Austin Introduces Its Postwar Models

In 1947 the Austin Motor Company was preparing to introduce its first postwar models, dubbed the "A40" line to denote its 40 horsepower engine. To herald its new fleet, Austin sent an understated 78 rpm record to its dealers and distributors. One side was a straightforward explanation of its features from Leonard P. Lord, the head of the company; the other a report on a road test from race driver George Eyston.

These were two of the most important figures in the British motor industry. Lord had been head of Morris before becoming he chairman of Austin. Starting in 1952, he led the combined Austin-Morris operation, which took the name British Motor Corp. Eyston was best known for breaking the land-speed record three times between 1937 and 1939 in his car Thunderbolt.

Leonard Lord; George Eyston and Thunderbolt

The A40 was a small car. Its 92.5 inch wheelbase was 7.5 inches shorter than the smallest postwar American cars (the Henry J and the Nash Rambler), other than the miniature Crosley. When the car came to be sold in the US, the illustrations promoting it used artistic license to stretch it about 20 percent, giving it more the silhouette of a Packard than an Austin.

UK ad

George Eyston was complimentary about the car after his road trip through the Alps. (One hopes Austin lent him the model with the optional heater.) But you have to wonder how impressed he really was. After all, the A40 had a top speed of only 70 mph and its 0-60 mph time was a leisurely 37 seconds. And to stop the A40, you had to rely on a combination of hydraulic and mechanical brakes, which required an impressive amount of pedal force to operate. Times have changed, and there are many cars today that accelerate ten times as fast as the Austin, and many more that get better gas mileage (28 mpg). None have mechanical brakes. 

Of course, the Austin was a small car and relatively inexpensive. It cost about £500, or about US$22,000 today. Here are some of the currrent vehicles you can purchase for that amount. I suspect they all have heaters.

The reviewers were not taken with the looks of the A40, thinking it old fashioned. It is clearly based on the American cars of the late 1930s, but also is not that dissimilar from postwar American cars, although the latter are gargantuan in comparison. The A40 did well in the market, and was sold until 1952.

It's instructive to compare this introductory record for dealers to the one the Ford Motor Company issued to promote its new Edsel in 1957. That was the souvenir of a touring musical extravaganza that had been presented in five regions and later in 24 more cities. On the first side, there was a story line about "Adam and Eve," the first Edsel customers. Side 2 shared the tale of a dealer and his family, and the great if fleeting prestige they derived from being associated with Edsel.

I'm not so sure that Lord and Eyston, with their clear recitation of the features and benefits of the new model, were not more helpful and persuasive than Ford with its dancers and chorus - and no particular point of view as to why the Edsel was superior to any other car.

This 78 from the Internet Archive stash was very noisy; it took some effort to subdue the commotion. My thanks once again to Ernie for alerting me to this item.

Julie London's Bethlehem Recordings

Singer Julie London made literally dozens of LPs for the Liberty label, but before them she recorded four songs for Bethlehem.

London was a protégé (and later wife) of singer-songwriter-pianist Bobby Troup, who brought her to both labels and accompanied her with his quintet. Her success with Liberty was immediate - her version of "Cry Me a River" became famous for her hyper-cool vocals.

The Bethlehem sides have a similar approach - and appropriately "You're Blasé" is one of the selections. Also on the bill are "A Foggy Day," "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child" and "Don't Worry 'Bout Me."

These recordings come from a March 2, 1955 session, per James Harrod's informative article, Bobby Troup on Record, 1948-55. The backing musicians were Troup's usual accomplices (Bob Enevoldsen, bass, Howard Roberts, guitar, and Don Heath, drums, augmented by the excellent Buddy Collette on flute. (Collette became one of the founding members of the Chico Hamilton Quartet at about the same time.)

Bethlehem issued the four London songs on singles, on the EP shown above, and on an LP called Bethlehem's Girl Friends, where she shared the grooves with Carmen McRae and Chris Connor. My transfers come from the LP. The songs also appeared on a variety of budget labels after the demise of Bethlehem. 

These recordings weren't a success in the market, but London's first Liberty disc, "Cry Me a River," was, very much so. Parenthetically, my two favorite recordings of "Cry Me a River" take opposite approaches - the cool disdain of Julie London, and the anger and disgust of Barbra Streisand's 1963 version - which led off her debut LP, which made her even more famous than London. This fine song was Arthur Hamilton's greatest hit; London's was the first recording.

This post is a companion to a survey of Troup's Bethlehem recordings, new on my main blog.

The Evolution of 'Time Was'

Miguel Prado

In the past, I've posted two versions of the lovely song, "Time Was" - one by Buddy Clark with Wayne King, and more recently one by Bob Manning on his Lonely Spell LP. "Time Was" has an interesting history, involving three different incarnations, all of which surfaced in the space of a few years. Today we'll look at the various versions in contemporary recordings.

"Time Was" started life as the ballad "Duerme" ("Sleep") by the Mexican composer Miguel Prado (1905-87) with words by Gabriel Luna. Its first recording was likely in June 1937, with the Orquesta Castillito directed by Paulina Alvarez and the vocal by Prado himself. I haven't been able to locate a copy of this recording, which was made in Havana.

Al Bowlly

The following year, "Duerme" turned up in the film Di Que Me Quieres, as sung by Rosita Rios both in the film and for Victor. The recording was made in New York, the setting of the movie. Rios' record is the first in our set.

"Duerme" became "Dreaming" for a 1940 record by the great South African-born English vocalist Al Bowlly, with an orchestra directed by an uncredited Ronnie Munro. This is a well-sung version. The lyrics are standard-issue, although resonant because of the war: "Dreaming, dreaming of you in the firelight's glow / Sweetheart I want you to always know / Each night I dream of you."

Late that same year, Xavier Cugat recorded the song with its original lyrics as sung by his then-wife, Carmen Castillo. Cugat's version did gain some traction. 

Xavier Cugat and Carmen Castillo

Tito Guízar

The next version was by the excellent Mexican vocalist Tito Guízar, resident in the US since 1929. Both Guízar and Cugat used the original Luna lyrics, although both of the copies in this collection were labelled "Time Was (Duerme)." My guess is that these pressings came out after the song became popular with new English lyrics by S.K. Russell.

Perhaps the most successful of those English language records was that of Jimmy Dorsey, which is also the worst of all the renditions featured here. The vocals start with Bob Eberly, who is effortful as usual, but pleasant enough. 

Then Dorsey decides to "swing it," and brings in Helen O'Connell for an up-tempo chorus. She was just not a very good singer, sad to say. The song ends with an elaborate alto solo from the leader.

Helen O'Connell and Bob Eberly

The best record is surely that of Wayne King, from just a month after Dorsey. King leads off with a fine soprano sax solo (at least I assume it is King), followed by a superb vocal by an uncredited Buddy Clark. (He was anonymous because he was under contract with another label.)

Wayne King

Clark makes the most of the Russell lyrics, which aren't great, but much better than what Al Bowlly sang. (The words tell us of "Picnics and sleigh rides / And mid-winter hay rides" and the like.) I passed over this record quickly in my survey of Clark's recordings with Wayne King, so I've included it once again in this compilation. It's well worth hearing a second time.

BONUS - My friend and longtime blog follower Mel has passed along his own favorite interpretation of "Time Was." It is a swinging version by Janet Brace, a very good singer who started with big bands, notably Johnny Long's, then made a few singles for Decca. This comes from her only LP, Special Delivery, issued by ABC-Paramount in 1956. A quartet led by Don Elliott accompanies her.

I don't believe I have this record myself, so I am especially grateful to Mel for his contribution. I should gather up Janet's singles for a post - she was talented!

The link to this item is in the comments.

An Additional Jackie Paris Single

Not long ago on the main blog I posted a 21-song compilation of Jackie Paris sides from single releases. Now I've acquired an additional Coral 45 from 1954 to add to the collection.

This new record couples "Crazy Heart" with "Preach Brother Preach." Both are backed by Neal Hefti and come from the same session that produced "Java Jive" and "True," both in the collection mentioned above.

"Crazy Heart" was apparently the A-side of the 45, and did fairly well for Paris. The song was written by Gil Houston and Lewis Allan. Houston, usually called Cisco Houston, was a folk singer and close associate of Woody Guthrie. Lewis Allan was the pen name of Abel Meeropol, who wrote "Strange Fruit" and (with Earl Robinson) "The House I Live In."

This Music Views item from 1954
promotes a nonexistent Paris record

"Crazy Heart" is a catchy tune in the folk-influenced vein that was a trend in American pop music following the Weavers' 1950 success with "Goodnight, Irene." Paris' forthright singing is not particularly well complimented by Hefti's arrangement, which clothes his voice with a pop chorus and a trombone choir.

The authors of "Preach Brother Preach" were Paris and the team of lyricist Al Stillman and composer Robert Allen. Stillman and Allen's big hit in 1954 was "Home for the Holidays" in Perry Como's recording. They would go on to write major successes for the Four Lads and Johnny Mathis.

"Preach Brother Preach" is a not entreily convincing sermon in song complete with call-and-response choir. Paris, for once, does not sound completely in his element.

The recordings are good.

Is das nicht ein Old Style Beer?

Beer-related music has been an occasional topic of interest on the main blog, just as drinking beer has been a topic of interest to this blogger. So far we have delved into promotional records honoring Budweiser, Carling's Black Label, Schlitz, Hamm's, and Duquesne.

Today's subject is the G. Heileman Brewing Co., late of La Crosse, WI, and a 1955 promotional record offering "The Heileman Beer Song" and "The Heileman Waltz." I don't know how the record was used, but there is a 45 sleeve out there that suggests it may have been a give-away to consumers.

"The Heileman Beer Song" turns out to be that old tavern favorite "Ist das nicht eine Schnitzelbank?", here repurposed to extol the making of Heileman's Old Style Lager, starting with "Is das nicht ein water spring? Ya, das icht ein water spring". This goes on through the brewing process, mercifully leaving out such stages as "Is das nicht ein bottle cap?"

The song is fully as repetitive as "The 12 Days of Christmas," so it's a good thing is lasts less than three minutes, or you would be shouting, "Is das nicht genung Schnitzelbank??"

Circa 1955

[A Schnitzelbank, by the way, is a wood carving bench. I've known the song all my life, and just found that out a few minutes ago. You can learn more here; including that some of the couplets involve an Ochsen Blas (ox bladder) and Haufen Mist (manure pile). The song is theoretically a teaching tool. The teacher is supposed to point to these objects on a poster during the song; one wonders what the point of the lesson could be.]

The other side of the record, "The Heileman Waltz," again praises Old Style, although in three-quarter time. It starts off with a snatch of Leroy Anderson's "Belle of the Ball," but then moves on.

Heileman's Old Style is still brewed, although the rights to the brand have passed through many hands since this record was made. The La Crosse brewery is in use today, but producing other brands.

By the way, the Duquesne song mentioned above ("It Outsells...Because It Excels") is newly remastered and sounding much better. Listening to it again, I am virtually certain that the uncredited singers are the J's with Jamie. There's a download link in the comments to this post.

Most of the previous beer promos have been from my collection. The Heileman record comes from the Internet Archive. And before I forget - let me thank my pal Ernie for hipping me to the Heileman hops.

We Missed National Banjo Week . . .

. . . By about 68 years - it was March 30-April 6, 1954. But to make amends, today we have a commemorative single put out by RCA Victor in a burst of plectrum pride and also with the hope of selling a few records.

The 78 went out to radio stations along with details of a contest that RCA was sponsoring for the disk jockeys who could do the most to promote the Victor records being plugged - the Ames Brothers' new single of "The Man with the Banjo," along with a few others.

RCA had a lot riding on the outcome - the Ames frères were the label's big new acquisition, leaving Decca-Coral after five successful years. So RCA promised a new color television to the DJ doing the best job of promotion.

The Ames Brothers

The ethics of this aside, it was a quite a prize. Network color was a rarity then; it had begun at the beginning of the year, and there were almost no receivers. RCA introduced its color set only in April, concurrent with the promotion. The sets cost $1,000, the equivalent of $11,000 today.

But back to the music - the Ames' record did well, although not as well as their "The Naughty Lady of Shady Lane" later that year. The team only had one other big success in the years ahead - "Melodie d'Amour" in 1957.

"The Man with the Banjo" is a pleasant piece, well sung by a talented outfit with a banjo plunking along. The plectrist on the record is not identified; presumably it was not one of the Ames crew or bandleader Hugo Winterhalter.

Vess Ossman Sr. and Jr. with their Big Six-Foot Banjo

The flip side of the promo record is interesting, too. It was touted on the label as the first record Victor ever released - Vess L. Ossman's 1901 recording of "Tell Me, Pretty Maiden." Ossman's banjo was just the type of instrument that the rudimentary recording equipment could capture well - loud and uncomplicated.

The 10-inch version of Ossman's record

The record must have done well for Victor and Ossman - the company had him record both 7-inch and 10-inch versions of the tune on that January day, then had him back in the studio in 1902 and 1909 for remakes, presumably because the masters were worn out.

Even so, Victor did not have an exclusive on Ossman's interpretation, if you can call it that. He also recorded it for Columbia, Zonophone and Leeds & Catlin at more or less the same time. Ossman was a popular fellow, recording more than 500 items for various companies.

RCA Victor used the Ossman record in a commemorative capacity several times. This particular pressing comes from a 1946 matrix that Victor had issued to mark producing one billion records. Later it used that same recording to mark pressing a billion records at its Indianapolis plant.

The 1946 commemorative

What is odd is that "Tell Me, Pretty Maiden" was not the first record ever made by Victor or even by Ossman for Victor. He had recorded "Hands Across the Sea" for that company in November 1900, and the Discography of American Historical Recordings (DAHR) shows many other Victor recordings from that year by other artists.

I've also seen it written that "Tell Me" was the first Victor recording to be issued a matrix number, but DAHR shows it as being "pre-matrix."  I'm no expert on early phonography, so the whole tale seems mysterious, although RCA certainly thought the record was important.

On its commercial release, the flip side of "The Man with the Banjo" was "Man, Man Is for the Woman Made," a title that sounds like it was run through Google Translate. Victor should have made it a two-sided record, "The Man with the Banjo Is for the Woman Made."

"Man, Man Is for the Woman Made" turns out to be a relatively early example of a calypso number done for the US market. The trend started with "Rum and Coca-Cola" in 1945 and crested with the "Banana Boat Song" in 1956. The Ames Brothers were game interpreters, but calypso was not their métier, and Winterhalter's arrangement is unidiomatic, as you might expect.

Vaughn Monroe Names His Favorite Songs

Leather-lunged vocalist and bandleader Vaughn Monroe was popular in the 1940s and into the 50s, starting with "Racing with the Moon" on through "Riders in the Sky."

In early 1950, RCA Victor was looking to plug his latest opus, an atmospheric early exotica number, "Bamboo." So it had him record a four-minute promo record called "My Seven Favorite Songs." The seventh turned out to be "Bamboo," unsurprisingly. For the other six, Monroe chose the following:

• "Hobo, You Can't Ride This Train" - Louis Armstrong
• "Marie" - Tommy Dorsey, Jack Leonard, vocal
• "Don't Be That Way" - Benny Goodman
• "Moonlight Serenade" - Glenn Miller
• "Bouquet of Roses" - Eddy Arnold
• "Prisoner of Love" - Perry Como

Cash Box plugs "Bamboo"

Not coincidentally, all the selections were issued by RCA or a predecessor. Vaughn's presentation is smoothly professional, like his singing.

I've included the B-side of the record, "A Little Golden Cross," a period sentimental ballad. It's well performed; better than "Bamboo," which has a lumpy arrangement.

Also in 1950, Republic Pictures, apparently having run out of singing cowboys, cast Monroe as the lead in Singing Guns. The big tune in this production was "Mule Train," which actually had been released by Vaughn and others the year before. Monroe's release went clippity-clopping along, but Frankie Laine had the biggest hit on the song, his cries of "Hee-yah!" being more convincing. I've included the Monroe version in the download.

Even though "Mule Train" had been written and first recorded as far back as 1947, it was nominated for the 1950 Academy Award for Best Original Song. "Mona Lisa" won.

The RCA promo record comes to us via Internet Archive.