We figure most folks will find themselves in one of two camps over the next few days.

The first group will be those who got a bit of a jump on their seasonal activities. They’ve purchased and wrapped all their gifts, mailed their cards, gotten the grocery shopping completed for any holiday meals they’re to prepare, so now they spend the next few days relaxing and savoring the festive mood that surrounds us.

The second group, bless their hearts, have accomplished few to none of the above-cited tasks, and will be frantic and out of breath for the next 72 hours or so as they fight the crowds to squeeze in some last-minute shopping; sign, stamp, and lick, and mail their cards, and drive all over town from grocery store to understocked grocery store looking for all the ingredients required for the holiday meal they’re expected to whip up.

To the second group, we say, “Good luck and Godspeed—we don’t envy you.” Because, the rigors of a little holiday travel aside, we’ve completed our own seasonal tasks and intend to relax and enjoy ourselves through the weekend.

One way we in the first camp might pass the time is with some Christmas-themed old-time radio programs from the good folks at OTRcat.com. They traffic in reasonably priced collections of classic radio shows from the Cladrite Era, but for the next few days, you can listen to a full dozen holiday programs for free.

A number of genres are featured: mystery-horror, variety shows, dramas, cop shows, private eye programs, and comedies, among others.

We’re sharing below an episode of the “Lights Out” program entitled “Uninhabited” that originally aired on December 22, 1937, in which, as the folks at OTRcat describe it, “a French, Australian, and African-American soldier find themselves traveling on a train on Christmas Eve 1918.” But if the likes of “The Jack Benny Show,” “The Great Gildersleeve,” or “Dragnet” are more to your liking, you’ll find those streaming at OTRcat.com.

Lights Out: “Uninhabited” (30:04)

We think you’ll find the offerings at OTRcat well worth your consideration, and at these prices—free!—they certainly can’t be beat. So put your feet up and relax—you’ve earned it!—as you enjoy some Christmas entertainment from the 1930s, ’40s, and ’50s—when you’re not listening to Cladrite Radio, that is.

(P.S. We have absolutely no connection to OTRcat.com. We just like old-time radio, and we appreciate any outfit that’s willing to share samples of their wares gratis.)

We enjoy browsing Flickr for intriguing collections of vintage photographs and were recently made aware of a particular group of images that particularly caught our fancy.

Dewey Barto and George Mann were a comedic dance who rose to popularity late in the 1920s, just as vaudeville was beginning to lose its primacy in the world of American show business. The humor in their act was based on the fact that Barto stood just 4’11″ while Mann was a towering 6’6″.

You can just imagine the comedic possibilities.

A Flickr poster named Brad Smith has posted a series of 75 photographs, shot by Mann in the 1920s, ’30s, and ’40s, depicting vaudeville and movie theatre marquees at which the dancing duo appeared over the years, marquees that display the names of such all-but-forgotten vaudeville stars as Joe Frisco and Lou Holtz, any number of big bands and dance orchestras, and dozens of the more familiar actors and actresses who starred in the movies that vaudeville performers such as Barto and Mann were eventually reduced to supporting as “extra added attractions.”

The collection of Mann’s photos is a treasure trove for anyone interested in the era, and we’d happily share an example or three here to whet your appetite, but Mr. Smith has proclaimed such sharing absolutely taboo. There’s nothing that prevents us, technically, from grabbing a few of the photos and sharing them with you here, but we’ll play by the rules Mr. Smith has set up, even though we think them dubious.

Again, the photos were taken in the 1920s, ’30s, and ’40s by George Mann, not by Mr. Smith. It’s wonderful that they are in his possession, that they have been preserved, and that he shares them on his Flickr site, but what’s gained by restricting their limited dissemination by admiring viewers who wish only to direct kindred spirits to the collection we can’t begin to guess.

With that out of our system, we nevertheless encourage you to visit the site and enjoy the collection.

Have you ever heard of the Black Swan record label? Neither had we (and it’s not something we’re proud of, given we’re all about pop and jazz of the 1920s, ’30s, and ’40s), but we were intrigued by Michael Pollak’s recent story in the New York Times and felt the Cladrite community might find it of interest, too.

Black Swan was the first major black-owned record company. It managed to remain in operation for just a couple of years, but its influence was wide-ranging and long-lived.

Black Swan was founded by one Harry H. Pace, a banking and insurance worker and disciple of W. E. B. Du Bois, who had previously paired with W. C. Handy in forming the Pace & Handy Music Company, a music publishing concern.

Nine years later, Pace made history when he parted with Handy and started Black Swan Records. Many of the established labels at the time would not record African-American performers, but Pace was not satisfied with merely rectifying that injustice, he set out to demonstrate the breadth of the talent in the African-American community, to, as Pollak writes in the Times, “challenge white stereotypes by recording not just comic and blues songs, but also sacred and operatic music and serious ballads.”

Black Swan would have achieved a certain degree of importance if only because the great Fletcher Henderson played piano on many of the label’s early recordings, but Black Swan rose to greater heights in signing Ethel Waters. Her blues recordings made a splash, and a vaudeville tour featuring Black Swan artists managed to make the label what Pollak terms “a national one.”

But Black Swan’s success led more established labels to realize what they’d been missing in not recording black artists, and in an effort to elevate the nation’s image of African-American performers, the label opted not to sign blues singer Bessie Smith to a contract.

That was a costly mistake.

The label did introduce the likes of Waters, Henderson, Trixie Smith and Alberta Hunter, but after only two years, it was relegated to the dustbin of American music history. But during its brief existence, it had, as Pollak notes, awakened the music business, an impact that is still being felt today and for which we are all the richer.

Jeanette MacDonald is best remembered today for the old-fashioned (even then) musicals she made with Nelson Eddy, but you’d be hard-pressed to get us to watch one of those. We greatly prefer the movies she made in the early Thirties—most notably with director Ernst Lubitsch—when she was allowed to show a little spark and sass on screen.

This profile originally saw the light of day in September 1940. Her professional pairing with Eddy was already well established, and she had been married to actor Gene Raymond for three years. She and Raymond remained married until MacDonald’s death in 1965.

Read more

It’s remarkable that until just a few days ago, we still had an orchestra leader from the golden age of the big bands among us. Orrin Tucker, whose first big hit was his 1939 recording of a World War I-era hit, “Oh Johnny, Oh Johhny, Oh!” with “Wee” Bonnie Baker on the vocals, passed away on April 9 at age 100, and it could be argued he was the last living bandleader of prominence from those halcyon days.

The Tucker outfit wasn’t a hard-swinging ensemble. His was an old-style dance orchestra, playing music everyone—not just jitterbuggers and lindy hoppers—could cut a rug to. And aside from time spent serving in the Navy during World War II, he remained an active orchestra leader into the 1990s. That’s quite a career.

“There were so many musicians that said, regardless what the public wants, I’ll play the way I want to play,” Mr. Tucker is quoted as saying in the Washington Post’s obit. “I’ve always tried to play the music people are fond of and play it the way they want to hear and the way it is easy to dance to. I made it a point to know what the public liked and did my best to please them.”

Tucker was born on Feb. 17, 1911, in St. Louis, Mo. His childhood was spent in Wheaton, Ill., near Chicago, and he grew up intending to pursue medicine. But he worked as a saxophonist and singer while attending North Central College in Naperville, Ill., and proved successful enough at it that he formed his own orchestra.

Tucker eventually hired, at Louis Armstrong‘s suggestion, singer Evelyn Nelson, whom he renamed “Wee” Bonnie Baker.

The National Association of Music Merchants conducted an interview with Tucker in 2003 as part of their oral history program, and in the following clip, Tucker, still looking handsome and seeming pretty darned sharp at age 92, recalls working with Bonnie Baker. (Our thanks go out to the good folks at NAMM for allowing us to share the clip with the Cladrite Radio clan.)

And here are three tracks for those not familiar with the sounds of the Tucker Orchestra. “Drifting and Dreaming” was the band’s theme song, “Oh Johnny” was, as mentioned above, the outfit’s first hit, and “You’re the One (for Me)” is just a song we like.

“Drifting and Dreaming” — Orrin Tucker and His Orchestra

“Oh Johnny, Oh Johnny, Oh!” — Orrin Tucker and His Orchestra

“Pinch Me” — Orrin Tucker and His Orchestra