From Those Were the Days:

1933 - Backed by the "On the Trail" portion of the magnificent Grand Canyon Suite, Johnny Roventini, pillbox hat and all, uttered the words “Call for Philip Morris” for the first time on radio. The famous phrase was said in perfect B flat pitch and tone to perfectly match the accompanying music. This “Call for Philip Morris” phrase became one of the most famous in all of advertising. Here are a few other classics from advertising’s golden age to jog your brain’s memory cells: “See the U.S.A. in your Chevrolet,” “Pepsi Cola hits the spot, 12 full ounces and that’s a lot,” “When better cars are built, Buick will build them,” “Aren’t you glad you use Dial? Don’t you wish everybody did?”

1935 - People gathered around the radio to listen for the first time to what would become the ultimate horror show on NBC Radio. Lights Out remained on radio until 1947.
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“Hiya, rube!”

As Thrilling Days of Yesteryear’s Jack Benny project rolls on, we take the WABAC machine to September 24, 1950 for an episode that features another one of the show’s best-remembered routines. The opening of this particular show is kind of clever; announcer Don Wilson has started the weekly introduction but is cut off quickly by Jack:

JACK: Hold it, Don! Don, hold it! Hold it, hold it…wait a minute, Phil…hold it! Hold it! Hold it, everybody…

DON: What’s the matter, Jack?

JACK: Look, we’ll be on the air in a few minutes and the opening is still not right…now rehearse it again…

DON: But, Jack—I read the opening like I always do…

JACK: Oh, it isn’t you, Don…it’s the music!

PHIL: And what, pray tell, is wrong with the music?

JACK: The same thing, pray tell, that’s been wrong with it for fifteen years…Phil, it’s too loud…nobody can hear Don! I can tell you now, Phil—you’ll never get anywhere with that kind of blasting…

PHIL: Look, Jackson—now listen to me…I’ve got a Cadillac, a yacht and a mansion in Encino…show me one “Clair de Lune” man who can top that…

JACK: Phil, I know you have a Cadillac, a yacht and a mansion…but what did your music have to do with getting all those things?

PHIL: My band played “Here Comes the Bride”…I looked at that little blonde standing beside me, said “I do,” and they were mine, all mine…

JACK: He admits it, yet…

MARY: Jack…we’ll be on the air in a minute, so why upset yourself?

JACK: But, Mary…

MARY: Well, Phil has a lot of bad musicians and there’s nothing you can do about it…

PHIL: Wait a minute! Hold it a minute, May Company Maisie…let’s get something straightened out—what do you mean about bad musicians? For your information, Liv—my string section used to be with Whiteman and some of my boys were with Dorsey…

MARY: Well, I’m talking about the fellas who were with King…

JACK: Wayne King?

MARY: No, Waste King—they used to install them…

Sam Hearn, who was a Benny show regular during the 30s and early 40s as Schlepperman, appears in this broadcast as Benny’s friend from rural Calabasas, who heckles him from the "audience." Hearn bobbles a line that prompts a funny ad-lib from Jack: “If you hadn’t muffed that line, you’d have got a bigger laugh, too.” The show’s sketch involves a salute to California’s centennial; it’s the 100th anniversary of the state’s joining the Union (prompting Phil to remark, “That Petrillo is really on his toes, ain’t he?”)

Jack and Phil play a couple of prospectors during California’s Gold Rush in 1849, and the highlight of the sketch is the famous “Si-Sy-Sue” routine, which was used many, many times on the program. Mel Blanc would play a character (referred to by the writers as “the little Mexican”) who gave short, curt replies to Jack’s questions in such a way that often times the comedian would experience difficulty keeping a straight face. The routine doesn’t really read all that funny; it’s Blanc’s vocal intonations that give the sequence its punch. In this version, Mary gets in on the routine, too:

JACK: Hello, girlie…are you the singer in this saloon?

MARY: Si.

JACK: You sing here every night?

MARY: Si.

JACK: Are you single?

MARY: Si.

JACK: What’s your name?

MARY: Sue.

JACK: Sue?

MARY: Si.

JACK: Well, say, Sue…after your show tonight, how about goin’ out with me? We could have a lot of fun together…

MARY: Do not get fresh with me, senor…the bartender, he is my brother…

JACK: Aw, you’re kiddin’ (to bartender) Hey, bartender!

MEL: Si.

JACK: Can I talk to you a minute?

MEL: Si.

JACK: Are you her brother?

MEL: Si.

JACK: What’s your name?

MEL: Sy.

JACK: Sy?

MEL: Si.

JACK: Well, look, Sy…I wanna go out with your sister, see?

MEL: She’s Sue.

JACK: I know she’s Sue…I heard Sue say so…

MEL: What did you say, senor?

(SFX: gunshot, scream, fall to floor)

JACK (narrating): I killed Sy…it was easier than reading that line again…

The beauty of the “Si-Si-Sue” gag was its endless workability; it was used in a spoof of “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre” on May 1, 1949 and a take-off on “Wings of the Hawk” October 18, 1953. The second show (October 22, 1950) finds Jack preparing for his television debut by packing for a plane trip to New York:

JACK: Now, let’s see…I’ll be gone for twelve days…I’ll need two pairs of shorts…two shirts…two pairs of socks…two handkerchiefs…and a box of Duz…close the bag, Rochester…

ROCHESTER: Yes, sir…

MARY: Uh, wait a minute, Jack…you’re going to be gone twelve days and that’s all you’re taking?

JACK: Mary, I’m going by plane—I have to be careful about the weight…you know, they charge you extra if your luggage weighs over forty pounds…it’s seventy-nine cents a pound to New York…unless you get off at Chicago, then it’s fifty-seven cents…or Kansas City, it’s forty-six cents…

MARY: Why don’t you go to New York and send your clothes to Albuquerque?

JACK: Say, may…oh stop, will ya?

MARY: But Jack, aren’t you taking any extra suits?

JACK: Certainly! I’m taking my blue serge, my tweed, my herringbone, my pin-stripe and my gabardine…

MARY: That’s five suits…I don’t see any of them in the bag…

ROCHESTER: He’s wearin’ ‘em—they don’t weigh the passengers…

And of course, if he’s going to be in New York—there’ll be nothing but the finest in luxurious accommodations for our star:

MARY: By the way, Jack…you haven’t told me where you’ll be staying while you’re in New York…

JACK: The same place, Mary—the Acme Plaza Hotel…I always stay there…

MARY: Oh my goodness, Jack…after the long lecture I gave you last week about being cheap, why must you always stay at an awful joint like the Acme Plaza?

JACK: I’ll tell you why, Mary…for sentimental reasons…many years ago, when I was trying to get a start in vaudeville…and I had no place to stay and nothing to eat…and I couldn’t find a job…the Acme Plaza let me stay there and fed me for nothing…they did that because they knew I was unemployed…

MARY: Well…gee, Jack…I didn’t know that…if they’re that nice, next time I go to New York I’m going to stay there, too…

JACK: Okay, but…don’t tell them I’m working now…

This show is interesting because it takes many of the standard “railroad station” gags used by the Benny writers and updates them to an airport background. Jack encounters both Mr. Kitzel (Artie Auerbach) and Sheldon Leonard’s racetrack tout (“Hey Bud…Bud…c’mere…”), and of course, it wouldn’t be complete without Mel Blanc’s public address system announcements:

MEL: Flight number nineteen now loading at gate five for Anaheim, Azusa and Cuc…amonga…attention, passengers getting off at Cucamonga…watch your step, we do not stop there…

…nor would it be complete without Jack confronting his nemesis, Frank Nelson (as the airline ticket agent):

JACK: Anyway, I’m on flight number twelve…is that usually a smooth trip?

FRANK: They’re all very smooth…

JACK: Oh…then I won’t get sick?

FRANK: No—but whoever sits next to you will…

JACK: Now just a minute! I’ve taken about all I’m gonna take from you! Now give me your number—I’m gonna have you fired!!!

FRANK (upset): Oh, please…please don’t…I’m sorry I offended you…don’t get me fired…I have a big family to support…if I’m out of work, my wife and five children will starve…

JACK: Well…all right then, I won’t report you…but I’ll bet you’re just making the whole thing up…

FRANK: Oooooooooh, am I!!!

JACK: Well, that does it—I’d punch you right in the nose if I didn’t have to take off five coats…

Jack’s first TV show included Don Wilson, Rochester, Mel Blanc, the Sportsmen Quartet and “Mr. Kitzel,” with special guest star Dinah Shore. In his first television season, he did a total of two programs (talk about not wanting to get your feet wet), but the debut program had one of the best Benny lines: “I’d give a million dollars to know what I look like.”
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“Something go wrong, Mr. Conklin?”

On the list of my favorite old-time radio sitcoms, Our Miss Brooks ranks pretty darn high. The sitcom, a staple of both CBS radio and television from 1948-57, starred veteran character actress Eve Arden as the tart-tongued schoolmarm who taught English at Madison High School. It’s hard to believe that the role of Connie Brooks wasn’t written especially for Arden, whose memorable movie turns include Cover Girl (1944) and Mildred Pierce (1945) (that line about “alligators eat their young” never fails to break me up); actresses Shirley Booth, Joan Blondell and Lucille Ball were all offered the part before Eve reluctantly acquiesced.

There are so many wonderful elements in Our Miss Brooks that it’s often difficult to know where to begin. The scripts by writer-director-creator Al Lewis are always first-rate, and the acting talent involved equally so. Gale Gordon’s Osgood Conklin (Madison’s stack-blowing principal) may just very well be his finest acting role, both in radio and television. I’m also always impressed with Jeff Chandler—visually, he is unlike the character of bashful biologist Philip Boynton in so many ways (Robert Rockwell, who was the television version of Boynton, never really captured a lot of the comic nuance Chandler possessed) but vocally, he was always spot-on. Add to this list Jane Morgan, Gloria McMillan, Leonard Smith and Dick Crenna, and you have a dream cast that makes each installment of Brooks a sheer delight for the ears. (My sister and I went to see the movie Hot Shots! Part Deux when it came out in theaters, and I remember her hiding under her seat in embarrassment at the sound of my cackling when I heard Crenna’s character’s name: Denton Walters.)

In the first (March 6, 1949) of two episodes that I took along to work last evening, we find our Miss Brooks once again lamenting the fact that the attention she bestows upon Mr. Boynton is pretty much a one-way street. “For a fellow who spends so much time studying life,” she observes, “he certainly manages to get very little on him.” It’s Saturday morning, and she’s enlisted the services of Walter Denton to give her a lift to Antoine’s; she and Mr. B are attending the faculty dance that evening, and she’s getting dolled up for the occasion:

WALTER: If it’s too cool for you, Miss Brooks, I can put up the top…

MISS BROOKS: The top? Where is that?

WALTER: In the back—on the floor…

MISS BROOKS: No thanks, Walter…it doesn’t matter how my hair looks now…Antoine’ll change me into something believable…I appreciate you give me this lift today, Walter…

WALTER: Oh, it’s a pleasure, Miss Brooks—a pleasure and a privilege…because I’m so found of you both as a person and a teacher…you know, that’s one thing about Madison High…they sure got some wonderful teachers…now, take Mr. Boynton…

MISS BROOKS: Granted…

WALTER: He sure is tops…I ran into him the other night at the movies…incidentally, he was with another member of the faculty…Miss Enright…

MISS BROOKS: Please, Walter…not so soon after breakfast…

WALTER: Oh, I forgot…you and Miss Enright aren’t exactly stuck on each other…

MISS BROOKS: That, Walter, is an understatement…now let’s just forget about it, shall we?

WALTER: Sure, I’ll be happy to forget about her…I never think about her much, anyway…

MISS BROOKS: Fine… (pause) Walter…

WALTER: Yeah?

MISS BROOKS: Was she sitting close to Mr. Boynton?

WALTER: Who?

MISS BROOKS: The lady we decided to forget about…

WALTER: Well, I can practically give you a blow-by-blow because I sat right behind them in the movie…

MISS BROOKS: And what’s your report, G-2?

WALTER: They were so dull I spent half of my time watching the picture…

MISS BROOKS: You should have asked for your money back…

WALTER: Of course, she did whisper a couple of things into his ear but I couldn’t hear what they were very well…she has a funny way of purring when she talks…

MISS BROOKS: There’s nothing funny about it…to her, purring comes naturally…

WALTER: Of course, she tried to hold Mr. Boynton’s hand once or twice but she didn’t quite make it…

MISS BROOKS: Why not?

WALTER: Most of the time, he had it in a bag of popcorn…

Actress Mary Jane Croft played Daisy Enright, Miss Brooks’ fierce rival for Mr. Boynton’s affections, and I apologize for leaving her off the list of the fine actors in the second paragraph—Croft had this delightfully catty quality that really fleshed out the character and made her a force to be reckoned with. As a matter of fact, she is the topic of discussion between Connie and the salon’s owner, Antoine (Frank Nelson):

ANTOINE: One of my best customers is a teacher…in fact, she has an appointment here in a few minutes…a Miss Enright—do you know her?

MISS BROOKS: Yes, we both teach English at Madison…

ANTOINE: Oh! Then you and Miss Enright have something in common…

MISS BROOKS: I suppose you could call him that, yes…

ANTOINE: Oh, she’s a wonderful person…very active in the Parent-Teacher’s Association and all sorts of civic functions…what do you think of her?

MISS BROOKS: She’s fine…good teacher…

ANTOINE: Confidentially, I don’t like her either…and even though I should be grateful for the new customers I get through her connections, I can’t help feeling that she’s very overbearing…that’s my honest opinion, and when it comes to people—I believe that honesty is the best policy…

(SFX: Bell, door opens)

MISS ENRIGHT: Well, here I am, Antoine…

ANTOINE: Miss Enright! How wonderful to see you!

MISS BROOKS: Your policy just lapsed…

Miss Enright blackmails Antoine into “tarting up” Miss Brooks, transforming her into something out of one of those photos from places like Glamour Shots in modern day shopping malls. The comedy results from the numerous trips Miss Brooks makes back and forth to the salon (she misconstrues a remark made by Boynton that he doesn’t care for that kind of woman when actually it kind of makes him a little “frisky”).

The second episode was even funnier, with one sequence literally making me laugh so hard I cried—it’s from January 15, 1950 and entitled “Cure That Habit, Incorporated.” Friday the 13th finds merry prankster Walter filling out an application in Mr. Conklin’s name to the titular organization (a place that assists individuals to overcome alcoholism), but Conklin has enough trouble—he’s developed a wicked case of hiccups caused by stress and the knowledge that school superintendent Mr. Michaels (Francis X. Bushman of Ben-Hur fame) is planning a visit. Conklin has asked school athlete/half-wit Stretch Snodgrass to straighten up his office in anticipation of the superintendent’s arrival, and that’s when Stretch discovers that the bullfrog, snake and kittens in his jacket are loose in Conklin’s cubbyhole:

MR. CONKLIN: Well, let’s see how the place looks…

MISS BROOKS: Mr. Conklin…

MR. CONKLIN: Ah…you’ve done a very nice job, Stretch…

STRETCH: Well, thanks, Mr. Conklin, but…

MR. CONKLIN: …you can run along now…Miss Brooks, you will stay here and help me find some papers…

MISS BROOKS: Yes, sir…

STRETCH: But, Mr. Conklin…

MR. CONKLIN: I’ve already thanked you, Snodgrass…now go…

STRETCH: Yes, sir…

(SFX: door slams)

MR. CONKLIN: Now then, Miss Brooks…I’ve been trying to locate the semi-annual report I made to the board of education six months ago…will you kindly look in the top drawer of my desk while I try the closet here…?

MISS BROOKS: Very well, Mr. Conklin… (SFX: drawer opens, cat meows, drawer closes) Uh…it’s not in there…

MR. CONKLIN: You hardly looked, Miss Brooks…

MISS BROOKS: I saw enough…

MR. CONKLIN: Well, it’s not in here, either…oh, it must be in this drawer—let me look for myself… (SFX: drawer opens, cat meows, drawer closes) You were right, Miss Brooks—there’s nothing in there but a cat…well, maybe it’s in this other drawer… (SFX: drawer opens, cat meows, drawer closes) No…just another cat…well, in that case, I’ll simply have—JUST ANOTHER CAT?!!! Miss Brooks, what are these two cats doing in my desk???

MISS BROOKS: Maybe they’re looking for the report, too…they might have strayed in through an open window, Mr. Conklin—I’ll have them removed at once…

MR. CONKLIN: Well, see that you do! But first, go look in my filing cabinet…

MISS BROOKS: Yes, sir…

(SFX: walking)

MR. CONKLIN: Look under letter “B”…

MISS BROOKS: Yes, sir… (SFX: drawer opens, bullfrog sound) (to bullfrog) What are you doing in here? You should be filed under “F”… (SFX: drawer closes) It’s not in here, Mr. Conklin…

MR. CONKLIN: Well, it must be somewhere…let me look… (SFX: drawer opens) Oh, what’s in this batch…let’s see…one letter from Boys Town…my Beaver Patrol badge…one communication from the board… (SFX: bullfrog sound) one frog…an invitation to the Elks’ barbecue…another notice of a board meeting…a letter from ONE FROG!!! Miss Brooks, there’s a frog hopping around in my filing cabinet!!!

MISS BROOKS: A frog?

MR. CONKLIN: Yes, he’s jumping all over the place!!! What’ll I do, Miss Brooks?

MISS BROOKS: Why don’t you hit him with the snake that’s crawling on your coat lapel?

MR. CONKLIN: That’s a good idea…I’ll just take this snake and then I’ll TAKE THIS SNAKE?!!!

MISS BROOKS: Here, Mr. Conklin…just file him under “S”…

Conklin has to be taken to the nurse’s office (the snake has bit him, but it’s only a harmless milk snake) and the excitement brings on his hiccups again. Stretch tries to help him out by administering a radical “spinning-him-around-in-his-swivel-chair” remedy, which leaves Conklin dizzy, disoriented and hiccupping all the same. Connie and Stretch get him back to the office, just in time for him to meet with Mr. Michaels and another visitor—a concerned parent who’s president of Cure That Habit, Inc. The “animals-in-the-office” scene isn’t all that funny on paper, but listening to Gordon’s vocal inflections and immaculate timing makes the episode a genuine gut-buster.
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