1
10
9
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/71642/archive/files/ecca04451484a8380501cd582128cc8e.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=Hq9jEorYfSFb%7EhzLbAQRo3cm%7EptpgzFiJzfRvjcQo1pOdPJn-NE8xpmxzMJSmjUzLVsNu07%7EcMCDu0oNr96tOGOwUDd6Ki8EeoIOFe1qTOqgxNHA55XRV6Xe4ogwHEoHSK8QRV5bpp0HjElM9U2-nCmCsnq7KIrOwpL5xKkzSDwgWTcS6QRVGqPSFVBI7Nd-WmU3vHK2SiG316C57DLyhN%7EbvdiGSPSkOsQisPn08MkmFbSIqLJEzRE-5Ei4T8ek5OqbNj2QWnQ7ELsLoJMMST9LnRoqELhK3eQCnHsT1goICfOX7qRptxlplavBJTxfXSHw0qrMa7EtyMkMbfHLAA__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
b30757488e3dc140988fec441cb3281d
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
ART
My son Lewis is an artist. My daughter Martha is an artist. My son-in-law Mark is an artist. My daughter Carol is a fine photographer. My son David has drawn cartoons from the time he was little; has sculpted for many years, and continues to draw. And I, like Carol, take photographs, and like David, sculpted. A family of artists.
Growing up in New York, I had the good fortune of being exposed to great art: the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art, the Whitney, the Guggenheim, the 57th Street Galleries, the Brooklyn Museum. In classical music, I listened to the NBC Symphony and Metropolitan Opera On The Air. My mother took me to Central Park to hear the Goldman band. When I was at CCNY, I went to Lewisohn Stadium for the NY Philharmonic. (Until I was in my 20s, I never heard live classical music indoors.)
The New York public schools and CCNY provided me with art and music classes. When my children were small, we would take them to museums, and tried to make them aware of “great art.” I remember telling them that there are great artists, both in and out of museums, but to me, there are two who surpass all the others: as sculptor—Michelangelo; as painter—Rembrandt. I came to that conclusion in my late teens, and still think so.
We (my various wives, and I) encouraged our children’s involvement in art. Lewis in printmaking, Martha in pottery, Carol in modern dance, and David in sculpting. I had given all my kids cameras and explained the rudiments. We encouraged their exposure to music as well, with the help of the public schools. Carol played trombone, Lewis started with the violin and moved to the saxophone, Martha, the clarinet, and David, also the clarinet. There was classical music, folk music and jazz around the house. At the appropriate time, my children went their separate ways as far as popular music was concerned.
Which brings me to the phenomenon of the generation gap, and what is classical and traditional, and what is modern and unconventional. I guess it is age; what generation are you a part of? I always considered myself part of the current generation. I may have grown up with the old, the classic, the traditional, but I was always open to the new, the innovative, the experimental, in music and in art. But maybe not so much these days.
Certainly not in contemporary music. Not contemporary serious music, or contemporary popular music. At a concert of symphonic music, I would much rather hear Beethoven than Glass. At a jazz concert, I would much rather hear swing and bop than free and discordant. I want so much to be with it. To “dig” the musicians. To appreciate whatever it is they are playing. Not to feel that what they are producing is noise.
I used to tell my friends who rejected all modern music and modern art that the artists are speaking a language of their creation and it is our job to learn that language. These days, I feel that it is getting too hard for me to learn a new language. I want the artist to speak to me in the language I know. Am I becoming one of those who say: “ I don’t know much about (fill in the blank), but I know what I like.
It is 2015, and I have no idea what kind of music my children like. Nor art. Fran insists that young people today are not interested in classical music, which therefore includes my four children. When we go to a concert at Symphony Hall or Jordan Hall, there are very few young people, other than music students.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Art
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"My son Lewis is an artist."
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
ART
Art
Children
Culture
Fragment
Music
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/71642/archive/files/40688a8026d772f7912e1051729533c4.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=WNksnPr%7EyKaPVRuX%7ELnTgl7i8nGBXf6VF3rE3NXrZjAnVXuvoDOos%7EzHXmVt-dnZy6NM4B-KYjvxGzayciKWodxKk1wT1RUIDrma-ltJlvM39oaiB2PcCAt9RnnGnl66V0qSmpYnJYDNZ9tXe3Az9-bXenS8BgKmaYUVKePn2zk%7EBNIrXoQi0d%7E%7E70t9MfrIh1eGOGTf6HnWLxfd8GQqKGzKikYTxPyhChabKc9c76fHFUaKstS--aa8FT7QVM2lmZzCLva1xzXoHkpgcKrDuQ61cZDT6nronUwmezyqBkxPtRrE8IKaYL66aP0smG2G8UAeisM8OHY54kvAgKiVNA__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
823388ff50974599ba396eda716b071c
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
GILBERT AND SULLIVAN
I guess the first time I heard of Gilbert and Sullivan was in junior high school. Our music teacher came up with the idea of putting on HMS Pinafore. Our class didn’t have any strong feelings, one way or the other. We had been singing folk songs, and holiday songs the previous year, so learning songs from something called a comic opera seemed like fun. It would be a change from “Low bridge, everybody down…” and “We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing…”
I was designated a “listener” so I knew I would not get a solo part. I wouldn’t be Sir Joseph Porter or Dick Deadeye. But I was permitted to sing in the chorus as a sailor, and I still know all the words to “We sail the ocean blue…” I don’t remember which of my classmates had the male leads, but I distinctly remember that Normie Perlmutter played Little Buttercup, and I thought that it was real “macho” on his part to play a woman. Sol Rauch may have been the Captain because for many years afterward, Sol would sing “I am the Captain of the Pinafore…” and I would reply, “And a right good captain too…”
The class practiced, learned the edited dialogue, and all those great songs. Sir Joseph had the best songs in the play: “When I was a lad I served a term as office boy to an Attorney’s firm…” And a couple more like that. I later found out that they were called “patter songs” and since they were more spoken than sung, I tried to memorize them. Every song had fantastic rhymes. We performed Pinafore for our junior high Assembly and everybody loved it. And I developed a love for Gilbert and Sullivan.
A few years later, in a “music appreciation” class in high school, one of my classmates suggested to the teacher that we listen to recordings of some of the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, as a break from the usual fare. To my surprise and delight, the teacher agreed.
Recordings by the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company were played, and everybody had a wonderful time. I learned that there were many more operettas besides Pinafore, Pirates of Penzance and Mikado. I also learned that the operettas were broadcast every Saturday morning on WQXR. I was hooked.
I was 16, I didn’t own a phonograph, but we had a radio, and Saturday morning did not interfere with my mother’s radio listening. Week after week for the next five or six years, I would listen to the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company recordings, of ALL the G and S comic operas. When I entered CCNY and discovered “The Modern Library” editions in our college bookstore, I flipped. There was “The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan,” and for $1.95! And I still have it. Saturday mornings, I would open it to the operetta being broadcast, and follow along.
What I also learned was that there was a lot of dialogue in between the songs, which were not recorded. And when I read the dialogue, I finally understood the plots, and enjoyed the operettas even more. Gilbert was my kind of guy. He made fun of bureaucracy, the establishment, the 1%, like Charlie Chaplin, the Marx Brothers, George Carlin, and Lennie Bruce. Gilbert and Sullivan pioneered musical comedies which led to Rogers and Hammerstein, George and Ira Gershwin, and the songs of Tom Lehrer, and Alan Sherman. And of course, Sylvia Fine, who wrote all those patter songs for Danny Kaye.
In 1949, I had bought my mother a wire recorder. She wanted it for the same reason I am writing this stuff—to record her memories, her thoughts. When my mother wasn’t looking, I took her wire recorder to record G and S off WQXR. She was outraged. That was not what her wire recorder was for. A couple years later, I invested in a hi-fi set and bought my own G and S LP recordings. The first album I bought was Pirates of Penzance with my new hero, Martyn Green, as the major general. Over the years, I acquired several more. When we moved to the condo in which we are now living, I got rid of several hundred records. I kept all of my G and S albums, and I play them from time to time. Time for me to get them on CD.
Early on, I began to read about William S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan, and their producer, Richard D’Oyly Carte, who created the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company, and built the Savoy Theatre for them. After Richard died, his son Rupert took over, and then Rupert’s daughter Bridget, whose name is on the cover of most of my albums. The Company must have been aware of what a fan I had become. They came to New York in the late ‘40s and a few members of the Company appeared at CCNY. I saved the clipping from our college newspaper, which I placed inside my book. They returned to Broadway a few years later, and I finally got to see a live D’Oyly Carte production. The Company stopped touring in the ‘80s, but there continue to be countless performances of all the operettas by amateur and professional groups all over the world.
In New York, a clever Yiddishist named Al Grand translated Pinafore into Yiddish, and it has been performed before very appreciative bilingual audiences. Here is a couplet sung by Buttercup (Putershisel): “A many years ago, when I was young and charming./ As some of you may know, I practiced baby-farming.” Now in Yiddish: “Amol mit yorn tsurik, Ikh bin geven a sheyne./ Tsvey kinderlakh hob ikh, gevizn zise, kleyne.” He also translated Pirates of Penzance (Yam Gazlonim) and my favorite patter song: “I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General.” “Ikh bin der groyser general un ikh bin oikh a guter Yid.” I did a take-off of that (in English) when my daughter Martha married: “I am the very model of a father of the modern bride./ I ruined a half a dozen shirts by puffing up my chest with pride.”
Here in the Boston area, the Sudbury Savoyards produce an operetta a year, as do the Harvard, MIT and Brown University G and S clubs. There are a lot of “Savoyards” around, despite the fact that G and S have been dead for over 100 years. Of course, we still play and sing music and read books written hundreds of years ago, and that may be the point: Good stuff lasts. And to me, there is nothing as good as Gilbert and Sullivan.
3-24-13
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Gilbert and Sullivan
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"I guess the first time I heard of Gilbert and Sullivan was in junior high school."
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2013-03-24
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
GILBERT_AND_SULLIVAN
Adolescence
Humor
Junior High School (J.H.S. 52)
Music
Poetry
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/71642/archive/files/6d2648cb598c426f7385111d4de19cce.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=IR6m58TUUZ3L3iQVSVTkbHLbHUHIan5aFBpPfqngy%7Eq3Y0yheiKcvE1M69cke1qAsCIZQos2x4fDdScuT1irV8o3Hjz9EgvKwT8X-Z102fvc-riMZjakoy5rTPeaFeXarJ-xYOWdv9DYULsrMBKlDaOVopmG%7Ewlz4r4lWqSwIvK9FubjSz5k5Z0WDpJVgGTwmx9u-1fTuVI2Jx34aG%7EP8X5NzU1pcTBSbM%7EbrU5yAMjxAwtUJ9YpYOFrEUh263WwWhEu29alXFQPGAnC3R0le5oLACIBdR9YIdLze5xf3I6v2DBzJEMJD4vDRBZ7Q822iFbR9XWBrnMBVQ9D%7E9mhrQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
14e13e8cb007f660ec75089c4a3fe890
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
WOODY
When was the first time I heard a Woody Guthrie record? At Camp Echo Lake the summer of 1944? On Oscar Brand’s folk music program on WNYC in 1945? I listened to a lot of folk music including Woody Guthrie during my years at CCNY from 1945 to 1950. And it was reinforced in 1951 by the wonderful coincidence of having Folkways Records on the same floor as the union I was working for, Local 38 ILGWU. We were located in the WEVD Building, 117 West 46th Street. Being “neighbors,” I met Moe Asch who created Folkways, and his assistant, Marion Distler. It was Marion whom I sheepishly asked if I could buy some records. She said, of course. I asked how much, and she said $1 for 10 inch and $1.50 for 12 inch records. They were retailing for $4.95 and $5.95. And I bought a lot of records, including every Woody Guthrie record they had.
We shared the third floor for almost three years, until I left for the army in 1954. Though I saw Moe Asch dozens of times, my attempt to make small talk was rebuffed. I found him unapproachable. I knew that he was the son of the Yiddish writer Sholem Asch, but I couldn’t use that as an entrée to conversation: “Mr. Asch, my mother read several of your father’s stories.” “Mr Asch, I am glad that you recorded all those union songs, and Jewish folk songs, as well as American folk songs.” “Mr. Asch, I guess producing folk music records must be a tough way to make a living.”
The decade from the mid ‘40s to the mid ‘50s was filled with music for me: jazz, and classical and folk. I had discovered 52nd Street, started collecting jazz records, and there was the Dixieland Revival with groups playing Friday nights in ballrooms on Second Avenue like Stuyvesant Casino. I was exposed to opera as a super at the Metropolitan Opera House, and classical music during the summer concerts at Lewisohn Stadium, the summer home of the N.Y. Philharmonic, and my friends and I sang folk songs and went to the many “hootenannies” around town. Folk singers were everywhere. In concert halls, in Washington Square Park, in church basements, and in rented storefronts.
It was January or February 1954. Sylvia and I were getting together with our friends Lennie and Thelma Rubin. They had a fantastic apartment at 10 Fifth Avenue (thanks to Thelma’s uncle,) and in addition, they had a car. We took the subway to Astor Place and walked over to the their apartment. From there, we drove to a “hoot” we had read about. The MC was Will Geer who was a fairly well known actor. I did not know of his folk music involvement (or of his longstanding relationship with Woody Guthrie.)
Writing this in 2012, I must admit, the location of the “hoot” is a bit fuzzy. I thought it was in a storefront on Second Avenue where about 10 or 15 rows of benches were set up. Sylvia believes it was a church basement in Greenwich Village, and the benches were arranged in a semi-circle. There was a raised stage in the front, and someone collected the few dollars admission as we entered. The program consisted of about six or eight performers, and Will Geer introduced them and kept the show moving, by interspersing stories and anecdotes between the acts.
Toward the end of the evening, a shabbily dressed man came in, carry a banjo case in one hand and a guitar case in the other. I was sitting at the end of the bench, on the center aisle in my row. The newcomer put down his instruments and sat down next to me, by putting his rear on the few inches of bench that was visible, and pushing me over, to make room for him. Sylvia, Lennie and Thelma moved down. I looked at my seatmate and smiled. When the performer on stage ended, Will Geer said, “I see Woody Guthrie is with us tonight.” Turns out the shabbily dressed man sitting next to me was Woody. He got up, picked up his instruments, walked up to the stage, and took over. He talked a bit aimlessly, he played, and sang a few songs, but he mostly talked. Everyone was spellbound. It was 1954. Woody was 42 years old, but looked much older. We all knew the songs he wrote, but none of us, other than Will Geer, knew of his illness. Woody was enjoying himself on stage. A couple of times, Will Geer tried to wind it up. “Woody, how about ending with So Long, It’s Been Good to Know You?” Woody ignored him. The audience left their benches and gathered around him. Then Geer shut off the lights. Everybody protested, but Geer ignored then and made it clear that the “hoot” was over.
Lenny offered to drive Woody wherever he wanted to go, and Woody said he would certainly appreciate it, and gave Lenny an address which was fairly close. The five of us got into the car. Woody was friendly and easy-going. I do not remember any indication that he was not well—no noticeable tremor, stumbling, or slurred speech. It was exciting to be in his company. The most important folk singer of our time. We were big fans of Pete Seeger and Leadbelly, but it was Woody who wrote The Dust Bowl Ballads (including “So Long…), and This Land Is Your Land. He was a great song writer, a terrific folk singer. He was authentic. I should have asked him for his autograph. I did get his imprint on the left side of my pants.
5-18-12
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woody
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"When was the first time I heard a Woody Guthrie record?"
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2012-05-18
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
1944/1954
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
WOODY
Culture
Music
Woody Guthrie
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/71642/archive/files/218d1333eba7456bb28605c44c5241b2.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=JYCz64EoNWGCe%7EvfGVIjRCdFzzcg6BjF32POLOP2LKsvQ5tqwpi39EKBvm57OoOPrF92p3BMWJ4U2LgCymVz4tJxvVWmPj44cZE3fj-HqlWzASpV8mb5om4pmqBeEoqoJazUv8jVlwW9ANggAi8FBMLK2iDp6t7tNPFeL5pkmlBJTEmkTG0aovZ5Qxp0N1EWuSr2CZx0NTqqvbqhnVIHmZ4BknDPN2XuwBMipvjfPmHrZny87-Askamk04ug3Yxa83%7EDhlmbZzDAe15oU8WnlXFRAJ-3DuVx3PmxoIF6sc%7EEy6Ro80yEoA5Wemf6ZPnlUwL58F-W1miPQG-REf0CkQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
1ee650b0c3e963cbc52fd0ab5e2ccb60
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
Random Thoughts About Folk Music and Folk Festivals
I went to the Lowell Folk Festival recently and had a great time. It got me to thinking about folk music and folk festivals.
I have loved folk music since I was a teen-ager, exposed to it simultaneously as a camper-waiter at Camp Echo Lake, where there was a lot of folk-singing led by counselors with copies of Carl Sandburg’s American Songbag, and when I started hanging out with the friends that eventually became Reading Out Loud. We sang a lot of folk songs, and we did a lot of square dancing.
By my early 20s, I thought I had heard every folk singer worth hearing. And when I was organizing for Local 38, my office was on the same floor as Moe Asch and Marion Distler of Folkways Records, which broadened my exposure to folk music. I bought a lot of Folkways records, since Marion let me have them for $1 for 10 inch records, and $1.50 for 12 inch records. (They retailed for $4.95 and $5.95.) Marion tried to get me to buy “world” music, but I stayed with Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly, Cisco Houston, and Richard Dyer-Bennett. The only non-English records I bought were two wonderful Yiddish folk music albums by Mark Olf. (Not to get ahead of myself: I find it bittersweet that the Folkways catalogue has been taken over by Smithsonian Records, and that Smithsonian has also taken over the National Folklife Festival.)
By the ‘50s, there was a lot of folk music around New York. Hootenannies were everywhere. And no liberal or left-wing rally could take place without a folk singer kicking it off. But hoots and rallies and supper clubs are not folk festivals, so let me jump to Washington DC and the National Folklife Festival on the mall.
Seems like every summer around July 4, from the time we moved to Washington, the National Folklife Festival took place. It ran about a week. I have a vague memory that it took place in Wolf Trap in Northern Virginia a few times, but my strongest memory was the fantastic folk music on the mall. I would come down with the family, with friends, colleagues from work, and on my own. I took lots of pictures, and on a few occasions, I took a tape recorder and taped the music. (No one said I couldn’t.) One year they had musicians from Romania and I visited with them, proudly telling them that my mother was from Vaslui. Another year, it was Utah Phillips singing labor songs. The Festival outdid itself in 1976, the 200th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. Instead of a week it ran for most of the summer. It was always hot, but it never bothered me. Nor did walking up and down the mall from 7th Street to 14th Street. And it was free.
Some time around 1970, I attended a management training program for Federal employees in Berkeley California. We were housed in a pleasant hotel across the street from the University, and a folk festival was taking place on campus at the same time. And the performers were staying at the same hotel. On the second or third morning that I was there, I went downstairs and saw an older man with a guitar case, looking bewildered. I asked him if I could help him, and he said he’d like to get some breakfast. We walked together to a nearby coffee shop and he introduced himself: Arthur Crudup, known as Big Boy, from Virginia, a blues singer. I introduced myself: Jacob Schlitt, known as Jake, from Washington DC, a government worker.
We talked about everything—our lives; our families; but mostly about music. He explained that he has been playing the blues most of his life, made a few recordings, and for the past few years has been playing festivals around the country. He said that some of his songs were recorded by Elvis Presley. When we finished breakfast, he invited me to come along with him to the festival grounds. It was a while before the music would get under way. I was thrilled, accompanying my new friend back stage. He introduced me to the other performers and I just hung around as they tuned up and kibitzed. A fiddle player from Louisiana called me over to see his fiddle. To me, one fiddle looks pretty much like another. However, he held it up to the light so that I could see the writing inside. I saw some writing but couldn’t make it out. He said with great pride, “It’s a Stradivarius.” Come on! I didn’t think it was possible. A Cajun fiddle player with a Stradivarius? Still, why should I doubt him?
I stayed for the morning’s performance. I felt as if I was back in high school, cutting class, when Benny Goodman was at the Paramount. But this was better. I was a friend of one of the performers, and the guy on fiddle was playing a Stradivarius. When I returned home, I kept looking for recordings by Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup, and finally found one on the Delmark label. Years later, I learned that he had recorded for RCA in the ‘40s and ‘50’s, that he was born in Mississippi and made his way to Chicago, and that he died in 1974. I am grateful for the day that I spent with him.
In the mid-80s, the City of Lowell initiated its own Folk Festival. Very much like the Washington Folklife Festival, except that it is held over a weekend toward the end of July. It also has several stages and brings in musicians from all over the country and the world. When I discovered it, memories of the National Folklife Festival came flooding back. For several years, Fran, David and I drove up to Lowell, and we had a great time. We listened to the music at the different stages sprawled on the grass, ate lots of ethnic food and bought a few tchotchkes.
For the past few years, it has become difficult for Fran to make it, so I have been going by myself, taking fewer pictures and running around less. And I don’t sprawl on the grass; it is getting much harder to get up. I go to the stages which provide seats; I make my choices, not by musicians, but by the accommodations. The fact is, the performers rotate, so I could sit in one place for the entire afternoon, and most of the musicians will show up.
It is an easy drive to Lowell, and this year I caught a French Canadian group, a bluegrass band, and at the St. Anne’s Churchyard Stage which set up a lot of folding chairs, they had a remarkable Greek ensemble led by a virtuoso Bouzouki player, followed by a six member Gospel quartet. A remarkable duet of Inuit throat singing was next, and before I left, I heard an Irish band from County Sligo.
I no longer walk all over Lowell. And I no longer feel I have to hear every performer. Sometimes there is a “Must Hear” musician. That was the case last year when they brought in Joshua Nelson and the Kosher Gospel Singers, from East Orange N.J. Or the year before when they had a Klezmer group from Philadelphia. But if it doesn’t have a Jewish or labor angle, I am open to any kind of folk music, domestic or international.
8-1-11
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Random Thoughts About Folk Music and Folk Festivals
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"I went to the Lowell Folk Festival recently and had a great time."
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2011-08-01
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Folk_Festivals
Culture
Music
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/71642/archive/files/5cf3c9f15e17c78f07a505c0bf29cbd4.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=jEx40%7E76ZtV9QfxWcg8eEVVjQlNQ7T6r%7Eg-gfANs4VAzKpig9l3vUlTnS5MitqzTrNp13W7FUMRAKLOmzQa1oblPzqywz1z3elPNWuYqTNjq3qzbuKxB82kBKU1QiXwatfZcPKcEQ1AY6ZuWJqoT8SM2v%7EPWiSZv7wdkNkH8a%7EkF5u2pgDLUCWRRGxqou6KwMJUQx-JIw4sdSS2WYnFQ-59hX4Ncn0%7Et7yQhWa6VKloMg0kN7CJ2w7VRPNZBGHpUnqBbJGKjSwvHGl4nzUoiScH8av29D6IYSS2nCg3BBnim1BAXzUN1rgP7k1FU2vmqkr4XYjqKtKmC4L3TlR-gTQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
dcf00b4b5057b32f12dbd6e33ad1f74d
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
IT MUST BE WORTH A LOT OF MONEY
I am a collector. From my earliest years, I collected stuff. As a little kid, I collected the covers of ice cream cups that featured movie stars. I collected soda bottle caps, We used them in games that we played. I collected marbles, which we called “immies.” Of course I collected baseball cards. I wasn’t very passionate about my baseball card collection. Baseball cards came with packs of gum, and I didn’t want to spend my pennies on gum. I didn’t collect comic books. They cost a dime.
I did collect stamps. I wrote elsewhere about my being introduced to this very educational hobby, which also had the possibility of a collector coming across a very valuable stamp, making him very rich. I started with a lovely stamp album, given to me as a birthday present. It was called “Modern Postage Stamp Album” and had a red cover and a picture of skyscrapers and an airplane. It was published by Scott, designed and written by Theresa M. Clark, and copyright in 1938. Of course, I still have it. I would dutifully paste the collected stamps in the album with little hinges. I also traded stamps with fellow collectors, but with little enthusiasm.
I was also told that if you collected numbered plate blocks and first day covers of US commemorative stamps, they would be worth a lot of money some day. So from the time I was a teen-ager until a few years ago, I collected US commemorative plate blocks. I would buy a sheet of stamps in the post office and remove the four corner stamps with the number. I carefully put them in special mint block files, purchased in stores that sold stamps to collectors. The reason I stopped collecting them a few years ago was because I learned that they had no value. There was no one who would buy them. There was a surfeit of plate blocks. I have not bought a stamp in over a year. I am using up my beautiful plate blocks on the letters I send out. Last year (2010) when Fran and I went to Spain and France, I learned that stamps are bought and sold at flea markets. I was sure that I could sell my beautiful stamps to dealers there. I estimated their value in Euros and thought I would make a killing. There was no interest at all. Finally one dealer bought a particularly pretty sheet for about its face value. I gave several plate blocks to my cousins.
In my late teens, as I developed an interest in music, I collected records—first 78’s (that was all there was in the ‘30s and ‘40s). My friend Phil collected jazz records as a teen-ager, but he didn’t have a record player. He would leave his records at the homes of friends who did. In the late ‘40s, a very fancy record store, Liberty Music, ran a full page ad in the N.Y. Times announcing that it was selling its entire stock of records at 50% off. I ran down and bought a bunch of classical and jazz albums. Several months later, Columbia Records announced that it was introducing a new 33 1/3 rpm record, and RCA came out with a 45 rpm record. The 78rpm record became obsolete, as did my prized portable 78 rpm record player. I had overwound the big Victrola that was my mother’s, years before.
Speaking of my mother, I suspect I got the collecting bug from her. She had a respectable collection of 78 rpm records consisting of classical music, liturgical music, Yiddish music, some popular music and even a comedy record. Most of them were 12 inch, recorded on one side, and very heavy. In addition my mother had her collection of Yiddish books in a special bookcase, and in the big China closet, my mother appropriately kept her collection of China and cut glass, and foreign coins, and souvenir spoons.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
It Must Be Worth a Lot of Money
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"I am a collector."
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2010/2011
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
IT_MUST_BE_WORTH_A_LOT_OF_MONEY
Adolescence
Childhood
Hobbies
Music
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/71642/archive/files/f809b4dc400241f4c4cf8b314fcc69e3.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=Lsvpu5FMpwUZCe6L9D3M67MCJZzbg8bu-jaNW5VRw3-dBQVatK6eh-VZEnsCdmkORKA5cqrietVCZQR5R35WGZJIutv%7EEZfQL1Yez6ZoDQi0peM0ZGMfsmKINizJm5Ft7caF59sMyYbgvIB5ZCC6V5UblnP7cCbqEhHkJxxZ0vHhi0BtnQRFs7qNxwXUbBwfKls6XSNgTT8CmODarHkc7x9ganJPlB-vmHFxCMHgrj6kXiDQopd4TvmdWxsov04wmy9K60eU-Vx%7EberROeIp6MezeL3U%7EbgDhTK%7EeyfF4aCRdSPQiCsentnzuMLdcjOpQBSd0MD5FyvQSYKXACBmjg__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
0180c3958359f37e8c83062bef2bb815
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
GOING TO THE MOVIES
Now that I have cable TV, I am able to see a movie “at any time of the day or night.” I fell in love with Turner Classic Movies (TCM) at first sight. It is on RCN channel 143, and when I am bored with whatever I am doing, I switch on TV and check out what is being shown. (I haven’t figured out how to find what is being shown beforehand.) If I tune in at the right time, I might catch the host, Robert Osborne, telling us something about the movie. He must be the hardest working person on TV. He is on 24/7, walking toward the camera every two hours, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I imagine he gets some sleep between movies.
If I don’t like what is on TCM, I click over to the other movie channels. They tend to show the same movies over and over, but if I haven’t seen them, or if I have forgotten them, it doesn’t matter. I really don’t do this “at any time of the day or night.” It is usually in the evening between 8 and 11 pm. I lean back on the couch with a pillow at my back, and the remote at my side, ready to be transported.
But going to the movies wasn’t always like this. I harken back to yesteryear, to my childhood in the Bronx, to the many movie palaces in our neighborhood that beckoned to us, all through the depression. The movies were there to take our minds off the depression, unemployment and poverty, by showing us happy, rich people, silly comedies, cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, chorus girls and song and dance men. Within walking distance from my apartment house on Fox Street and Longwood Avenue were the Congress theatre (which changed its name to the Ace), the Empire, the Prospect, and the Star, all third run theatres, and the RKO Franklin, and the Loew’s Boulevard, Burland and Spooner, which were second run, after the feature attraction left its first run, higher priced showing downtown.
As kids, we always went to the third run theatres, which were the cheapest: 10 cents, as opposed to 15 cents, for matinees. We didn’t go very often, but when we did go, it was Saturday morning and we would see two movies, cartoons, a newsreel, a chapter, and coming attractions. (A high point of movie-going was when there was a break-down. Everyone would yell and whistle until the projectionist fixed it. It doesn’t happen any more, and I miss it.)
It didn’t matter what time we went in. When we saw the same scene in the movie a second time, we knew it was time to leave, unless your friend hadn’t seen it or didn’t remember it. We might go in alone or with a few friends and meet other kids. Some theatres had a children’s section and the ushers made us sit there. Most of us would bring food from home: bread, crackers, cookies, candy, fruit, or nuts, and eat it during the show. (Many of us still do.) No one had money to buy anything at the refreshment stand. I am not sure if there were refreshment stands then. When we returned from the movies, we would tell our friends who hadn’t gone, all about the movies we had seen. Our favorites were cowboy movies, which one of my friends called “shoot-em-ups.” We each had our favorite cowboy actors: Buck Jones, Harry Carey, Tom Mix, and I had Ken Maynard. (Gene Autry and Roy Rogers came later.)
I would also go to the movies with my mother, on weekend afternoons. It was usually to the Prospect or the Franklin, which was just up Longwood Avenue to Prospect Avenue. My mother had her favorite actors and actresses: Ann Harding, Janet Gaynor and of course, Paul Muni who had been a star of the Yiddish stage. We were aware that a few other performers were Jewish, and went to see them as well: Edward G. Robinson, John Garfield and Sylvia Sydney. My mother didn’t care for the gangster movies, but in the ‘30s, those were the movies in which Robinson, Garfield and Muni starred. Paul Muni eventually became so big, they put his name before the name of the movie, and called him MR. Paul Muni. We had no idea that so many of the movie makers were Jewish, as were many more performers. They had all changed their names.
To encourage more frequent movie-going, the theatres would give away dishes. This usually took place on a Wednesday evening. Prices changed at 5 PM, so if you entered the theatre before the prices changed, you would not be eligible for the free dishes. It was a dilemma for some. My mother didn’t bother with it. We had our own very nice dishes, thank you.
From time to time, my mother and I would go to the movies when she left work. She was working downtown at this time and would take the Seventh Avenue train which took her to the Prospect Avenue station, instead of Longwood Avenue. I would buy the tickets before the prices changed, and wait for her. When she descended the stairs, I was there, and we went to the Prospect Cafeteria, next door to the Prospect Theatre, for dinner. It was a special evening—dinner and the theatre with my mother.
The really special treat were the few occasions that we went to Broadway on a weekend or holiday afternoon for a movie and a stage show. The crème de la crème was the Radio City Music Hall. It was breath-taking. We waited on line outside the theatre with hundreds of other people, anticipating the thrill of entering the most lavish theatre lobby anywhere. Then, being carried along by the crowds to a seat in the most enormous theatre I had ever seen, and in front of us, the most enormous stage I had ever seen. An organ filled the Hall with music as you entered and everyone waited with great anticipation for the show to begin. When the curtain was raised—the Rockettes! And a first run movie! It may have cost a buck and change, but it was worth it. We also went to the Roxy and the Capital where there were stage shows—a band and a comedian and maybe a juggler or a tap dancer—but it couldn’t compare to Radio City.
By the time I was in high school, and into big band jazz, the Paramount was where it was at. At least once a semester, during our last two years attending the morning session at Stuyvesant High School, after we got on the subway at 125th Street, someone would say, “Benny Goodman is at the Paramount.” Instead of riding to 14th Street, we got off at 42nd Street and stood on line at the Paramount to catch the first show. We didn’t care about the movie. It was the stage show that we wanted to see.
When we started dating, we would take our date to the movies. Initially, it was to a neighborhood movie. Then it was downtown, to the Broadway movie houses. It was Saturday evening, and all of New York seemed to be on line to get into the theatre. If we double dated, it was easier to maintain the conversation while we waited. But it was harder to find four seats together when we entered the movie house. We would find each other at the end of the show and go out for coffee. When I discovered live theatre, I stopped taking my dates to the movies. It was a lot classier to send away for tickets, and take your date to Broadway for a play, instead of a movie, and not have to wait on line.
I didn’t stop going to the movies, but my taste in movies began to change. College coincided with the remarkable post-war films coming out of Italy, France and Scandinavia. The Irving Place Theatre on 15th Street played Russian movies, and there was a movie house on 42nd Street, between the movie houses playing X-rated movies, that played second run foreign films, as well as the Thalia on 95th Street and Broadway. I also became a big fan of comedy films, going back to the silents. Through the late ‘40s and ‘50s, I must have seen every one of the silent movies made by Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. And I reruns of the Marx Brothers. Taking Spanish in college, I learned about Cantinflas, a Mexican comic actor, comparable to Charlie Chaplin, and got to see his movies in my neighborhood, which had a growing Spanish population.
Just as going to a Broadway movie house gave you a two-fer—a first run movie and a stage show—the Museum of Modern Art provided a two-fer: entrance to the museum and a movie worthy of being shown in a museum. I never went to the Modern Art Museum (we didn’t call it MOMA then) without seeing the movie. The museum even provided a brochure, which gave you information about the film.
Time marches on. Sylvia and I marry and have children and are happy to get a baby sitter for a night out at a neighborhood movie. And with children came children’s movies and the noise in the theatre during those children’s matinees. Fortunately, this period didn’t last too long. An even briefer period was when we would take infants to the movies in our arms, counting on them to fall asleep. (When they got older, and we watched children’s television together, I would fall asleep.)
In 1972, when my first marriage ended, I found an apartment in downtown Washington, and for the first time, in a long time, I went to a movie by myself. It was a depressing feeling. Nobody to make a comment to. Nobody to put your arm around, or to hold hands with. Fortunately, this period didn’t last too long, either.
Seven years later, I moved to Boston, met Fran, got married, joined the Museum of Fine Arts, and what do you know—the MFA also showed movies. However, a ticket to the movie was not included in the price of admission. They charged regular movie prices. They also played wonderful movies that you would not see in a commercial theatre, and the MFA regularly showed films as part of the Boston Jewish Film Festival.
Boston had fewer motion picture palaces as compared to New York, but Brookline has a wonderful neighborhood movie house, the Coolidge Corner Theatre. Cambridge had the Orson Welles, but that is no more. Then came VCRs and DVDs. We used to record movies off the TV but then realized that we weren’t watching them again. The Senior Center and the library show movies regularly. And the library has a section with films that you can take out. So with all this and cable TV, I am drowning in movies. Gevalt!
10-27-09
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Going to the Movies
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"Now that I have cable TV, I am able to see a movie 'at any time of the day or night.'"
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2009-10-27
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
GOING_TO_THE_MOVIES
Bronx
Childhood
Culture
Dating
Hobbies
Marriage
Movies
Music
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/71642/archive/files/4aaeaeaebe21444d1c58643db34660a3.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=Scn0I47wvQWOmLOnaxJggl0OFx0I9xpWOnh42wzEGkpqRXiM-zoS4MP9d3hfw9Z5KSs5nbMtci88MdbU2JGFT-R80jlCrSA0rmEq5ipphFcBETeOcLVBFJFX8f19Egw7LWIkp3PvHfMWRmNfylKnzZi4ERdABlSgM2w8Allwxd6EJT%7EekIVnqUMVMDOmha5aiIhzGGWE6FfkKW0DyugbPrHWXLf0a9HydfoPNGldOklbpDS1sDj1YPyEwg3kXmGwIE1B9UVTMo6O54Syg068DxRrGTOxNZj7aTfAqU9t187rTYtX-TUoByHR62knP86Ub-4xjcmJhjZHtM5WMmqtOw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
59b7366f08b17ffa692d0bb34d1e3d50
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Autobiographical writing
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
Music in the Life of a Kid in the Bronx
Growing up in the '30s in the Bronx, most of us were aware of pop music, the big bands and tin pan alley. Kids would buy song sheets for a nickel with the words of the most popular songs, and would stand around, or sit on the stoop, and sing them. One of the most listened to radio programs was Your Hit Parade, and there were several programs featuring popular bands, almost all of them with vocalists. I was not one of the kids who sang the songs, or who tuned into the musical programs on a regular basis. The sad truth was that I could not carry a tune. We all learned the songs, almost by osmosis, but you seldom saw me singing them. As we moved into our teen-age years, the kids who knew the songs and who followed the bands were the ones who became the cool lindy dancers and who were popular with the girls. They dressed sharper and were hipper. And those of us who weren’t "in" on the latest tunes, and didn’t "dig" the swing bands, were quietly jealous of them.
Running concurrently with our after-school musical education, was the music that was taught in our public schools. In PS 62 and JHS 52, we had "music" as part of our curriculum. From first grade on, we were required to sing in "assembly." We learned all the patriotic songs: The Star Spangled Banner, My Country Tis of Thee, America the Beautiful, Columbia the Gem of the Ocean, Over Hill, Over Dale, The Marine's Hymn, etc. Then there were the holiday songs: for Thanksgiving: We Gather Together, for Christmas: Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, Come All Ye Faithful, Jingle Bells, etc. Then there was Americana: My Grandfather's Clock, and Stephen Foster. We learned a lot of songs. But then came the awful moment when our music teacher asked each of us to sing individually. After listening, she designated some of us "listeners" and asked us not to sing with the rest of the class. I was designated a "listener." What shame! What stigma! What a stupid way to teach music. I can’t think of a better turn-off: To be told that you can't sing on key. What the hell is a key, anyway? The fact is, we listeners still learned the stupid songs, and we know them to this day.
In junior high school, we were also exposed to classical music. We were taught about the orchestra, the instruments, the role of the conductor, and the "great" composers. And we listened to musical excerpts. Our teacher also taught us words to go with the music. For example: "This is the symphony that Schubert wrote but never finished." And "Amaryllis is a dance written for (or by?) the king of France." Or when we listened to "The Swan" or "To a Wild Rose" we were supposed to imagine the swan or the rose and were encouraged to make motions in the air, tracing them. That was really going to get us excited about serious music.
Our homes were not without classical music, despite what our music teachers may have thought. I suspect most of my friends had a Victrola in the house. Ours must have been purchased in the '20s when it was the hottest new item around, along with the even more remarkable radio. The Victrola had a crank which you wound up when you wanted to listen to a record. After winding it up, you placed the record on the turntable, placed the arm with a needle on the record, and the music came out of the bell shaped speaker. You had to be careful not to scratch the record when you placed the needle at the start of the record, and you had to be careful not to overwind the Victrola because that would make the record spin faster than 78 rpm, and the music would sound funny. And if the Victrola was underwound, it would go slower and sound funny in a different way. We had records by Enrico Caruso and Galli Curci singing operatic arias, and by several Cantors , and even some popular music. They were 12 inch records, recorded on only one side. One day, I really overwound the Victrola and I heard a spring pop, and the Victrola played no more. I tried turning the record on the turntable by hand, but ended up scratching the hell out of the record.
In junior high school our musical education was tremendously enriched by our performances directed by our music teacher. One, which my friends and I still remember was "The Ballad for Americans." But the most ambitious undertaking was the production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore. Almost everybody in our class participated. It took a great deal of courage for Norman Perlmutter to agree to be little Buttercup. And even some of us "listeners" were allowed to be in the chorus. And that exposure hooked me on Gilbert and Sullivan. (My gallant crew, good morning.)
In high school music appreciation, we had a little more G and S because one of the students urged our teacher to include them. It was during that term I discovered that WQXR broadcast the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas every Saturday morning, and I made an effort to listen as often as I could. I even bought the Modern Library edition of "The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan" (for $1.95) and followed along with the D’Oyly Carte recordings. Since I couldn't carry a tune, and since I was so in love with these wonderful operettas, I tried to memorize the patter songs—I am the very model of a modern major general; When I was a lad etc. It was about this time that Danny Kaye was becoming well known and many of the songs that Sylvia Fine wrote for him had the same quality, and I tried to memorize them as well—I’m Anatole of Paris, Deena etc. It was not only the music but the marvelous play of words and rhymes that got me. How did Gilbert (and later Sylvia Fine) do it? When I started collecting records, the recordings of the various G and S operettas were among the first records that I bought, first in 78, then in LP.
Toward the end of high school, I began getting more interested in jazz. My friend Phil Bernstein had been introduced to jazz by a girl he met one summer, and he started listening to, and collecting records. However, he didn’t have a phonograph so he left his records at the homes of friends who did have record players. And he talked to us about the musicians—Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, musicians whose records I started collecting and whose music I have come to love to this day.
I end this remembrance in 1945, as I graduate from high school. The next installment will take me through college—the Dixieland Revival, Lewisohn Stadium, chamber music, folk music, Klezmer, the BSO etc. Stay tuned.
In the late '40s, there was the Dixieland Revival, and great Dixieland musicians were booked into two halls on Second Avenue: Central Plaza and Stuyvesant Casino. College kids from all over the Northeast would jam the place. I suspect some of them were attracted as much by the pitchers of beer that were sold as by the music. The great Bunk Johnson was the headliner, but there were scores of legendary musicians who played every Friday night. Many of them had been featured in New Orleans in the '20s but were unable to get any bookings during the depression and came out of retirement as a result of the revival. We knew their names from the records they had made, and it was exciting to see them in person. There were also some young white musicians who were into Dixieland and were able to get the crowd going. A good-looking trombonist who was the son of an art dealer generated a lot of excitement.
Big Chief Russell Moore
Traditional ending—marching around the hall to the Saints
Jazz clubs, 52nd street. Small combos, vocalists, bar.
Transition to bop—Charlie Parker, Dizzy, Birdland, Folkways, Sixth Av. record shops, cutouts, pirate records.
Radio- ? society of lower Basin St.
Symphony Sid
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Music in the Life of a Kid in the Bronx
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
Another (later?) draft of #44 Music in My Life
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
circa 2007
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
What_music_means_to_me
Bronx
Childhood
Culture
Education
Elementary School (P.S. 62)
Junior High School (J.H.S. 52)
Music
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/71642/archive/files/01798a7755d06e46a1be72325f5c1e3c.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=XexEbwB7q960jP5HBCd1GoeO6R7qwI9inuWjGDMe97vnO4bC69oxzuOq2j9b%7EEktH6jrnT2-Y6Uc6rmNPMnBp59cMerLrS3P8%7E76qxDII-HUSRyfeMZx-9I4dlKkVf25qZXb4YPj1OrlqxA0-Vn44KgMIOBrh1ejs6qWjhm34RPjQyqHYF1uEdReGtqglIP5fLSvdgW15ZniV6FSK-NLI3yXsW17DxflLw%7E0uohrRgByz1dS%7EwOXG8upkHeJtdQAGYlozEW9c7dLlEKtBzyS359zAnNWcTPsnXxzIFBy%7EfHFdA5A2Nu8u2Fb%7EwYK-qFhCEy6PsFq08oX0sVqFQnfxw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
66f96c99471c99950eb2b391e846f016
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Numbered memoirs
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
# 44 Music in My Life
For some people, their lives would be empty and unfulfilled without music. They may play an instrument, sing, attend concerts, dance, or simply listen to recorded music. Some have music as background wherever they can. And it doesn't matter what kind of music. They have to have music. I can take it or leave it.
Growing up in the '30s in New York, most everyone was aware of pop music, the big bands, tin pan alley. Kids would buy song sheets for a nickel containing the words of the most popular songs, and would stand around, or sit on the stoop, and sing them. One of the most listened to radio programs was Your Hit Parade, and there were several programs featuring different popular bands, almost all of them with vocalists. I was not one of the kids who sang the songs, or who tuned in the musical programs on a regular basis. The sad truth was that I could not carry a tune. We all learned the songs, almost by osmosis, but you never saw me singing them. As we moved into our teen-age years, the kids who knew the songs and who followed the bands were the ones who became the cool lindy dancers and who were popular with the girls. They dressed sharper and were hipper. And those of us who weren’t "in" on the latest tunes, and didn’t "dig" the swing bands, were quietly jealous of them.
Running concurrently with our after-school musical education, was the music that was taught in our public schools. In PS 62 and JHS 52, we had "music" as part of our curriculum. From first grade on, we were required to sing in "assembly." We learned all the patriotic songs: The Star Spangled Banner, My Country Tis of Thee, America the Beautiful, Columbia the Gem of the Ocean, Over Hill, Over Dale, The Marine's Hymn, etc. Then there were the holiday songs: for Thanksgiving: We Gather Together, for Christmas: Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, Come All Ye Faithful, Jingle Bells, etc. Then there was Americana: My Grandfather's Clock, and Stephen Foster. We learned a lot of songs. But then came the awful moment when our music teacher asked each of us to sing individually. After listening, she designated some of us "listeners" and asked us not to sing with the rest of the class. I was designated a "listener." What shame! What stigma! What a stupid way to teach music. I can’t think of a better turn-off. To be told that you can’t sing on key. What is a key, anyway? The fact is, we listeners still learned the stupid songs, and we know them to this day.
In junior high school, we were also exposed to classical music. We were taught about the orchestra, the instruments, the role of the conductor, and the great composers. And we listened to musical excerpts. Our teacher also taught us words to go with the music. For example: "This is the symphony that Schubert wrote but never finished." And "Amaryllis is a dance written for (or by?) the king of France." Or when we listened to "The Swan" or "To a Wild Rose" we were supposed to imagine the swan or the rose and were encouraged to make motions in the air, tracing them. That was really going to hook us on serious music.
Our homes were not without classical music, despite what our music teachers may have thought. I suspect most of my friends had, like myself, a Victrola in the house. It had been purchased in the '20s when it must have been the hottest new item around, along with the even more remarkable radio. The Victrola had a crank which wound it up when you wanted to listen to a record. After winding it up, you placed the record on the turntable, placed the arm with a needle on the record and the music came out of the bell shaped speaker. You had to be careful not to scratch the record when you placed the needle at the start of the record, and you had to be careful not to overwind the Victrola because that would make the record spin faster than 78 rpm, and the music would sound funny. And if the Victrola was underwound, it would go slower and sound funny in a different way. We had records by Enrico Caruso and Galli Curci singing operatic arias, and by several Cantors , and even some popular music. They were 12 inch records, recorded on only one side. One day, I really overwound the Victrola and I heard a spring pop, and the Victrrola played no more. I tried turning the record on the turntable by hand, but ended up scratching the hell out of the record.
In junior high school our musical education was tremendously enriched by the performances our music teacher rehearsed us for. One, which my friends and I still remember was "The Ballad for Americans." But the most ambitious undertaking was the production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore. Almost everybody in our class was in the play. It took a great deal of courage for Norman Perlmutter to agree to be little Buttercup. And even some of us "listeners" were allowed to be in the chorus. And I got hooked on G and S. (My gallant crew, good morning.)
In high school music appreciation I was exposed to a little more G and S because one of the students urged our teacher to include them. It was during that term I discovered that WQXR broadcast the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas every Saturday morning, and I made an effort to listen as often as I could. I even bought the Modern Library edition of "The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan" (for $1.95) and followed along with the D'oyly Carte recordings. Since I couldn’t carry a tune, and since I was so in love with these wonderful operettas, I tried to memorize the patter songs—I am the very model of a modern major general; when I was a lad etc. It was about this time that Danny Kaye was becoming well known and many of his songs had the same quality, and I tried to memorize them as well—I’m Anatole of Paris, Deena etc. It was not only the music but the marvelous play of words and rhymes that got me. How did Gilbert (and later Sylvia Fine) do it? When I started collecting records, the recordings of the various G and S operettas were among the first records that I bought, first in 78, then in LP.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
#44 Music in My Life
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Description
An account of the resource
"For some people, their lives would be empty and unfulfilled without music."
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
circa 2007
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Language
A language of the resource
en
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Music_in_My_Life
Bronx
Childhood
Culture
Education
Elementary School (P.S. 62)
Junior High School (J.H.S. 52)
Music
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/71642/archive/files/4c878ff5204303db1090e5cd241c79a5.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=pyZrAljGdu0wtddgVXXCyj1OhshLSHGQ5-RANsP4r21laX%7ECDLfRBxefXUsRMrw5EtEpvexcyhl2P5l9ay6H%7EXiK-n5GhHwKL6d-PG0pJq8d7-w%7E449Cc%7EGSxGW3cbDLdqimw4vEk1-yC7QR6c1dCjnrK2aHTgDfaOcVVYab2A7spZHy8n7NZmKX46KMT4iaa-W5DO3DMpjTQyFPtP6lNDLD4YPcGads-F9FuS2pCG37aKBsCmgIl63kqyIMiq%7EsYwNJRYmyRm3ZwRk98JYb5QVL3calaRU0QO4iJrSkp5sk%7EF%7Ey4ZvkjH%7EfsXzBLdVlwYMn0QBYDYOtlPXEiNPQOg__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
2e46df88ff5389f11a926546e284a537
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Numbered memoirs
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
# 44 Music in My Life
For some people, their lives would be empty and unfulfilled without music. They may play an instrument, sing, attend concerts, dance, or simply listen to recorded music. Some have music as background wherever they can. And it doesn’t matter what kind of music. They have to have music. I can take it or leave it.
Growing up in the '30s in New York, most everyone was aware of pop music, the big bands, tin pan alley. Kids would buy song sheets for a nickel containing the words of the most popular songs, and would stand around, or sit on the stoop, and sing them. One of the most listened to radio programs was Your Hit Parade, and there were several programs featuring different popular bands, almost all of them with vocalists. I was not one of the kids who sang the songs, or who tuned in the musical programs on a regular basis. The sad truth was that I could not carry a tune. We all learned the songs, almost by osmosis, but you never saw me singing them. As we moved into our teen-age years, the kids who knew the songs and who followed the bands were the ones who became the cool lindy dancers and who were popular with the girls. They dressed sharper and were hipper. And those of us who weren’t "in" on the latest tunes, and didn’t "dig" the swing bands, were quietly jealous of them.
Running concurrently with our after-school musical education, was the music that was taught in our public schools. In PS 62 and JHS 52, we had "music" as part of our curriculum. From first grade on, we were required to sing in "assembly." We learned all the patriotic songs: The Star Spangled Banner, My Country Tis of Thee, America the Beautiful, Columbia the Gem of the Ocean, Over Hill, Over Dale, The Marine's Hymn, etc. Then there were the holiday songs: for Thanksgiving: We Gather Together, for Christmas: Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, Come All Ye Faithful, Jingle Bells, etc. Then there was Americana: My Grandfather’s Clock, and Stephen Foster. We learned a lot of songs. But then came the awful moment when our music teacher asked each of us to sing individually. After listening, she designated some of us "listeners" and asked us not to sing with the rest of the class. I was designated a "listener." What shame! What stigma! What a stupid way to teach music. I can’t think of a better turn-off. To be told that you can't sing on key. What is a key, anyway? The fact is, we listeners still learned the stupid songs, and we know them to this day.
In junior high school, we were also exposed to classical music. We were taught about the orchestra, the instruments, the role of the conductor, and the great composers. And we listened to musical excerpts. Our teacher also taught us words to go with the music. For example: "This is the symphony that Schubert wrote but never finished." And "Amaryllis is a dance written for (or by?) the king of France." Or when we listened to "The Swan" or "To a Wild Rose" we were supposed to imagine the swan or the rose and were encouraged to make motions in the air, tracing them. That was really going to hook us on serious music.
Our homes were not without classical music, despite what our music teachers may have thought. I suspect most of my friends had, like myself, a Victrola in the house. It had been purchased in the '20s when it must have been the hottest new item around, along with the even more remarkable radio. The Victrola had a crank which wound it up when you wanted to listen to a record. After winding it up, you placed the record on the turntable, placed the arm with a needle on the record and the music came out of the bell shaped speaker. You had to be careful not to scratch the record when you placed the needle at the start of the record, and you had to be careful not to overwind the Victrola because that would make the record spin faster than 78 rpm, and the music would sound funny. And if the Victrola was underwound, it would go slower and sound funny in a different way. We had records by Enrico Caruso and Galli Curci singing operatic arias, and by several Cantors , and even some popular music. They were 12 inch records, recorded on only one side. One day, I really overwound the Victrola and I heard a spring pop, and the Victrola played no more. I tried turning the record on the turntable by hand, but ended up scratching the hell out of the record.
In junior high school our musical education was tremendously enriched by the performances our music teacher rehearsed us for. One, which my friends and I still remember was "The Ballad for Americans." But the most ambitious undertaking was the production of Gilbert and Sullivan's HMS Pinafore. Almost everybody in our class was in the play. It took a great deal of courage for Norman Perlmutter to agree to be little Buttercup. And even some of us "listeners" were allowed to be in the chorus. And I got hooked on G and S. (My gallant crew, good morning.)
In high school music appreciation I was exposed to a little more G and S because one of the students urged our teacher to include them. It was during that term I discovered that WQXR broadcast the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas every Saturday morning, and I made an effort to listen as often as I could. I even bought the Modern Library edition of "The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan" (for $1.95) and followed along with the D'oyly Carte recordings. Since I couldn’t carry a tune, and since I was so in love with these wonderful operettas, I tried to memorize the patter songs—I am the very model of a modern major general; when I was a lad etc. It was about this time that Danny Kaye was becoming well known and many of his songs had the same quality, and I tried to memorize them as well—I'm Anatole of Paris, Deena etc. It was not only the music but the marvelous play of words and rhymes that got me. How did Gilbert (and later Sylvia Fine) do it? When I started collecting records, the recordings of the various G and S operettas were among the first records that I bought, first in 78, then in LP.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
application/msword
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
#44 Music in My Life
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jacob Schlitt
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
circa 2004/2008
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Language
A language of the resource
English
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
1930s-today_Music_in_My_Life
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
1930/2004
Description
An account of the resource
"For some people, their lives would be empty and unfulfilled without music."
Childhood
Education
Music