We Bring You Eight Lulus

The toothy personality at the right is Lulu, who, according to songwriters Billy Rose, Lew Brown and Ray Henderson, you were not supposed to bring to the party, lest she break up the place. 

Lulu was the off-stage protagonist of their lively 1925 composition. It was popular at the time and still retains some interest today because it is both catchy and witty.

"Don't Bring Lulu" is one of my favorite compositions of the 1920s, so I thought I might construct one of those posts where I present both period and more modern performances in varied styles. Today we have eight interpretations in all - vocals, a jazz band, R&B, even a theater organ.

The song's first releases were in early 1925, and must have been among the last batches of acoustic recordings that were made before the far-superior electrical recording process came into use.

Among the Lulu's first exponents was the popular singer Billy Murray, whose penetrating voice, perfect diction and not-unsubtle delivery were well-suited to the acoustic method. His Victor record has a strong period flavor, even including "doo-wacka-doo" figures in the noisy accompaniment. Murray handles the pay-off line of the chorus - "I'll bring her myself" - perfectly, by underplaying it.

"Don't Bring Lulu" also was a favorite of the instrumental jazz bands of the time. Our second selection is by the California Ramblers, identified as the "Varsity Eight" on the Cameo label below. The names of the musicians at the April 1925 recording recording session are somewhat speculative, but may have included Red Nichols and Tommy Dorsey. The band definitely features bass saxophonist Adrian Rollini, who provides a typical solo near the end of the performance.

Adrian Rollini, a gigantic sax and even bigger label

For our next selection, we jump ahead to about 1950. The disc features an obscure R&B group called, wonderfully enough, Fats Fuller and the Dunce Caps. Their "Lulu" was issued on a Philadelphia imprint called Palda, best known for Ferko String Band releases, but which also boasted early records by Al Martino, the Four Aces and Bill Haley on its subsidiary labels. I can't find anything about Fats and his associates, but I can tell you that the Dunce Caps have a King Cole Trio flavor, and Fats himself resembles his namesake Fats Waller in the piano department (assuming he's the pianist) but not vocally.

Tiny Hill

The ever-popular "Lulu" was taken up by another rotund singer, Tiny Hill, for a 1953 outing on Mercury. Hill led a big band that had novelty and country leanings. His easy-going rendition features the sandpaper-block shuffle rhythm that was his trademark.

Nostalgia for the 1920s came into vogue as the 1950s drew to a close. "Don't Bring Lulu" was just the thing for the young musical archeologist Bobby Short, who selected the song for his 1959 Atlantic LP The Mad Twenties.

Bobby Short and Dorothy Provine

The period mood also inspired such television shows as Margie (its theme song was the 1920s hit of that name) and The Roaring 20s. The star of the latter was Dorothy Provine, who played the leader of the band Pinky and Her Playboys. She even put out a popular 1960 LP on Warner Bros. (which produced the show), including her "period" performance of "Don't Bring Lulu."

Mitch and the Gang, sans accordions

Mitch Miller followed the trend in 1962 with a four-square (and just plain square) reading of "Lulu" with his Sing-Along Gang. Mitch must have worn out Columbia's reverb units making his expanded barber-shop recordings, with a jolly men's chorale and echoing accordions accompanying them.

Finally, a selection from an enormous set of theater organ recordings. "Lulu" adapted nicely to the sound of the behemoth instrument once housed in the Regal Theatre, Marble Arch, London - at least in the hands and arrangement of the experienced organist George Blackmore. This record probably dates from the early 1960s.

By the way, the Colgate toothpaste folks solved the mystery of Lulu's unpopularity in the 1940s. See the comic strip ad below for the unsurprising key.

LINK

Frankie Laine Promotes His Latest LP and Singles

In early 1951 Columbia Records was able to wrest the dynamic singer Frankie Laine away from Mercury. This was mainly because Columbia had recruited Laine's producer, the prodigious hitmaker Mitch Miller. The bigger label's marketing prowess also might have been a factor.

In only a few months, Frankie and Mitch were churning out hits ("Jezebel," et al) and also a 10-inch LP that didn't include Laine's singles of the time, and that had him singing if not subtly at least at a lower volume than his single releases generally displayed.

To plug both the LP and singles, Columbia had the vocalist and producer tape a two-sided promotional record that is the subject of today's post - which is a companion to a post on the main blog about Frankie's One for My Baby LP.  For the two programs below, I've added appropriate songs from Laine's Columbia output as a DJ might have done some 70 years ago.

A Frankie Laine - Mitch Miller Program

The first side of the promo record contains the voice tracks for a 15-minute show with Laine and Miller introducing three songs from the singer's new Columbia album - "Tomorrow Mountain," "To Be Worthy of You" and "One for My Baby."

As those things generally were, the scripted banter is stiff, but it does reveal that Frankie relied on Mitch to help select the songs and that they tried to make the material diverse. At that they succeeded, with only the title tune and "When It's Sleepy Time Down South" being standards.

Beyond that, Frankie gives kudos to bandleader Paul Weston and pianist Carl Fischer - and their work is predictably polished and professional throughout the album.

The download includes the three songs from the LP along with their intros.

Frankie Laine and Mitch Miller

Greetings from Frankie Laine

The second side of the promotional single has Frankie delivering four record introductions, two "singing salutes" and one spot offering an autographed photo.

These spots were designed to be used whenever the DJ had an appropriate record - presumably Laine's - ready to air. They are generic - no specific cut is mentioned, although one does make reference to Christmas.

I've turned the spots into a second program lasting about 17 minutes by sequencing the salutes and intros with Laine's singles of the time. The result demonstrates the diverse materials he was recording - both the blockbusters like "Jezebel" and the delightful duets with Jo Stafford.

For some reason, Columbia had Frankie begin all his intros in the same way - "Hiya DAD! This is Frankie Laine." Hiya DAD" must have been a Laine catchphrase - Mitch refers to him as Dad in the program above. Even so, it's annoying.

The "singing salutes" that begin and end the program both include a snatch of Laine's theme song, his  first big hit, "That's My Desire."

Cash Box, April 21, 1951

Now for the song selections.

"Jezebel" was a huge hit for Laine right off the bat, as well as the first success for songwriter Wayne Shanklin, who later was to pen "Chanson d'Amour" and "The Big Hurt." This was Frankie at his most unbridled, and the public wanted more.

In response, Laine, Miller and Columbia came out with "Jealousy," a similar tale of temperament, using Jacob Gade's 1925 tango melody and a 1930 set of lyrics by Vera Bloom.

Billboard, November 3, 1951

The two duets with Jo Stafford provide a welcome contrast. One is the light-hearted and deftly sung "In the Cool, Cool, Cool of the Evening" - the Johnny Mercer-Hoagy Carmichael tune introduced by Bing and Jane Wyman in Here Comes the Groom. Frankie and Jo sing somewhat different lyrics than Bing and Jane. It's not clear where this special material came from, but it is a welcome addition to one of my favorite songs of the era.

The second duet is "Christmas Roses," an enjoyable uptempo song done beautifully by the pair. It was from the team of Hy Zaret, Joan Whitney and Alex Kramer, who earlier wrote the wonderful "It All Comes Back to Me Now." Unlike the rest of the songs in this set, this was a 1952 release.

The final number is "Snow in Lover's Lane," an obscure song by Al De Vita, Jerry Ball, Fred Kelly and Jerry Kanner. I believe Frankie may have introduced it - his face is on the sheet music, at least.

It makes for an entertaining program - "Hiya DAD" aside - in vivid sound. All tracks were refurbished from originals found on Internet Archive.

Vic Damone's 'Haunted Heart'

Here is a quick supplement to my recent post about the 1948 musical Inside U.S.A. It is Vic Damone's take on the big ballad from that show, "Haunted Heart."

Our friend David Federman asked for this version, saying it is his favorite of the beautiful Dietz-Schwartz song. To me, the prize goes to Buddy Clark, but I won't argue the matter. Both are wonderful - as is the Perry Como single. (The Buddy and Perry versions are in the Inside U.S.A. download.)

Damone is backed by Salvador "Tutti" Camarata on "Haunted Heart." Toots had already dispensed with his first name on record labels, styling himself as "Camarata," a la Liberace. Regardless, he was a fine arranger.

The flip side is "Tell Me a Story," an OK pop tune of the day also recorded by Sammy Kaye. Leading the band is Mitch Miller, then the A&R head of Mercury before moving the Columbia a few years later.

The young Vic Damone

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