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Victor Arden was born, in theory and in name, a lot later than the man who actually created him as a pseudonym, Lewis John Fuiks. The only son of Samuel and Vallie Fuiks, both Illinois natives, Lewis was born and raised, for a time, in Wenona, Illinois, not far from Peoria. His father is listed in 1900 as working in "general merchandise," likely managing or owning a general store of some kind. Not much has been reported about Lewis' early musical training, but there was probably some piano instruction involved, along with harmony and theory. As evidence of this, Fuiks was able to publish a rag at age 16 in Chicago with the unusual title of Safety Pin Catch. By the time of the 1910 Census the family had moved to Chicago, where they were erroneously enumerated as the "Fox" family. Samuel was shown to be working in a clothing store as an assistant buyer.
In the fall of 1910 Lewis was enrolled in the University of Chicago, and he emerged with a degree in music in short order. This was followed by training at the American Conservatory of Music, also in the "windy city." There is some possibility that Fuiks was producing piano rolls as early as 1915, likely in Chicago. There are some roll titles that were released by Imperial, a Chicago company, in the mid to late 1910s. In their advertisements of 1916 they promote Fuiks as "the Chicago University Musical Wonder." He and fellow dynamo performer Zema Randale were considered the primary "raggists" of the Imperial label. In a Music Trade Review notice in the October 7, 1916 edition, it was noted that: "...the Jazz-Ragger Fuiks and the inimitable syncopating star, Zema Randale, are coming under the protection of insurance companies. The Imperial Co. sells its high-grade products at such fair prices that it will not subject itself to loss through the inability of any of its staff to play."Yet Imperial did suffer that very loss shortly thereafter as Lewis moved on to greener pastures. To compound things, their other star, Miss Randale, tragically died in 1918. It is not known for certain when Fuiks moved to New York City, but given that his first output from there came in 1917, and he is known to have contributed at least four "operas" to the Chicago Blackfriars, the last presented at annual musical in May of 1916, he likely left for Manhattan late in 1916, along with his new wife Ilse Fuiks. One of Fuiks' first jobs in New York may have been as an accompanist for the movies and, given his training, for hire by singers as well. However by February 1917 he was arranging and recording piano rolls as his primary career. There was some output from the Rythmodik roll company in 1917 through 1919, including his own Honeymoon Waltz which was considered somewhat of a hit. However, the bulk of Fuiks' early works were on the Ampico label, the parent company of Rythmodik, turning out "hand-played" expression rolls of popular dance tunes, tangos, and operettas. When the Rythmodik label was finally abandoned many of his cut were re-released on Ampico rolls. Early advertisements for both labels touted him as a jazz artist. While about two dozen of these were printed under his given name of Lewis J. Fuiks, this may have proved problematic to either Lewis or Ampico management for obvious linguistic reasons (this has not been officially established in fact but has been discussed), and he was soon rechristened as Victor Arden on his popular jazz rolls as early as February, 1917.
Starting around 1918, Victor formed a group called the All Star Trio, with George Hamilton Green on saxophone and F. Wheeler Wadsworth on the newly-minted vibraphone and other tuned percussion. They recorded for the next two years on the Edison label initially, turning out recordings for Victor, Brunswick, Pathé, Okeh, Paramount, Emerson, and for the Vocalian label of Aeolian, a subsidiary of the American Piano Company. Fellow pianist and roll arranger Max Kortlander stepped in for Arden on occasion. Arden also continued to turn out great rolls of popular tunes during this time, earning him the title of King of the Piano Roll. The bulk of Victor's compositions were from this period. In either June or July of 1918 Arden shifted gears and labels as he started arranging and playing for QRS, the dominant standard roll manufacturer. It was at QRS that Victor first met pianist Fillmore (Phil) Ohman, who had been there for a couple of years. They found they had similar backgrounds, abilities and points of view concerning performance, and neither lacked the energy to explore new ways to play things. The duo quickly found they could produce some amazing roll arrangements with little effort, and were soon inseparable. Their first QRS rolls started to appear within weeks off Arden joining the firm. Ohman sketched out the general direction of what they would play without full notation, then they would record with Arden in the bass and Ohman in the treble. One critic who observed them up close found Ohman to be the "wag and clown of the pair," calling Arden the "serious minded, painstaking musician." While a slightly imbalanced point of view, Ohman's humor was more likely to come out in his playing, even during serious classical recitals that he accompanied. Both quickly became celebrities both in and outside the circle of jazz performers, and the public proved to be thirsty for their duet piano rolls. Lewis is listed in the 1920 Census as a "musician recorder" living in Yonkers with Ilse, and a new addition, Lewis John Fuiks Jr., born in July of 1919. Son Robert Spindler Fuiks would follow in 1921. While Arden and Ohman continued to make rolls both together and separately, Phil, through praise brought for his public performances, was offered a job in the fast-rising orchestra of Paul Whiteman, the so-called "King of Jazz." Not able to keep all his various positions, Ohman had to quit QRS and break up the duo for a while. Victor would continue to do duets through the mid 1920s, but with Kortlander, who he had been playing with since joining QRS, filling in for Ohman. Victor also kept busy with outside obligations. The All Star Trio expanded from 1921 to 1922 as the All Star Trio with Orchestra, featuring the distinctive Billy Murray on vocals. They signed a contract with the B.F. Keith Vaudeville Circuit for a 1922 tour. While the job with Whiteman was both good for his exposure as well as making connections, Ohman realized, as did Arden, that it was less fulfilling than their duo performances. So after a year or so he quite Whiteman's orchestra and concentrated on local gigs with Arden. They built their repertoire playing in clubs in midtown Manhattan, particularly on 52nd Street, and finally went into the studio late in 1923 to record live as a duo. Among their eclectic choices were the 1888 galop Dance of the Demons by multi-piano composer Eduard Holst and the popular rag turned song Canadian Capers. They were also one of the earliest piano duos to appear on radio as early as 1922, and were featured in one notable broadcast on wireless Chicago station KYW on April 11, 1925, for an estimated audience of 300,000 listeners. Phil had further exposure on the popular Roxy and His Gang Show which was broadcast from the Capitol theater where Ohman had worked. He brought Arden on for occasional appearances on the show.The performances were a sensation, and Broadway soon discovered them as well, knowing that they would be an additional draw to certain shows. The use of dual pianists or pianos was not new on Broadway, but their reputation was about as solid as their first Broadway employer/collaborator, Gershwin himself. So it was that they co-led the pit orchestra for Lady Be Good in 1924. According to the January 3, 1925 edition of The Music Trade Review: "An interesting anecdote relative to the two Story & Clark small grands being used by Phil Ohman and Victor Arden in the musical show 'Lady Be Good,'... was told this week by L. Schoenewald, New York district manager of the Story & Clark Piano Co. 'The original arrangement was that two of our pianos were to be used by the show when it opened in Philadelphia... but an error on the part of the stage carpenters resulted in building of the special moving platform too small to hold them. Although they had requested Story & Clark grands, Ohman and Arden were compelled to play their duet numbers on two 4 feet 8 grands of different make during the Philadelphia engagement. They were not satisfied with the tone of these pianos, so on coming to New York Victor Arden prevailed on the management to enlarge the platform to hold our 5 feet 2 inch grands. It has afforded the Story & Clark Piano Co. much pleasure to realize that our pianos are held in such esteem by two such talented pianists as Phil Ohman and Victor Arden.' Gershwin started what would become a popular trend throughout the remainder of the 1920s and into the 1930s, supported in the end by the economy of having two pianists and requiring less orchestra personnel. This trend was noted in The Music Trade Review of July 16, 1927, in the following excerpt: Piano Duos Featured in Both Productions and Over the Radio as Well as in Moving Picture Theatres—Wide Variety of Effects Obtainable
A FORM of presentation of popular numbers which during the past season has reached a new point of popularity is the piano duo as exemplified by nearly half a dozen teams of pianists featured in the orchestra pits of the leading musical comedy successes. The use of specially arranged numbers for four hands is a practice older than jazz itself and originated many years ago in the recording studios of the pioneers in music roll making. Since that time, with the development of the augmented dance orchestra, the employment of two pianos has followed the trend of the day and the sparkle of special choruses for the pianists in skillful teamwork has become one of the bright spots of an evening at the dance floor or cabaret. About three years ago Phil Ohman and Victor Arden, seasoned recording pianists, were featured in a specialty in "Lady, Be Good," a George Gershwin musical show. This started things for the theatrical presentation of piano duos and the same team appeared the following year in the pit of the Gershwin show, "Tip Toes." Here the effect was more impressive than in the previous engagement, where they had appeared on the stage but only for a short time. In the second show the two pianos were an integral part of the orchestra during the entire evening. Anyone susceptible at all to rhythmic and harmonic effects in popular music will not soon forget the thrill of hearing the arpeggio passages of Phil Ohman on the upper register of his piano in the number, "That Certain Feeling," of Gershwin. The pianists had carefully gone over the entire score with the composer in rehearsals and every place that afforded a pianistic "break" or embellishment was so treated. The result was a score far more brilliant and individual than is customarily heard from the orchestra pit and a new custom was started... But the spread of popularity of the piano due has not ended in the theatre. The radio, too, has developed favorites in four-hand interpretation of the latest hits. Phil Ohman moved from QRS to Aeolian in July, 1925, to cut Duo-Art rolls, effectively ending the six year run of QRS duets he had done with Arden. However, it was not the end of their partnership by any means. Their first Broadway success would be followed by more Gershwin shows such as Tip Toes in 1925, Oh, Kay in 1926, and Funny Face in 1927. Other shows included Treasure Girl in 1928, both Spring is Here and Heads Up in 1929.
It should be noted that when they were billed in any venue that the order of their names did not matter to them, the sign of a solid partnership. They were also sought out in the late 1920s, as many New York acts were, by Warner Brothers for a few Vitaphone sound shorts, one of the first being The Piano Dualists in 1927. They were later seen and heard playing Dancing the Devil Away in the 1930 RKO musical The Cuckoos. Arden turned out many interesting arrangements during the 1920s of dance tunes on record, many sold very cheaply in Woolworths and similar outlets, making his name perhaps even better known than Ohman's. One of their contemporary critics, Gay Stevens, said the following concerning this formidable duo: "There is not a piano player in the land who, after hearing Ohman and Arden interpret a piece of jazz music on their two pianos, has not wanted to throw his piano out of the window. The keyboard magic of this duo-team has been the inspiration and despair of every real American youngster who sedulously practiced his Czerny with a secret desire to win excited gasps of admiration from the fair young things in his circle by his jazz piano playing." Arden, Ohman and Kortlander appeared together often for QRS promotions in the mid 1920s, playing live performances of their collective solo and duet piano rolls in addition the occasional trio. While Victor and Phil often performed just with the piano, the Arden-Ohman orchestra was started in 1925, initially for recording but later for both live performance and radio work. It was the latter that gave them their best overall exposure in the late 1920s through the first part of the Great Depression. In addition to this live duo, Arden went back to work for Ampico in the spring of 1928, turning out new popular roll arrangements. As announced in The Music Trade Review of February 11, 1928: "J. Milton Delcamp, vice-president of the Ampico Corp., announces that arrangements have been made with Victor Arden, the well known young American pianist and devotee of popular music to record his playing exclusively for Ampico records [rolls] in the future. Mr. Arden, a graduate of the University of Chicago and of the American Conservatory of Music of that city, came to New York several years ago, and in company with Phil Ohman has played in a number of musical comedy successes and has also been a member of Roxy's Gang." This job soon expanded into a series of duets with Ampico roll artist Adam Carroll. Carroll subsequently briefly joined Arden and Ohman to create a piano trio for a few performances on radio and for special functions. From 1928 to the mid 1930s, Arden and Carroll turned out over 60 rolls with their names on them. However, while some may have been arranged initially by Arden, many were filled in (and some created) by Frank Milne at the factory (often edited with colored pencils on Milne's kitchen table). They are still often considered to at least be in the style of Arden and Carroll, even if not entirely played by them. Both turned out rolls separately as well, but the player piano business faded fairly quickly as the Great Depression set in and free entertainment was available via radio.
Realizing that the best possible future for success was on the radio, the most effective medium of the 1930s, the dynamic piano duo re-teamed and hit the airwaves. Arden and Ohman had no issue finding good sponsorship, playing for everything from news programs to two or three numbers advertising toothpaste or fine watches. Some of their musical shows included The Bayer Music Review, The Buick Program, and the landmark American Album of Familiar Music. But the stresses of performance partnership eventually interfered, more on the professional level than on the personal level, and in 1934 Arden and Ohman split to go different directions, remaining friends. The duo reunited for one more recording session on Brunswick in 1935. Ilse Fuiks had her own hobby as well, dabbling in the world of equestrian competitions. She owned a few different horses during the 1930s, including one fine jumper named Happy Days. While Ohman went on to some fame in Hollywood, Arden chose to stay back east where radio was still the predominant form of entertainment during the waning days of the Great Depression. He was able to secure work as both pianist and conductor on NBC (National Broadcasting System), including such shows as Kings of Melody, Sweetest Love Songs Ever and Broadway Varieties. Arden also worked and recorded with his own dance band, but with all the other engagements he had to keep it fizzled out before too long. He also filled in for leader Abe Lyman on many occasions, conducting for his popular Waltz Time shows. Arden enjoyed one last stretch on Broadway playing for the revue George White's Scandals of 1939. Lewis and Ilse were still living in Yonkers as of 1944 when their younger son, Lieutenant Robert Fuiks, USNR, was first engaged to Thirsa Burr Sands that October. In the 1940s during World War II, he continued to make records with various orchestras, and was featured on the Manhattan Merry-Go-Round for a while in 1947, eventually landing steady spot on The American Melody Hour near the end of the decade. In the 1950s Arden again led an orchestra, this time behind the charismatic Dick Powell, the singing star of many MGM movies. One of his last projects was a reincarnation of his first group, the All Star Trio, after which he went into retirement. He had moved from Yonkers in 1951, buying an apartment at Douglas Park, located at W. 236th Street and Henry Hudson Parkway in Riverdale. Lewis was remarried in the 1950s to Frances Newsom. During his last few years the couple lived at 77 Park Avenue in Manhattan. His former partner Phil Ohman died in the summer of 1954. Lewis Fuiks a.k.a. Victor Arden died almost exactly eight years later in 1962 at age 69 leaving behind a wealth of recordings allowing us a look into some of the most exciting music of the 1920s and 1930s. His work both alone and with Ohman brought a vitality to the driving rhythms and languid ballads of the 1920s and beyond, making the player piano a glamorous instrument, and its listeners always wanting more. Thanks to New Zealand piano roll historian Robert Perry for additional information and clarification on Arden's career with various piano roll companies, and for the Gay Stevens quote. For more on piano roll artists, please visit him at www.pianola.co.nz. The remaining information was researched by the author in public records, periodicals and recorded media. |
Felix Arndt, regarded by some as the earliest proponent of the novelty piano style, was born to royalty, at least in a sense. His mother, Charlotte [Harpeur] Arndt (5/1851), was born in Spain to a French father and Spanish mother. Charlotte was known as the Countess Fevrier of France, and was reportedly related to Napoleon III. (She was mistakenly listed as Carolyn in the 1910 Census.) Felix's father, Andreas W. Hugo Arndt (2/1853), was a carpenter born in Switzerland. The couple married in Manhattan in 1888. Felix also had a younger sister, Charlotte A. Arndt (12/1890). Born in New York, Felix was educated in the New York City public school system, greatly improved as the influence of Tammany Hall was waning,
and usually fostering those who wanted to play instruments in the requisite school band. He took up the piano on his own, but later sought out advanced training in harmony and theory. One of his professors was pianist Carl Lachmund, who was a follower of Franz Liszt. Carl's son Arno F. Lachmund would one day work indirectly with Felix while employed by Duo-Art. Once out of school, Arndt's talent for arranging was quickly recognized by publishers, and he got a job composing special material on demand for several years, including for vaudeville stars such as the husband and wife team of Nora Bayes and Jack Norworth, and often with fellow composer Gus Edwards (although specific titles have not surfaced to date and may have been disposed of after use). His steady gig for a time was as the organist for New York’s famed Trinity Church, right on Wall Street and a focal point in the days following the WTC disaster of 2001. He was shown in 1910 as still living with his family, and as a musician working for a publisher. Charlotte is shown as a stenographer working for a publisher, possibly the same one. One of his more fortuitous breaks came in 1912 when Felix joined banjoist Fred Van Eps and his brother Bill Van Eps on a second banjo to form the Van Eps Trio, the first of many such groups led by Fred. Van Eps had already been recording for Victor Records, so had no problem bringing Felix into the fold. They also accepted him as a soloist, and this started a flurry of recording activity over the next several years. Felix would cut at least 30 keyboard solo sides in addition to his recordings of the trio, and 5 with mandolin player Dr. Clarence Penny. Many of the sides also featured Felix playing the delicate keyboard celesta. He also debuted many of his own compositions simultaneously on record and piano roll over the next few years. After several cuts in 1912 there were curiously no sides from 1913, but as it turns out, Felix was pretty busy. Another bit of good fortune came in 1913 when Arndt started at Universal Music Company during the advent of "hand-played" piano rolls. As announced in the Music Trade Review of March 15, 1913: "The Universal Music Co., 29 West Forty-second street, New York, is calling the attention of the trade to. the fact that Felix Arndt has just signed a contract to compose, arrange and play for the Uni-Record. Felix Arndt needs no introduction to lovers of popular music, either as a player or composer, as his renditions are known from one end of the country to the other." Even though he was signed at first as an "exclusive" artists, Arndt soon managed to get work with other concerns as well. Being a fine arranger and pianist, the position with Universal allowed him the opportunity to advance his skills when applied to other composer's works, and helped him in his compositions as well. The following year, Arndt also became a staff musician for Aeolian Hall, creating Duo-Art reproducing rolls in the Popular Music genre. In his nearly five years for the two companies he reportedly created over 3,000 rolls, which would equate to three or four on an average work day. It should be noted that he was not confined to popular works only, taking on many well-known classics, operas, and even contemporary composers such as Claude Debussy in his own inimitable style. However, many of these rolls were sometimes re-released under multiple sub-labels, so that number was likely substantially smaller, yet still astonishing given the time frame. It was during this period that he penned the first of a series of compositions that are now considered to be classic novelties, A Symphonic Nightmare: Desecration Rag (#1). It is an amusing send up of well known symphonic pieces in a complex syncopated format. This was followed by the unusual From Soup to Nuts, and a piece that would be the harbinger of genius yet to come, Marionette, although the latter would not be fully released until 1917. Felix was a charter member of ASCAP, founded by several musicians in 1914 in an effort to provide a focal registration point for protecting copyrights and distributing royalties. In late 1914 or early 1915 Felix met his famous muse, Nola B. Locke, a professional singer with the St. Louis symphony, and a vocal teacher and capable pianist as well. She was born in DeQueen, Arkansas, near Monroe, on July 11, 1889 to real-estate agent George Todd Locke and his wife Callie Blanche (Dooley) Locke. She was in the middle of six children in the family of three girls and three boys, the youngest boy dying in infancy in 1900. George died a year later in 1901. Nola was on her own as of the 1910 Census, living in St. Louis and likely working as a teacher at that time, having not yet been engaged by the Symphony. The circumstances of how she met Felix are unclear, but in her obituary it was stated that Nola had traveled to New York to find a better situation for her vocal talents. Soon after they met the couple was engaged, and Felix wrote his signature piece in honor of the occasion, Nola - A Silhouette for the Piano. A lilting tune made up largely of interesting patterns, and melodic lines that utilize both hands and span pretty much the entire keyboard, it was a much admired template for what would become the genre of novelty piano in the 1920s. Written and copyrighted in late 1915 it was first published and recorded early in 1916. Several months after the piece was composed they were happily wed. A later attempt to turn it into a relatively unsingable song version with lyrics by added by James F. Burns was met with lukewarm response, the difficult pairing proven by a vocal recording of the piece. Felix performed both on record and live with variations of the Van Eps group, but at some point pianist Frank Edgar Banta started to fill in from time to time. Banta would eventually take over the piano spot in the group by 1916, partially at the insistence of Victor management who liked that particular combination. However, it was over the next two years from 1916 to 1918 that Felix really started to find his niche as a composer as well as a performer. There was a second Desecration, An Operatic Nightmare: Desecration Rag #2 (the first was renumbered at this time), and a nice dance piece titled Clover Club. On some of the many rolls wo which Felix applied his flying fingers, Nola also accompanied him and got credit for their duets.Right around the time of World War I was when young George Gershwin looked briefly to Arndt as a mentor of sorts. Felix likely got George his job with Aeolian Hall on 42nd Street in Manhattan in early 1916, potentially inspiring or even contributing a bit to the single rag that Gershwin wrote, Rialto Ripples. It has been suggested that Felix may have introduced George to his friend Irving Caesar, with which Gershwin would later pen his first and biggest hit, Swanee. Felix's 1917 draft card shows him as an employee of Aeolian, and the sole support for Nola and her mother. His parents were still in Manhattan, and his sister Charlotte had recently married Alex Alexander. They subsequently had a daughter in 1918 named Elaine, and continued to live with Hugo and Charlotte for some time. On January 1, 1918, Felix added yet another notch on the ladder of success when he started with the now-dominant QRS piano roll company. They were also fortunate to have signed him exclusively to their label. He put his own full page announcement under his portrait in the trades in February, 1918: To the Music Industry:
Throughout 1918 Arndt turned out a torrent of rolls with dynamic arrangements. There were some issues of the trade papers in which his name might be seen associated with four different companies on the same page. Overall, he had recorded hits for Universal (including their Uni-Record line), Aeolian (including their Duo-Art, Metro-Style Themodist and Metro-Art lines), the Wilcox and White Company (including their Angelus line), the A.B. Chase Reproducing Piano Company,After six years' experience recording for different roll cutters, I have come to the conclusion that there is a wonderful field for this line of work and owing to the Q R S Company's various line of rolls and complete organization, my best interests lie in recording for them exclusively, except, of course, that I shall continue to play for the Victor Talking Machine Company. I wish to take this opportunity of thanking you, my friends, who have been so kind as to express your appreciation of my work and believe that this new arrangement will offer greater possibilities for us both. Sincerely, Felix Arndt. Perfection and QRS. Other companies featuring his work would tout him as the well-known player of rolls, even though he was working for the competition.Then the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic struck the world, and New York City was hit hard. According to the account in the Music Trade Review of October 26, 1918: "Mr. Arndt contracted cold on October 8, which developed into pneumonia, causing his death on October 16." The final analysis was that his system was weakened, and the influenza quickly overtook him at that point. This deadly sickness deprived the world of Felix Arndt shortly before WWI had ended. Arndt was interred at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Tarrytown, New York. Nola went on with her life, and interestingly enough was known to have lived for a time with their mutual friend Caesar. Following her late husband's lead in the music business, she contributed the lyrics to Nobody Loves Me Now by Billy Tracey in 1922. While not readily found in the 1920 Census, she was located in 1930 married to a Russian immigrant construction company president, Henry Mandel, working as a musician doing private concerts. A another song with lyrics by Nola appeared in 1938, Mia Cara (My Dear) with Oscar Malanga. From the late 1940s into the 1950s Nola worked as a music and drama coach in New York City. Little is known about the remainder of her life. Nola died in Manhattan on July 19, 1977. She was buried with her first love in the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Tarrytown. As for her namesake composition, it continued to grow in popularity for decades after Felix's death. As noted in the February 28, 1925 edition of the Music Trade Review: The popularity of the number was immediate, demonstrating that the public, while favoring popular music, appreciates compositions of the better type. The original sales on this number were also produced by the renditions of pianists who gave it its initial popularity and who successfully presented it in the same manner as that of the composer. In 1922 Vincent Lopez and His Hotel Pennsylvania Orchestra rendered "Nola" as a fox-trot for the first time and later it was one of their features by radio. This quickly established "Nola" as a dance number and the publisher immediately forwarded orchestrations in fox-trot time to the leading orchestra leaders in all parts of the country. It undoubedly became the outstanding instrumental hit of 1922 and the early part of 1923 and, of course, continues to maintain much of its popularity. In 1923 Adelaide and Hughes, Florence Walton and Maurice and Lenora Hughes took up "Nola" as a special feature dance number. This brought further popularity to this offering. Bill Baker used it in the Music Box Revue for a full season. George Carey, xylophone soloist of Sousa's band, and the popular pianists, Roy Bargy, Frank Banta, Joseph Daily, as well as Frederick Fradkin, the solo violinist, played the number with unusual success. The latter also recorded the number with his own original arrangement for Brunswick records. Jascha Gurewich, the saxophone virtuoso, has proclaimed this number the greatest instrumental novelty ever written and many other outstanding artists seem to have a similar opinion. The publisher is firmly of the belief that 'Nola' has not reached its peak and is anticipating that before the year is over the demand and sales for this charming composition will have increased double to what they are at the present time. Nola managed to remain in print throughout the 20th century, selling millions of copies to hopeful pianists who wanted to try and catch that unique style. It was available as a popular piano duet as well. Overall the piece became perhaps the best seller in the catalog of Sam Fox who also had acquired many other Arndt compositions. By the late 1920s, Lopez had made it his theme song, preserving his arrangement on film in 1932 in the first of the Big Broadcast films and giving it constant radio exposure as well. A quickly rendered performance of it was heard in the orchestra introduction in the 1930 two-strip Technicolor film King of Jazz, starring Paul Whiteman and his orchestra. Guitarist Les Paul even had a top-ten with it in the 1950s using his revolutionary multi-tracking guitar recording technique. In the 21st century pianist Sue Keller has become associated with the tune, which was a favorite of her mother.
Arndt's music and style were most certainly influential on a number of composers of the 1920s, and they help provide us a continuation of his legacy and the amazing potential he possessed. | ||||||||||||||
Roy Bargy was born in Newaygo, Michigan, to Frederick and Jessie Bargy, the youngest of two children including his sister Myrtle (8/1888). However, he grew up mostly in Toledo, Ohio. He began to study piano at age five and proved to be a child prodigy at the instrument. Fred Bargy was listed as a musician in the 1900 Census, so likely had some direct influence on his son's talent and musical direction.
Roy continued taking lessons for 12 years and developed as a very competent classical pianist. Roy had aspirations of becoming a concert artist, but the thinking of the time was that serious pianists needed to study in Europe in order to be seriously regarded within classical music circles, a practice that continued into the 1940s. Family economics made this dream impossible to achieve at that time, as by 1910 his father was no longer working as a musician, but instead was listed as a market superintendent.Discouraged but not daunted, Roy began to hang around the growing Toledo jazz community and, still in his teens, found work playing piano and organ in silent movie houses. Roy also organized his own pickup orchestra, which played for school dances. He took lessons in both organ and piano with C. Max Ecker of Toledo for as long as seven years. Roy often cited Ecker as the person responsible for the development of his dazzling technique. He claimed to have attended no music conservatory, and beyond his time with Ecker to have never studied composition, harmony, theory, or similar courses that most arrangers and composers were taking at that time. His knowledge in these fields was mostly self-taught, and came from his observation of how the instruments in an orchestra complimented or interplayed with each other. Roy's 1917 draft card shows him listed as a musician playing for a Toledo country club. He ended up being enlisted for five months of 1918, serving in the Army in Central Officer's Training School in Georgia, and was honorably discharged at the end of November. In a Music Trade Review article of September 13, 1919, it was noted that: "Mr. Bargy was in an officers' training camp when the Germans resigned, and while in the service was a great organizer of bands and orchestras among the soldiers. He has played in many parts of the country and wherever he has appeared his true musicianship has been appreciated." In the summer of 1919, Bargy auditioned for pianist Charley Straight, manager of the Imperial Player Rolls company. He was asked to arrange a pop tune for roll. The initial cut was so good that Bargy was quickly hired and the tune was put into their catalog. Straight cultivated Roy's arranging abilities as he was assigned to record novelties and popular songs. He soon challenged Bargy to compose some of his own novelties in an effort to compete with rising star Zez Confrey of QRS. Bargy came back with six of the Eight Piano Syncopations that were every bit as innovative as Confrey's (with whom he became a long-time friend), but his pieces were not quite as accessible to the average pianist.
It was Straight that introduced Bargy to booking agent, Edgar Benson, who had just formed a dance orchestra which was slated to record for Victor Records. Benson was impressed by Bargy's skills and took him on as both pianist and musical director. The Victor recordings of The Benson Orchestra, which were very progressive for the time, helped secure many other bookings for Bargy as a pianist and arranger for other recording bands such as Isham Jones. Roy married to his first wife Gretchen, also from Toledo, around this time. Their daughter Jeanne was born in 1922. Patricia followed in 1924. After creative conflicts with Benson in late 1921, Bargy left to launch his own orchestra, taking many members of Benson's group with him. He was helped by music entrepreneur Ernie Young, who managed not only to get Bargy's group booked for a solid year at the Trianon Ballroom in Chicago, but made certain that the group was the highest paid dance orchestra in the country in 1923. But the group disbanded after only a couple of years, after which Bargy joined the Isham Jones organization for a while. Roy traveled with that group to England and Europe in 1925, shown arriving back in the United States on the Mauretania on December 8, 1925. Roy had also done a couple of recordings with Arthur Pryor's band earlier in the year. In 1926 Bargy continued again with his own orchestra, this time playing at the Hotel Stevens in Chicago. In May 1927 Roy was signed by Ampico as a roll recording artist. Bargy then migrated to Paul Whiteman's orchestra in 1928, quickly becoming Whiteman's musical assistant. Whiteman had been looking for a sound beyond the conventional dance band, and Bargy's arrangements provided much of that sound, some of them commissioned even before he joined the orchestra. Bargy claimed he joined Whiteman's organization so he could go to Europe with the group, which did happen in short order. Roy's piano was the featured attraction in Whiteman's film debut of George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue in King of Jazz, released in 1930. Bargy was partially responsible for the symphonic arrangement of Rhapsody in Blue, which varied in many ways from the original jazz band arrangement by his colleague Ferdé Grofé. His pianistic skills were also utilized on some of the early recordings made by Whiteman's star singer, Bing Crosby and the famous Rhythm Boys. In the 1930 Census Roy is difficult to locate as he was on tour, Gretchen and two daughters were living in his home base of Toledo. During the 1930s when Bargy wasn't playing with Whiteman during the occasional hiatus of the group, he would again assemble his own orchestra to work during the tour breaks. He and his groups continued to record for Victor Records, and were frequently heard on national radio broadcasts, mostly on NBC stations. As a member of the Whiteman Orchestra Roy became one of the premier interpreters of Rhapsody in Blue, and as of 1938 likely held the record for the number of performances of the work by one pianist. Soon after it was premiered, he was also featured in many performances of Gershwin's highly challenging Concerto in F. Bargy was also the assistant conductor, put in charge whenever Whiteman left the podium. In 1940, Bargy left Whiteman after a twelve year stint to arrange and conduct radio orchestras and bands. These included gigs with Lanny Ross (with whom he recorded some Irish tunes), Garry Moore, and famed Latin bandleader Xavier Cugat.In a 1937 article published in Amarillo, Texas in September, 1937, Roy looked back on his fortunes and success. In spite of his lack of formal music education, Bargy said: "I certainly don't wish to discourage people from going to the conservatory and studying those courses which I did not have... Nevertheless, I believe the method I followed of studying privately with one excellent piano teacher for some seven or eight years, and the way I had to dig out my extra musical knowledge alone, was the best thing for me." When asked if his former instructor, Max Ecker, was proud of his achievements, he continued: "Proud of me? Oh no, he's disappointed! He thinks it's been very fine for me to be with a great orchestra like Whiteman's, but he doesn't think that is my field. He accepts the concert stage for me and nothing else." Bargy also made it clear that he liked his work on the radio more than anything else at that time. Comedian Jimmy Durante, himself a competent pianist who got his start playing at Coney Island during the ragtime era, hired Bargy as musical director in 1943, and it was in this capacity that he remained until both of them retired from show business two decades later. Bargy and his orchestra were featured on the radio weekly on the show that originally starred both Durante and Moore on NBC radio. When Moore went to TV, Durante re-teamed with Alan Young, and retained Bargy for radio and live appearances. Roy's daughter Jeanne had debuted at age 13 on WPSD radio in Toledo in the mid 1930s as "the Voice of the Blues." She started to make a name for herself as a pianist and singer in the mid 1940s, appearing at various venues around the country, and favoring the style of her mother's good friend, singer Mildred Bailey. Jeanne also had a stint on CBS radio from 1948 to 1949. While the circumstances are not fully clear yet (still being researched), Roy, now remarried to Virginia Bargy, two decades his junior, acquired two more children by adoption, who appear to possibly be a brother and sister born in South Dakota. Roger Michael (MacLean) Bargy (03/08/1941) and Susan M. (MacLean) Bargy (c.1945) became members of the Bargy clan in the mid 1940s. An unfortunate accident involving a soda pop bottle exploding resulted in Roger losing his left eye in 1948, to which Roy sued the company (unnamed in the news reports) on Roger's behalf for $25,486. There were two bits of nostalgic resurgence involving Roy in the early 1950s. The first was a series of brilliant interpretations of his early piano novelties by performer Ray Turner, who was known as "The Hollywood Pianist" due to his soundtrack work that made actors sound like accomplished musicians. Turner's recordings for Capitol Records appeared both as solos on a 16" radio transcription and on two albums as well, the pioneering Honky Tonk Piano and Turner's own Kitten on the Keys. There was also a brief reunion of Roy with Paul Whiteman in 1953 when the two played along with others in a traveling revue. An ad for them in Reno in July, 1953, shows the "King of Jazz" on the same bill as the "Piano Extraordinary" of Bargy along with some teen-aged musical acts from Whiteman's television show. Unfortunately, performing became more difficult for Roy in the mid to late 1950s due to the onset of arthritis, so appearances by Bargy with Whiteman or Durante diminished throughout the decade. One of their last performances together was for Durante's Fiftieth Anniversary in Show Business special, broadcast in full color on NBC Television on August 9, 1961. Roy spent the remainder of his years in the California sunshine playing golf for enjoyment, but also helping his second wife Virginia with the Country Day School she founded in Vista, CA. Students have memories of him as both the cook for lunch time, as well as the entertainer from time to time for assemblies or casual afternoons. Their daughter, Jeanne, composed lyrics and some music for several stage productions throughout the 1960s with composer Jim Eiler, including some that were broadcast on NBC Television. Susan was married in 1964 in San Diego, then after a divorce married again in 1973 in Santa Barbara. Novelty pianist extraordinaire Roy Bargy died in his home in early 1974 after a fruitful career in music and helping with the Counrty Day School. It is reported that Virginia, who moved in with one of their daughters (likely Patricia) after his death, likely disposed of some additional compositions or arrangements that he had kept around their house. Roger (a.k.a. Michael) died in 1981 on Roy's birthday in San Diego. Virginia Bargy survived Roy until April, 2005, and Susan is still around as of this writing, as is Patricia. Although Bargy left behind only a few compositions, his contributions to recorded jazz are considerable but hard to measure because he left his imprint in so many places. Thanks to to ragtime researcher Robert Bradford, a friend of Susan Bargy, who was able to provide a few pieces of information on Bargy and his later years. The remaining information was culled by the author from public records, periodicals and collective writings on novelty piano, including piano roll catalogs. | |||||||||||
Jimmy Blythe represents another case of a working musician/composer who had some moderate success, yet very little is known about him outside of ragtime and boogie piano circles. He was born to former slaves turned sharecroppers Richard D. Blythe and Rena (Stovall) Blythe in South Keene, Kentucky, just southwest of Lexington. James was the youngest of five surviving siblings out of a total of eleven born to the couple. Others included Dovie (4/1880) who died in childhood, Bessie (7/1882), Effie (2/1886), Mary M. (11/1889), and Aubrey (7/1897). At least one sibling born after James had died by 1910.
The Blythe family was living together when the 1900 Census was taken before Jimmy's birth. However, by 1910 their situation had changed. They had moved to Lexington, and may have fallen on hard times in the process. Rena was working as a servant in the home of Florent Wilson. Effie and Mary were working as cooks and boarding with widow Emma Ross as well as a cousin, Lana Stovall. Richard and Jimmy were difficult to locate in that record or the 1910 Miracord, but it is known they were still living in Lexington with James working as a janitor or day laborer. The extent of Jimmy's early involvement with the piano is not well known, nor if he received any type of training in Lexington. Given the situation it seems that he may have learned simply by observing other ragtime performers and imitating their style. Not being found in the Census also suggests living conditions that probably precluded regular schooling.In the mid 1910s Effie married C.V. Merritt of Illinois and subsequently moved to south side of Chicago. Mary and her new husband Mario Slaughter were not far behind and moved in with the couple, as did Bessie. She also shows as having been married to a Mr. Clark, but her husband was not living with the rest of the group in 1920. Jimmy came to Chicago in the late 1910s (reports vary, but 1917 to 1918 seems most likely). In the January 1920 Census Jimmy is difficult to locate. He had been living with Effie, but was not present for the Census or had moved out of the Wabash Avenue home of his sisters. Once in Chicago Blythe hooked up with transplanted Ohio ragtime/blues pianist Clarence M. Jones, who was classically trained, but already had some ragtime song successes to his name. Jones ran his own studio in Chicago's south side. As jazz started to enter the musical lexicon he quickly adapted to it and was able to teach some of the art of performance to Jimmy. While little else is known of his time in Chicago from 1919 to 1922, it is likely Jimmy was also exposed to a number of fine pianists and band musicians, and had played in a few public venues. His break came in 1922 when Jimmy was hired by the Columbia Music Roll Company. He set to work recording popular songs and instrumentals of the day at a breakneck pace with increasing originality. Modeling some of his style on what he learned from Jones, Jimmy took the increasingly popular moving octave and boogie bass and applied them to some of the recordings, both for standard home use and multi-song commercial rolls. While not all of them are properly attributed, it has been estimated that Blythe recorded as many as three hundred rolls for Columbia, and then for Capital when the company was reorganized in 1924.In spite of the limitations of paper rolls which had varying note resolutions, no dynamics, and often only edited sustain pedal punchings, Blythe's excellent performance skills still cut through and his rolls became quite popular. He was able to take simple popular songs and create an engaging performance from them in short order. Many of these were taken from the simple sheet music and expanded to include blues riffs, stride or boogie-woogie bass, and even pseudo-novelty figures. Musicians around Chicago and beyond worked to emulate his engaging style as his fame grew. In April 1924 Blythe entered the recording studio and started to cut sides for Paramount Records (no affiliation with the film company of the same name). Some of his material, including songs written with his friend Alex J. Robinson, had already been covered by other artists on that label, so he had a head start. His first tracks, Armour Avenue Struggle and Chicago Stomp, had the rolling boogie-woogie blues bass pattern throughout. This ostensibly made him the first boogie-woogie pianist to be recorded on record, but verification or agreement of this fact is a matter of semantics on this point. It has also been suggested that his recording of Jimmie Blues from 1925 influenced Pine Top's Boogie Woogie recorded by Clarence "Pine Top" Smith in 1928, and some of the work of boogie-woogie player Albert Ammons. Over the next few years, Blythe recorded with a variety of his own ensembles, some assembled just for recording. These included in approximate order Blythe's Sinful Five, Jimmy Blythe and his Ragamuffins, Blythe's Washboard Band, Blythe's Washboard Ragamuffins, Blythe's Owls, The State Street Ramblers, The Dixie Four and The Midnight Rounders. Many of these ensembles featured clarinetist Jimmy O'Bryant who Blythe apparently favored. Jimmy also played on sessions with Jimmy Bertrand's Washboard Wizards, and two fine piano duets each with Jim "Buddy" Burton and Charlie Clark, who was the son of his sister Bessie, working at that time as a barber. Their single piano recording of Bow to Your Papa, reproduced on piano roll as Regal Stomp, has become a blues and stride classic. Paramount was not the only company looking to use Blythe. With his groups or other artists he also cut sides for Vocalion Records, Okeh Records, and Gennett and their subsidiary Champion Records. In addition, he worked with musicians like reed player Johnny Dodds and accompanied a number of singers such as Sodarisa Miller and Gertrude "Ma" Rainey, though not always properly credited. Collectively between his solo and ensemble records and his piano rolls, Jimmy accumulated a wealth of approximately five hundred recordings in just nine years, a feat that has rarely been paralleled, and for that time in society only approached by a couple of other African-American artists.While many of the left hand lines of Blythe's compositions and recordings have a similar theme or style, he still did manage some distinction in many of his original works. Some were recorded by other artists, and he even co-wrote some on the spot with performers, including Priscilla Stewart and Trixie Smith. The family was also in on the act as his sister Mary contributed to Have Mercy. Another contributor he met around 1924, an amateur pianist named Janice (sometimes Jannie) from Louisiana, became his wife near the end of the year. Together they composed Midnight Strutters. Jimmy's most frequent partner was singer Alex Robinson who was married to Aletha Dickerson of Paramount Records. Listings in the pioneering black newspaper The Chicago Defender, and occasionally in other Chicago papers, show Jimmy and Alex playing from time to time on Chicago radio station KYW in 1926 and 1927. Aletha's role should not be downplayed in the life of Jimmy or many black musicians. Starting as a secretary with Paramount she eventually helped to cultivate the talent and get their works published. In the case of Jimmy she got co-credit on at least two of his pieces. One of them, Fat Meat and Greens, was covered by no less than "Jelly Roll" Morton. Most of his compositions remained on record or piano roll. However, at least a couple were published by Chicago music school czar Axel Christensen, who also may have inadvertently taken credit for a couple more Blythe originals. His biggest hit, at least amongst performers, was Mecca Flat Blues, the title referencing a large and sometimes controversial apartment complex built in the 1890s. It also found its way into print in a Paramount produced folio arranged in part by Aletha Dickerson.
As of the 1930 Census Jimmy was living on South Michigan Avenue with Mary and her husband Mario, Bessie who had been recently widowed, and her son Charlie. He listed himself as a musician, while Mario was a janitor and Charlie was working for a barber. It appears that Janice, who very little is known about, was separated from Jimmy and living on East 44th Street. Both of them indicated that they were still married, however, so the circumstances are unclear. The couple never had children. Not quite a month after he turned 30, Blythe contracted meningitis and within a few days was gone. Fortunately a great deal of his piano work was left behind to be discovered by future generations of boogie-woogie and stride pianists, and is still performed decades later in the 21st century. His role in fostering the growth of boogie or boogie-woogie piano has been challenged over time. It was a style that evolved from barrelhouses, largely in the Chicago area, but boogie-woogie was also heard in Kansas City and even Texas concurrently with early Chicago boogie blues. What Blythe did was to use his talent and musical charisma to get the style heard, showing it could be applied to popular music, not just blues. While Clarence "Pine Top" Smith is known as the guy to set the template and helped to provide the name for boogie-woogie blues with his early recordings, Blythe preceded him in utilzing the same left-hand style both on piano rolls and records, and would undoubtedly have been a major player in that genre in the 1930s had he lived. | |||||||||||||
Lou Busch was born to William H. Bush and Irene A. (Eruwein) Bush in Louisville, Kentucky in the midst of the ragtime era and the jazz age. He had an older brother, Richard H. Bush, born in late 1908. When Louis was born his parents were living with Irene's family, the Eruweins. Anna's father Peter was born in France in 1849, but migrated to Kentucky when he was only four years old. In the 1920 Census the Bush family is shown living in Louisville at 731 32nd Street with William listed as a laundry salesman.
Even though the family name was Bush, Lou added the c for Busch at some point in the 1920s, largely for the uniqueness it provided. The change was likely for stage purposes and not completed legally. One of his California death records indicates Busch while another one plus his Social Security and Army enlistment records indicate Bush. Truly blessed with an inherent music talent, he was already leading a ragtime and jazz band by the time he was 12 years old. At 13 Lou led a combo called Lou Bush and His Tickle Toe Four. At 16 he left school and home for a career as a professional musician, playing with the likes of "Hot Lips" Henry Busse, Clyde McCoy and George Olson. One travel manifest shows him working with the McCoy band on a cruise to the Bahamas in 1929. Louisville was still considered his home base, as he was listed there with his brother and parents in the 1930 Census as an orchestra musician.
Following his music education break, Busch became the pianist for Hal Kemp's "sweet music" band for the remainder of the 1930s. Lou also honed his arranging skills, being offered an arranging position when arranger John Scott Trotter left the band in 1936. This position was shared with another key arranger, Hal Mooney, and was invaluable experience for both of them. The Kemp Orchestra had been making short sound films since 1928, and Lou appeared in a few of them between 1936 and 1938, as well as some recordings by the group. After Kemp died December 21, 1940 from complications suffered during a head on automobile crash two days earlier, the group quickly disbanded. Busch and Mooney made their way to California in early 1941 to work as studio musicians and at whatever gigs they could find. This was interrupted by World War Two, which presented an opportunity for Busch to hone both his musical and production skill set. He enlisted on July 27, 1942, in Los Angeles, and was considered immediately for entertainment duty, as his Civil Occupation is shown as a musician and the branch is shown as "Branch Immaterial - Warrant Officers, USA." Busch and many others in his field were considered highly valuable for morale in their entertainment roles. So many groups of musicians were assigned to play behind radio or film stars, and some were also involved with set traveling shows, often performing near the front when not on broadcast duty. Private, and later Lieutenant Busch ultimately spent three years in the Army, utilizing his musical talents from time to time during the war as part of the 1st Radio Production Group of the Army Air Corps. (Glenn Miller headed up the 2nd RPG.) Even this early in his career, Lou did make the news from time to time. While he was in the band he met the band's singer and soon to be Hollywood actress, (Martha) Janet Blair. According to an October 1942 syndicated news item from Hollywood's Louella O. Parsons: "Now we understand why [actress] Janet Blair is not one bit interested in the boys around town. Her heart is in the keeping of Private Lou Busch, stationed at Fort MacArthur and formerly an arranger with the late Hal Kemp's Orchestra. Oh, it is not a new thing by any means. Janet met Lou when she was the canary with the same band and talk is that the gal who is sure to zoom to stardom after My Sister Eileen is released will wed Private Busch very soon." In fact Janet did wed Lieutenant Busch on July 12, 1943. After his tour of duty, Busch decided to dive back into the music business, but desired a more stable position than just a musician. It was around this time that singer Johnny Mercer was recruiting artists and employees for his recently formed label, Capitol Records, so Busch was hired for the radio transcription service in 1946. At the same time he was working part-time with Columbia Pictures recording songs for films. In 1948, Busch was hired full-time at Capitol and put in charge of production of promotional radio shows featuring Capitol artists for distribution to stations around the country. He also helped to score and produce famous cuts from the label including Bonaparte's Retreat by Kay Starr and both Yingle Bells and I Yust Go Nuts at Christmas by Yogi Yorgesson (comedian Harry Stewart. By 1949 Lou had been promoted to A&R (Artist and Repertoire) man given his considerable talent and contacts. During this time he also served as a pianist for studio groups backing singers such as Peggy Lee, "Tennessee" Ernie Ford and Jo Stafford. In early 1950 Lou and Janet split, with Janet claiming mental cruelty and casting Busch as a "born bachelor." Lou was quoted as saying "There will be no sensational charges. We just drifted apart." The couple was divorced in short order after a March 1 hearing. He got married again in August, this time to Capitol singer and rising star Margaret Whiting. She had recently divorced Hubbell Robinson, vice president of CBS Radio. Their daughter, Deborah Louise "Debbi" Busch (now Whiting), was born in October. In a September 1950 interview, Margaret worried that "her baby will sing like her husband, Lou Busch, and play the piano like she, herself does."Three events from this time, all having to do with Capitol Records, helped spur the ragtime revival of the 1950s. Interest in the music of the late 1910s through the 1920s had been growing out of San Francisco for nearly a decade, particularly through Lu Watters, Wally Rose and the Yerba Buena Jazz Band, so the seed had been planted. The first event was bandleader W. Gerhart "Pee Wee" Hunt's surprise hit with Twelfth Street Rag, something recorded simply to use up time at the end of a broadcast transcription in 1948 as a bit of a joke. Since Busch was involved with radio transcriptions as part of his job at the time, he may have been responsible for editing or distributing this particular session. The cut was requested by listeners so often upon broadcast that the demand warranted a single release, and it soon became a runaway hit. The following summer, Busch backed singer Jo Stafford and conductor Paul Weston on the hit record, Ragtime Cowboy Joe. He was also uncredited on the Ray Anthony recording of Spaghetti Rag, another sizable hit. These successes and the moderate hit Sam's Song from late 1949 encouraged both Lou and the label to release his own original single, Ivory Rag, early in 1950. Over the spring it became a bigger hit than the previous two in both the U.S. and overseas. It was also the first piece incorporated into the Crazy Otto Medley by German pianist Fritz Schulz-Reichel, which was later associated with Johnny Maddox in the U.S. These events coupled with the 1950 release of the book They All Played Ragtime by Rudi Blesh and Harriet Janis, gave indications that ragtime might yet live again. Busch decided to produce one of the new Capitol 10" long play (LP) records of the music, and recorded pieces by himself, Ray Turner and Marvin Ash for Honky Tonk Piano, released in April 1950. The Honky-Tonk reference, more often identified as a Country Music term, is likely in conjunction with the type of "joint" the music was played, but the sound of the piano might also apply, as they sometimes used hardened hammers or detuning to alter the tone. However, instead of just piano, Busch and company followed the lead of the traditional jazz revivalists of the late 1940s and added percussion and bass. The whimsical style coupled with clever arrangements made the records accessible to a public craving nostalgia, and Capitol's distribution helped make Honky Tonk Piano a big hit for many years.
Margaret Whiting said today that old wheeze about husbands and wives not working well together is a bunch of hooey. She's got her old man to thank for a whole new career. He's Lou Busch, a minor musical genius when it comes to singing or arranging or plinking out a hot tune on the piano. No slouch at launching a gal on a night club tour either. Even when the gal's his wife. "I was scared to death," Maggie said. "All I'd ever done was radio and records and a few TV guest shots. But night clubs are full of real people. You have to compete with filet mignons and halibuts. And leave us face it, sometimes the halibut wins out." Busch talked her into it, and then, Maggie said, went out and did everything but sing the songs for her. "He picked out my numbers, arranged them, conducted the orchestra, and set up the mikes and the lighting," she explained. "He even told me what kind of gowns to buy. Now he's got me broken in," she said, her fingers crossed. "And just to show you how wrong people can be, we haven't had a single fight in all this time. The only things we fight about are things we don't work together on. And he's always right. In fact, he's always right about my career, too. Never saw such a man. He told me how to stand up to a mike... what to do with my hands... and how to treat hecklers. "That's what worried me most. On radio or TV people come because they want to hear you. But in a night club they're just sitting there DARING you to please them. Lou warned me there'd be people who'd talk while I was singing. And there were. He told me the drunks would probably holler during my most dramatic ballads. And they did. He even warned me about people who threw pennies at entertainers. So far that hasn't happened. But it might some day. Like I say, Lou's always right. Which probably accounts for the reason Maggie and Lou never fight. Who's gonna battle with a dame who thinks you're wonderful? In later interviews Margaret continued to assert that Lou was largely responsible for her early success and grooming as a singer. However, things turned the corner for the couple within the year. Syndicated news reports started appearing as early as November 1952 stating that "Margaret Whiting and hubby Lou Busch are straining at the marriage ties." Their separation was publicly announced in March 1953. Gossip made the newspapers in April when Margaret was linked up with her agent, Phil Loeb, cited as a primary reason for the separation, although there were likely other overriding reasons. Among them, according to claims made in court by Margaret, were flying dishes in their household. They finalized things in late December 1953. Busch reacted to the situation largely by burying himself in his work with Capitol, performing more in nightclubs, and turning out a number of good ragtime albums.
Taking on the persona of Joe "Fingers" Carr, Busch released a succession of ragtime albums and singles throughout the 1950s that remained popular well into the mid 1960s. He later admitted that the early recordings were filled with some gimmicks (particularly the Ragtime Band releases), but eventually settled down to record the music more authentically, albeit with his easily recognizable licks and playing style. On the origin of his alter ego's name, Lou said: "I figured there was a real need for some straight ragtime piano, so I worked up some arrangements. Lou Busch isn't much of a ragtime name and I'd long had this 'Fingers' idea floating around. That led to Lou 'Fingers' Busch, but I knew that wouldn't have any appeal.
It was later noted that Lou's ability to play ragtime at all was fairly surprising as, unlike many of the great ragtime performers that preceded him, such as Eubie Blake or Willie "The Lion" Smith, or even his contemporary Dick Hyman, Lou had fairly small hands. As a result, he could not stretch as far as many other pianists, making the playing of tenths very difficult. What this limitation did was to refine his style so that he played more towards the center of the keyboard using richer left hand chords. It is also the primary reason why all of his albums, with one exception, had an ensemble accompanying him, and on some of them he even double tracked his playing for more spectacular results. That one exception was Parlor Piano, of which the final track, Home Sweet Home, is the only example of Busch playing syncopated piano without at least his usual bass and drums. Lou's biggest hits from the 1950s include Portuguese Washerwomen, Sam's Song, a cover of Del Wood's version of Down Yonder (a hit for many other pianists as well), and the international hit Zambezi, later covered in 1982 by the British group, The Piranhas. Some of the singles include his vocal backup group, the cleverly-named Carr Hopps. As of 1955 he was the only Capitol artist with a contract allowing him to appear under three different names - Joe "Fingers" Carr, Joe Carr and the Joy Riders (a re-working of the Carr Hopps), and his original stage name, Lou Busch. Of all the albums Lou recorded for Capitol, including one of the first stereophonic ragtime albums ever, his 1956 opus Mister Ragtime was perhaps the most memorable. Calling on some of the best and a few of the more obscure piano rags, including a redux on an earlier take of 12th Street Rag originally released in 1952, Busch was able to balance the honky-tonk image with respectable and well-arranged performances of real ragtime. Other Capitol albums included two with his ragtime band, one of them clearly a response to the popularity of The Firehouse Five Plus Two, and a pair of albums recorded with the band of Pee Wee Hunt, highly stylized and arrangements of ragtime songs with a Dixieland twist. Often overlooked are several mainstream and jazz sides he recorded as Lou Busch, featuring exciting band or orchestral arrangements. One early release, Roller Coaster, became the end theme music for What's My Line for many years. Now and then a well-crafted single would emerge, such as Cool from West Side Story or Memories of You in response to The Benny Goodman Story. In 1957 he was finally either encouraged or allowed (accounts vary) to release an album of his orchestrations, Lazy Rhapsody, which was one of his first stereophonic recordings. On this album he still managed to touch on ragtime with soft renditions of the original novelty Nola and a rich orchestration of In a Mist by tragic jazz pioneer artist Bix Beiderbecke. Never big sellers, they were still often played on the radio for many years along with cuts by groups like Capitol's Hollyridge Strings and the two piano arrangements of Ferrante and Teicher. He also orchestrated and produced some other Capitol hits, including 26 Miles Across the Sea, the first major recording by The Four Preps. In late 1958 or early 1959 Lou left Capitol for Warner Brothers Records where he took on the same general responsibilities as a producer and A&R man. When the ragtime revival died down he focused more on arranging and conducting responsibilities again, one of the most notable being the musical force behind comic singer Allan Sherman. It was Lou's talents that helped bring out the best comical aspects of Sherman, and gave his tunes, and lyrics, the great comic punch that fit so well with Sherman's delivery. Lou also spent a great deal of time working up a television show for Sherman that did not last terribly long in spite of the comedian's popularity. He even contributed musical settings to a Los Angeles area production of Moliere's The Amorous Flea in 1964. Continuing to work through the late 1960s, including guest appearances as a conductor at the famous Cocoanut Grove in Los Angeles, Lou was elected as the national treasurer of the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences for at least two terms. A few later albums were released on the ragtime-centric DOT label, and in the late 1970s he produced one more effort with friend and jazz pianist Lincoln Mayorga, complete with a couple of new tunes, The Brinkerhoff Piano Company. The pair had been performing under that title since at least 1975, doing live performances through Southern and Central California. Lou had actually helped Lincoln get his first ragtime album produced in 1958, which was recorded under the name Brooke Pemberton, and the remained good friends until Lou's death.
Although it has been reported that Lou rarely performed ragtime publicly, his daughter Debbi notes that he did some tours for Capitol in the 1950s, including a substantial one to Australia in 1956 with Stan Freberg and Don Cornell. She also asserted that he was generally a "big ham" when it came to being on stage. The Allan Sherman albums, although live, were generally recorded for invited guests in a Warner Brothers studio. He was persuaded by Dave Jasen to participate in a ragtime concert at the C.W. Post Center on Long Island in October 1976 in his guise as Joe "Fingers" Carr. Others in that concert included Jasen, Neville Dickie, Bob Seeley, Dick Wellstood, and Dick Hyman. In the mid to late 1970s of course there were the live performances with Mayorga and others in Southern and Central California. Busch also occasionally still made the news for non-ragtime or music related reasons. One particularly visible tongue in cheek commentary was an editorial of his published in the October 1, 1975 Los Angeles Times. During a particularly turbulent time in American history following Watergate and Vietnam, he made a call for some positive thinking. "One of the high spots of my day occurs around 7:30 a.m. when... I turn to the 'Letters to the Times; section of your newspaper. What drama! What controversy! And what a marvelous source of information for keeping up-to-date with the 'Game...' 'Find The Villian And Blame Everything On him.' Presumably the result is a nice warm glow of satisfaction to the searcher for, having found the source of all the trouble, he need worry no further... My checklist so far includes (but not necessarily in this order): the President, past Presidents, Vice Presidents, Congress, the Cabinet, conservatives (all shades), liberals (all shades), oil companies, General Motors, bankers, interest rates, the Federal Reserve Board, the media (and anti-media), the Sierra Club, the lumber interests and more coming! If you would permit a suggestion. I believe that setting a limit of only on 'Villain' to a customer would make the arguments more concise and also serve to concentrate the contributor's livid anger on a single target... With the hope you are not adverse to a positive statement once in a while, I would like to thank you and your Letters contributors for helping to get my heart started in the morning. LOU BUSCH, Beverly Hills." Lou Busch met a tragic end in an automobile accident on a foggy Camarillo highway near his home in October 1979. Lou and Lincoln had been planning another benefit concert of Brinkerhoff material that evening. Busch was interred in the Westwood Village Mortuary near UCLA. Fortunately for all of us he left behind an exciting and well documented musical legacy and a lot of smiling faces and tapping toes. I would like to add a personal note of thanks to Debbi Whiting, daughter of Lou and Margaret, who along with me has been championing the legacy of her father and collecting information for his biography and perhaps more exciting future developments to honor Lou. Note also that he has been officially well-regarded by his home town of Louisville, KY, and was the finest left-handed (piano) slugger to ever emerge from there. The remaining information was collected by the author from public records, newspapers and periodicals, and various remembrances by and interviews of Capitol Records and Warner Brothers personnel. | ||||||||||||||||
As there has been so much written on the life of Charlie Chaplin, this biography will largely focus on and take into context the parts of his life as a composer and musician, while still covering the major events and time line. Chaplin was not really a ragtime composer per se, but he did what he could to keep music viable in his films by directing the use of certain pieces or genres of pieces, and eventually composing them as well. Many of these works made it into print as far back as the mid 1910s, and a handful endure today. So his music was born out of the melding of ragtime and popular music as it accompanied early silent films, and therefore he should be not be ignored as a composer who drew on that era for some of his work. But he went well beyond that, as will be seen here, and should further be acknowledged for the boldness he displayed in scoring some of his later films as well, putting him also in the category of film composer.Early Years
Charles Spencer Chaplin was born in England to Charles Chaplin and Hannah (Hill) Chaplin, both performers in London music halls. Name after his father and his uncle, Spencer Chaplin, Charles had an older brother, Sydney (John Hill) Chaplin (1885), by a different father, whose identity has never been fully confirmed, but is considered by a handful of researchers to be a Sydney Hawkes.
Charles Chaplin Sr. was a talented actor and singer, and even a published composer. One of his pieces was The Girl was Young and Pretty, the theme of which was later echoed in his 1992 film biography directed by Sir Richard Attenborough. Another was a poignant waltz song called Every-Day Life with lyrics by Harry Boden from 1891. The sheet music advertised that it had been "Composed and Sung with Enormous Success by Charles Chaplin." However, he was also an alcoholic, and ended up separating from Hannah when Charlie was around two. In the 1891 England Census Hannah Chaplin is listed as an unemployed professional singer residing with Sydney and young Charles in the St. Mary district. Hannah showed as being married, but without her husband in the household. He was living nearby in the same district in a boarding house with other music hall artists.To compound an already difficult situation, Hannah had some mental illness, and her inability to keep jobs required the broken family to move from place to place around Kensington Road, so as to be close enough to the theaters. Yet they still lived in relative comfort above the poverty level. Charles had constant exposure to the stage, and to the music as well. His mother, who worked under the name Lilly Harley, preferred to bring the boys to the theater rather than leave them alone, so they quickly became familiar with the songs of the day, bawdy and otherwise. They would occasionally see Charles Sr. perform as well, even after he had left the family. One of his frequent haunts was the Canterbury Music Hall. As Charles relayed it in his autobiography, his first time on stage was when he was but five years old. He was backstage at the Aldershot Canteen while Hannah was performing for a group largely made up of soldiers. She was having a rough time of it, her voice cracking during her song. Whether Charles ventured out after she left the stage or whether he was pushed on remains conjecture or hearsay (he claims the latter). However, he took over for his mother, singing two or three songs, one of them being Jack Jones, and picking up coins thrown on stage by the amused audience in response to his work before he left. It was the start of a very long career performing for the public, and was claimed to be his mother's last night on stage. Following this, Hannah, who had been prone to increasing bouts of laryngitis, was no longer able to work consistently as a singer, leaving the family of three suddenly living day to day in poverty. After a year or so they had to retreat to the workhouses, and at times were separated. Hannah recovered briefly, then had a breakdown. She was sent to Cane Hill Asylum at Coulsdon for recovery,
Even as a juvenile performer Chaplin claims he had not yet really discovered music. However, he told of that day in his biography, leaving the impression that he was perhaps eight at the time. Charles had come home to his father's empty house, and bored after a while he wandered out into the streets again to try to find food and solace. As he tells it: “Suddenly, there was music. Rapturous! It came from the vestibule of the White Hart corner pub, and resounded brilliantly in the empty square. The tune was The Honeysuckle and the Bee, played with radiant virtuosity on a harmonium and clarinet. I had never been conscious of melody before, but this one was beautiful and lyrical, so blithe and gay, so warm and reassuring. I forgot my despair and crossed the road to where the musicians were... It was all over too soon and their exit left the night even sadder... It was here that I first discovered music, or where I first learned its rare beauty, a beauty that has gladdened and haunted me from that moment.” Charles first worked as a billed artist in 1898 with a group of pre-teen clog dancers. They were called The Eight Lancashire Lads, and the experience allowed him to hone his agility of movement as well as gain a better sense of timing and rhythm in conjunction with the musical accompaniment. Although the work was necessary to help support his family, he was thoroughly at home on the stage, and became quite acrobatic as a result of his time as a dancer. He reportedly may have also done some singing and a little comedy with this act, but there is no direct billing that fully supports this contention. As of the 1901 England Census he was rooming with a troupe of actors, possibly the clog dancers. Like the others, Charles was listed as a "music hall artiste." Neither his mother or Sydney were residing there, but he was one of ten juveniles living in the flat of John Jackson, son of the troupe's leader who himself was all of seventeen. That same year, Charles Sr. finally died at age 37 from cirrhosis of the liver and complications related to alcohol abuse. At twelve and a half years of age after a year of odd jobs, and shortly after his mother was recommitted to Cane Hill, Charlie managed to snag a plum role in the C.E. Hamilton Company as Billie the Page Boy in a production of Sherlock Holmes. After getting good reviews in an otherwise poor play staged before the Sherlock Holmes tour, he continued in the role for three seasons. In the fourth season he ended up playing the same role opposite the author of the play. The four years emboldened him as an actor and established his stage presence, but not prepare him for comedy. Now sixteen and a bit cocky, Charlie decided to turn down the next role because it required traveling. As a result, he spent nearly a year not working. Steady work of any kind was hard to come by, so he was supported in part by Sydney, who had been with British performer and producer Fred Karno's comedy company since 1906. Charles secured some music books and Jewish humor jokes, attempting to make a splash as an ethnic comedian. He was ill-prepared to do direct comedy as opposed to character comedy, and this venture lasted one performance. There were other minor failures on stage as well. Then at age nineteen Charlie, morally supported by Sydney, secured a position with Karno as a replacement actor playing opposite comedian Harry Weldon in a sketch called The Football Match.
Working in various groups of Karno's traveling organization, Charlie quickly became a star of the sketch and pantomime comedy sketches, and his timing and choices were evidently highly regarded by the boss. It has been noted that his use of music in his act fully availed itself of the possibilities presented in the rhythmic and melodic elements of a tune, adding to the overall essence of his act. The acts often used classic 18th and 19th century melodies accompanied by sound effects or slapsticks to emphasize falls or other actions, which gave his form of comedy its name, even before he became associated with it. Among the actors he worked with during his time with Karno was another future comedy star, was Arthur Stanley Jefferson, known on stage as Stan Laurel. Stan ultimately served as Chaplin's understudy and backup while with the Karno company. Charlie met a girl in the chorus line named Hetty Kelly and was instantaly transfixed by her. His emotions for her became so strong that on their first outing he referred to her as his "nemesis," which she could not understand. Within days he had asked if she loved him, which she felt unfair given that Hetty was just short of sixteen to his nineteen years. Chaplin ended it right there after all of four encounters, but went to her home the following day to say goodbye once more just to be sure. He would never forget Hetty, and subconsciously would search for her over the next 34 years. In fact, when he met her just over a year later she was now seventeen and well-developed, but not the same girl in many ways, so he continued searching. The Karno company toured Europe a couple of times from 1909 to 1910. At one show in Paris presented at the famous Folies Bergère, composer Claude Debussy was in the audience with a lady friend from the Russian ballet, and asked to meet Charlie after the show. The impressionist composer told him, "You are instinctively a musician and a dancer." While this was clearly a great compliment to Charlie, he was not sure how to reply, and he did not know who Debussy was at that time. However, he eventually knew all to well, noting in his autobiography it was the same year that "Debussy introduced his Prélude à L’Après Midi d’un Faune [Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun] to England, where it was booed and the audience walked out." Charlie toured Canada and the United States extensively with the American Karno company from late September 1910 to early 1912. They entered the United States on October 1 after having arrived a few days earlier to Quebec on the Cairnrona, and proceeded quickly to New York City for their first engagement of six weeks. Reports that he was the featured star entertainer with the troupe on that trip are not fully supported by newspaper advertising of that time until closer to the end of the tour, which was extended for twenty weeks to the west, another six in New York, and another twenty in the west again. Among the acts that toured was one titled The Wow Wows that featured Charles as "The Original Souse." In late 1912 the core of the Karno company again ventured to America to tour the vaudeville circuit for another year, arriving this time in New York Harbor on October 12 aboard the Oceanic as second class passengers. One of Chaplin's specialties in the Night in an English Music Hall sketch was playing an inebriated souse much older than himself, who randomly invaded the audience, then the stage, with his drunken antics.Stan Laurel remembered several facets of this second trip and recounted some information about Chaplin in a later interview with historian John McCabe. "Charlie carried his violin wherever he could. Had the strings reversed so he could play left handed, and he would practise for hours. He bought a cello once and used to carry it around with him. At these times he would always dress like a musician, a long fawn coloured overcoat with green velvet cuffs and collar and a slouch hat. And he’d let his hair grow long at the back. We never knew what he was going to do next.” This concurs with Chaplin's own account of his first trip to the states: "On this tour I carried my violin and cello. Since the age of sixteen I had practised from four to six hours a day in my bedroom. Each week I took lessons from the theatre conductor or from someone he recommended. As I played left handed, my violin was strung left handed with the bass bar and sounding post reversed. I had great ambitions to be a concert artist, or, failing that, to use it in a vaudeville act, but as time went on I realised that I could never achieve excellence, so I gave it up." It also during the second trip while they were playing in New York City that Chaplin went to the Metropolitan Opera House to see the opera Tannhäuser, something that may have influenced even more his sense of the melding of music and storytelling. According to Charlie: "I had never seen grand opera, only excerpts of it in vaudeville – and I loathed it. But now I was in the humour for it. I bought a ticket and sat in the second circle. The opera was in German and I did not understand a word of it, nor did I know the story. But when the dead Queen was carried on to the music of the Pilgrim’s chorus, I wept bitterly. It seemed to sum up all the travail of my life. I could hardly control myself; what people sitting next to me must have thought I don't know, but I came away limp and emotionally shattered." On the 1912 to 1913 trip Chaplin was clearly the star of the Karno troupe in their primary sketches, A Night in an English Music Hall and The Wow Wows. While on the second American tour, Charlie was witness to, and soon was entranced by the growing medium of motion pictures, now well into their second decade. The notion of putting something into a permanent record that could be viewed by potentially millions in a short time, as opposed to hundreds in a week, was appealing to him, as was the potential in what was a forced pantomime. So near the end of 1913 when his contract with Karno expired, Chaplin decided to achieve his own success in America and left the company to pursue a career in the movies. The Cinema and Rise to Fame
In a sense, Charlie was offered a carrot to stay in the United States. His act had been seen during the first tour by movie producer Mack Sennett, then working for D.W. Griffith, and some of his future comedy stars, including Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle who at that time was one of the Keystone Kops.
Actress Mabel Normand took up Charlie's cause and insisted that Sennett give him another chance under her tutelage. Although he had issues with a woman directing his acting, Chaplin persevered and came back strong in the next film, Mabel's Strange Predicament.. According to his autobiography Sennett had asked him to dress in a comedy make up of some kind. The famous incident with him finding his new identity was poetically recreated in the 1992 biopic Chaplin starring Robert Downey Jr., but Chaplin's own passage was actually a bit more practical: I had no idea what makeup to put on. I did not like my get-up as the press reporter [in the previous film Making a Living]. However on the way to the wardrobe I thought I would dress in baggy pants, big shoes, a cane and a derby hat. I wanted everything to be a contradiction: the pants baggy, the coat tight, the hat small and the shoes large. I was undecided whether to look old or young, but remembering Sennett had expected me to be a much older man, I added a small moustache, which I reasoned, would add age without hiding my expression. I had no idea of the character. But the moment I was dressed, the clothes and the makeup made me feel the person he was. I began to know him, and by the time I walked on stage he was fully born...
[Sennett] stood and giggled until his body began to shake. This encouraged me and I began to explain the character: 'You know this fellow is many-sided, a tramp, a gentelman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure. He would have you believe he is a scientist, a musician, a duke, a polo-player. However, he is not above picking up cigarette-butts or robbing a baby of its candy. And, of course, if the occasion warrants it, he will kick a lady in the rear – but only in extreme anger!'" In reality, the hat and oversized pants came from the rotund Arbuckle and the shoes from Ford Sterling. The concept itself was evocative of his early years living in poverty and making due with whatever was at hand. While the tramp did appear briefly in Mabel's Strange Predicament, the first film that featured that character, shot the following week, was Kid Auto Races at Venice released in early February 1914. The simple plot had him mugging annoyingly for the camera at a soapbox derby race while directors and cameramen try to keep him out of the picture. The tramp character immediately caught on with audiences, and several more shorts were made featuring Chaplin. He immediately adopted the oversized shows, baggy pants, and penguin-like walk that made him stand out. Charlie did play a Keystone Kop in one recently discovered short, but once the tramp character was established he rarely veered away from his creation. Little known to most of the public, the tramp also had a name, the French derivative of his own, Charlot.By the middle of the year Chaplin shorts were drawing crowds, and they were appearing frequently in advertising, often trumping the feature they were playing with. It was clear to Sennett and Chaplin that $150 per week was hardly appropriate any more, and the two tussled over numbers for the remainder of the year. Chaplin also wanted more control over scenarios, editing, and even directing. He was now making $175 per week plus a $25 bonus for each completed film. Sennett and Chaplin were often at odds, but the studio head put up with it because his revenues had increased significantly thanks to Charlie's films. Even before the end of 1914, Chaplin was the most famous movie comedian, and arguably the most famous comic actor in the United States. During his one year contract Charlie appeared in 36 Keystone films, a brutal pace considering the amount of physical action and location shooting done in the early days of film. It was a show of respect by Sennett that he did not openly contest Chaplin leaving his organization to work for Essanay Studios (S and A for owners George K. Spoor and cowboy star G.M. "Bronco Billy" Anderson) in 1915 for a great deal more money. News reports of the time put it at over $100,000 for the year. By then, Sydney had also come to the United States, and for a time replaced his brother in Keystone comedies. At Essanay Charlie was given a bit more freedom to develop his gags, and regularly used a stock set of actors for consistency. Among them was a young lady named Edna Purviance and villains Bud Jamison and Leo White. Essanay managed to distribute Chaplin films to every corner of the country and heavily advertised their star property as well. Chaplin films even managed big draws in New York City, where entertainment was available at every turn. However, much of the crowd seeking entertainment from the tramp were immigrants who still did not have command of the English language, and did not really need to in order to grasp the universal pantomime slapstick that Charlie was mastering.Charlie had another trick up his sleeve as well, making an attempt at a popular song in 1915.He sought to have his music heard in America. When Oh! That Cello was self-published in 1915 it had a slow start. But after a piano roll of it was released the following year the name association caused some head scratching and curiosity in the music industry, as reported in The Music Trade Review of September 9, 1916. CONSIDERABLE anxiety has been expressed in various quarters to know whether the Charles Chaplin who appears as the composer of "Oh that 'Cello" in the August bulletin of the Q R S Co. is in reality he of the slap-stick motion picture comedy fame. The Q R S Co. aver that it is the simon pure Charles. He is doing quite a bit of composing nowadays between acts, so to speak, and moreover is publishing his own compositions. "Oh that 'Cello" is quite pleasing even to the ear of one who does not revel in the popular music of the day. Lee Roberts [main arranger and vice president of QRS] made a hand played roll of it and has a nice letter from the real Charles written from Los Angeles giving his permission for its inclusion in the Q R S catalog.
Even before the discovery that Chaplin was a composer, composers discovered Chaplin, and in 1915 alone no less than eight pieces named for Charlie or his feet were in the stores. The most popular of them were That Charlie Chaplin Walk and Those Charlie Chaplin Feet.
The reason such a comic association between music and Chaplin's screen persona seemed so natural is that it often was. Chaplin, like many other fine comic actors, knew that there were layers of rhythm within the concept of "comic timing." Even today, scripts for television and movies often use the term "take a beat" or "two beats" at times, informing the actor to pause for an amount of time that would be analogous to the current pace of the action. Sennett often had musicians in his employ to provide not only mood music but rhythm to help the flow of action for the actors.Chaplin sometimes did the same, and he also knew the importance of both acting and editing in such a way that music played to his films, the big end factor over which he had virtually no control over at that time, would naturally find a sweet spot through his pacing. Many of the songs about Chaplin fit that mold nicely, and were not only used to accompany some of his films but sold in the lobbies as well. Others were featured on stage, managing to make the presence of Charlie known even at the popular Ziegfeld Follies. Chaplin himself made it known that certain popular piece might even inspire action sequences or scenarios. "Simple little tunes gave me the image for comedies. In one called Twenty Minutes of Love, full of rough stuff and nonsense in parks, with policemen and nursemaids, I weaved in and out of situations to the tune of Too Much Mustard, a popular two step in 1914. The song Violetera set the mood for City Lights, and Auld Lang Syne the mood for The Gold Rush." Chaplin's first Essanay film was made at their Chicago headquarters, a place he deplored. So he went to their studio in Niles, California, which was situated near the San Francisco Bay area and featured very usable old-west scenery. During the process of making his fourteen films at Essanay Charlie's musical proclivities became better known to his colleagues. He bought a higher quality violin, perhaps favoring it over the cello. It was said that he would "scrape away" at the instrument for several hours at night. As he and the other actors were often housed next to the studio at Niles, Chaplin staying in the surprisingly sparse quarters of millionaire Bronco Billy, they would often suffer through sleepless nights listening to Chaplin trying to master the instrument. That misery did not last long. After four more films Chaplin retreated to Southern California and rented a studio near downtown Los Angeles for the remaining Essanay films.
Mutual allowed Chaplin to form his own separate production arm named Lone Star Productions. In spite of his success with the tramp, the character was not featured in all of these shorts. In The Fireman he is obviously a fireman in and The Cure Chaplin plays an alcoholic who checks into a sanatorium. One of most unique Mutuals, One A.M., features Chaplin as an adventurous bachelor who arrives home quite inebriated and has to negotiate the hazards of his own home in order to get to bed, or something like a bed. There is a clear rhythmic pace in this solo effort that is punctuated by a wall clock with an oversized widely swinging pendulum. In The Vagabond he played a saloon violinist who rescues a girl from a cruel gypsy master. In it he is seen playing in his usual left-handed manner. The Rink, Easy Street and The Pawnshop have also remained favorites. Chaplin's new role as a comic leading man opened many doors to him, but also brought obligations. He was asked to do benefits and promote causes.
To further extend his control over his end products, Charlie had formed the Charles Chaplin Music Company with comedian and pianist Bert Clark to publish Oh! That Cello. He likely had big plans for that concern, but in its short life of perhaps two months or so only two more pieces were published. The Peace Patrol was a simple but lyrical instrumental march.
In the latter half of 1917 after nearly 18 months, Charlie left Mutual, where he later said he had enjoyed the best period of his life. He signed with First National for a contract of eight two-reel films (some would be longer). The money and freedom they gave him in addition to what he had earned from Mutual allowed Chaplin to build his own studio in Hollywood (presently the home to Disney's Jim Henson Studios). Chaplin remembered that "At the end of the Mutual contract, I was anxious to get started with First National, but we had no studio. I decided to buy land in Hollywood and build one. The site was the corner of Sunset and La Brea and had a very fine ten-room house and five acres of lemon, orange and peach trees. We built a perfect unit, complete with developing plant, cutting room, and offices." He met with resistance from a local residential neighborhood who opposed the encroachment, but ultimately was allowed to built by the city council. Sydney also joined him in this effort, becoming Charlie's manager. He played a comic role of a food vendor in Chaplin's first film for the company, A Dog's Life, released in 1918.From the time of the Great War (World War I) on there was some obvious controversy concerning Chaplin's patriotism towards the United States, more a reflection of his perceived political views than anything. One that persisted was that he tried to avoid the draft or enlistment. This is not true, and he indeed filled out a draft card on June 5, 1917, listing himself as moving picture comedian working for the Lone Star Company, the name of the production company he had formed at Mutual. In fact, it has been reported that Chaplin made three attempts [at least two confirmed] to enlist in either the American or British armies, and was rejected for one or another reason. At 5'6" and a mere 125 pounds he was a bit slight to be a soldier. Even though he was not a naturalized citizen, that fact did not make him ineligible. He had wanted to enlist in the British Army, but his Mutual contract stipulated that he remain the United States until it was fulfilled. Not knowing this, soldiers in the British army adopted a nasty parody, sung to Red Wing by Kerry Mills, called The Moon Shines Bright on Charlie Chaplin, suggesting he be sent to the Dardanelles where a bloody campaign had taken place. It is known that Chaplin was seen as an important entity in his capacity as an actor, as he was not yet involved with so-called subversive organizations or activities. He was also quite active in promoting the sale of bonds during a national tour with Mary Pickford, best friend Douglas Fairbanks, and actress Marie Dressler. This was followed by a short called The Bond, made at his own expense, which was used by the Federal Government to further promote sales. It explained several types of bonds, including friendship and marriage, ending with the most important type, Liberty Bonds. A final scene showed him wielding a larger mallet with "Liberty Bonds" painted on it, which he used to successfully pummel the Kaiser (played by Sydney), in a comical manner, of course. One of his early films through First National was the war-themed feature Shoulder Arms, which was a large success at the box office and considered by historians to be the best World War I film actually during the conflict. In it, Sydney reprises his role as the much abused Kaiser. By mid 1917, most theaters in the United States had house musicians playing either piano or organ, or in some cases ensembles ranging from three piece groups to orchestras. In smaller towns it would often be a piano teacher or her star student playing classical tunes or the latest popular songs and rags to the films for some extra cash. For the most part, with few exceptions, there were no definitive music scores for movies, especially for the shorts.
Chaplin was well aware of this shortfall, and in particular recognized how the proper underscore would add to the emotional import of the action on the screen. Along with some other directors and producers his company sent out simple suggestions for the type of music to play for each scene, even with some popular titles. While this was not the same as a score, the guidance provided more consistency for film goers as long as the local musicians were capable of following these directions. The first hint of coming disasters in his life came about in 1918 when Charlie, then 29, married a popular 18-year-old actress, Mildred A. Harris, a quickly formed union predicated on a pregnancy that turned out to be a false alarm. While their relationship seemed to be smooth at the start, things quickly fell apart after Mildred actually did get pregnant, then gave birth to a son, Norman Spencer Chaplin. Sadly, the child died at three days old on July 10, 1919. The couple was never able to fully reconcile, and Charlie set out on a series of affairs that occasionally made it into the press, not helping his image or his questionable marriage. Being a top personality in show business, his endorsement was sought out by many companies, one comical example which was relayed in The Music Trade Review of December 21, 1918: Charlie Chaplin received a letter from a certain manufacturer of musical instruments, proposing to present him with a saxophone providing he would be photographed with it, and permit the maker to use the indorsement [sic] for advertising purposes. Not being particularly interested in the saxophone but appreciating the gentleman's courtesy, Mr. Chaplin in part replied: "If you happen to have a spare 'Strad' violin knocking about that you don't want, well, you might send it on. I will have my picture taken with it, and I will give you a letter to the effect that I can thoroughly recommend it."
On February 5, 1919, with his new studio fully built and in production for a year now, Charlie joined one of the earliest ongoing efforts to promote individualistic freedom and support for film makers. Along with Sydney and their actor friends Mary Pickford (America's sweetheart), Douglas Fairbanks (America's screen hero), William S. Hart (America's favorite cowboy) and legendary director David W. Griffith, the group formed the United Artists production and distribution company. They had heard, in part through a woman detective they had hired, that some of the larger studios and distributors were banding together, which would have created a monopoly in the business, with little of the money going to the artists.
In 1919 he completed two more films, the unusual three reel Sunnyside and the more traditional two rell A Day's Pleasure, the latter of which included several potential vomiting jokes. His next film for them was a six-reel feature, The Kid, starring child actor Jackie Coogan (who would later act as Uncle Fester on The Addams Family) along with Chaplin. Much more than a comedy it went through a variety of emotions including tragedy, sentiment and pure pathos. Charlie wanted this particular release to have something more attached to it. So The Kid was distributed with fairly specific cue sheets with title lists, and in some packages music as well. While this was not a Chaplin score per se, it helped him realize something much closer to the overall intent and emphasized the importance in which he held music as an important entity and even a character in his films. Joe Bren and Haven Gillespie wrote a song specifically for the film, but there is some uncertainty as to whether this piece was included in the official recommendations. There may have been more music composed during the final stages of the film, but Charlie would not have time to tend to that. Mildred had filed for divorce and was reportedly attempting to seize his assets. In the process she had also publicly accused him of being a "red," or a Bolshevist sympathizer, the first time he would have to counter such a charge. Charlie had already moved out and was living in the Los Angeles Athletic Club, rather than at the apartment he had built at his studio. He had stirred the waters by suggesting that Harris was engaging in lesbian activities with other young actresses. Concerned that the authorities may move in, in the middle of the night Chaplin grabbed all of the film stock from The Kid and with Sydney's assistance moved it to a hotel room in Salt Lake City, Utah, where the editing was completed by Charlie himself. Upon the discovery that he was in Utah, where the authorities did not arrest or extradite him, one newspaper article observed of the 31-year-old star that "Charlie's hair is growing gray." Even without the full suggested score that he had hoped to assemble for the premier events, the movie was a huge hit and his reputation was kept intact. Mildred ended up with some of their joint property and a $100,000 settlement in November 1920. She would overspend and be bankrupt within two years. Needing a break after the traumatic events involving The Kid, and the efforts involved in his next film, The Idle Class, in which he played two roles, Charlie sailed for England on the Olympic in late August, 1921, arriving in Southampton, England, on September 1. While he was aware he had achieved some level of fame on the continent and in his original home of London, Chaplin was quite awe struck and moved by the reception he received there. He also met with author H.G. Wells, but his hopes for a private meeting were dashed by the large crowds hanging around their rendezvous point. There were also some dissenters in London who had misunderstood his role in the Great War, so he ended up more or less escaping his original home and the mix of joy and angst he found there. He left for Paris, then Berlin, and there met with Albert Einstein and his wife. Everywhere he went Charlie was met by large crowds who revered his talent, and underscored how universal his pantomime comedy, which transcended language barriers, actually was.
Chaplin made two more films to finish off his First National contract, Pay Day and The Pilgrim. While there was no specific score composed for these at that time (some of his early films would be scored in later years by Chaplin), they were accompanied by the same sort of cue sheets as had been sent out with The Kid. But as his films progressed, he was already experimenting more with composition, and in his leisure time was engaged ever more with performance. Having made his first million and more, Charlie first procured a Brambach Welte-Mignon reproducing piano in late 1919. In 1922 he bought a Bilhorn Telescope Organ, a portable device that allowed him to take his music on the set with him. Chaplin then had an expensive Robert-Morton Pipe Organ installed in his new Beverly Hills mansion as it was being built in 1923. It was reported that he often sat at it for hours at a time playing older melodies and composing new ones. The procurement of the instrument was described in the music trade magazine Presto on February 3, 1923: Movie fans in the country seldom realize the true character of their screen stars. Screen action, plot, and the vehicle representing our favorite doesn't always fully interpret the temperament of the actor.
It may be news to many readers that Charlie Chaplin is a clever musician, playing violin, piano and organ with unusual skill. The first intimation that many of Chaplin's friends and followers knew of this musical talent was the placing of an order for a Robert-Morton organ to be installed in his new [Beverly Hills] home in the course of construction. This is one of the finest, residences in the Hollywood district. In the music room provision was also made for an echo organ and a special roll device will also be installed on the instrument. It is expected that Charlie will "shoulder arms" over the console of the new instrument when the Pipes of Pan are playing in the springtime. Now one of the richest entertainers in the world, Chaplin was certainly enjoying and reveling to some degree in the spoils, which sent a mixed message to some fans and critics. In the September 2, 1922 Music Trade Review, Los Angeles music columnist Marshall Breeden made the observation that Chaplin had once "told this writer that in the early days of his stage life, and later in pictures, he strove to be artistic. He did not look only for the money. Now to him money comes, but he certainly is the one outstanding man in the world who comes closest to the border line between comedy and tragedy." In many ways those words were predictive as well.
Creativity and Chaos
In 1923 Charlie was free from First National, and ready to start on his contract signed with his own collective company, United Artists. With ready financing, his own studio, and the support of many of his peers, he was finally afforded the freedom to make films on his terms and his schedule. It would take nineteen years for him to fulfill his eight film contract, but they included his four most notable masterpieces, all of which had scores by the director and star as well.
There was again some trauma in his life while working on A Woman of Paris. After a number of affairs, he became involved with a Polish actress named Pola Negri. While he had managed to keep many of the earlier dalliances off the radar, the relationship with Negri, which allegedly included a one month engagement that was most likely contrived by the press, became quite public. Whether this was for publicity purposes or not has not been ascertained for certain, but many aspects of Pola's time in the United States clearly were dramatized for public consumption. At the same time that Mildred announced her intentions to remarry, she also lashed out at Charlie and Pola, calling their romance "funny," and that he would never the same after the "marital lessons I taught him." The stormy relationship ended after the engagement debacle, with Negri feigning major heartbreak. This was followed by an alleged affair with actress Marion Davies, who was known to have been involved with newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst. In the end she stayed with Hearst, but their affair allegedly resurfaced a few times through the early 1930s. False stories have persisted concerning Chaplin and Davies, stating they were involved in the murder of Charlie's friend, film producer Thomas Ince, on Hearst's yacht on November 18, 1924, when Hearst mistook Ince for Chaplin and shot him a jealous rage. The supportable facts that put this falsehood are that the relationship between Chaplin and Davies is hard to pin down, Chaplin was confirmed to have not been on the yacht that weekend, and that Ince actually died from a heart ailment a day after being removed from the yacht with a case of acute indigestion. Chaplin's aid and chauffer Kono reportedly claimed that Ince was bleeding from a bullet wound to the head when he was brought off the yacht. The case was closed even before the persistent rumors took hold. It harmed Hearst's career, but not Chaplin's. Chaplin's next film, one of the masterpieces, was inspired by the tales of the men who in the winter of 1897-1898 braved the cold and brutal Klondike, having scaled either Chilkoot Pass or White Pass into Canada with the hope of finding gold in the fields near Dawson several hundred miles downstream. The Gold Rush would start out with a legendary shot recreating the treacherous climb up Chilkoot Pass, filmed near Truckee in Northern California, and using a deft combination of comedy and pathos, told the story of a simple and unfortunate tramp miner who eventually earned his keep, even though he seemed to have lost the girl of his dreams.Wanting even more control over the music involved with the film, Charlie actually did write some specific music for The Gold Rush, and in the midst of filming stopped long enough to visit a recording studio in May, 1925, and record two pieces, conducting Abe Lyman's Cocoanut Grove Orchestra from the Brunswick single. The session was reported on in the Music Trade Review of July 18, 1925: It is said that the Brunswick Co. has inaugurated a special publicity department and will feature this Chaplin recording. "With You, Dear, In Bombay" is published by M. Witmark & Sons. Chaplin wrote both the words and music. It is a lively fox-trot with an appealing swing and very tuneful melody. The Witmark Co. will exploit the number on a wide scale. Copies of the piece, which were included in the road show and big city premieres of the film, were available in the theater lobby. The cover featured a picture of Charlie standing in the snow in the elaborate Klondike town set constructed for the film at his studio.
The chaos that had, for the most part, only mildly infiltrated the amorous comedian's life to that point, came to the forefront while filming The Gold Rush. While filming The Kid he had engaged a nearly 13-year-old girl named Lillita Louise MacMurray as an angel in a dream sequence, one in which ironically he had flirted with and kissed the girl. She came around looking for work, and Charlie decided to use her as the femme fatale for his new film. Now 16, and renamed as Lita Grey, Chaplin followed what had become a pattern and became romantically involved with the girl during the initial filming in 1924. The affair led to a pregnancy, which led to a more or less forced marriage, which led to shutting the production down while Chaplin dealt with this tenuous situation. Their union was a difficult one from the start, but they would stay together long enough not only for her to give birth to Charles Spencer Chaplin Jr., but also their second son Sydney Earle Chaplin soon after. Chaplin had to scrap all the scenes with Lita and now employed an film extra who had recently arrived from Chicago, Georgia Hale. The pace of filming was no faster, even though the plot was changed very little during that period.
The Gold Rush was liked by virtually everybody who saw it, and it further established Chaplin as one of the best film makers of the era. It remains on the top lists of not only the American Film Institute but the Library of Congress and National Film Registry as well. However, there is a distinction to be made between the original and the 1942 re-release which Chaplin himself helped to score from certain selections, and composed some of the music as well. It is more often this version, with narration instead of inter-titles, which is the better preserved and more revered one, in part because of his direct musical involvement. In addition to his original cues and songs (arranged by professionals but selected by the director), Chaplin liberally utilized Romanze, Opus 118, No. 5, by Johannes Brahms, the folk song Coming Through the Rye, portions of Flight of the Bumblebee by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, and the main waltz theme from Sleeping Beauty by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Even though he did not compose all of the cues, these choices should not be dismissed as many film makers since that time have used similar classical pieces either as placeholders or suggestions to inform their hired composers, or in a stylized manner that suits their film, much as Chaplin did. It showed more than just an appreciation of classical music, going further to reinforce the actions or emotions on the screen with an underscore that was appropriate and not distracting. The few complaints about the 1942 release were more about the rapid-fire narration style of Chaplin than anything else. After a short period of recovery, Chaplin purchased another reproducing piano, an Ampico, for his home in 1926. That same year he started on The Circus, a film based on love triangle themes that had been previously visited, most notably in his Mutual film The Vagabond. The making of this film was complicated by a legal battle that started with Lita filing for divorce from her famous husband. To the press she wailed that Charlie was starving her and his two sons, while in reality he was giving the lawyers checks, but they were rejected because they were not big enough. Charlie brought charges of defamation against Lita and her attorneys.
At the end of the divorce ordeal both parties dropped their charges and reached an amicable settlement of around $825,000 to support young Charlie and Sydney. It also helped to temporarily get rid of the distraction from the press. However, just prior to the last day of shooting when they took the circus wagons out of town to a friendlier location, the wagons were stolen as part of a college student prank for use as a bonfire. There were other perils while shooting the film, such as Charlie doing stunts on a high wire, and inside a lions cage for a reported 200 takes with the unfriendly beasts. Their mother, Hannah, also died during the filming seven years after having been brought over to the United States. Charlie and Sydney housed her in relative comfort in Glendale, California, until her death. Several years afterwards the half brothers found out that the had yet another half brother through their mother, Wheeler Dryden, who had been raised by Charlie Sr. The Circus was warmly met by the public, and it was enough to earn him his first Academy Award at the very first Academy Award ceremony in 1929 (the term Oscar™ was not yet in use) for "Versatility and genius in writing, acting, directing and producing." He had originally been nominated in several categories, but the Academy instead decided to give him the uncontested special award instead. Had it been a sound film they likely would have had to add "composing," making Chaplin one of the only film stars in history to excel in all five categories (he would later win an Oscar™ for a film score and was considered for one for choreography as well). Chaplin's direct involvement with the work of his favorite and most tolerant cameraman, Rollie Totheroh, might have also brought a consideration for cinematography. When he dictated his biography in 1964, Charlie made only a passing mention the film in the book at all, perhaps because of its painful relationship with the nasty public divorce and his mother's last years. In the 1930 Census, Charles Jr. and Sydney were living with Lita's grandmother, Louise Curry, at 521 North Beverly Drive in Beverly Hills. Lita was listed as living on her next door at 523 North Beverly Drive. Both were comfortably well off, showing as owning their expensive homes, paid for, no doubt, by Charlie. He was residing at 1103 Cove Way in Beverly Hills, with four Japanese servants and the wife and two sons of one of them, Robert K. Sato. Friendly rival comic actor Buster Keaton, who was listed on the same page just above Chaplin, was living three blocks off on Hartford Way, but would be gone from that household within a year. Coping with Sound and Soundtracks
For his next act, Charlie would embark on perhaps the most difficult film journey of his career that not only tested his creativity in every way, but his resolve and limited patience as well. Even before The Circus had been released, the entire landscape of the motion picture changed with the release of the Warner Brothers synchronized sound film The Jazz Singer in the late fall of 1927.
Early conversion to sound was not inexpensive for theaters, and in order to accommodate both the synchronized discs of the Vitaphone system from Warner Brothers and the more practical sound on film system from Fox and Lee DeForest, even more equipment had to be installed. Yet by the end of 1928, with almost all of the major studios producing sound films in either format, more than half of the theaters in the United States had made the investment in one or the other system, or both, since that was what the ticket-buying public was crying for. By 1930 silent films would be all but gone. For Chaplin this conversion presented a multiplicity of problems. For starters, his older films, most shot at an average of 18 frames per second, would not show correctly on the newer sound projectors which displayed films at 24 frames per second. Conversion of older films was costly, so the public soon accepted that silent films would simply look faster than sound films. He had often used undercranking of the film to his advantage to speed up certain portions, and would continue to, but the conversion of an entire film was a different matter. The bigger problem was that the very thing that made him a star had the potential to be totally negated by sound. Chaplin was a pantomime artist. Many of his films used far less inter-titles than those of his peers, because the action was fairly obvious. Therefore, with only a little change in inter-titles to reflect the country of exhibition, his films did not need translation in any country. They were nearly as funny or moving in Hong Kong as they were in Paris, Berlin or St. Louis, Missouri. Spoken sound would immediately make each film an American or English language film. The use of dialog also negated some of the broad movements of pantomime, which would have been deemed overacting in conjunction with speech.
City Lights had already gone through several alterations during 1929 and into 1930, most of them for story points. Scenes were shot dozens or even hundreds of times in order to capture a subtlety or an angle, and most were discarded. In the background, Charlie was concerned about how well a silent film would play when the public was asking for sound. He did some experimental takes with sound for one or two days on a couple of dialog scenes, then abandoned that concept. In the end, Charlie proposed that the only difference between this film and his previous efforts was that there would be a unified score distributed with the film by way of a soundtrack. This was the culmination of what he had been trying to do since The Kid. It was Chaplin himself who either composed or selected the pieces for the entire score of City Lights. He engaged Arthur Johnson and Alfred Newman to arrange and orchestrate his choices, but there was no question who was in charge of the overall execution of the music. While Chaplin was not well trained in Western notation or harmony and theory, he had an innate sense of the emotional and action aspects of the right music. Calling on one of his favorite composers, Richard Wagner, as well as accurately predicting virtually every film composer from Max Steiner (whose score for King Kong in 1933 is regarded as the first fully original film underscore) to John Williams, Charlie worked with specific musical motifs assigned to a character, location or incident. For the blind flower girl, played by the engaging but problematic Virginia Cherrill, he selected La Violetera (Who Will Buy My Violets) by José Padilla. Chaplin himself composed two other themes for her, one related to her simple but poor flat (apartment), and the other for emotional reflective close-ups. Additional musical devices composed by Chaplin include a fanfare which opens the film and is heard in a few places announcing another pending calamity, and a galop reminiscent of those of the 1890s or early 1900s for some of the action scenes. There is also a theme for his tramp character as he wanders through the lonely city, appropriately enough played on cello, although not by Chaplin himself. A faster theme played on the bassoon was used to accentuate his humorous moments.
Chaplin did stray from his traditional background which included a healthy dose of classical and older popular music, and called on contemporary forms to keep the film current ital. For a scene where he and the millionaire character played by Harry Myers go to some of the hotspots in town, a bustling jazz theme played by a smaller ensemble is used. It is contrasted with a Latin rhumba for a party at the millionaire's mansion. A dramatic motif was used in association with the suicide attempt of the millionaire, in addition to two different themes for his highly contrasting drunken and sober moods. A couple of other familiar themes were inserted as well; a snippet of Scheherazade by Rimsky-Korsakov played in two different timbres, and the more common How Dry I Am often used by arrangers for scenes involving alcohol. Most of the sound effects were also done with instruments with the exception of, literally, bells and whistles. While most films of the time were using underscore sparingly, often interspersed with on-screen musical numbers, the entire soundtrack for City Lights codified his abilities and instincts not only as a composer but as a competent score writer, which requires a different skill set. Musically he was able to clearly define comedy, pathos, wistfulness, whimsy, and even love. Everything from English music hall motifs and ragtime through classical, jazz and loosely defined tangos. Some of the themes from City Lights were also rescored and used in a clever fashion by director Attenborough in the 1992 film Chaplin. There were many issues with the film, including the contentious relationship between the director and his co-star, Virginia Cherrill. He considered her an amateur in every way, and even fired her at one point. After a failed attempt at trying to fit Georgia Hale into the role, he brought Cherrill back to finish the film. After more than two years, City Lights was finally unveiled to a wary public in January, 1931. In spite of the lack of dialog and Chaplin's concerns about the public's reception, City Lights was an enormous financial success, just right for audiences in the deepening Great Depression who needed a heartwarming story that favored the poor over the rich. It was critically acclaimed as well, not only for the acting and writing, but for the effective use of music. Chaplin had reached a new zenith in the creative process of the cinema. It would be five years until he unveiled his next act, and something new. However, the news mongers were able to find enough to keep him in the press, and Chaplin's sometimes unraveling life certainly gave them material. New Horizons - The World Tour
At nearly 42 years of age Chaplin's hair had partially turned white, perhaps from stress as much as heredity. Mabel Normand had died. Comedian Buster Keaton had been demoralized by his troubles with MGM and was becoming an alcoholic. Doug Fairbanks was having major issues in his marriage to Mary Pickford. Roscoe Arbuckle had barely survived three harrowing trials that proved him innocent, yet destroyed his film career, and would be dead in two years.
Although he was often discouraged by having to battle misinformation or private information found in the press, Charlie still maintained a nearly religious dedication to his art, and his energy remained undiminished, even if his enthusiasm had faded a bit. In need of a rest and a change after City Lights, Charlie, his long-time Japanese valet and chauffer Kono, and his friend Ralph Barton set off on a 1931 world tour that would last for over a year. The gathered a few companions along the way for some legs of the journey. One of those was May Shepherd, hired in London as his personal secretary for the duration to read and respond to correspondence. There have been reports that she went out with Chaplin and his entourage and had an affair with Chaplin, but correspondence confirms that she stayed behind in London. She did, however, have access to many of the salacious offers mailed to the star, or letters recounting previous passions, and used that in her favor later in the year to leverage for higher pay. Sydney had already moved to Europe and he and his wife Minnie were living in Nice at that time. Being the brother of somebody so famous and at times controversial made it hard for Syd to hide from any transgressions, real or perceived. After ending his association with the film industry a couple of years earlier and selling out his shares, tax investigators questioned the reliability and validity of his claimed income. The couple first went to England, but found matters to be just as bad there. Thus it was in France where Sydney Chaplin would be found in 1931. Having not been to London for a decade, Charlie found his tumultuous reception there had been magnified considerably from that of 1921, and with much more media present. Of course the star was invited to many events, including a dinner given in his honor by American born Lady Astor. He also was able to visit and spend more time at the familiar and bittersweet locations of his youth, including the boys home. The question had been brought up concerning his receiving a knighthood.
Their next stops were in Weimar and Berlin, Germany, where his equally enthusiastic reception by the publie would later be utilized in propaganda specifically against the comedian and the countries and alleged race that he represented. Chaplin would, in turn, use that propaganda to create a brilliant and eerily accurate response in one of his finest screen appearances. Even more than a decade after the war, his films had been banned in Germany in response to Shoulder Arms (1918) in which he handily defeated many German soldiers. Yet none of this seemed to dampen the legions of fans he had in Berlin, whether they came out to see an American celebrity, or had perhaps seen some of his contraband films in underground theaters. Among the stops they made in Germany were the royal palace where Frederick the Great had once dwelt, and back to the simple home of physicist Albert Einstein and his family, who had already been Chaplin's guests in Hollywood. One other visit was with singer Marlene Dietrich. The two had no connection other than mutual admiration, so there it has been historically considered that there was no publicity motive involved with their meeting. Next on the agenda was a return to Paris. Chaplin was met at the station, and pretty much everywhere, with the same adulation he had found all along the way, if not even more intense. As in Germany, some parts of his clothing disappeared while trying to get to local transportation. He met with King Albert of Belgium, trying to address him as he would anybody, and finding out that Kings really do get special treatment. Charlie visited the tomb of Napoleon, a character he had flirted with playing now and then, but was reluctant to do so lest he upset the apple cart of fame for the sake of art. Staying later in Normandy with the Duke of Westminster, Chaplin experienced his first boar hunt and first time on a horse in years. He also spent some relaxing days with Sydney and Minnie at the French Riviera. While studying the casinos in Nice and deciding they weren't for him, Charlie spotted dancer May Reeve, who Sydney said he knew. A meeting was arranged and Charlie was soon enamored with, then involved with her for some time during the remainder of the European portion of their extended trip.
The entourage ventured back to London briefly in September, without May, to deal with business. While there, Chaplin had the privilege of meeting with India's biggest advocate and future leader, Mahatma Gandhi in Canning Town, London. It was the only time Gandhi would be in England, where he had been schooled, between 1914 and his assassination in 1948. Both the spiritual leader of India and the creative leader of comedy had large crowds surrounding them when they met, largely by happenstance, in the East End of London. Photographs were taken of Charlie with Gandhi and his family, they exchanged some dialog, then both went on their own way. A small part of this London visit was spent in dealing with Shepherd and her knowledge of Charlie's intimate life through his correspondence. A satisfactory arrangement was eventually realized. Then, several months after having left on his trip, went to Switzerland in December where his long time friend Douglas Fairbanks was staying. Charlie, missing his new love, sent for May and she rejoined him there. They were inseparable for some time, but Sydney made clear some of his disdain for Charlie's public escapades and affairs, which it appeared he more or less ignored. Many thought that May would be that elusive perfect wife for the comedian. She clearly loved him and brought some stability to his demeanor. But Charlie simply never it took it that far, in spite of or perhaps because his obvious affinity for her. The group left Switzerland for Italy on their way to the Orient, with Sydney in tow. While in Italy, United Artists tried to have Charlie meet with the country's fascist Prime Minister Benito Mussolini, who was already going by the title Il Duce. Fortunately for the reluctant Chaplin there was no time available in the leader's day, and he escaped what with hindsight would have been perhaps an even larger crushing blow than those that would eventually land on him.
For the next two months, Charlie, Syd and friends toured Singapore, Ceylon, Java, Bali, and parts of the South Pacific. Even in these remote spots of the world, silent films had long been known and still presided, particularly those of Chaplin and his peers. Silent comedy needed no translation, so Charlie found himself beloved in even the more remote ports he visited that had the electricity to run a projector. Even though he was met with more subdued crowds in these countries, they were present nonetheless. However, the next highlight of the trip for Chaplin would be Japan, which they reached around June. It was also familiar territory to his companion and valet Kono, who preceded the party there by a few weeks to prepare the way. A couple of years before, according to accounts by Kono, Charlie had attended an authentic Japanese play in Los Angeles and was captivated by the mixture of pantomime and music that was not only indigenous to Kabuki, but to Chaplin as well. He had made this clear to Kono at that time, then let the matter drop until the pending visit loomed in the immediate future. To go to Japan and experience it in its native environment was something he had looked forward to for a long time, and now asked Kono to help enhance that experience. The visit was extremely well publicized, and the government made sure that Charlie would realize all of the conveniences and opportunities they could afford him and his party. On the train from the port to Tokyo, they were ordered to stop at every station for a few minutes while Chaplin was seen by the immense crowds, and received all manner of gifts from local officials, such was his universal fame even there. While in Japan Chaplin enjoyed the trapping of fame, but more importantly their exquisite sense of story telling through theater. It was one of the big highlights of his trip. Then after a year and a half on the road, Charlie returned to Hollywood and world of the movies he had momentarily left behind. He had taken in a lot of world culture, absorbing facets of musical and creative arts as well as political ideas. Not having had the deadlines and expectations of creativity thrust on him, even if self-imposed, for some time, he came back weary but refreshed, and ready to tackle new horizons, including one big idea that had been running through his head for some time. However, as Chaplin would soon find, his charmed existence had lost some of its luster in his absence, and there was a difficult road ahead creatively, personally and politically. The End of The Tramp - The Growing Turmoil
Charlie's next project was a pre-George Orwell look at the growing role of automation and martinet-like dominance over the American worker. While not overtly or consciously socialist in nature, it was his outlet to rail against some of the facets of progress that doomed those who were very much like his little tramp;
One of the lead roles was soon decided after a weekend on a the yacht of Joseph Schenck, president of United Artists, in late 1932. Schenck and his younger brother Nicholas, would fairly soon be two of the lesser favorite Hollywood executives, between UA and MGM, but still knew how to conduct business properly. On that trip, two actresses joined the party, one of them a former Ziegfeld girl and now contract player named Marion Pauline Levy. She was 22 at that time, historically a little older than Chaplin's taste had run, and had already been married and divorced once. But the actress had a childlike quality that Charlie instantly took to. Charlie soon cast her under the name of Paulette Goddard in the role of the orphan waif in his upcoming film Modern Times, and before long the two took up residence together. The question remains to this day as to whether they were actually married. Both avoided answering the question as best they could, and told friends they had been married privately, either in China or at Sea. For a while, at least, few cared because they seemed made for each other. There were a few in Hollywood who saw their apparent co-habitation as scandalous, and the first rumblings were heard of making an example of the foreigner who had not even attempted to gain U.S. citizenship. While making Modern Times, Charlie was either oblivious to this talk or simply didn't care. He was focused on the elements of producing, directing, casting, acting, set layout, and most importantly the use of music and sound. The role of the machinery required large sets, and the outdoor locations found contrasted the clean factory with the reality of the Great Depression that had settled in. The small shanty set up for the tramp and the waif bore striking similarity to many that had sprung up in public parks around the country, including Central Park in New York City. He also engaged the use of a downtown department store that was undergoing renovations for a daring and dangerous scene on roller skates. While the formation of the plot and filming took a relatively short period of time, considering Chaplin's history, the application of sound and music merited a great deal of both pre and post production.
The way Charlie went about this very revelation was with a measured and intelligent approach. He chose a popular French tune from 1922 which had been a minor hit in the United States in 1925. Titina (Je Cherche Après Titine) had both French and English lyrics. However, Charlie chose to make up a nonsense set of lyrics with a mish-mosh of non-words and mangled European phrases. They all rhymed when necessary and some were close enough to reality that the idea of them was understood. However, it was, in the end, his performance of the piece with a live orchestra on the set that suggested what he was trying to get across. In a sense, he had created a musical pantomime in which the use of pauses, accelerations, and even vamps contributed to the way the lyrics were conveyed to the screen audience on the set as well as the theater-goers. It was a way to keep the tramp from being le Tramp Americán, while displaying his inherent musical talents. As had been done with City Lights, Charlie also wrote much of the score and underscore, using key classical or popular pieces for the remainder, and spending weeks in the studio with an increasingly frustrated Alfred Newman, who eventually abandoned the project in need of sleep and sanity. His name still appeared on the credits. In addition to the music, Chaplin also directly oversaw or contributed to most of the sound effects used in the film. In later years he would write about this part of the creative process and how important it was for him to be involved, referring with some ambiguity to Newman or his colleague Arthur Johnson: One happy thing about sound was that I could control the music, so I composed my own. I tried to compose elegant and romantic music to frame my comedies in contrast to the tramp character, for elegant music gave my comedies an emotional dimension. Musical arrangers rarely understood this. They wanted the music to be funny. But I would explain that I wanted no competition, I wanted the music to be a counterpoint of grace and charm, to express sentiment, without which, as [English critic and writer William] Hazlitt says, a work of art is incomplete. Sometimes a musician would get pompous with me and talk of the restricted intervals of the chromatic and the diatonic scale, and I would cut him short with a layman’s remark; "Whatever the melody is, the rest is just a vamp." After putting music to one or two pictures I began to look at a conductor’s score with a professional eye and to know whether a composition was over-orchestrated or not. If I saw a lot of notes in the brass and woodwind section, I would say: "That’s too black in the brass," or "too busy in the woodwinds". Nothing is more adventurous and exciting than to hear the tunes one has composed played for the first time by a fifty piece orchestra.
![]() As he had done for City Lights, Chaplin assigned specific motifs or themes to characters and situations. There was, however, one tune that permeated not only the film, but the hearts of those who would soon hear this song that warranted a separate publication. For anybody who had claimed that Chaplin's composing was pedantic or uninspired at best, they only needed to listen to the melody Smile to understand this to not be the case. The lyrics, which were added 18 years later in 1954 by John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons, were approved by Charlie and spoke true to character of the tramp that he had portrayed for over two decades by this time. They also speak true to the sentiment of the beautiful and poignant melody: "Smile, though your heart is aching, Smile, even though it's breaking. When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by."
Modern Times opened in February, 1936, and both critical acclaim and controversy soon followed. It was evident to many that the tramp would now be history, particularly because in the end of this film, he not only gets the girl but he keeps her, for the first time walking off into the distance with her on his arm. But there was trouble from Europe as well. Tobis, a French and German film company, claimed that Chaplin had stolen some of his ideas from their similarly themed 1931 film A Nous la Liberté. The director, René Clair, an admirer of Chaplin, was not totally on board with this contention and noted that he was quite embarrassed by the proceedings. The court case floundered and was dropped during World War II, but came back again in 1947 with a request to suppress Modern Times from exhibition. Chaplin and UA settled not as an admission of guilt, but to make the issue go away. There were also articles lambasting Chaplin for his indictment of progress and the American way of life, which in part was the intent of the film, but claiming him also to be against what America stood for. One authority figure of note, FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, had started a dossier on Chaplin even before Modern Times and took note of these views. However, his role in later controversies as portrayed in the 1992 biopic was exaggerated for the sake of having a protagonist, and he was not so active in anti-Chaplin sentiment at that time. If Charlie had any one public enemy who could turn the public against him, it would be popular print and radio columnist Hedda Hopper. For the time being, Modern Times was well-received, and did not overtly polarize moviegoers and Chaplin critics like his next film would. Starting in 1937 the government and certain members of the public started to pay more attention to organizations that Chaplin either purportedly supported or was even peripherally involved with.
On the other side of the equation, in the late 1930s, the Nazi government released a book and a film, Der Ewige Jude (The Eternal Jew), deriding the reception that the German people had given the American comic in 1931, and making the claim that no "Juden" (Jew) was worthy of such an honor. (Charlie later wrote clearly that "'No, I am not Jewish... but I am sure there must be some somewhere in me. I hope so.") While trying to shame the German population, the film also incensed Charlie who started paying much more attention to what was happening in that country. The resemblance between Chaplin (with his moustache) and German dictator Adolf Hitler was not lost upon him, nor was the fact that they were born only four days apart. The idea of parodying Hitler in a comedy started to take shape after the German film was released. Indeed, many others noticed as well, including a clever British songwriter who got around a BBC ban of mentioning Hitler's name outside of the news by composing Who is This Man (Who Looks Like Charlie Chaplin). In early 1938, Chaplin had visited author John Steinbeck at his home, seeking a conversation and autographs of two books. At that time Steinbeck had no idea who he was actually talking to, and a few months later in Hollywood he was reintroduced to Chaplin, and felt very embarrassed about the first meeting. They talked for many hours, and Steinbeck, who had no interest in various offers to write for films, agreed to help Chaplin with the plot and writing for his first talking film. The Great Dictator had been a work in progress since perhaps 1938, but as conditions changed in Europe, especially for the worse for the Jewish population, certain elements of the plot also had to be changed to reflect the seriousness of the situation. Hitler was already a target as the lead character, but when Mussolini made it clear in the press that "The Italians do not find Mr. Chaplin funny," he warranted an important part in the film as well.
In the story, Chaplin, who was not Jewish by birth (Sydney was half-Jewish from his mother), played the part of a Jewish barber who had been injured in World War One, and after twenty years of amnesia suddenly came out of it and returned to his shop. He also plays Adenoid Hynkel, the dictator who was running Jews out of the cities and into unknown regions. Mussolini was brilliantly represented in the character of Benzino Napaloni (Mussolini morphed with Napoleon), and Hitler's interior minister Joseph Goebbels became minister Garbitsch. For the most part the upper hierarchy of the countries involved as well as the army was parodied, and not always played for laughs. The Jewish characters, while providing some humor, were closer to their actual real-life counterparts. Not only did Chaplin have to bring balance to the story, of which the ending was drastically changed after the invasion of Poland in 1939, but to his use of dialog and sound as well. As Hynkel he gave outrageous speeches of mixed German nouns, including food items and a nonsensical tirade against "Der Juden." As the barber he needed to be genteel yet urgent with his resolve. Having already tackled the art of composing for his films, Chaplin now needed to at times tune the acting and the timing to the expected tone of the score, so the musical aspects of the film informed him of the emotional ones, even before the score had been recorded. The trickiest aspect of this highly predictive film showing the expected direction of events in Europe with some modicum of accuracy, was the ending speech, which was written near the end of production after the Germans had invaded France.
One of the cleverest uses of music with action in the score of The Great Dictator not only was a tribute to the pantomime of his tramp character, but was later copied by Chuck Jones in 1950 for his Bugs Bunny cartoon, Rabbit of Seville. While the wascally wabbit performed his tonsorial duties on customer Elmer Fudd to the music of Rossini, Chaplin did his amazing shave of a customer to Johannes Brahms' highly popular Hungarian Dance #5. While anybody familiar with film would imagine that this particular track was recorded in advance for shooting, the orchestra had not yet been hired as the score was not completed. So instead, Chaplin rehearsed and performed the delicate routine with no cuts (in the film or on the customer) to a phonograph record. Willson intended to record the orchestra in short segments of eight to sixteen measures for better ease of editing to fit the timing on the screen. However, at Chaplin's insistence, he did one full rehearsal take with the orchestra conducting to the film, and they nailed it in that one take. When Chaplin was interviewed in 1940 about working with sound and music, he stated that "Film music must never sound as if it were concert music. While it actually may convey more to the beholder-listener than the camera conveys at a given moment, still it must be never more than the voice of that camera". Willson, working on his first major film project, had much more to add about his employer both in contemporary interviews and in his 1948 book And There I Stood with My Piccolo:
I have never met a man who devoted himself so completely to the ideal of perfection as Charlie Chaplin... I was constantly amazed at his attention to details, his feeling for the exact musical phrase or tempo to express the mood he wanted… Always he is seeking to ferret out every false note however minor from film or music...
I've seen him take a sound track and cut it all up and paste it back together and come up with some of the dangdest effects you ever heard — effects a composer would never think of. Don't kid yourself about that one. He would have been great at anything — music, law, ballet dancing, or painting — house, sign, or portrait. I got the screen credit for The Great Dictator music score, but the best parts of it were all Chaplin's ideas, like using the Lohengrin Prelude in the famous balloon-dance scene. On his experiences with The Great Dictator and City Lights, Chaplin was a bit more introspective in a later recounting of his role as a composer and his association with musicians compared with others engaged in various creative disciplines:
Writers are nice people but not very giving; whatever they know they seldom impart to others; most of them keep it between the covers of their books. Scientists might be excellent company, but their mere appearance in a drawing room mentally paralyses the rest of us. Painters are a bore because most of them would have you believe they are philosophers more than painters. Poets are undoubtedly the superior class and as individuals are pleasant, tolerant and excellent companions. But I think musicians in the aggregate are more cooperative than any other class. There is nothing so warm and moving as the sight of a symphony orchestra. The romantic lights of their music stands, the tuning up and the sudden silence as the conductor makes his entrance, affirms the social, cooperative feeling.
In spite of the outcry from certain factions in Hollywood, and the public, The Great Dictator opened to great acclaim in October 1940, and was ultimately Chaplin's biggest moneymaker. Even though the British government had made it clear in 1939 that they would ban the film from exhibition, by October 1940 the situation was clearly much different, and they stepped aside. In London The Great Dictator opened around the time of the German blitz on that city, so provided literal comic relief from the drastic situation they were experiencing in England. It also received great support from the Jewish community, only a few who were even somewhat aware of the horrendous actions being taken against their race in Germany at that time. Hitler was said to have viewed it at least twice, laughing at some scenes and clearly scowling at others. Chaplin later said that had he known about any part of the Holocaust, he likely would not have gone ahead with the project. The entertainment and political critics were glad he had done it. One of the theme melodies from the score would later be released with lyrics under the name of Falling Star.
The Great Dictator was nominated for five Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Actor in a Leading Role (Chaplin), Best Supporting Actor (film comedian Jack Oakie as Benzino Napaloni), Best Original Score (Willson), and Best Original Screenplay (Chaplin). Whether it was simply first rate competition from others in those categories or the politics of the voters of the Academy, The Great Dictator ultimately ended up with only the acclaim, and none of the awards. It would also, like Modern Times, spur a plagiarism suit from Konrad Bercovici who claimed to have written at least some of the story. While Steinbeck likely had a little more to do with it, Chaplin finally settled for $95,000 in 1947, in part to stave off any more negative press during a time of rapidly waning popularity. Even as the dust settled and the United States prepared for war with Germany, and were surprised by a military attack from the Japanese Empire, more of the personal wars of Chaplin were just around the corner as well. Not All is Fair in Love and War
The next major film of Charlie's would find its birth in 1941, but it would be six years of misery and distraction before he could get it to the screen. In the interim, he did manage to resurrect his most venerable and beloved silent film for sound in 1942, The Gold Rush, by composing and compiling a new score, adding narration in place of inter-titles, and doing a little re-editing and excision.
The combination of his sometimes obsessive workload, hyper-focus on his work during The Great Dictator, and short attention span in other areas of his life spelled trouble for is relationship with Goddard, and by 1939 the two had been separated. In 1940 they announced that they had been married four years earlier, in part to squelch continuing speculation and criticism. Two years later Chaplin made an amicable legal settlement with Goddard, who continued on with her own career at Paramount and other studios. Charlie's next distraction would be his undoing, albeit unfairly. Her name was Joan Barry (a.k.a. Mary Louis Gribble), an American actress of no particular distinction. Chaplin had hired her to his studio in mid 1941, keeping her on retainer will making sure she had acting lessons to realize her potential and help alter her nasal New York accent. Fixated on her form and figure more than anything else, Charlie had a short affair with Joan in mid to late 1942, but ended it after she proved to be mentally unstable. Barry would come to his home to harass him from outside, trying to gain sympathy and entry, and having to be taken away by police on a couple of occasions. Ten or eleven months after their involvement allegedly ended, Barry gave birth to a girl, Carol Ann, and claimed that the child was Chaplin's. Charlie immediately and emphatically denied that this was possible and submitted to a blood test to prove the fact that he was not the father. However, Barry's attorney, Joseph Scott, did all he could to convince the jury that Chaplin, who had shown an affinity for underage girls and lurid behavior, was still responsible, and convinced the court that the blood tests should not be admissible as evidence. In late 1943 Chaplin was ordered to give Barry child support for the next eighteen years, which he did, in spite of the injustice, to help negate the already sensational and damaging publicity the trial had generated. To add to his problems, Federal Prosecutors charged him with a violation of the Mann Act, which covered trafficking, prostitution, and immorality.
Yet by the time of even the first trial, Charlie seemed less troubled and more settled than ever before. He had finally found the equal of his first love, Hetty Kelly, in the person of Oona O'Neill, the daughter of famed playwright Eugene O'Neill. She had come from New York to California at age 17 to try and reconnect with her estranged father, a relationship that did not work out well. Oona also wanted to try her luck in Hollywood. As it happened, Charlie was looking for a replacement for Barry in the fall of 1942 for an upcoming film project, Shadow and Substance. When he first tried her out he deemed the girl too young for the part. However, she immediately took to Charlie and persisted in trying to convince him to use her. Within a short while, they became romantically involved and the film was put aside. Chaplin was reluctant to move forward with the relationship, but Oona pursued it, winning him over. They were married in Santa Barbara, California, on June 16, 1943. Immediately the press added another marriage to an 18-year-old to the list of supposed infractions committed by the aging star, which did not help with the first Barry trial soon to be underway. Feeling that his words might have some sway still for fans, and even the governments of the United States and Great Britain, Charlie became vocal in late 1942, hoping to help fight the war with ideas. Among those was a secondary front to the east of the Axis of Germany and surrounding nations, which meant forming an alliance with the Soviet Union. While a combination of strategic air power and some cooperation with the USSR ultimately helped the Allies win the fight in the European and African theaters,
Knowing that he could no longer get away with making a silent film, and having ostensibly given the tramp his last hurrah, disguised to some degree as the barber in The Great Dictator, Charlie knew that he would have to create an entirely new character for himself if he were to appear again on screen. That was the project that had been brewing since 1941. Orson Welles had learned of the execution in 1922 of Henri Désiré Landru, who had murdered ten or more women, two dogs, and one boy. Having finished his legendary but controversial Citizen Kane, Welles developed a story that had a similar character marrying women and killing them for their money in order to support his primary family. He thought of Chaplin for the part and had approached him. Chaplin was enthusiastic about the story, but not about being directed by somebody else. He wanted to take over the project, so for $10,000 and a guaranteed screen credit, "Based on an idea by Orson Welles," it became a Chaplin property. While the Barry-related trials and the war both caused him to delay the project, Charlie's real life courtroom drama helped him create the ending for the story in which he would play the title character, Monsieur Verdoux. Even though it was finally written fairly quickly, there were troubles with the script approval in 1946 when he presented it to the Breen Office, the association responsible for monitoring and enforcing moral codes in motion pictures displayed in the United States. In one scene where Verdoux comes close to poisoning a girl just out of prison, in her original guise she had been arrested for prostitution. In a movie about a serial killer this was oddly unacceptable, so her crime was changed to theft. He also had to remove any suggestion that he was sharing a bed with any woman in his life, and "come to bed" in one scene had to be altered to "go to bed." There were few other alterations, and the production proceeded, although stiltingly.
Chaplin's score for Monsieur Verdoux, arranged and directed by Rudolph Schrager, is much sparser than those for the previous three films, in part because there is so much dialog. However, in many scenes the combination of camera work, lighting and use of the score were at the same level in many regards as the films of the famous suspense director Alfred Hitchcock. There were repeated motifs, such as the locomotive theme for Verdoux's frequent train trips throughout France, and a lot of use of the oboe either alone or mixed with other instruments in unaccompanied monophonic lines, often introducing a new scenario with Verdoux. His use of underscore in a scene with a young woman on who he was going to test a type of poison and changes his mind signals methods that would become common in the 1950s, withholding all background sound until the moment of danger, then retraction from his plan occurs. The ongoing court battles with Barry helped motivate Chaplin for his somewhat controversial courtroom speech. Even though it is set in 1937, he gives a 1947 view of the world, pointing out that individuals who kill in small numbers are amateurs in comparison to governments who are able to render mass murders with great efficiency through warfare without themselves being held accountable. "Numbers sanctify," he tells a reporter. This was another astute yet incendiary phrase that would further alienate Chaplin from the public. Indeed, when the film came out in April, Charles had no delusions about what the press was most interested in. Resigned to not talking about the movie, he was relentlessly questioned about the trials, tax issues, and his refusal to become an American citizen. Most critics were also down on Chaplin's performance, some saying he was better in pantomime than when opening his mouth. There were, of course, his ardent supporters, but Monsieur Verdoux was a box office disappointment, in part because many theaters refused to exhibit it given the growing anti-Chaplin sentiment in the United States.
When the trials were over, Chaplin moved ahead with his life as best he could, albeit now under even more public and Federal Government scrutiny. In 1946 he had a second child with Oona, and was also still involved in the lives of Charlie Jr. and Sydney. After another break of a couple of years, he set his sights on what many historians have viewed variously as either an autobiographical story or in some cases one of self-pity for his plight. It was also came with a new set of creative challenges. Limelight was the story of a once-famous stage clown comedian now in his decline, based on real-life people Charlie had observed going through similar situations. In particular were a Spanish clown named Marceline who he had worked with on London stages when he was young, and Of some importance to note are four of the actors in the film besides Chaplin himself. One was his second son, Sydney, who played a secondary younger male lead. Another was his older half brother Wheeler Dryden, making this more of a family affair.
To this day there are aspects of Keaton's inclusion in the film that are still points of controversy among historians. He played in an extended scene with Chaplin near the end of the film where they engage in a slapstick routine involving a pianist and violinist. It has long been reported that Keaton may have actually upstaged Chaplin when they shot the routine, and most of his best work ended up excised from the final product. However, it should also be considered that the film was already relatively long, and some may have been left out due to time considerations, and the rest merely to fit the story line better in favor of Calvero. Their memories of this event are quite different. Keaton claims it was delightful and that he would have worked with Chaplin for nothing. Charlie made no mention of Keaton's involvement in his later books. With a relatively tight shooting schedule, another aspect that had to be worked out in advance was the music for the ballet sequence, which required both composing and recording it. Charlie ended up composing a 25 minute ballet, although it was extensively reduced in the final cut. With the help of Ray Rasch and Larry Russell, he completed one of his finest scores yet. In particular, the haunting main love theme known as Terry's Theme is still regarded to be as venerable as Smile, and was published separately as Eternally. He also dug into his past of ragtime tunes and English music hall traditions, coming up with original tunes that echoed both quite effectively. It would eventually yield him another Oscar™, but that would have to wait. Limelight was Chaplin's final United States film. Trouble had been brewing in Hollywood and Washington as more information emerged, not all of it genuine, about Charlie's communist sympathies. Even though he was now in a very stable marriage that would last for 34 years to his death and produce eight children, the family that Chaplin had long desired, his past affairs were being brought up more frequently in a challenge to both his political and moral turpitude. In July it was announced that he was being investigated by and would be subject to a subpoena to appear in front of the House Un-American Activities Committee to answer charges he was promoting communist causes in Hollywood and beyond. He later wrote that "Although I am not a Communist I refused to fall in line by hating them." There was a call in Congress to commence with deportation proceedings during the height of the Red Scare in 1952. While it did not make it to the stage of deportation, Chaplin did help them out to some degree by leaving the country, albeit not to relocate.In the long run it is still unclear what person in what government agency pounded in the final nail concerning his rights in the United States. While J. Edgar Hoover has long been suspect, Hedda Hopper had used her voice in the Hollywood gossip columns to turn public sentiment against Chaplin, also accusing him of communism. Some of the most credible speculation is that the Department of Defense, more so than the State Department, saw Chaplin as a threat through his potential sway over some of his more loyal fans in Hollywood and Washington. Chaplin left the United States for the British premiere of Limelight in early October, 1952 aboard the luxurious Queen Elizabeth. Almost as soon as he was gone, the Immigration and Naturalization Service through attorney general James McGranery revoked the visa of the country's most famous resident alien, and he would be denied re-entry into the country in which he had spent four decades setting the standards for film comedy, directing, and musical scoring, as well as contributing significantly to aspects of American life. In reality, Chaplin could have returned, but before he would have been able to fully gain reentry, he would have had to appear before an INS board of inquiry to answer as to why he should be allowed back in. It was later revealed that the INS did not really have enough cause to ban him from coming back. When interviewed in London about his plight, he responded with a quote by a famous American figure: "As the late Calvin Coolidge said when he terminated his presidency and was embarking to go home, and waylaid by one of the pressmen who said, 'Mr. President, won't you say a few farewell words to the American people?,' he said 'Yes, goodbye!'" The American premiere of Limelight would be poorly attended, and due to the current sentiment about its star following his exile, would be shown on very few screens. As it would not last in Los Angeles for even a week, it was not eligible for Oscar™ contention. In hindsight this was probably a blessing for the comedian. In a very short time all of his films were banned in the United States, although this short-sighted way of thinking would not last very long, and before the 1950s were out Chaplin films would again appear on television and in selected theaters. But Chaplin himself would not be heard from in the United States for nearly two decades. Exile and Reinvention
After having toured England and part of Europe with Oona and his four children, Charlie briefly considered stating his case and renewing his U.S. visa. He later recalled “that I was fed up with America’s insults and moral pomposity, and that the whole subject was damned boring." He finally reconciled that this would be a fruitless endeavor, and made his reasons known publicly: "Since the end of the last World War, I have been the object of lies and propaganda by powerful reactionary groups who, by their influence and by the aid of America's yellow press, have created an unhealthy atmosphere in which liberal-minded individuals can be singled out and persecuted.
Oona returned to the United States alone to wrap up their affairs there. This included packing everything from their home and getting it sold, gathering all of the materials, including film negatives, from the studio, and taking care of other business affairs and transfers. Even though it was known she was in the country, something that made Charlie very nervous, Oona was not stopped or questioned on her trip, even though most other Chaplin associates were still in the hot seat. When she returned the Chaplins had a special film vault installed in their home, and his precious lifes work was safely stored for later disposition or distribution. The world was thinking quite differently about Charlie now, and while there were detractors in the United States he still had many supporters there and in his home country of England. While the question of his receiving knighthood from the British Empire was again raised in 1956, it was denied once more due to what the British Foreign Office cited as concerns over his moral behavior. In short, it was still too controversial a move at that time. Oona eventually gave up her American citizenship for that of Switzerland, but was still allowed to return to the U.S. for family matters. Even away from Hollywood, Chaplin found that there was no need to cease his motion-picture work, and set out to make not just a film but, in spite of his protestations to the contrary, a clear political statement on both his expulsion and the paranoid political climate of the United States in the 1950s. Hampered by not having his own studio, he now had to plan as much as possible in advance to make the best use of locations and rented facilities in order to maximize his investment. The story of A King in New York revolves around the congressional interrogation of a young boy, played by his son Michael who was ten-years-old. Under pressure he names the political affiliations and friends of his allegedly communist parents. One of those was King Igor Shahdov, played by Chaplin, who had been bilked of his funds by his own Prime Minister and had escaped to New York City after a revolution in his country. While campaigning for the use of peaceful and efficient nuclear power, he inadvertently becomes a television icon in commercials, which he acts in to earn money for his cause.
The film takes obvious issue with the HUAC, new revolutions in film such as widescreen formats, the pitfalls and audacious effects of celebrity, television as a medium and its commercialism, and popular music. For the latter, Chaplin composed some pop music with non-clever rhymes to make his point. Unfortunately, given his time constraints, the music, cinematography, and even some of the writing have historically been scrutinized by film historians as shoddy or in need of editing and refinement. In addition, London was not an ideal stand-in for New York City, but he could not film on location for obvious reasons. A King in New York opened in virtually all major movie markets outside of the United States in September 1957, and did well enough that Chaplin was able to recoup his costs. It was largely ignored, however, in the United States. However, two other projects, one of them totally out of the hands of Chaplin, would help to start the long healing process. In 1957. around the same time as the release of A King in New York, American film entrepreneur Robert Youngson compiled a documentary on silent film comedians. It included clips of the Sennett studio in action extracted from The Hollywood Kid, and had incessant narration throughout. The orchestrated music, mostly classical and largely culled from Chopin, has been viewed as not entirely appropriate, especially with some of the whimsical sound effects thrown in for fun. Still, The Golden Age of Comedy was well received and critically acclaimed, in spite of the obvious absence of Chaplin, Keaton and the third major comic genius, Harold Lloyd. In an effort to cash in on the film's success, and perhaps to rectify the omission of his first compilation, Youngson released When Comedy Was King in late 1959. While the inclusion of Chaplin and Keaton rectified their absence from the first film, Youngson evidently felt it necessary to temper Charlie's films with statements like "The young Charlie Chaplin, swept so quickly to fame, was to become a figure of controversy," and "But that was before the troubled times..." The second film, less weighed down by narration and abrupt pacing, did even better than the first. Whether Charlie was emboldened by the results of The Golden Age of Comedy or was hoping to capitalize on its reception and improve on its faults is unclear. However, in 1959 he continued where he had left off with his redux of The Gold Rush.
This new release of his First National material was accompanied by minimally narrated introductions and a full score composed by Chaplin, some of it using musical elements from his previous film scores. Unlike the Youngson productions, which tried to retrofit classical and old popular tunes to the action, Charlie chose to underscore the emotion of each scene, with very few synchronized effects (such as the beating of a bass drum by a dog's tail). The recurring theme for the Green Lantern Inn became The Green Lantern Rag, an authentic ragtime piece that when fully assembled represents a three section rag. In A Dog's Life for a scene where Edna Purviance is singing a weepy ballad on stage, instead of trying to retrofit a known piece underneath her performance, he used a bowed saw instead to substitute as a forlorn human voice. Shoulder Arms used a more militaristic theme, yet it too played upon emotions more than comedy. For The Pilgrim, which features an escaped convict dressed in a Quaker pastor's outfit on his way from New York to Texas where he is mistaken as a real pastor, Charlie wrote a real authentic western tune, Bound for Texas, employing British singer and Decca artist Matt Monro (later known for recording Born Free) to don his best cowboy voice for the song. Running two hours, The Chaplin Revue was released in September 1959 in England, and other parts of Europe over the next several months.
In the early 1960s, Charlie took time out to compile a somewhat sanitized but otherwise selectively thorough autobiography. My Life would be published in 1964, followed by three other books over the next few years. He focused largely on life with Oona and his children in Switzerland. Home movies show an attentive and fun-loving family man who treasured his eight offspring and adored his strong and devoted wife. Among the visitors to the Chaplin estate in Vevey were friends of Oona, Walter and Carol Matthau. Carol and Oona had gone to school together and maintained their friendship. Walter would later play a role in Chaplin's reacceptance in the U.S. Sydney and his second wife, Henriette, were also visitors until Sydney's death in 1965. In 1962 he was awarded an honorary doctorate degree by Oxford University, and in 1965, shared half of the Erasmus prize with another famous director, Ingmar Bergman, amounting to five million French francs. Charlie had used his wife in children at various times in films, and at home the family made their own mini comedies or dramas. A couple of them went a bit further in their acting ambitions. His second son, Sydney, went into films after World War II, winning a Tony Award™ in 1957 for Bells are Ringing, and a nomination in 1964 for his performance as gambler Nicky Arnstein opposite Barbara Streisand in Funny Girl. Charlie's oldest daughter, Geraldine, had been seen briefly in Limelight. After she gave up the idea of a career in ballet she received training in acting. Her first major role was as Tonya Gromeko in the David Lean epic Doctor Zhivago, which earned her a Golden Globe™ nomination.
Chaplin wanted to prove that he had at least one more good film in him, and in mid 1965 undertook his final production, A Countess from Hong Kong. He wrote the comedy as well, based on an idea called Stowaway which he had intended for Paulette Goddard in the late 1930s. It was about an American ambassador-designate to Saudi Arabia who makes his way to Hong Kong while finishing up a world tour. There he encounters a Russian countess who sneaks on board a luxury liner and into his cabin in order to escape a life of forced prostitution. A farce is in the works when the ambassador's wife boards in Hawaii. Included in the cast were three of his daughters in walk-ons. Sydney had a moderately important lead role and Charlie did a walk-on as a ship's steward. The stars were Marlon Brando and Sophia Loren. A Countess from Hong Kong was Chaplin's first and only film in color and widescreen. Surprisingly he received support from Universal Studios in California, who had just entered the British film market at Pinewood Studios. The expensive enterprise was not surprisingly plagued by problems on the set at Pinewood. Chaplin broke his ankle during a walk, the first serious injury he had ever sustained in his long career. Brando, who was second choice to Rex Harrison who had demurred from the part, was very much an admirer of Chaplin, but did not act this way during the filming and was difficult both on and off the set. Both later made it clear that the experience of working together was quite unpleasant. The same lack of chemistry and cooperation existed between Loren and Brando. There were also issues with the lenses used on the cameras, and problems with editing. The music was perhaps one of the best aspects of the production, as Charlie composed no less than fifteen themes, and used a couple of other classical works. One of his pieces, titled This is My Song, was covered by popular singer Petula Clark shortly after the release of the film. Chaplin did not care for her rendition, but it went to number one on the charts and turned out to be the only bright spot of a dark period.When A Countess from Hong Kong was released in January 1967, there were projection problems at the London premiere in which the wrong lens was used and the film was displayed at an incorrect aspect ratio, setting the dismal tone for what was to come. Critical reviews on the editing and the partially spherical presentation of the premiere were rather abysmal. The British and European moviegoers took the critics at their word, and the $3.5 million film ended up recovering only half of the production costs. The lack of American distribution further increased any hopes for success. In spite of the support of a minority of critics, his film was regarded as a box office failure. Universal removed fifteen minutes from the original cut for a revamped release, but it did not do any better, and Chaplin felt that the cuts ruined the overall production. Charlie went into a deep depression that would last for some time. Still interested in work in spite of the major setback, Chaplin revisited another film in 1968 that had not even been mentioned in his 1964 autobiography in spite of it being responsible for his first Oscar™. He resurrected his 1928 motion picture The Circus and wrote a fresh score for it which included a theme song, Swing, Little Girl. The piece was used for the title sequence. To further codify his involvement with the music and at the insistence of Eric James, who was again acting as arranger, Charlie actually sang the title sing at age 79, giving him a bittersweet involvement with this difficult project some four decades after it had been first completed. His next act would force him for the first time to contend with a soundtrack at the same time he was making a film. In his book My Life in Pictures, written in 1974, Charlie mentioned that he had been working on one more film project titled The Freak which was to star his daughter Victoria. Costumes were made as were film tests, but the production never got off the ground. Now resigned to a retirement driven more by public sentiment than personal ambition, Charles retreated into his estate at Vevey, and into himself. He remained devoted to Oona and his children, but did not emerge publicly for nearly four years. Charlie did not know it yet, but there was one final act left that involved healing and his legacy, some of which would equal the pathos and joy found coexisting so effectively in his earliest films. The Road Back Home
The Chaplin family became involved in Charlie's love of music. He had a collection of records and reel-to-reel tapes of classical music. They would often gather together in the evenings and listen to one or another symphonic work or piano sonata in a house only lit by candles. Discussions of the music would often ensue as well.
Throughout his life Chaplin had befriended many top musicians and composers, some as friends and some as acquaintances. They included Sergei Rachmaninov, Igor Stravinsky, Ignace Jan Paderewski, Vladimir Horowitz, Victor Borge, Hanns Eisler and Arnold Schoenberg. Others in the classical world continued to visit him from time to time in Vevey, and he would hold miniature concerts with them for family and friends. It may never be known what kind of influence they had on the later film scores that Chaplin composed, but it can be ascertained that there was some discussion from time to time on his music that may have included advice, solicited being the most likely type. After taking a break for a couple of years, Chaplin decided to continue his project for completion of composed and recorded scores for his earlier films, this time with much less re-editing involved. In 1971, with help from Eric James, he managed to finish The Idle Class and his early masterpiece of pathos, The Kid. He also worked on some more potential book material as well, making sure to leave a more detailed accounting of his life as an artist in films. In the interim back in the United States, silent films, which sometimes started out as filler material for shows on independent and public television stations, were being discovered by a new generation.
In 1971 Mo Rothman acquired distribution rights to Chaplin's films in the United States and was looking to promote then in some way. By this time, with the McCarthy era long gone, a new generation in power in government and entertainment, the focus being largely on the continuing war in Vietnam, expanding musical and creative horizons, more independent film makers, and a second wave of 1900s nostalgia following the widespread honky-tonk craze of the 1950s, it seemed that the time was right for a reconciliation with the exiled comedian. More than a simple apology was clearly in order, and with the cooperation of the United States Government, Hollywood was able to set the stage for perhaps the most emotional moment in the history of the cinema. In early 1972, through Rothman and Academy member Bert Schneider, a resolution was drafted by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences to honor Charles Chaplin with an overdue honorary award to be presented to him in April. Even though Hoover was still running the FBI (he would be dead within a month of the presentation) he did not have the same support as he had in the past concerning such matters. He was not really even a factor in Charlie's return. Oona fully supported and encouraged her husband to make the trip to the country that had thrown him out just less than two decades prior. Their first stop was in New York where they visited some old friends and saw to a few other business matters. When the Chaplins arrived at the airport in California there were a number of devoted fans there to welcome them. Among them was actor Jackie Coogan who was the star of The Kid (1921) and had also been in A Day's Pleasure two years before that. Even though decades had passed, Charlie recognized him and made his way over the give Coogan a hug. He reportedly whispered to him, "I think I would rather see you than anybody else." One of the people that had hoped to honor Chaplin during his visit was trumpeter Herb Alpert, who along with Jerry Moss had founded A&M Records a decade earlier. They now occupied the old Chaplin studio on La Brea, having converted two sound stages and the pool area to recording studios. In 1984 he had added a mural to one of the large walls depicting Chaplin in a number of his films. However, Charlie wanted to avoid public appearances as much as possible,
On Monday night Charlie Chaplin was escorted into the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion at the Los Angeles Music Center for the 44th Academy Awards Oscar™ ceremony, reportedly uncertain of how he would be received by his peers after such a long absence. Veteran star Betty Grable was also honored that night in her last stage appearance. She would die from cancer within the year. One of the hosts, Jack Lemmon, introduced a montage of several minutes showing some of the best moments of Charlie's work, assembled by no less than Peter Bogdonavich. Then Lemmon announced the lifetime achievement Oscar™ which was in presented to Chaplin "for the incalculable effect he has had in making motion pictures the art form of this century." "The 3700 fellow artists of the academy, with pride and affection, present this tribute to one of the immortals among men." This author, who is the son of a fairly well known character actor (Sam Edwards) remembers the wave of emotion that swept through our Los Angeles home that evening when the aged little tramp slowly walked out on stage to a tumultuous ovation the likes of which had never been heard at an Oscar™ ceremony and has not been repeated since. Even in my early teens I was quite aware of many of Chaplin's films and his importance in comedy, and also was educated on his exile. But nothing could prepare us, or even Charlie, and perhaps even the crowd in the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion, for the reception that one of the most misunderstood and yet revered members of the early days of film would enjoy, especially in the city that he helped to build. The applause lasted more than five minutes, with nobody in particular trying to stop it so the show could go on, because at that moment, that was the show. Charlie was duly overcome by the reception. After the applause finally subsided and he received his statue he could only utter a few words of thanks to his supporters. "An emotional moment for me, and words seem so futile; so feeble. I can only say thank you for the honor of inviting me here, and... oh, you're wonderful, sweet people. Thank you." Lemmon then handed him a cane and a bowler hat, a trademark of the tramp, and Charlie put it on his head, caused it to pop off, and gave a little impish grin. Jack and all of the honorees serenaded him with Smile as Oona came out. He was still composed enough to point at and publicly acknowledge his long time supporter and best friend, making it clear that she had also made this moment possible. Then he exited the stage, left the building, and returned to his home in Corsier-sur-Vevey, Switzerland, never again to set foot in the United States. And In The End...
Because of the rules of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, which stated that a film needed to run at least a full consecutive week in a year in Los Angeles and New York to allow voting members a chance to see it,
Soon after the Chaplins returned to Switzerland, Bogdonavich, who had been a documentary director before his award winning The Last Picture Show, was tapped to interview Charlie for a potential documentary. He sent in a French camera crew headed by Pierre Cottrell. However, most of what was shot turned out to be unusable because Chaplin's mood would change often, and some of his stories lacked the detail or emphasis that the directors were looking for. Director Richard Patterson took over the project and decided to make a film about Charlie's life, using some of the previously shot footage as well as key sequences from Chaplin films to juxtapose with certain elements of his life. Many of the family's 16mm films were also added into the mix. With the assistance of Walter and Carol Matthau, more candid footage was shot in Vevey to fill in the ending. The Gentleman Tramp, narrated by Walter Matthau included several quotes of Chaplin read by Laurence Olivier. When it was first viewed by Oona, she made several suggestions about scenes or points she thought should be removed from the film. Much of this included the juxtaposition of films with life events. Some of the film was re-edited, but just before the premiere Oona vociferously objected to the fact that not all of her requested alterations had been made, suggesting that the juxtaposed scenes were poor substitutes for actual events in Charlie's life. Her protestations were intended for the most part to properly protect her husband's legacy. Patterson carefully wrote her a letter defending all of his choices and the logic behind them, noting that these were intended as dream sequences of a sort, echoing but not duplicating what was happening in Charlie's life at those particular times. No further objections were lobbied and the film was approved.
During this time, Charlie had gone back in to the recording studio with new scores for his remaining First National films, including Pay Day in 1972, A Day's Pleasure in 1973, Sunnyside in 1974, and his last film scoring session for the long neglected 1923 feature A Woman of Paris in 1976. All told, Chaplin had written scores for no less than 18 of his films, most of them feature length, and out of those several enduring pieces emerged. The longest lasting of those, often played when he was received at various functions, were Eternally from Limelight, Falling Star from The Great Dictator, the main theme from City Lights, and the brilliant Smile. The latter remains his most familiar tune, having been beautifully rendered soon after the lyrics were added by artists as diverse as Nat "King" Cole and Wladziu Valentino Liberace. That one elusive honor that so many had hoped the British film maker would receive finally was awarded forty-four years after it had first been put forward; a knighthood from the British Empire. On March 4, 1975, Charlie was wheeled into Buckingham palace, just miles from where he had been born and raised, as a subject of the British Empire. The orchestra played his beautiful theme from Limelight as he was brought into the hall. Queen Elizabeth tapped him on each shoulder and hung the KBE (Knight of the British Empire) medallion around his neck before the two briefly chatted. As he left the ceremony, the 75 year old actor who had been so supple and athletic into his early sixties asked that the cameras be stilled as he struggled to get into the limousine. He exited as Sir Charles Spencer Chaplin. His final two and a half years were spent in declining health at home with Oona and frequent visits from their children and friends. Charlie was becoming frustrated with his increasing inability to communicate, a paramount function in his life, and this may have contributed to his failing condition. Sir Charles Spencer Chaplin, the wayward child of two English music hall singers who ended up leaving an indelible mark on the 20th century, finally succumbed to death, the very thing he had defied so many times during his prime years of acting in his own films, passing in his sleep at 87 years of age on Christmas Day 1977. Charles was interred near Sydney and Henriette in Corsier-Sur-Vevey Cemetery. But was not allowed to rest in peace right away. A group of Swiss Mechanics stole his casket from the grave on March 1, 1978, in an effort to extract a ransom from the grieving family. The Swiss detectives managed to thwart the plot, and by mid May Chaplin's body had been recovered. Fearing further incidents of this type, the family had him buried in the same plot, but under six feet of concrete. Now his body would rest peacefully while his soul continually entertained all of those who had passed from this world as well. Oona returned to New York to escape her grief and start a new life. However, her efforts did not carry her far enough, and in the mid 1980s she returned to Vevey and the Chaplin villa, rarely showing herself in public, and reportedly struggling with alcoholism. Although she gained some control over her issues with her family's help, Oona was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer after it was too late to counter it. Charlie's one and only enduring love, Lady Oona O'Neill Chaplin, joined him on September 27, 1991, and is interred next to him in Corsier-Sur-Vevey Cemetery. Coda
Since before his death, there have been many layers of public perception of what Charlie Chaplin was all about. Some associated him with virtually nothing but slapstick shenanigans. Some have seen him as countering the Hollywood establishment. Many have seen him as a pathetic figure who was wronged by the American public. Others who study his stories see him as a master of juxtaposition of pathos and comedy in the same space. There is some degree of truth to all of these layers.
In some ways this actually speaks very highly of Chaplin as both a film maker and a musician. The clear intention of music in relation to films for him, going back to when he first distributed cue sheets for The Kid with specific styles of pieces intended for specific scenes, was to enhance or underscore the action on the screen without getting in the way of it. The very word underscore comes from this contention, and is used to denote what some might call background music, even though a true underscore has a much more symbiotic relationship with the other elements of a scene, including sets, lighting, camera angles and, of course, acting. Knowing this, Charles wrote themes from his heart and mind that were suggested as much by the action he saw on the screen, or in some cases envisioned in advance, as much as from his own ideas of what would move an audience without detracting from the story. Yet it was not until the 1990s that any serious study was done on his scores and compositions, and even in the second decade of the 21st century, many Chaplin fans are still unaware of the sheer volume and quality of the works he composed over a period of sixty years. There are now CDs and music downloads available of Chaplin scores and songs in their original recordings or rendered by any number of popular artists, Smile being the one that tops the list, followed by Eternally. It is hoped by this author that future generations will be more aware of this particular layer of the many talents of Charlie Chaplin, and perhaps find new ways to apply his music to his films, or even as separate entities. There have been several books written on silent films in general and Chaplin and Keaton in particular since their deaths. As might be expected, some of them focus on the visual or comic aspects of these two multi-talented individuals, but at the very least they have instilled interest in new generations of moviemakers and moviegoers, and bring new insight to those of older generations. Seeing that the time was right, actor and director Sir Richard Attenborough, also a Knight of the British Empire (1976 - now Lord Attenborough), worked to bring his own vision of Chaplin to the screen in 1992. The lead role was played brilliantly by actor Robert Downey, Jr., who in his thirties realized his own struggles with fame and addiction that have since been put behind him and channeled into a highly successful career. Downey, with Attenborough's help, seemed to understand the struggles that often hounded Chaplin, and while it was impossible to encapsulate who he really was in the space of 144 minutes, the pair managed to cover most of the aspects of his life and career, including his musical involvement. One of the more artistic devices Attenborough used was to cast Moira Kelly in the roles of both Hetty Kelly and Oona O'Neill, Charlie's first and last loves. Bringing the story full circle, Chaplin's oldest daughter, Geraldine, was brought on board to play her own grandmother, Hannah Chaplin.
Film historian David Shepherd of Kino Films/Image Entertainment, among other historians, has worked tirelessly since the 1980s to find the best film elements of prints from around the world and restore the films, as best as possible, to their original exhibition length. In some cases he had access to original camera negatives, and with these and selectively intelligent scores by a handful of astute musicians around the world, has been able to offer a balanced and even fresh look at Chaplin's early work. All of his films are available on DVD, although some of the DVDs are now out of print, and some will be available on high definition Blu-Ray format in the near future. One of the best sets from Image Entertainment is of the 12 Mutual Films, which also includes a documentary on Chaplin's Goliath, Eric Campbell, and both versions of The Gentleman Tramp. The Chaplin family has also made available from the vault in the villa in Vevey all of Charlie's original negatives from 1918 and later. MK2 Editions and Warner Brothers made all of these available on laser disc, then DVD from the late 1990s to the early 2000s. Each package contains a number of engaging features and rare footage plus remastered soundtracks of Chaplin's music and even occasional audio tracks. They are consistently introduced by one of Chaplin's later and most respected biographers, David Robinson.
In 1999, The Jim Henson Company, founded by the originator of the famous Muppets back in the mid 1950s and now a subsidiary of the largest entertainment company in the world, Walt Disney, bought the studio for creating new Muppet productions. They extensively remodeled the lot, taking great pains to restore much of the exterior to the appearance of the old English Village that Chaplin had worked to create in 1918. The recording studios were retained, and are still in use today by the Henson Company, Disney, and Los Angeles area musicians. Also retained are many relics from its original owners, including bathrooms designed like giant fish bowls, and even vaults in the wall, one of which was featured as a safe repository for the tramp's famous shoes in the 1918 promotional film How to Make Movies. Even though the orange groves of West Hollywood are long gone, replaced by progress and commerce (Chaplin himself pled guilty, citing the influx of oil, aeronautics and movies), the appearance of the front gate today is not much different from that of 1918. There is one obvious exception. The head Muppet, Kermit the Frog (analogous to Disney's famous mouse) is posed to the right of the gate as a 12 foot tall statue, dressed in the famous garb of Chaplin's tramp. Tours are conducted for the lucky few who can secure them, and the sense of history is kept very much alive by a new generation of comic icons who derived some of their best material from the person who built their current home. Into the 21st century, dedicated fans will watch Chaplin films and introduce them to others, dedicated musicians will write or improvise scores to the older ones that Chaplin himself did not score, and historians will try to shed new light from a variety of angles on what made Charlie Chaplin tick and why was the public so fascinated by who he was and what he did. Was what he accomplished in the cinema and in music a logical extension of his stage experience or personna, a demonstration of his boundless creativity, a learned science when the medium of film was still in its infancy, or simply art for arts sake? The answer is clearly yes! to all of these. And as long as we can laugh, cry, sympathize with or cheer the tramp, he will continue to have an impact on the world he left behind. For all of his flaws, and there were many, we should hope that the joy and the thoughts he left behind might balance them out. In short, they made him truly human and like the rest of us. There is no single word that can encapsulate those feelings; no one paragraph that can begin to describe him. But then again, isn't that lack of speech what made Charlie so brilliant as a shining star in the first place? A great many sources were used in compiling this biography. The first searched were public records such as the U.S. Census and U.K. Census plus draft records. Federal reports made available under the Freedom of Information act some time ago were also consulted concerning the difficulties Chaplin had with the Government. Newspapers, especially the Los Angeles Times and Herald, were invaluable in conveying or refuting certain bits of information, as were periodicals such as Life Magazine, The Music Trade Review and Presto. Some of the earliest information on Chaplin with the Karno company was readily found in advertisements from newspapers around the United States from 1911 to 1913, the same being true for early exhibitions of his films. Also consulted were releases from Brunswick and various sheet music covers.
There are many fine books on Chaplin, some which need to be approached with a measure of caution to avoid bias one way or another. Usually when consulting multiple sources the most likely scenario can be averaged out, which was done here. Sources consulted (and linked) include My Autobiography by Charles Chaplin; Charlie Chaplin Interviews by Kevin J. Hayes; The Intimate Charlie Chaplin by May Reeves, Claire Goll and Constance Brown Kuriyama; Charlie Chaplin - King of Tragedy by Gerith Von Ulm with help from Kono; Charlie Chaplin and His Times by Kenneth Schuyler Lynn; and Tramp: The Life of Charlie Chaplin by Joyce Milton. There are many fine web resources available on Chaplin as well with overviews of his life, discussions of his films, and photographs. Among the best of these is charliechaplin.com which is the closest entity to an official site that exists; chaplinalife.com which contains many fine photo essays; philposner.com/ccmus/ccmusic.html with an article on Chaplin as "the perfect composer," and charliechaplinarchive.org which contains many of his printed materials collected over the years. Perhaps the most valuable resources of all that explain his art and the progression of his work are the many DVD sets available, even if out of print. Most can be found at Amazon.com with a search on "Charlie Chaplin" in quotation marks, or click on the links in the filmography. Judge your purchases by the reviews, but you can trust the products from Kino/Image Entertainment and MK2/Warner Brothers to be of the best possible quality. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
"Zez" Confrey has long been known as one of the most popular progenitors of the Novelty Piano style that was born out of the desire for piano roll arrangers to give their works more bite. He was born to railroad clerk Thomas J. Confrey and his wife Margaret (Brown) Confrey in rural Peru, Illinois at the dawn of the ragtime era. Edward (who may have just as often been called Elzear as he was shown on some official records) was the second youngest of five surviving children of nine born to the couple, including James (3/1885), Frank (11/1886), William (11/1893) and Margaret (5/1897). He displayed his propensity for music at the age of four. Just after his talented older brother Jim had completed a piece during a piano lesson, the youngest Confrey stood at the piano and picked out the melody of the same piece he had been listening to Jim play. So lessons for Elzear started quite early.
In the 1910 Census the family was shown living in La Salle, Illinois (near Peru) with Thomas still working for the railroad, joined by his son Frank. Oldest son Jim was working as an orchestra musician that year, which was around the time Edward was in high school, and already conducting his own orchestra. "Zez" (as he was now known) had progressed well beyond what most local teachers could offer him. So he soon attended the fairly close by Chicago Musical College (run by Florenz Ziegfeld Sr., father of the famous Ziegfeld Follies founder) for better grounding in all musical forms ranging from classical music to contemporary composers Debussy, Ravel, Stravinsky, and others. It was the influence of the French impressionist composers that showed up in his later compositions.One of his earliest pieces that might be considered a precursor to novelty piano was titled Twaify's Piano. Composed in the late 1910s but never published, it was based on a broken-down player piano at Twaify's on Eighth Street in La Salle. He imitated as much as many of the instrument's characterisics as he could, including "its wheezing performance, wrong and missing notes, the asthmatic pedal, the flapping roll," all on a fully working instrument. In an effort to support himself during college, Zez logically chose performance, and his older brother Jim stepped in to help him out. They formed an orchestra, then even opened their own venue, The Kaskasia Hotel, to feature it, as well as engaging in occasional short performance tours. This was interrupted by The Great War (World War I). His 1917 draft card lists him as a music teacher living in La Salle. Zez ultimately joined the Navy, where he ended up entertaining the sailors more than serving with them. One of his performing partners during his stint in the show Leave It To Sailors was a talented violinist from Waukegan, Illinois named Benjamin Kubelsky. He later started telling jokes between tunes and soon changed his stage name to Jack Benny. When Zez was fresh out of the Navy he sought to expand his exposure by successfully auditioning for the QRS Piano Roll Company, making it clear that he felt his arranging skills would help their rolls sell better. During his six-plus years there he proved that contention to be accurate. In all he made at least one hundred twenty five rolls for QRS, and perhaps several more that have not been positively identified as they were released under pseudonyms. Zez secured a job as a manager with publisher G. Schirmer in Chicago in 1919, a branch dealing mostly with vaudeville singers. From there, it was a natural progression that his next step would be composition. After a few interesting pieces, Zez pulled My Pet out of his hat in 1921 (possibly a couple of years earlier). Where Felix Arndt's Nola had broken some new ground six years earlier in the use of seemingly complex sounding patterns, My Pet threw in a impressionistic harmonic progressions and previously implausible syncopated patterns to define his own brilliant take on the novelty piano genre. It was followed almost immediately by his wildly popular mega-hit Kitten on the Keys, and both were quickly packaged on a Brunswick record, as well as arranged for piano roll. In the midst of a barrage of interesting solos that would follow, he penned Stumbling, an instrumental that became his most popular vocal song. It came about when Zez watched a postman doing his duty amidst snowdrifts during a winter storm. The piece was used gratuitously throughout the movie Thoroughly Modern Millie in 1967. Some of the sides he did for Brunswick were repeated in 1921 and 1922 for the Emerson label, and he performed Kitten on the Keys on a celebrated Edison Diamond Disc as well on the last day of 1921. Publisher Jack Mills was thrilled to have Confrey as one of his prime composers. Confrey had experienced rejection by many publishers who thought his pieces were outlandishly difficult for the average pianist, and was reluctant to even present them to the adventurous entrepreneur. However, Mills saw the sales potential by promoting their musicality as well as making sure they were available on phonograph records. This created a successful paradox where even hack amateurs were so sure they could play what they heard on those recordings that they bought Confrey tunes by the thousands, only to discover their own limitations as represented by the apparent complexity. In truth, Zez Confrey novelties mostly consisted of simple patterns, and had they taken the time to master those patterns the learning curve would have been greatly lowered. A very successful folio of Zez Confrey's Modern Course in Novelty Piano Playing was created in 1923 to address this issue, and indeed remained in print for four decades. A ringing endorsement of this was the adoption of this book by the dominant Christensen School of Music with branches throughout the country. Still, in the end, it was the complexity of novelty piano that soured sheet music sales for Mills and other companies in the genre, but money was still to be made in the record business.Perhaps the highlight of Confrey's performance career, and indeed a benchmark for jazz music that announced it was here to stay, was the legendary concert that bandleader Paul Whiteman arranged at Aeolian Hall in New York City on February 12, 1924. While most may remember that event as the premiere of George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue as arranged by Ferdé Grofé, it should also be noted that some of Confrey's compositions were featured as well, and the composer himself rolled out his newest piece, the classically structured Three Little Oddities, along with the bombastic Dizzy Fingers and famous Kitten on the Keys. In fact, the official billing for the concert read, "Paul Whiteman and his Palais Royal Orchestra will offer An Experiment in Modern Music, assisted by Zez Confrey and George Gershwin." After the event he accepted a position creating rolls exclusively for Ampico reproducing pianos, and turned out forty-four over the next three years. In addition, Whiteman had sponsored Confrey's own orchestra as part of his band empire as early as 1922, a dance orchestra which recorded several sides for Victor as well as performed live at many events. Some of these made it overseas on the HMV (His Master's Voice) label as well For all of his performance duties, it appears that Zez took the creation of piano rolls more seriously than anything. It is difficult to get a full estimate of the number of rolls he recorded for QRS, Aeolian and other concerns (the number 223 has been suggested), but each of them clearly has his stamp on them. Confrey could take a semi-popular song, as he did with Titina in 1925, and turn it into a novelty masterpiece, sometimes by adding an original section or altering the format of the song. They were also carefully edited after he made the mark-up copies for a very refined performance. His acoustic recordings were more throwaways in some regards, even though some of them indicated as many as 12 takes for a piece, sometimes across two sessions. In on instance, fellow pianist Phil Ohman sat in for Confrey both playing and leading his orchestra. After two years of constant recording with Victor his output appears to have simply dropped off in 1924, perhaps so he could focus on other concerns like composition and traveling with the orchestra. A series of recuts of Confrey pieces was done in 1927 after the advent of electronic recording, but with the exception of one tracks, this time it was Victor's musical director Nat Shilkret at the piano with the "Confrey Orchestra," which was actually the Victor house band.As he became more popular, Confrey became a spokesperson in some ways for the advancement of music forms, which is natural since he was part of the transition of ragtime into jazz and novelty tunes. An article from The Music Trade Review of February 25, 1928, read as follows: WATERTOWN, N. Y., February 21.- During his concert here at the armory this week, Zez Confrey, composer of "Kitten on the Keys" and other piano novelties, gave a short talk on the development of jazz music in recent years. Standing by his piano, after playing some of his compositions, Mr. Confrey said: "Radio is largely responsible for the change brought about in American dance music. The old-time so-called 'jazz' could not be broadcast with success. Since the introduction of radio several years ago, I have watched this evolution of the small dance orchestra to the present day concert dance orchestra, playing symphonic jazz with its intricate harmonies and pulsating
rhythms. The radio has also served to instruct the small town orchestra, and as a result this type of orchestra is better than its prototype of several years ago.
However, as the 1930s approached, Zez turned more to composition than to performance. An announcement in the October 6, 1928 edition of The Music Trade Review noted the following:
Zez Confrey, pianist-composer and for many years leader of his own dance orchestra, has just signed an exclusive contract with the Irving Berlin Standard Music Corp., New York, and will place all his compositions with that organization in the future. Mr. Confrey will concentrate on novelty orchestra numbers similar to his famous "Kitten on the Keys," which proved one of the biggest novelty hits ever published. His first release on the order of "Jumping Jack," the firm's present hit, will be introduced shortly both as a novelty piano solo and in orchestra form. The number will be exploited by the organization in a country-wide campaign. Mr. Confrey is also working on modern piano instruction books, both for beginners and advanced students. This news should be of real interest to music dealers throughout the country, who have enjoyed a substantial sale of Mr. Confrey's compositions in the past. His novelties all bear the individuality of his style of playing, and he belongs in a class by himself among modern American composers.
In the mid 1930s Zez participated in a few short subject films in New York. One of those, Home Run on the Keys from 1937, featured his Kitten on the Keys played live, and included fellow composer Byron Gay who had recently returned from a trip to the South Pole. The star of the film was the one who garnered the most attention at that time, New York Yankees slugger Babe Ruth. Ruth and Confrey had been friends for several years as Wilhelmina, who had appeared with Ethel Merman in Girl Crazy and The Ziegfeld Follies was a friend of Ruth's current wife who had also worked as a showgirl. Zez's signature piece, Kitten on the Keys, was also prominently featured in a 1935 Disney Silly Symphony, Three Orphan Kittens, through the emulation of a piano roll that was actually played live. Beyond incidentals like these, occasional radio appearances were largely his mid to late 1930s exposure to the general public. Confrey's 1942 draft card shows him listed as a "free lance composer" living in Queens, NY, so a decade later perhaps well enough off from his royalties in addition to any playing appearances he might have made during this time that things had been looking up. He sought out ways to expand genres within his repertoire of pieces. This ambition was mostly realized, but hindered by the onset of Parkinson's Disease in the mid to late 1940s. While this did not inhibit his compositional abilities, it made performance difficult, and he retired from public appearances. During the honky-tonk piano craze of the 1950s there was a definitive revival of Confrey's pieces, including Kitten on the Keys and Dizzy Fingers among others, thanks to artists like Lou Busch, Ray Turner and Dick Hyman. He composed a small suite of tunes at the end of the decade, but many of his efforts remained in manuscript form until after his death. Confrey's older works were only infrequently heard or performed during the 1960s. Jim Confrey died in November 1968. Zez finally succumbed to the ravages of Parkinson's disease, dying of a stroke in November 1971. It was right at the beginning of the big ragtime revival that would culminate in a book of his [nearly] complete works published in 1982. His son Paul cooperated with the project, and ultimately survived his father through August 2008. Wilhelmina survived her husband until September 1991. Zez Confrey left behind a staggering variety of memorable pieces that are still continually rediscovered by a new generation and are actively performed in the 21st century. | |||||||||||
Byron Gay was a multi-faceted individual who was a composer, lyricist, performing musician, author, and even an explorer at one point. Born in Chicago, Illinois, to Charles Mathewson Gay and Julia J. (Fessenden) Gay, his large family had moved to Winfield, Kansas in the 1890s, with his father following the factory mill work.
Byron had at least six siblings, including brothers Norman Henry (3/10/1888), Ira (4/1890) and Charles Mathewson Jr. (7/18/1898), and sisters Edith (2/1892), Bertha (12/1893) and Julia (5/1897). In 1907 he went to the Naval Academy in Annapolis, MD, for his post-secondary education, graduating in 1909. This left him well-suited for a specific adventure later in his life.After the academy Gay moved to Los Angeles where he started his musical career working as a piano salesman. In the mid 1910s he began getting his works published, the first pieces focusing largely on comic transportation. The Little Ford Rambled Right Along was pretty much an instant hit, covered by many artists on stage and recordings, including the inimitable Bill Murray. It was a sensation that got his name noticed. Byron was then married to Mildred L. Ashley, ten years his junior. By 1917 he is listed as a professional songwriter and musician on his draft card, something that would be echoed on the 1920 and 1930 census records. Late in 1917, the couple moved to New York for a time so he could concentrate on a potential Broadway writing career. Byron's first contribution to the Great White Way was for Furs and Frills. While in Manhattan Gay helped form the Sunshine Publishing Company, and became its initial director. They had an exclusive deal with the Hearst papers for promotion and distribution. He also turned out two of his biggest hits in 1919, The Vamp and Oh!, a song which held the distinction of having the shortest title of any popular song to date. The Vamp, which was intended to be an Oriental number, turned into a big hit in the vaudeville houses as a dance number after its introduction in the Greenwich Village Follies of 1919. That same year, Gay composed what was purported to be a potential hit song with publisher/composer Charles Daniels, My Buddy. While it got some attention, particularly in the trad papers, it was a different tune with the same title composed by Walter Donaldson and Gus Kahn in 1922 that would be the bigger hit. Also in 1919, Byron turned out one musical with Will Hough entitled Honeymoon Town with at least four tunes contributed. Another set of tunes had been composed with Wizard of Oz author L. Frank Baum for the whimsical stage musical The 1916 Uplifters' Minstrels, written for the Los Angeles group of the same name. Of those, Susan Doozan was the only known to have made it into print in 1920, a year after Baum's death. Gay actually clued in his peers on the source of inspiration for his songs to some degree. In a September 25, 1920 article , The Music Trade Review he revealed that the great outdoors was often his muse. It stated that "Byron Gay, who does unusual things in the composing line, finds a lot of his inspiration in touring the country with his specially equipped camping car. Recently he toured through the State of Maine and spend some time along the Penobscto River." It was on these trips that he reportedly took the time to compose new original songs. Gay joined ASCAP in 1922, the same year that Fate became a hit through performances by Ted Lewis in the Greenwich Village Follies on Broadway. One of his last acts while living in Manhattan was curiosly forming Byron Gay Publishing Incorporated. Soon after, tired of New York and traveling back and forth from what he felt was his home base, Byron and Mildred moved back to California full time in 1923. For a while, both of them were heard as working pianists on the fairly new radio medium which was quickly coming of age in Los Angeles and New York.Out west once again, Byron continued his writing with such West Coast notables as Richard Whiting and Charles N. Daniels (aka Neil Morét) and he also worked as a musician, although in what capacity is not clear. Gay did some work on occasion with studios writing a theme song or two for movies, and sometimes recording in bands, often unaccredited. In 1924 he became a vocal advocate for enforcing the 1909 Copyright Law section that imposed a 2 cent royalty on mechanical reproduction of music. In doing so, he wanted the law to cover exclusive recordings of the piece by a selected artist, and insisted that this did not create a monopoly of any kind since others could access the rights once the first recordings had been done. This contention was later applied to radio, and led to two major work stoppage actions by the Musician's Union and the formation of BMI over the next two decades. Also in 1924, Gay organized a Symphonic Dance Orchestra in Los Angeles, in part to record and perform some of his latest numbers. Among those working with him were arranger Arthur Lange who came up with some of the orchestrations. Another runaway hit for Gay came in 1926 with Horses (Crazy over Horses), which was as good as a dance number on stage as it was a comic song on records. By the 1930 Census, when the depression was getting underway, Byron was still living in Los Angeles in the Lido Apartment Hotel, but even though he was listed as married, his wife Mildred was residing elsewhere in Los Angeles with her parents and the Gays' daughter Carol at that time. The couple was divorced in March, 1931, following a somewhat public and embarrasing trial that was covered in the press. Mildred put out allegations of "wild parties" and "other women" in her suit against her husband. He was believed to be in New York at the time of the final hearing, which was more or less uncontested. Full custody of Carol was given to Mildred, and Byron put the episode behind him quickly. Byron had been a fan of Admiral Richard E. Byrd (USN Ret) who he may have known during his time at Annapolis, and followed Byrd's first expedition in the late 1920s down to Antarctica.
Gay went back and forth between California and New York during the decade for various enterprises. He was heard on radio programs broadcast on both coasts, and occasionally in Chicago, Illinois as well. One unusual project filmed in late 1936 was a 1937 Vitaphone short titled Home Run on the Keys It also featured fellow composer Zez Confrey who played Kitten on the Keys in the film. The star of the picture was the one who garnered the most attention at that time, Yankee slugger Babe Ruth. The two composers and the larger than life baseball player concoct a new routine while staying in a hunting lodge. If not for the great playing by Confrey, it could have fallen more flat then it actually did in the end. From this point on there is little found on Gay until 1939 when he wrote the music Swaying with lyrics by the vaudeville comedy team of Olsen and Johnson who had been fairly successful in films throughout the decade. In the early 1940s Gay contributed to a wartime musical score for Navigator's Holiday for the Naval Air Station in Pensacola, Florida, which ran throughout much of World War II. His brother, Norman Henry Gay, who had also moved to California in the 1930s, died in August 1945. Byron Gay followed him a few months later. He died at Memorial Hospital in Los Angeles just before Christmas 1945 following a brief illness. He left behind a widow, Ethel Gay, and his daughter. In 1953, Pee Wee Hunt would revive popularity in Gay and his song Oh!, which was a fairly good seller for Capitol throughout the 1950s. | |||||||
Few composers of any century, much less the 20th century, were as productive or creative as George Gershwin, a true American treasure. While his semi-meteoric rise was not quite an overnight success, it was well deserved and was achieved with determination, talent, and little hesitation. Within a life span only a little longer than that of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Gershwin revolutionized and even codified the relationship between popular songs and the Broadway stage, carrying along with him his friends Irving Berlin and Cole Porter in the process. In fact, given the spread of styles he covered, it is hard to pigeonhole Gershwin's music into any predefined genre, suggesting in some cases that his style was a genre unto itself. His was also a similar story to some of his composer peers who came out of the immigrant neighborhoods to rise to the pinnacle of fame in the growing entertainment industry. Early Years
George was the second of four children born to Russian immigrants Morris Gershovitz (arrived 1891) and Rose (Bruskin) Gershovitz (arrived 1892), who were married on July 21, 1895.
Gershwin's birth certificate (#14691) has a date of September 26 and the name Jacob Bruskin Gershwine, but with the correct parents listed so it is his. George's 1917 draft record claims a birth date of September 25, which is written in his own hand. Was he misinformed as a child or did the attending doctor write the wrong date as well as a misspelled last name? It could also be due to the Jewish tradition of not recognizing the new day until sunset, and George was born mid-day. What seems less of an error is that on the 1900 Census taken June 7, 1900, when he was less than 21 months old, he is clearly listed as George Gershvin (could be Gershwin), not Jacob Gershovitz or Gershwine. The same goes for his older brother Ira, shown as Israel Gershovitz on his birth certificate (#53973), but who was consistently referred to after his birth variously as Ysidore, Isidore or Isadore. One possible explanation of the variance goes to poor communication between the doctor or staff and the parents when the birth certificate was filled out. Another more viable explanation is that many American immigrant Jewish families had two different names for their children - one in Yiddish, and the other an Anglicized version. This may be the case with George whose Yiddish name may well have been Jacob, as much as Isadore's was Israel. However, it appears that George is the only name he ever knew or went by. On the family name: Isadore was born with the name Gershovitz. Therefore Morris or his brother Aaron simplified or Anglicized the family name some time between the births of their first two boys. On most available sources it appears variously as Gershvin or Gershwin throughout the early 1900s. In any case, he was never George Gershovitz. The Gershwin household was a mobile one, sometimes moving as many as three times in a year, as Morris evidently liked to live near his constantly changing place of business. When George was born he was said to have been in leather. By 1900 he was listed as a shoemaker, which may have been an offshoot of the leather business. He dabbled in other areas of clothing, retail, bookmaking, and even running a Turkish bath, as more of his immigrant peers were flooding the lower East Side of Manhattan and over into Brooklyn, the family bouncing back and forth between each borough. This instability may have affected George, even more so than his brother Izzy, as the youth did not fare well in school. While capable, he was distracted and showed little interest in sitting in class much less learning. In spite of his slight build, George was athletic and preferred to be out roller skating or playing at some other sport. It was clear that Izzy would be the studious one who would achieve the American dream. That is, if not for Max Rosenzweig. Maxie was one of George's younger school friends and at ten years old becoming a fine violinist as well (he had a fine career with the instrument as virtuoso Max Rosen).
School was tough enough on George. Being surrounded by ragtime and popular songs while taking lessons in classical music was even more frustrating. His first two teachers were Miss Green and an unnamed Hungarian band director. However, after more than two years George had outgrown their patience and skills, and needed something more. Having been playing in a few public locations, he was befriended by pianist Jack Miller who in turn introduced George to Charles Hambitzer. The instructor would become George's mentor over the next four or so years (he died in 1918), and would go beyond technique, giving Gershwin a new perspective on European composers including contemporaries such as Ravel and Debussy. He also encouraged George to attend symphonic concerts featuring piano, which must have given the boy a taste for the stage as well as some excitement about the scope of such works. Hambitzer further directed George to Edward Kilenyi for additional lessons in theory and composition as time and money permitted. Around the same time, determined to pursue a music career, George quit high school with his mother's blessing and understanding, and tried to find work either playing or working for a publisher. Sister Frances was also becoming adept at singing and dance, and actually may have preceded her older brother in earning money through music. However, she married very young and gave up music and dance for painting and motherhood. From Tin Pan Alley to Broadway
After searching around a bit, George managed to get hired by Mose Gumble as a song plugger at the publishing house of Jerome H. Remick for $15.00 per week. The Rise to Fame
From this point on nearly every song that came from Gershwin would either find its way into a Broadway show, or be specifically composed as part of one. (Note that this does not include his famous instrumental works.) In 1919 various Gershwin songs found their way into three Broadway musicals, and he would write the scores for two others. La, La, Lucille, a show composed with prolific lyricist Buddy G. DeSylva and associate Arthur J. Jackson, would be his first full-fledged assignment. The Rhapsody and The Reaction
Just after the New Year started in 1924, Ira pointed out a blurb in a New York newspaper to George, claiming he had agreed to write a Jazz Concerto for Whiteman's orchestra. With just five weeks left before the concert, it was clear to Ira that George hadn't even started on it yet, and given that the piece was already generating buzz in the press it became paramount that work get underway. Broadway, Carnegie Hall, London and Paris
At some point in 1925, now flush with money and fame, George was able to move uptown to the upper West Side of Manhattan, providing a much more fashionable and comfortable home for his parents there as well. He also put his money to use engaging more in art, attempting to paint to a degree (Ira turned out to be a fairly accomplished oil canvas artist), Porgy and Bess
In 1926 George had read a novel by DuBose Heyward titled Porgy. It concerned the life of black residents of the real life "Catfish Row" in Charleston, South Carolina, and planted a seed for what would become a full-length opera. Late in 1933, George and Ira, along with Heyward, signed a contract the Theater Guild of New York to write and produce the opera for the stage. Death and Postlude
Early in the same year, George started to complain about blinding headaches which had likely started late in the previous year. He also noted that he smelled burning rubber on a regular basis. By late spring the recurrences were chronic, and even while he was still working on his final tunes, including Our Love Is Here to Stay, George collapsed while still at work on July 9 and fell into a coma. The diagnosis was that he had developed a type of cystic malignant brain tumor known as glioblastoma multiforme.
One of the first public gestures was a memorial concert at the Hollywood Bowl on September 8 conducted by Otto Klemperer. Ira continued to finish polishing the remaining songs the brothers had worked on for The Goldwyn Follies. His former long-time love, Kay Swift, transcribed many of George's recordings and helped Ira with the completion and arrangement of some of the pieces. All of his estate was passed to his mother Rose, who benefited from his copyright income for the remainder of her life. Gershwin was awarded a posthumous 1937 Oscar for Best Song for They Can't Take That Away from Me. Some of the late songs that Ira and George had composed while in Beverly Hills were finally incorporated into the film The Shocking Miss Pilgrim in 1946. Even more songs from the archives were incorporated into the film Kiss Me Stupid in 1964, 27 years after his death. Ira survived George until 1983, composing many more fine works with the best of American music composers. The honors and accolades for both Gershwins have continued to pour in for decades, and many fine performances of Gershwin works have found their way into recorded media every time the technology advanced. While less appreciated in the United States for his classical and operatic works during his lifetime, George was well recognized by his European peers as a genius in these genres. As time has gone on, even his most eclectic works have become assimilated into the greater bodies of both musical theater and advanced American musical forms. In 2006 he was inducted into the Long Island Music Hall of Fame, one of a number of such organizations in which he has been recognized. There is a theater on Broadway named for him. The Library of Congress in Washington, DC, named a new prize for popular song after the composer and his brother in 2007. The first recipient of the George and Ira Gershwin award was another American treasure, Paul Simon. The amazing Stevie Wonder was also given the prize by President Barack Obama in February of 2009. The most recent recipient was Sir Paul McCartney in 2010, for his inestimable contributions to the world of popular song. The continually popular and instantly recognizable Rhapsody in Blue has lived on as one of the only Gershwin pieces licensed for advertising with United Airlines as of the late 1980s. This move in part, along with involvement of the Walt Disney Organization, helped spur long time popular musician and California congressman Sonny Bono to champion a copyright extension act in 1998, significantly increasing copyright protections for the works all American composers dating back to 1923. The elements of this were linked in the inclusion of total Americana elements such as illustrator Al Hirschfeld and the music Rhapsody in Blue in the 1999 Disney film Fantasia 2000 The word "Gershwinesque" has found its way into the musical vocabulary, which reinforces George's place in history as having created his own unique genre as well as the influence it has wielded since. The boy who started playing and writing ragtime as a basis for developing his own style ended up, in a lifetime about as long as the great Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, creating a new language American music that has since spread around the entire planet, and will outlive him by hundreds of lifetimes. We should be thankful we had him at all, even if it was not for long enough. In addition to the author's own research of historical archives and conjectural input, a number of corroborating texts on Gershwin's life were used as a basis for this shortened biography. Two in particular are recommended as the most complete work on the composer: George Gershwin by Howard Pollack (2007) and George Gershwin by William Hyland (2003). The former provides a deep analysis of his music plus a number of great anecdotes concerning his personal life. The latter provides a different balance and a slightly different chronological formation. Both provide a rather exhaustive look at who George was and what drove him, as well as how he dealt with setbacks and successes. | |||||||||||||
David Guion (commonly pronounced guy-on) was born into a very large Texas family (five older siblings, two younger, and one deceased) when Texas was still very much the domain of cowboys, and not yet for oil and other commerce. His exposure to music early on came in part from African American servants employed by the family, and included a great body of spiritual works as well as American folk songs and cowboy tunes of Texas that were brought to him via the cowboys who worked for his father. John Isaac Guion II is listed as a lawyer in 1900 (his father was a governor of Mississippi at one point), but was later a judge, and a long-time rancher as well. David's mother, Matilda Armour Fentress Guion (some sources cite "Wendel Fentress" as Guion's middle names), was an accomplished singer and pianist. | ||||||||||