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Top of the World
If you can watch this clip from the British Pathé newsreel “There’s One Born Every Minute,” starring 1930s “skyscraper daredevil” Ben Dova without experiencing a wave of vertiginous queasiness, you’re made of stronger stuff than we are.
Times Square Tintypes: Jim Tully
In this chapter from his 1932 book, Times Square Tintypes, Broadway columnist Sidney Skolsky profiles Jim Tully, hobo, pugilist, journalist, and author.
THE VAGABOND KING
The American Gorki. He found that hoboing was the road to success. JIM TULLY
The first thing one notices about him is his flaming red hair. He is five feet three and weighs 163 pounds. His skin is sun drunk. His hands are small and pudgy. He has the thighs of a burlesque queen. Standing, his body like a question mark, he appears ready to leap.He works and talks at a breakneck pace.
He bites his finger nails.
His mother died when he was four. His father was a ditch digger. His uncle a horse thief. He was in an orphanage until eleven years old. Here, for his ability to memorize the preacher’s sermon and say catechism he won a rosary. But a more pious kid stole it.
Wears only five-dollar neckties and has his suits made to order by an anarchist tailor in Hollywood.
Is very proud that Mencken and Nathan are his pals and drink beer with him. Is prouder of this than their esteem for his books.
Started his literary career by writing fake stories for a “True Confession” magazine. One of his prize yarns was The Memoirs of a Japanese Geisha Girl.
His philosophy of life is: “What the hell—the grave ends everything.”
As a youth he looked forward to becoming the world’s greatest bank robber. Gave up the idea when told by a railroad detective he would be caught easily. Because no other person on earth could possibly look like him.
His first book, Beggars of Life, he submitted to four publishers simultaneously. The four accepted.
Likes to write in the first person. Believes a direct lie is always more convincing.
Was once a prize fighter. His pugilistic career ended in a California ring when he was knocked out in the first round and remained unconscious for twenty-four hours.
Combs his hair once a day whether it needs it or not.
The only thing he fears is a smart-aleck interviewer.
He has slept on a park bench, in H. L. Mencken’s bed, under a freight train, at the Algonquin, and on cold, barren ground, his closed eyes staring at the stars. No matter where he sleeps, he snores.
His name when a hobo was Cincy Red.
Always finds out where people were born, their ages, likes and dislikes, and secret sorrows by the second meeting.
He would like to conduct a society column for a newspaper.
Never wore a dress suit in his life. Thinks he would look like a chorus boy if he did.
His father, 78 years old, is still alive. He sends his dad press clippings, good and bad, periodically. His father is a bit disappointed because Jim didn’t become a champion prize fighter.
James Branch Cabell is his favorite American author.
He is very moody. Has intense fits of melancholy and terrible laughter.
Doesn’t think he should be judged by what he says about former friends in interviews but by the way he writes.
When interviewing he never takes notes. A week later he writes the interview from impressions.
He easily recognizes his own ability and is annoyed by those who don’t.
He wears high-laced tan shoes. They are made to order for him and imported from London.
From force of habit he greets an old friend with: “Did you eat yet?”
He lives and works in Hollywood. Writes in a big, oblong room on the second floor of his house. The room is lined with books from floor to ceiling. Has a flat, square desk with a swivel chair. A beer barrel is within swinging distance. He calls his house “One More Illusion.”
In writing a book he does not strive for literary style. Claims he writes naturally. Just as if he were writing a letter to a harlot.
He doesn’t smoke.
Jarnegan is his favorite character in all history. Claims that whenever he feels lonely and depressed he sits down and talks things over with him.
Makes women think his novels belie him because of his soft speech with them. When with men, however, he is just like his novels—turbulent and violent and cussing.
The two greatest guys in the world as far as he is concerned, are George Jean Nathan and Oklahoma Red.
He has a yen for beautiful and beautifully dressed women.
He dreads the thought that some day he won’t be alive.
Act now!
The following text is shamelessly borrowed from cheezburger.com, because we felt we couldn’t improve on their explanation of why you should vehemently oppose SOPA and PIPA, the copyright enforcement bills currently being considered by Congress. Please read on and call your senators.
What is PIPA?
PIPA is a poorly envisioned Senate copyright enforcement bill that will censor our Internet and kill jobs in the rapidly growing Internet industry. This bill (and its House counterpart, SOPA) were designed by lobbyists and are being sped through Congress with virtually no debate. Almost every Internet company has strongly come out against PIPA.
Why does this matter to me?
These bills threaten sites like Cheezburger, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and any others that rely on user participation. They will allow the government to censor sites and force companies to monitor your email and restrict websites that post or link to infringing content.
What can I do?
Call your Senator today and tell them to vote against PIPA. We have provided a list of phone numbers for each state below.
AK, Lisa Murkowski, 907-456-0233
AL, Jefferson Sessions, 334-244-7017
AL, Richard Shelby, 205-759-5047
AR, John Boozman, 479-725-0400
AR, Mark Pryor, 501-324-6336
AZ, Jon Kyl, 602-840-1891
AZ, John McCain, 602-952-2410
CA, Barbara Boxer, 510-286-8537
CA, Dianne Feinstein, 415-393-0707
CO, Michael Bennet, 303-455-7600
CT, Richard Blumenthal, 860-258-6940
CT, Joseph Lieberman, 860-549-8463
DE, Thomas Carper, 302-573-6291
DE, Chris Coons, 302-573-6345
FL, Bill Nelson, 407-872-7161
FL, Marco Rubio, 305-418-8553
GA, C. Saxby Chambliss, 770-763-9090
GA, John Isakson, 770-661-0999
HI, Daniel Akaka, 808-522-8970
HI, Daniel Inouye, 808-541-2542
IA, Charles Grassley, 515-288-1145
IA, Thomas Harkin, 515-284-4574
ID, Michael Crapo, 208-334-1776
ID, James Risch, 208-342-7985
Read more
Times Square Tintypes: Fannie Brice
In this chapter from his 1932 book, Times Square Tintypes, Broadway columnist Sidney Skolsky profiles Fannie Brice, comedienne, singer, and theatre and film actress.
SAY IT WITH SONGS
FANNIE BRICE. She was born at the stroke of midnight on October 29, 1892. Her square moniker is Fannie Borach.
She enjoys a good cry.Hasn’t a long list of friends. But those she has she can tap for anything.
She took the tag of Brice from John Brice, a next-door neighbor. He is now a watchman on the Ninth Avenue elevated. She told him that some day he’d see his name in lights.
Is a good judge of diamonds, furs and the value of real estate.
There is one thing in the world she can’t stand. That is cream in her coffee. It makes her sick.
She is the proud mother of two children. A girl of nine and a boy of seven. Has one brother, Lew, in the theatrical business. Also has one sister, Caroline, who believes that she would be a great actress if she didn’t suffer from asthma.
Her hobby is taking photographs of bedrooms. She has a picture of every bedroom she ever lived in.
Made her stage début at Keeney’s Theater in Brooklyn on amateur night. She won first prize singing, “When You’re Not Forgotten by the Girl You Can’t Forget.”
The only instrument she can play is the piano. That is, if hunting for notes with two fingers can be called playing.
Her father owned a string of saloons. He was known as “French Charlie.” Her mother really ran the saloons, for “French Charlie” was always playing pinochle.
When traveling she takes an electric stove with her. She’ll cook for anybody who wants to eat.
She once worked in a movie house on Eighty-third Street and Third Avenue. Here she sang songs, sold tickets and painted signs. Her salary was $8 a week.
The biggest surprises she ever got, good or bad, were from herself.
Is one of the best dressed women in the theater. Has her dresses designed especially for her by Kiviette. While in Hollywood she made dresses for Dolores Costello and Norma Talmadge. She has thirty dresses she hasn’t gotten to yet.
The moon makes her serious.
When watching Fannie perform her mother always says to the people sitting about her: “That’s my daughter. She’s good, isn’t she?”
She dislikes people who are perfect and have everything. Believes that such people miss something in life.
After she sang “My Man” for the first time her salary was raised from $1,000 to $3,000 weekly.
Her present husband is Billy Rose, who also writes her songs for her. Her nickname for him is “Putsy.”
She’d walk ten miles if she could window shop on the way. Otherwise she wouldn’t walk two blocks.
Her first comedy song was “Sadie Salome.” She sang it merely to help Irving Berlin, then a newcomer, along. It started her on the road to fame and fortune.
She is a card shark.
Times Square Tintypes: Earl Carroll
In this chapter from his 1932 book, Times Square Tintypes, Broadway columnist Sidney Skolsky profiles Earl Carroll, theatrical producer, director, songwriter and composer.
THE LIFE OF THE PARTY
Earl CARROLL. He has a throne, a palace and a title. His throne is an antique Chinese chair. His palace is the theater bearing his name. His title is “The Earl of Seventh Avenue.”
He is extremely polite to everyone. Expects people to be that way to him. Nobody can really get close to him.
He suffers from insomnia.
Was born in Pittsburgh, September 16, 1892. Has two brothers, Norman and James, and one sister, Alice. The brothers don’t look like him or each other. The sister could pass for his twin. When a small boy he was dressed in a white sailor suit.
If he sees a pretty girl on the street he will stop her and ask her if she wants to go on the stage.
At the age of sixteen he stood in the center of Nanking Road, China, with only forty-five cents in his pocket.
His office is backstage of his theater. A rug, the color of pigeon blood, covers the floor. His desk is enclosed in a wall. The pressing of a button shoots it forward. He uses a sword for a paperweight. Has a statue of Buddha here. And a refrigerator with Chinese letters written on it. The letters spell—happiness. In the rear of the office there is a secret panel through which he can make a hasty exit.
He can’t wear a shirt with a collar attached. And all of his vests must be double-breasted.
Once wrote a song with Enrico Caruso. It was “Dreams of Long Ago.” Immediately after joining the army he wrote a song called: “When I’m Through with the Arms of the Army I’ll Come Back to the Arms of You.”
Always throws a party for himself on his birthday.
His favorite type of beauty for the stage is a tall blonde. His own personal taste, however, runs to slender brunettes.
During the war he was a lieutenant in the United States Air Service. He was the first man to land an airplane in Central Park.
While rehearsing a new show he wears a sand-colored smock. His shirt is minus collar and tie. He stands in the orchestra. Has a telephone operator’s apparatus on his head. Through this he gives instructions backstage, under the stage and in the electrician’s booth plastered on the back wall of the balcony. To his left is a small table. His secretary, Miss Ruth, sits here and takes memos. During all this he is continually drinking Poland mineral water and chewing gum.
Likes to use perfume. His two favorites are Caron’s Acaciosa and Gabilla’s Jasmin. He sprays his throat with perfume daily.
On April 10, he and his two brothers and sister always journey to Pittsburgh to visit their mother’s grave. On Mother’s Day he sends flowers.
Was the first man in New York to own a “Starlight Bungalow,” now known as a penthouse. His was located on the roof of 729 Seventh Avenue. He called it “Top o’ the World.” He likes to live high and now resides on the top floor of a tall apartment hotel.
Are You Having Any Fun?
Hey fellow with a million smackers
And nervous indigestion
Rich fellow, eats milk and crackers,
I'll ask you one question,
You silly so and so,
With all your dough...
Are you having any fun?
What you getting out of livin'?
What good is what you've got
If you're not having any fun?
Are you having any laughs?
Are you getting any lovin'?
If other people do,
So can you, have a little fun.
After the honey's in the cone,
Little bees go out and play.
Even the old grey mare down home
Has got to have hay. Hey!
You better have some fun.
You ain't gonna live forever.
Before you're old and gray, feel okay.
Have your little fun, son!
Have your little fun!
Why do you work and slave and save?
Life is full of ifs and buts.
You know the squirrels save and save,
And what have they got? Nuts!
Better have a little fun.
You ain't gonna live forever.
Before you're old and grey, still okay,
Have your little fun, son!
Have your little fun!
Are you havin' any fun?
---Sammy Fain (music) and Jack Yellen (lyrics), 1939
Gus Arnheim and His Ambassadors -- If I Can't Have You / There's Something About a Rose / Tiger Rag
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Here are the last twenty movies we've seen:
Ides of March (2011)_***
Moneyball (2011)_***
Margin Call (2011)_****
Friends of Mr. Sweeney (1934)_***
The Last Gangster (1937)_***
It's a Big Country (1951)_***
Annabel Takes a Tour (1938)_***
The Affairs of Annabel (1938)_***
The Artist (2011)_***
My Week with Marilyn (2011)_***
Sadie McKee (1934)_***
Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011)_**
Lightning Strikes Twice (1951)_***
China Seas (1935)_***
Up the Down Staircase (1967)_***
Ann Vickers (1933)_***
Dream Wife (1953)_***
The Wet Parade (1932)_***
I've Got Your Number (1934)_***
The Valiant (1929)_***
Recent Posts
- Top of the World
- Times Square Tintypes: Jim Tully
- Act now!
- Times Square Tintypes: Fannie Brice
- Times Square Tintypes: Earl Carroll
- Ninety-nine years Young
- Past Paper: Letter Gram Puzzles
- Times Square Tintypes: William A. Brady
- 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 … Happy New Year!
- Times Square Tintypes: Samuel Shipman
- Another OTR Christmas
- Doing a little retro(active) browsing
- A homemade holiday
- Times Square Tintypes: George White
- Past Paper: Season’s greetings—stop
