daffy here…allow me to extend a warm, firm hand of welcome to Philco Radio Time…

GROUCHO: Please do…but make sure that warm, firm hand contains a large, firm check…

BING: You want a firm check?

GROUCHO: Yes…from the Philco firm, if you don’t mind…

BING: Don’t tell me you’re broke?

GROUCHO: Of course I won’t tell you…I’m no blabbermouth…a few years ago, I had enough money to choke a horse…

BING: What happened?

GROUCHO: I made a mistake…I bet on the horse instead of choking him.

Bing agrees to join Groucho in a song that became one of the comedian’s signature tunes: “Lydia, the Tattooed Lady.” Written by Harold Arlen and E.Y. Harburg, the song was first featured in the 1939 Marx Brothers MGM romp At the Circus. Because this program was taped at USVA Hospital in Hines, Illinois, Groucho explains to Bing why he’s in Chicago:

GROUCHO: Anyhow, Bing, right after the program I’m going to take you on a guided tour throughout the city in my glass bottom bus. I’ll show you Chicago from every angle…

BING: You really know this town?

GROUCHO: Do I know this town? Why, I can remember way back when they had a Republican mayor…

BING (laughing) Really? You do go back…

GROUCHO: Yes, I do—I may as soon as this is over…now, Crosby, I have two tours…there’s the three-dollar tour and the five-dollar tour…

BING: What’s the difference between the three-dollar tour and the five-dollar tour?

GROUCHO: Well, on the five-dollar tour we close the windows when we pass the stockyards…

BING: For two dollars extra, you should burn incense…

GROUCHO: Make it three dollars extra and I’ll burn the bus…

Bing’s other guest on this broadcast is Dorothy Shay, nicknamed “The Park Avenue Hillbilly.” Shay was branded with this amusing moniker after an encore she once gave during a concert, in which she performed the novelty tune “Uncle Fud” while striking a comical mountain girl pose (although she was bedecked in a gown at the time). Dorothy soon carved out a successful singing and movie career, most notably an appearance with Abbott & Costello in Comin’ Round the Mountain (1951):

BING: Well, it’s certainly nice to see you, Dorothy…

DOROTHY: Gee, Bing…ever since I’ve been in show business I’ve wanted to be on your program and now that I’m on it, I’m so scared I can hardly hold still…

BING: Well, just grab ahold of me, Dorothy, and we’ll do a little rhumba…no use wasting all that motion…

GROUCHO: Listen, Crosby…you gonna introduce me to this girl or do I have to go outside and run over myself with my bus?

BING: Pardon me, Groucho, pardon me…Dorothy Shay, may I present Groucho Marx…?

DOROTHY: I’m mighty thrilled to meet you, Mr. Marx…

GROUCHO: Well, I should think you would be…(to audience) I seem to be making progress…there will be a slight pause while I get rid of Crosby…Dorothy, I’m running a special moonlight tour for two, shall we go?

DOROTHY: Gee, I couldn’t think of going without my mother…

GROUCHO: I’m glad you mentioned her…we’ll need someone to drive the bus…

BING: What about me?

GROUCHO: You can take tickets…

Dorothy then performs her hit “Feudin’, Fussin’, and a-Fightin’,” and she also persuades Bing and Groucho to join her in a few choruses. I suppose I don’t have to tell you that both men don’t need to have their arms twisted too badly, particularly in Groucho's case.

Later that fall, Groucho would adopt Bing’s method of transcribed shows (ABC’s openness to showcasing pre-recorded programs not only netted them Marx but Abbott and Costello as well) for his comedy quiz show, You Bet Your Life, which went on the air October 27, 1947. But the decision to transcribe Groucho’s program was one born out of necessity—producer John Guedel observed that the show would work much better if they were able to tape a 60-minute broadcast and edit it down to a half-hour. This would insure that the funny banter between Groucho and the contestants would be retained and the misfired jokes could be excised from the finished product. The ploy resurrected the show’s ratings, which were dismal at the start, vaulting it into radio’s Top Ten and winning the program a Peabody Award in 1949. You Bet Your Life later made the successful transition to television, finishing up its long run on NBC in 1961.