Judge — June 1937 — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

RADIO- And What to Do About It BY DON HEROLD I THINK that musical people, on the whole, have been a setback to music. Especially, those affected highbrow mu- sical commentators on the radio, Though I am probably tonedeaf and thoroughly dumb as to all things musical (I can’t conceive of anybody short of an Einstein being able even to read music), I fre- quently catch myself starting to thrill over a snatch of song or a moment of a symphony. I might learn to like good music .. . if it weren't for the other peo- ple who do. I've always had a suspicion there was more four-flushing and posing in music circles than in any other field of higher culture. And my misgivings are all the more nervous because I'm never sure whether they are misgivings or pathological prej- udices. I'm sure of phoney intellectu- ality when I catch it in our so-called highbrow magazines or in art galleries or on the lecture platform, but I'm never sure whether a music-lover really has something on me and I'm just a low- bred oaf, or whether he's trying to take advantage of my lack of technical train. ing in music. You can’t prove that mu- sic lover is four-flushing. Damn it, I'd like to like music. If they could just keep people out of it! I'd especially like to like music without words. There's something sure about that. That kind of music is probably the most honest and most accurate form of human intercommunication. If you howl or purr or hum or just let yourself go in song, or beat a drum or blow a horn, you are probably as articulate as God ever in. tended us to be. You aren't then indulg- ing in political or religious , you're just letting the lid off of your gizzard. O* ALL the musical people that I hear discussing music, Deems Taylor comes nearest to winning my confidence. For me, he offsets thousands of the bluff. ers and poseurs that I believe to exist in the musical world. Sometime I'm going to visit Deems Taylor for two hours and give him $50 and have him psycho. analyze me musically, and see if he can find out if my mother was, just before I was born, frightened by a long-haired chautauqua piano-player. I believe Deems Taylor would be tender with my musical stupidities, in- stead of scathing in his condemnation of them. He would take me gently by the hand, I'm sure, and lead me into some sort of appreciation of the simpler forms of more complex music. In my next rein- 22 carnation I hope to get an early start with Deems Taylor and find a way to enjoy music. I’m afraid it's too late to try in this life. Next winter when Deems Taylor comes back with the New York Philhar- monic Sunday afternoon concerts, I think T'll stay home and listen. Some gasoline company ought to pay Deems Taylor and the New York Philharmonic to stay off the air on Sunday afternoons, because they're so much better than Sunday after- noon motoring . . . with anybody's gas. I* GOING to fish around more on my radio. We are apt to get station rooves at given hours and listen to old favorites and endure our pet aversions, when we might profitably twist the dial one-eighth inch and get something re- freshing and top.rate. There is, for example, a good one, The Cherniavsky Orchestra, Sunday after- noons at 4:30 (Eastern Standard Time). And that brings up another idea. This thing of having the country di- vided into three kinds of time is a relic of the horse and buggy days. This coun. try needs one kind of time (swing time, maybe). The radio and the airplane have made this country one country instead of three, and when people sit down to dinner in New York, by gad, the people in California ought to sit down to din. ner too, whether they're hungry or not. If Californians can't adjust themselves to God.given Eastern Standard Time, let them go back to Spain where they came from. I say that Eastern Standard Time should be national time, so that when a radio program is announced for 8 p.m., it will be 8 p.m. everywhere. This will mean that West Coasters will have to eat breakfast before sunrise, but I should worry about that! HAT “musical camera” idea on the Cherniavsky program, however, is another example of radio bunk. Why not merely some good music with no stunts? Radio program builders have done radio inestimable harm. The gloating or chop-licking school of humor in radio is perhaps the most obnoxious. When Phil Baker says “Get it?” I could kick my radio, and when Eddie Cantor purrs smugly over a gag, I could fly out into the night. Even the utterly banal and inane and imbecilic futilities of some of the lesser comedians are preferable to the cockiness of some of the upper ones, Ed Wynn. Sat. eve. Mostly pretty silly, but sometimes ingratiating with such lines as “I love to have fun.” Benny Goodman. Tue. eve. Swing medi- cine-man to America’s collegiate savage tribes. With Jack Oakie’s college. Major Bowes’ Amateurs. Thur. eve. A relief from some of the professionals, but who's going to relieve us from the amateurs? Joe Penner Program. Sun. eve. A good time to take the dog out. Town Hall Tonight. Wed. eve. Fred Al- len funny lots of the time, but there's too much program hip-te-doo on this. Portland plays a typical female radio idiot. Jack Benny. Sun. eve. After five years, still the most popular of the etheredians. Victor Moore and Helen Broderick. Sun. eve. Good stage and screen comedians dragged down to radio's level by poor ma- terial, Paul Whiteman's Orchestra. Sun. eve. A good thing to listen to during the Eddie Cantor program. Eddie Cantor. Suz. eve. See Paul White- man’s orchestra, Walter Winchell. Sun. eve. Propagation prognosticator and keyhole kibitzer. Bravest of the Brave. Sun. morn. New $1,000 first prize NBC serial for children. Promising. U. of Chicago Round Table. Sun. near noon. Something intelligent for those who can take it, It Can Be Done. Tues. eve. Edgar Guest, Pep-poet, in parson tones, turns Horatio Al- ger on us in a big way. Dale Carnegie. Fri. eve. High-priest or bell-cow of today's wake-up-and-live-on-your- friends-and-like-it_ movement, Guy Lombardo. Sun. aft. Smoothiest and soothiest of the saxotherapists. Deems Taylor Variety Show. Fri. eve. Always something intelligent out of Deems Taylor, regardless. Fred Astaire. Tue. eve. Pleasant patter and pitty-pat from Fred Astaire, plus droll banter by Charles Butterworth. Uncle Don. Nearly every day, darn it! Not me! No relation. Ben Bernie. Wed. eve. The old maestro and all the lads swinging old and new tunes for the glory and advancement of beer tins. Famous Jury Trials. Mon. eve. A typical sure-fire radio program idea; only this one is reasonably well edited and has its mo- ments of suspense and drama. Symphony Orchestra. Sun. eve. Guest conductors and restful music, interrupted at infrequent intervals by brief, intelligent an- nouncements of the Ford Motor Co. The March of Time. Thur. eve. Tiresome re-enactments of world happenings, almost before they have happened. Burns and Allen. Mon. eve. Ray Noble's orchestra and every so often some fresh, amusing bits of monkey business. Boake Carter. Practically all the time. A man of a few thousand words, every one of which is eloquent, dramatic and spell-bind- ing. And darn wearisome, too! Judge comicbooks.com