“ALEXANDER’S RAGTIME BAND” TO “THIS YEAR'S KISSES’
—THE RAGTIME-TO-RICHES STORY OF IRVING BERLIR

One-Time Singing Waiter Turns Out Swankiest



Musical Production

“Words and Music by Irving Berlin”
Featuring Real-Life Romance of
Broadway and Park Avenue





















































Bowery café,

back room.

open. A singing waiter, 5
early hours of the morning, bearing
foaming clusters of beer steins in each
hand, and singing all the popular ro-
mantic and melancholy numbers of the
“day.
- Now, with that behind him, he leans

barrel organs of the Bowery. That was
Irving Berlin thirty-three years ago,
picking his way painfully and slowly
into the career of melody-making that

world.

A long jump from “Nigger Mike's”?
A song Berlin dashed off in the War
sold 1,500,000 copies. The total sales of

writer of our time, or of any other time,
for that matter. The first of his famed

-did the words and music, took in gross
show, not a movie!

moving a world to song and dance,
‘through the marvels of the motion pic-
- ture, which carries his melodies to all
corners of the world, reaching an audi
ence of millions of people. Nothing,



so much as the free hand he had at
‘Twentieth Century-Fox to turn ou
~songs f the type that made him fa
i ‘singable” music meant to roll
: joyfully from the throats of
ess men and women, boys and







ho cluster about a piano or a radio
- and give vent to their feelings in song.
In “On the Avenue,” which stars
>owell and Madeleine Carroll,
y Alice Faye, The Ritz
s and George Barbier, Berlin
‘that he has turned out the sort
ore that has always been peculiarly
0 that fascinating mixture of
melody and exciting rhythm,
haps a faint trace of the old
ymantic melanchalia, Only a
ever, for the Berlin attitude
' is gay, melodic, an overflow of
i ‘sophistication in the lightsome
musical rhetoric of 1937.
/Altogether, this “On the Avenue”
score is one that he's rather proud of.
2 that pride is shared by Darryl F.
+ Zanuck, vice-president in charge of pro-
- duction at Twentieth Century-Fox, who
lost no time in signing up the celebrated
. composer for another musical to follow
. “On the Avenue.” The title of the sec-
ond musical is going to carry a lot of
people back to an epoch they remember
now only dimly, for the next Berlin
show will be called “Alexander’s Rag-
~ time Band”
© What sort of man is this, who has
what one writer called “the gift of in-
exhaustible melody,” the capacity to go
on year after year writing the songs
that immediately leap to the top of the
best-seller lists, and volley forth unend-
ing from the larynxes of millions of

Americans ?
To understand Irving Berlin, and the
music that is his, you must go back a
long way, to Teumen, in Russia, where
| Irving was born to the son of a refugee
| 'f'.rabbi‘ In those turbulent times of perse-

cution, the Balines fled from village to
village, finally, in 1892, landing in that
distant haven of freedom and oppor-
tunity, America.

In this new and strange land, Ber-
lin's father earned some money by cer-
tifying kosher meat in butcher shops,
-and acting as a choir master at Rosh
Hashonah and Yom Kippur The rabbi,
like his fathers before him, had been a
cantor, and young Irving had a fine,
clear soprano voice.

The Balines of Cherry Street were
eight, and of these the youngest, known
then as lzzy, was tortured by the fact
that when the children poured their
day’s earnings into their mama’s ample
lap, his contribution was invariably the
smallest When he was 14, 1zzy decided
to fend for himself and wrest a living
from the strange world outside Cherry
Street. Singing in saloons, he earned
‘pennies for the night's lodging, and
learned the fine art of plugging a song
to bring tears to the eyes of the cus-
tomers, and a shower of coins to the
sawdust-covered floor.

When, eariy in 1904, “Nigger Mike”
Salter opened his saloon and dance hall
at 12 Pell Street, Berlin landed a job
as singing waiter there, “busking” his
songs night after night, until the morn-








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THE world’s great melodies, like many of its great men, often come
to us from strange and humble surroundings. Look for one such
source, if you will, in the back room of “Nigger Mike” Salter’s famed
The Pelham, on almost any early morming of 1904. 3

A swarthy forerunner of the speakeasy proprietor,
ran the most renowned place on the Bowery, and every cop on the |
island could find his way there blindfolded. But now, at 6 A. M., the
place is deserted. Deserted, that is,

Over a dilapidated old piano, marked with the rings of many a

dripping stein, sits a tired youngster, barely able to keep his eyes -
ik he has been busy all night and through the

wearily over the piano, trying to pick
out, haltingly, and with one finger, the
tunes he had heard that day on the

was later to make him the toast of the
his melodies exceed those of any song-
“Music Box Revues,” for which Berlin §

receipts of $2,000,000. This for a stage °

And today Irving Berlin is again §

according to Berlin, has delighted him :;

soda jerkers, mechanics, bankers,
rs, and the infinite variety of folk -

Year, With

of the




songuwriter o)
the piano.

successes
America’s
in a nationwide



“Nigger Mike”

except for one small figure in the

ing in 1907 when, alone at 6 o'clock at
the close of the “day,” he fell asleep,
to be awakened by a somewhat tipsy
proprietor, who fired him.

From there Berlin went to ex-pugilist
Jimmy Kelly’s place in Union Square,
where he was to offer his first song,
“Marie from Sunny Italy,” words by
1. Berlin. Perhaps, in view of the rev-
enue which later accrued from his
works, the financial statement on
“Sweet Marie” would be of interest. ¢
Berlin’s share of the revenue, for writ-
ing the words, was 37 cents.

The phrase, “Words by I. Berlin,”
represented a compromise To those |
who knew him, Israel would probably ‘
have sounded unbearably formal. As
for Berlin, that was how most people
pronounced his Russian name anyway
The Irving came later

Berlin's introduction into the business
ot writing both words and music was
rather sudden. Taking a dialect num-
ber, “Dorando,” into the offices of Ted
Snyder, Inc., he was offered $25 for the
“words and music.” Berlin was about
to mumble something about coming
back tomorrow with the music when
the publisher ushered him into a room
where a pianist waited to take down
the nonexistent “melody " Berlin hastily
hummed an improvised tune, and later
landed a job with the company as lyric
writer, on a royalty basis, meanwhile

having a drawing account of $25 SONGS AN

year ‘“Alexander’s Ragtime Band,”
“That Mysterious Rag,” “The Ragtime
Violin," “Everybody’s Doin’ It Now"
and the “Ziegfeld Follies” score. That
was a year when it seemed as if ALL
the hits were by Irving Berlin

weekly ARMY SANG
RAGTIME The days of 1914 came all too soon
IN SWING

for the budding capitalist The sang
Like many a leading songwriter, Ber- busker of the Bowery, the lyric writer
lin can mark the changes in his career of Tin Pan Alley, the toast of Broad-
by the titles of songs With the publi- way, Berlin found himself in the Army,
cation of “My Wife’s Gone to the and from his experiences there came
Country,” an instantaneous success, the songs that not only enriched him but
picture of the Berlin future took on endeared him to the hearts of all sol-
rosy aspects 1t had not had previously diers.
In 1911 he wrote “Alexander’s Rag- It was as a part of the soldiers’ review,
time Band,” possibly the first important "“Yip-Yip Yaphank,” acted by a cast
example of what we now call “swing” from Camp Upton, that Berlin offered
music, and which then was known as what became the outstanding song of
“ragtime.” the war Long accustomed to rather dif-
Shuffling its feet to an exciting ferent hours—to closing up a Bowery
rhythm that it couldn’t quite explain, saloon at 6 in the morning, or, in later
a nation shuffled right into a new era, days, working over a lyric until the
the Jazz Age, and on that wave of joy- early dawn—Berlin was not prepared
ous, jazzy emotion, Irving Berlin, a for the chilling insistence of an early-
ragtime mmstrel in whose music the morning bugle. The notes of reveille
traditional wail of his people occa- rang tormentingly in his ears, and even-
sionally survived, found himself riding tually turned up in a song that he called,
to fame, the herald of a new epoch and “Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the
the man who would write most of its Morning!”
songs. The whole army could chime in feel-
In “Alexander’s Ragtime Band,” a ingly on the threatening phrase, “Some
curious observer will note that there is day I'm going to murder the bugler.”
no sign of that wail of his people, the And Berlin further cinched his hold on
keening lament of the cantors, that can the hearts of the soldiers when the war
be discerned in much of Berlin's music was over, for no phrase could be more
Times were good for I Berlin. Joy was triumphantly exultant than that of his
in his heart, and money in his purse song, “I've Got My Captain Working
The happiness of success reflected itself for Me Now!”
in all the numbers he turned out that “Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the

Irving Berlin, com
more hit melodies than any

his time, at
he song covers
recall several outstanding
of the man voted
Acon‘m composer

ser of

radio poll.



























































sold more than 1,500,000
copies. As composer-in-chief of the;
U S. Army, Sgt. Irving Berlin re-
ceived between $30 and $40 a month i

Another turn in Berlin’s carees
started inconspicuously the day when, |
as he was coming out of the Friars
Club, he ran into Sam H. Harris Toss-
ing off lightly an idea which had just
occurred to him, he suggested to Harris
that if the latter ever built a theatre
just for musical comedy, it might be
a good idea to call it the Music Box,~
Several years later, Harris telephoned
to tell the surprised Berlin that he could
have his Music Box whenever he
wanted it.

On a piece of land in 45th Street,
across the way from the Astor Hotel,
one of the dreams of Irving Berlin’s
life started to take shape. The theatre
was to be a small jewel of a place,
chummy in atmosphere, intimate in its
production, with girls and music fea-
tured. Before the dream was a reality,
and the bills started coming 1n, 1t looked
as 1f the dream might be a nightmare

The building itself cost $617,012, and
the total cost of building, ground, and
so on ran up to $947,000. Before the
curtain went up on the first of Irving
Berlin’s “Music Box" revues, the ex-
pense sheet for the production showed
the startling figure of $187,613

PARADE
OF HITS

It seemed as if nothing could ever
repay this staggering outlay, but wh
the first “Music Box Revue” closed ‘its
books, after a year in New York and
an engagement on the road, they showed
gross receipts of $2,000,000, and a profit
of $400,000!

Today the titles of Irving Berlin’s
songs are inextricably woven into the
history of American popular music, and
his melodies have found their way into
the hearts of the people. The simple
phrase, “words and music by Irving
Berlin,” turned up on such pieces as:
“Say It With Music,” “Blue Skies,”
“Everybody’s Doin’ It Now,” “A Pretty



















e eve———y

Girl Is Like a Melody,” “Remember,”
“Because I Love You,” “Russian Lul-
laby,” “The Song Is Ended,” “Every-
body Step,” “All Alone,” “Always” and
“What'll I Do?”

Despite his unparalleled collection of
huts, Berlin never forgot that there had
been other, less successful days, when
pennies for a night’s lodging tinkled on
the floor of Bowery saloons. It is told
of Irving Berlin that, when a young
lady gushed, “Oh, Mr Berlin, I guess
there’s no one who has written as many
song hits as you have!” he replied,
quietly, “I know there’s no one who has
written so many failures.”

Thus Irving Berlin, whose melodies
today are spread to the far-flung cor-
ners of the world by the ubiquitous
marvel of the sound film.'

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