I was always interested in rhythm and blues music and the artists, and with the success of the “Pop Scrapbook,” I published the first of three editions of the “Rhythm and Blues Jazz Scrapbook” in 1952. I brought out editions in 1963 and 1966, and a second “Pop Scrapbook” in 1966. In 1956, I published “The All-Star Scrapbook,” which covered the fields of country, western, pop, radio and TV, etc. Periodically my scrapbooks, which originally sold for $1, come up on the internet, selling for as much as $100. Even copies of my Hoedown magazine, originally 25 cents per copy, have brought $100! All of my books had beautiful artistic covers, and the cover of the first R & B book brought many bravos.

 

Norman Granz was a jazz music impresario ad producer, and an important figure in American Jazz, especially from 1947 to 1960. On the inside cover of my first R & B Jazz Scrapbook, I featured his picture with his impressive logo: Norman Granz; Jazz at the PHILHARMONIC. The copy read: “Norman Granz JATP has always striven to get the best jazz artists, using ability and deportment as the criteria.” In 1948, Granz received the Russwurm Award from the National Negro Publishers Association for his contribution to race betterment. I received a letter, postmarked Beverly Hills, May 28, 1962, from Mr. Granz, in which he gave me the address of the largest newsstand in Los Angeles, which he said did a tremendous business with Downbeat magazine. He had given the owner a copy.

 

This milestone publication featured artists like Cab Calloway, Ella Fitzgerald, Billy Eckstine, Nat Cole, Lena Horne, Louis Armstrong, “Fats” Waller (one of my favorites), Billie Holliday, Dinah Washington, Erskine Hawkins (he wrote “Tuxedo Junction,” made famous by Glenn Miller), Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup, and Duke Ellington.

 

“Fats” Waller 

 

Ella Fitzgerald 

Also featured with photos and bios were disc jockeys of the major R& B radio stations. Like my country/hillbilly scrapbooks, the vast majority of the more than a million books sold were because of the radio stations. When the announcers told their listeners, “Send $1 to Scrapbook, % of Radio Station WDIA, Memphis, Tennessee,” the dollars poured in.

I’ll never forget when Wilbur Steinhauser and I went to Chicago to meet with one of the top disc jockeys, whose name and radio station I can’t recall. This regal gentleman who had a great following in the Chicago area and beyond told us to listen and he would show us how to sell books. He took a copy, thumbed through it while playing a record and then went into his hypnotic spiel, telling his listeners about the book, calling it a “must” for every R & B fan, and saying that he personally endorsed it. He told them to send him $1, or said they could call and order it, C.O.D.

He had three telephone operators there, and the phones never stopped ringing. By the time we left, we had more than 100 orders! I am sure that station sold several thousand books, but we soon learned that C.O.D. was a big mistake, and from then on, all of our orders were sold prepaid. We discovered that when you receive a C.O.D. package, you can refuse it, which means it is sent back to the sender. We were astounded at the percentage of returns.

I never forgot my idea for the books on individual pop artists, and this finally came to fruition in a strange roundabout way. In 1953, we launched a monthly magazine called Hoedown for country fans. At that time J.M. Arnstein, Circulation Director for Esquire Magazine, was a legend in the magazine publishing business. Known as Joe by everyone, he was regarded as the foremost expert in the field of acquiring magazine subscriptions and renewals. His percentage of returns through his marketing plans for Esquire were way above every other magazine. How we got acquainted with him I cannot remember, but we became steadfast friends.

 

Rare “Esky” paperweight. 

Joe helped us with Hoedown (asking for no pay), and one day, while talking about our Pop Scrapbooks, etc., I mentioned my idea for the individual artist books. Joe thought it was a great idea and said he would run it by the Esquire editorial people to get their thoughts. By this time I was calling these “Pocket Celebrity Scrapbooks.”

This was in 1954, and I gave Joe the script for a Perry Como book with a dummy layout. These were to be small books, 4¼ inches by 6 inch, 4/color front and back covers, 64 inside pages, 2/colors.

 

Perry Como 

In a letter dated October 17, 1954, Joe wrote, “Yesterday I met with Mr. Blinder, our Executive Vice President, with the dummy of the Perry Como story and the script. His reaction was similar to mine; namely that we authorize you to write three more scripts of a similar nature about prominent entertainment personalities preparatory to our attempting to publish them. There will be a delay in the final decision because John Smart, our President, is away for three weeks.

Esquire agreed to give me $500 for each script on speculation, and the fourth check was received January 7, 1955. However, they eventually decided they should not publish anything else, but they told me they would secure a publisher for the books – and they did.

Pocket Magazines published five books: Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Rosemary Clooney, Johnnie Ray and Eddie Fisher. The books sold well, but not well enough to warrant further editions.

 

Pocket Celebrity Scrapbooks 

In the 1970s, I also produced several sets of “Picture Paks“ of pop stars, which was a set of 21 glossy 5-by-7-inch photos. Another “first” in the pop field was a deck of “Pop Music Playing Cards,” featuring a recording artist on each card.

Here are some of those featured:

ACE: Elvis Presley – Bobby Vinton – Ray Charles – The Beatles

KING: Chubby Checker – Robert Goulet – Frank Sinatra – Andy Williams 

QUEEN: Petula Clark – Connie Francis – Maxine Brown – Brenda Lee

 

In addition, I produced a deck of Elvis playing cards and a deck of “French Nudes,” featuring 54 exotic antique photos of French Ladies of the Night! These were “art” photos, you might say, and I will leave it to your imagination. Georgianna said what fun to be featured on one of those cards! One mail order company sold more than 100,000 decks.  

I also published three different Country Music decks. In one of them, Heather’s photo was on the Queen of Hearts. But my favorite deck of cards was the beautiful deck of “Composer Playing Cards,” featuring photographs of 54 major composers.

Here are some of those featured:

ACE: Tchaikovsky – Gershwin – Liszt – Wagner

 KING: Bach – Mozart – Beethoven – Brahms

QUEEN: Puccini – Massenet – Donizetti – Bizet

 

The Composer Cards were very well-received in the music world. I remember when I met the late Kenneth Schermerhorn, Director of the Nashville Symphony, I gave him a deck, and you would have thought I had given him a gold watch! They were sold in unique gift shops like the one at Lincoln Center, and a letter from the Hartt School of Music, University of Hartford, was typical of response: “The photographs were all well chosen. All in all they make an unusual gift, one that could very well become a conversation piece among the musicians.”

Don’t miss the next chapter: Jimmie Skinner RecordShop 

In 1948, I was busy with the song books for toy pianos and xylophones, as well as other ventures, and I got involved in hillbilly music with my cousin Lloyd Baldwin, who was an announcer for radio station WZIP in Covington, Kentucky. The station presented a live hillbilly show on Saturday nights in 1949 at the Covington Public Library, and my very first publication in that field was a souvenir book they sold at the show. 

 

That led to the first of 21 annual publications in the hillbilly/country field, the first in 1950. By 1953, we were selling tens of thousands of these books, and I thought it was then time to go back to my “popular music” ideas, so I published “The ‘Pop’ Scrapbook,” featuring photos and bios of more than 200 top stars. It had a fabulous art cover with photos, including Bing Crosby, Les Paul and Mary Ford, Nat Cole, Frankie Laine, Johnnie Ray and Peggy Lee. 

 

That book was very successful and brought letters in from Dave Garroway, NBC ’s Today show, and a letter from Brad Smith, CBS Television, who wrote, “…. this has been very helpful to us in many of our press releases.” 

I took copies to New York City, and there I met many of the artists who were featured in the book. I gave everyone a copy and received dozens of autographs in “my copy,” including The Perry Como Show cast, Arthur Godfrey and cast, Nat Cole (met him on an elevator!), the beautiful Mindy Carson, and the legendary Jane Froman. I was thrilled to meet Ms. Froman. The 1952 film, “With a Song In My Heart,” was based on her life.

 

Jane Frohman  

And because I was a great admirer of George Gershwin and his music, I was almost speechless when I stood in front of Paul Whiteman. It was Whiteman who conducted Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” at the historic concert in 1924, with Gershwin at the piano. 

My meeting with Mr. Whiteman was on Broadway in front of a theatre where a crowd was gathered. I was walking by when I saw Mr. Whiteman. I was reluctant o approach him, but I thought this may be my only opportunity of meeting the great man. He was very gracious.

 

I never had a lasting association with any of the pop stars, like I did with many of the country stars. But one star I did connect with was Patti Page, one of the top singers of the 1950s. I met her when she came to Cincinnati for a recording session during that time period. My good friend, R. Murray Nash, with Mercury Records, invited me to her recording session.

When Patti Page saw I was publishing “Scrapbooks” of the stars, she asked if I produced scrapbooks for pictures and press clippings, etc. She said she had searched in all her travels for a premium quality scrapbook and had found nothing.

 

Patti Page 

When I went back to Zimmerman Printing, I talked with the art director and asked if there was something we could create for Miss Page.

Well, after many hours of work that day and the next morning, the art director and her co-workers had produced a fabulous scrapbook – complete with leather corner bindings, more than 100 pages, measuring approximately 14 inches by 18 inches, and weighing several pounds. It was truly a masterpiece of book binding. There was no cost to me since I wanted to give it to Miss Page as a gift. You can image how grateful she was. A little later I received a handwritten letter from her, written on stationery from The Thunderbird Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas. She wrote, “Yes, the scrapbook has worked out great. Thanks again so much. It was really nice of you … thanks again for your kindness.” Signed Patti Page.

 

I did have the pleasure of meeting three legendary singers through the years. My second publishing partner was Wilbur Steinhauser of Steinhauser Printing Company in Cincinnati. When we started producing our first country books, they were in financial trouble and almost ready to close. The success of our country publications, especially the edition in 1953 with Hank Williams, saved them.

Wilbur and I took a trip to Miami, and I saw in the newspaper that Lena Horne was appearing at a night club. She had always been one of my favorite singers, so Wilbur and I went to see her. I told him I had to meet her. He said that was impossible, but I just smiled. It seems, for some reason, I never had trouble getting backstage to meet artists. I don’t remember what my tactic was that night (I wish I could remember moments like this, but they are lost). After her performance, I went backstage and soon found myself in Lena Horne’s dressing room. She was very pleasant and signed a photo for me.

 

Lena Horne  

The second legendary artist I met in her dressing room was Judy Garland. This wasn’t too long before she died, when she came to Denver for a concert. Georgianna and I went to the concert, and I had a nice visit with Ms. Garland. She, too, signed a photo for me.

 

The third legendary singer and actress I spent time with was Ethel Waters. She was a blues, jazz and gospel singer, as well as a noted actress on Broadway and in films. Memorable films include “Cabin In the Sky” and “His Eye Is On the Sparrow.” Miss Waters appeared on Broadway in “Member of the Wedding,” which opened in January 1950, and ran for 501 performances. The film was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress for Julie Harris, in her debut screen appearance.

 

Ethel Waters  

In the early to mid-1940s, the Albee Theatre, on Fountain Square in Cincinnati was the premiere theatre where all the touring stage shows came, featuring the top singers and big bands. Deke Moffit was the house band and thought I had talent as a songwriter, and we became friends. I had the run of the backstage and the stars’ dressing rooms. I visited with Miss Waters several times. She was a fine lady, and I consider my moments with her precious.

 

Fountain Square in Cincinnati

Don’t miss the next chapter: Rhythm and Blues and Playing Cards 

Many years before I realized, in the late 1940s, that there were no magazines for hillbilly/country music fans, I discovered this was true for the popular music artists. Movie magazines were prevalent from the silent movie era, including Photoplay, Silver Screen, Modern Screen, and Motion Picture. 

 

As a teenager, I knew all the pop singers and big bands, and sang the hits of the day. Singers like The Andrew Sisters, Vaughn Monroe, Bing Crosby and the Ink Spots were selling millions of records in the early 1940s, and the big bands, like Artie Shaw, Glenn Miller, Harry James and Tommy Dorsey were popular. Fans knew them through their records, but could not find anything about their lives – and what was wanted by the fans most of all was rarely available: their photographs.

I was thinking about this at a time I was spending summer months with my Uncle Cecil (my mother’s brother) on his small 10-acre farm near Waynesville, Ohio. He was a remarkable man. He played his old fiddle in the evening after a day’s work, and I would pump the player piano. But I did get to listen to the radio there, the local disc jockeys, and kept up with the popular songs.

Being blind, Uncle Cecil had attended the School for the Blind in Ohio, where he learned to make brooms. He had a complete broom shop in the barn, and he taught me to sew brooms. We turned out the best brooms available, and every few days we had to take a bundle of brooms to the stores in Waynesville.

 

Cecil Hiteman in his broom shop. 

I remember, too, visiting with Uncle Lafe and Aunt Mary (my mother’s sister), at their nearby farm. They had an old 1920s radio set with headphones, and it was there, in the 1930s, that I took my first ride in a horse and buggy. They had no car, but when the time came to go to town or visit someone, Uncle Lafe went to the barn and hitched up the horse to the two-seat buggy. There was a robe in the backseat to put over your legs in the cold weather.

 

A couple listening to the radio in the 1930s. 

One event I must share before I get back to the music is something I have never forgotten. I think it was around 1941, when I was 15. One day, Uncle Cecil said to me, “The metal roof on the barn needs a coat of tar paint; do you think you could do that?” Well, the barn was very large and quite tall, but without thinking, I said, “Sure.”

So Uncle Cecil ordered several 5-gallon cans of roof paint and showed me the ladder that I should lay on the roof, with curved ends that laid over the top to keep the ladder secure on the roof as I went up and down, painting with the big long-handled brush. It was a precarious job, and I am thankful I can write about it! He told me to wear gloves to keep the paint off my hands, but he failed to tell me to keep my body covered.

The tar paint had to be applied on a hot day when the metal roof was very hot so the paint would flow. Course, being a hot day, I took my shirt off and went to work. Well, after two hours, with splattered paint on my arms and chest, I started to burn and was soon in agony. A sunburn through tar paint is misery as I found out. I kept painting through the afternoon, and when I came in the house moaning, Uncle Cecil didn’t have much sympathy. He said I should have known better than to take my clothes off!

Aunt Laura was Uncle Cecil’s second wife, and her daughter Martha was married to John J. Edmiston, whom everyone called Ed. Ed and Martha were real Bohemians, and I loved my visits with them and their many cats. Ed always had a book in his hand – or at least nearby. They drove a classic Pierce-Arrow automobile, last manufactured in 1938. It was an expensive touring car, and even in the depression it sold for $10,000. The company ran artistic ads with no information about the car.

 

Ed played the banjo in the Ted Weems orchestra in the early days. It was Ted Weems who gave Perry Como his first national exposure in 1936. Many evenings Ed would play for me, and best of all, he played the Gershwin tunes, including The Rhapsody in Blue. He had met Gershwin, and the first record I bought was Paul Whiteman’s recording of the Rhapsody, purchased with money given to me by Ed and Martha. This was my first contact with a professional musician, and I thought it was wonderful. I had started writing songs about this time and would play the melody on Uncle Cecil’s old player piano.

 

Ted Weems and his Orchestra. 

As days went on, Uncle Cecil told me about Ed – how he had graduated from Harvard with a law degree and was an attorney for the governor of Florida for awhile. Rummaging in the attic one day, I came across Ed’s framed Harvard diploma It was dusty, dirty and evidently of no interest to Ed, so I said nothing about it.

I told Ed about my idea of books about pop singers, calling them “Scrapbooks of the Stars.” He thought it was a good idea and suggested we survey high school students to get their comments and interest. We did that and developed a plan for the proposed books. Ed and I went to New York City and visited record companies who offered their support. We also tried to find a publisher, but no one was interested. That trip was a great experience, though, living with Ed in Greenwich Village for two weeks.

Sometime later, I decided to go to RCA Victor’s main offices in Camden, New Jersey, but when I got there, they told me the offices for the popular records division was in New York City. However, on my visit to Camden, the company was preparing a feature on employees for their monthly newsletter, and they were getting ready to photograph the receptionist when I arrived, and asked if I would pose with her. So they took photos of me at the reception desk, briefcase under my arm, talking to the receptionist. A few weeks later, they mailed me a copy – and there I was on the front page of the RCA Victor Newsletter! 

 

Thurston Moore at RCA Victor in 1948. 

I remained confident that I had a good idea in the pop books, and a few years later I made an attractive prospectus on a few top artists like Perry Como. One of the biggest hits in 1947 was Francis Craig’s “Near You.” Craig wrote the song, and his band recorded it. Doris Day is one of the many singers who covered it. The song was No. 1 on “Your Hit Parade” for four months and on the charts for six months.

 

When I learned that Francis Craig had the top society dance band in Nashville, Tennessee, I decided to visit him. So I got on the train in Covington and made my first trip to Nashville. That beautiful old train station in Nashville had details such as a glorious 65-foot barrel ceiling fitted with stained glass, stone fireplaces and carved bas-relief panels. It was later turned into a fine hotel. Little did I know that I would make countless trips there over the next 36 years, before moving there in 1983.

 

Much of that trip is hazy, and I don’t recall any intelligent plan of meeting with Mr. Craig when I got there, but the bottom line is simply this: on Saturday night, I was in the Craig living room with his wife, family and friends, listening to “Your Hit Parade” to hear the position of “Near You” that week; Mr. Craig was out on tour.

"The Francis Craig Scrapbook” never came to fruition, but an interesting sidenote: Francis Craig’s young daughter, Donia, was there that night in Nashville, and about 45 years later, we met at Radio Station WAMB in Nashville. Georgianna and I were recording our weekly program, The Theatre Scene, which aired every Sunday, and Donia was there talking about a special they were doing on her father’s music. Donia and everyone there was amazed at our meeting again after all those years.

Twelve years later, I discovered that Donia was an art dealer, and she came to our house to see some of the works by the Japanese artists I represent, Masaaki and Chikako Tanaka. In the living room was the magnificent 3-foot-by-6-foot water color “The Great Smoky Mountains.” Donia looked at other smaller works, but her eyes kept going back to the Smoky Mountains. Finally, she said, “I have to have that, and not for resale; I want that in my personal collection, and I know exactly where it will hang.” The painting was $12,800, and in following months she did sell some other Tanaka pieces to her clients. One day she called and invited me to her apartment to see where the Smoky Mountains hung. It was in her bedroom, on the wall at the foot of her bed where she would see it last thing at night and first thing in the morning. I think her father would love this story, and I thank him for writing “Near You.” Georgianna and I loved his recording with the piano, bass and vocalist. I play it often. If you’d like to hear it, you can find it on the internet. 

“The Great Smoky Mountains” painting.

Don’t miss the next chapter: The Pop Scrapbook. 

Music has been an important part of my life - popular, classical, rhythm and blues, country - all genres. I was singing the hit songs of the day as far back as I can remember, buying the various magazines that featured the lyrics. I still have copies of some of these going back to 1942. Interesting, too, many of them carried a log of the radio shows on the networks. In those days there was Sammy Kaye’s Serenade; Dinah Shore; Gene Autry’s Melody Ranch; Andre Kostelanetz Orchestra; Red Skelton; Fibber McGee and Molly; Phil Spitalny’s All-Girl Orchestra; Fanny Brice; Arthur Godfrey; and, of course, “Your Hit Parade” on Saturday nights. 

 

In the 1930s, radio was important. We had a big Xentih, the one with the “green eye,” which almost hypnotized you when you sat there listening intently, watching that needle moving.

In 1938, when I was 12 years old, I was selling newspapers regularly and had income to spend on song sheets, comic books, Hollywood fan magazines, and movies. I saw an ad on the back cover of a comic book for a restored Underwood typewriter for $39.95, with the option of putting 50 cents down and making a payment of 50 cents a week. Well, I sent my order in, and you talk about a youngster being excited when that typewriter came! I knew nothing about a typewriter, probably never saw one before, and the most interesting feature to me was the ribbon - you could print black AND red! Imagine that.

 

I bought a 3-ring notebook and tabbed five sections in the book. The first was HIGHLIGHTS, and I filled 7½ pages with interesting facts about movie stars. Like “David Niven once delivered laundry in a Rolls-Royce” and “Tyrone Power on his trip East was in his hotel room one hot day and ordered a couple of fans. In two minutes, two breathless girls arrived, bearing an autograph book.”

Another section of the book was devoted to CENSORS by Walter Winchell. Like “You must not thumb your nose in Kansas” and “A woman must not lose her honor,” says Virginia, “or her stockings!” Another section was SHOWS, and there I listed films that I could remember having seen, up to No. 90, and from then on as I saw them. The starting date on that page is February 1939, and there is a total of 398 films. I gave each film a star rating and a short comment. I think the folks at Turner Classic Movies would find this very interesting.

The first film I saw in a “movie palace” was Gone With the Wind in 1939 at the Capitol Theatre in Cincinnati. My Aunt Elsie (my mother’s spinster sister) took me, and at 13, I thought I was really grown up. Aunt Elsie was a schoolteacher, and when I was a kid I spent time in the summer at the family farm when she was home. I loved her, and she was the only person who remembered me in her will. She left more than $100,000, divided among her family and the church. My two brothers and I each received $5,000. I was born in Visalia, Kentucky, and Aunt Elsie was my brother C.C.’s teacher in the first grade in the one-room schoolhouse atop Visalia hill.

 

Even though I was an avid movie-goer in my early years, I was never an autograph seeker and only wrote to one movie star. That was Joan Leslie. I don’t remember the year, but I do remember that she sent me a handwritten letter telling me about her interests and things she did when she wasn’t making movies. The one thing remember is that she said she was learning to play the accordion.      

 

Joan Leslie 

Joan Leslie appeared in many films, including the biography of Gershwin: Rhapsody in Blue; Sergeant York, starring Gary Cooper; and Yankee Doodle Dandy with James Cagney.

There was a miscellaneous section in my notebook that listed singers, dancers, and marriages of movie stars. At the end of two years, I wrote in “quit-bah”! But the most interesting section to me today, and I am sure the most enjoyable when I was keeping the notebook, was a listing of the top 10 songs on the Saturday night program, YOUR HIT PARADE with the master of ceremonies, singer Lanny Ross. My listings ran from March 11, 1939 (the No. 1 song was “Deep Purple”) through February 22, 194l (the No. 1 song was “I Hear a Rhapsody”). Those were days of great songs, so unlike most of the music today. Incidentally, I still have that notebook - and it’s in mint condition!

In those days of segregation, rhythm and blues was the music of the negroes - and I, too, loved that music, especially the blues, as sung by stars like Bessie Smith, Son House, Billie Holiday and Alberta Hunter. TIME Magazine wrote, “There’s no one alive who can sing like Hunter.” She died in 1984 at the age of 89 in her apartment in Island House on Roosevelt Island, New York City, the same apartment house where we lived in the mid-1970s.

 

Alberta Hunter in the 1920s 

Alberta Hunter became the greatest blues singer of her generation. When her mother died in 1956, Alberta retired, saying, “I want to do something to help people.” For the next 20 years, she worked with patients at Goldwater Hospital, the same hospital where Roosevelt Island Players, the theatre company we founded, put on shows. 

 

He’s a Darn Good Man (To Have Hanging Around)
– Alberta Hunter, Ray’s Dreamland Orchestra 

In 1976, Alberta Hunter was rediscovered. No one in music history had ever made a comeback like hers. When she sauntered to the microphone, threw a wink to the audience, a nod toward the piano man, and started clapping and singing invitingly to everyone, “Come on up some night, my castle’s rockin,’” everyone knew she was a star of the greatest magnitude. Did you know Alberta Hunter? You can enjoy her singing on YouTube. I feel honored that I could know this wonderful woman.

 

Alberta Hunter 

My first introduction to rhythm and blues music was when I was 9 years old. We had just moved to 828 Banklick Street, 2nd floor, in Covington, where rent was $6 a month. On the street behind our house lived a family of negroes, and they often gathered in their backyard and played records. Our houses were close, and I loved to hear their music. I was hanging out the window listening one day when they noticed me and hollered a “hello.” They then invited me to join them if my folks said it was OK. I have always been thankful that my family never had any prejudice against people of another race or color. I was delighted to join them, hearing their music and getting to know those wonderful neighbors.

In my teenage years, I knew all the popular songs of the day, including songs from Gershwin’s folk opera, Porgy and Bess. When I began writing songs, working with several talented lyricists, I dreamed of being “another Gershwin.” In November 1943, the important revival of Porgy and Bess came to the Taft Theare in Cincinnati, and that’s where I took Georgianna on our first date.

 

Don’t miss the next chapter. Painting the Barn Roof. 

When I was a kid, I looked forward all week to Saturday afternoon when I went to the Broadway Theater to see a cowboy film. Didn’t matter whether it was Buck Jones, Tom Mix, Ken Maynard, Tim McCoy or Johnny Mack Brown. All those great “B” Western stars were our American Folk Heroes. And their horses were just as important, too. All of us young boys knew the names of the stars’ horses. Tom Mix’s Tony; Gene Autry’s Champion; Tex Ritter’s Flash; Johnny Mack Brown’s Rebel; Buck Jones’ Silver; Roy Rogers’ Trigger; and Ken Maynard’s Tarzan. How little did I know that many years later I would meet and be associated with some of the super stars of the silver screen. 

 

Johnny Mack Brown and his horse, Rebel. 

 

Tim McCoy and Buck Jones. 

In the 1930s, the movie cost 10 cents, and in those Depression days that was a lot of money. I don’t ever remember having money for popcorn, but just to get that golden pass to enter those sacred halls was enough.

In later years I became a major publisher of pictorial and historical books in the country music field, with sales in the millions. My first book was published in 1949. It was then called “hillbilly music,” and it didn’t become “country” until I changed the name of my annual publications.

I became friends with many of the country stars, and a good friend was Tex Ritter. I first met Tex in the 1950s on a trip to Los Angeles, when I visited the Town Hall Party Saturday night show in Compton, California. Other stars on that show included Merle Travis, Johnny Bond, Tex Williams, and Joe and Rose Lee Maphis.

 

Tex Ritter DVD cover. 

Tex and his wife, Dorothy, were two of my favorite people in country music, and when his home in Nashville was torn down, I retrieved a brick as a keepsake. When we were living in Denver, Tex was featured in a show with Johnny Cash and June Carter at the Red Rocks Amphitheater, and my oldest daughter, Tracy, and I had dinner with Tex and his drummer. Tracy was amazed that Tex ate his peas with a knife without spilling any! Another time, our daughter, Heather, who was our trademark, and I were backstage with Tex. Heather had a little storybook with her, and Tex put her on his lap and read the entire book to her.

 

Tex Ritter reading to Heather. 

After graduating from high school with honors, Tex attended the University of Texas, where he studied pre-law. But that gave way to show business. He moved to New York City in 1928, and in 1930 he appeared in the Broadway production of Green Grow the Lilacs, the basis for the musical Oklahoma! 

Millions have heard Tex’s voice as Big Al, an audio-animatronic bear at the Country Bear Jamboree attraction in Disneyland. And who can forget the soundtrack of Gary Cooper’s film, High Noon?Tex’s recording of “High Noon” (“Don’t Forsake Me Oh My Darling”) became a hit. He sang the song at the first televised Academy Award Ceremony in 1953, and it took the Oscar for the Best Song that year. 

In 1966, Georgianna and I received an invitation to Tex and Dorothy's 25th wedding anniversary celebration in Hollywood, and Heather went with us. We were very excited because we knew there would be many stars there, particularly some of the cowboy stars from the early days.

I was happy to see Eddie Dean there, whom I'd visited at his home on a trip to Hollywood. He was one of my favorite cowboys because he had a great singing voice. Roy Rogers and Gene Autry called Eddie “the best cowboy singing star of all time.” I was anxious for Georgianna to meet him; they shared the same birthday, July 9.

 

Left to right: Tex Ritter, Eddie Dean, Joe and Rose Lee Maphis, unknown, Gene Autry, Roy Acuff, Johnny Bond and Heather. 

I was sorry that one of my favorite people in cowboy films, Smiley Burnette, was not there. (He passed away a year later.) I had visited Smiley at his home one evening, and he was a delightful host, insisting that my companion and I try the sandwich spread he had concocted earlier that day. He enjoyed telling us about his movies when he was the sidekick of Gene Autry and other stars.

 

Smiley Burnette with Jeane Matthews, my Nashville rep., 1965. 

What most movie fans don’t realize was that Smiley was one of the greatest songwriters of western songs. He composed nearly all of the songs for the early Gene Autry films. And his beautiful classic, “Ridin’ Down the Canyon,” is one of my favorites.

                                    Ridin’ down the canyon to watch the sun go down, 

                                    A picture that no artist ‘ere could paint. 

                                    Cactus plants are bloomin’ on the mountain side, 

                                    I hear a coyote calling to its mate. 

There must have been at least 200 people at the anniversary party, and all were served a full dinner. I wish I could remember who was seated at our table of eight. That evening I heard many names, stars, directors, etc., from the early movie days, and it brought back memories of my Saturday matinees at the Broadway Theater. Like Tex’s 1961 recording, I thought I was in“Hillbilly Heaven.” 

In previous years, Heather had her photo taken with most of the top country stars. Seems everyone wanted their photo taken with Heather. For a unique photo shoot, Buck Owens took her to an amusement park in Salt Lake City, and Sheb Wooley put her on the back of a Clydesdale at the Denver Rodeo. She looked so tiny! And at a country show in the Hollywood Bowl featuring Eddy Arnold and Lorne Greene, the emcee took Heather in his arms and introduced her to 25,000 people! Yes, Heather was right at home in front of a camera. While Georgianna and I rarely had our photos taken, that evening Georgianna asked for a photo with her daughter.

 

Heather and Buck Owens on the Merry-Go-Round. 

 

Backstage at the Hollywood Bowl: Left to right - Bob Reagan, Billy Armstrong, Lorne Greene, Hal Southern, Ms. Lorne Greene, Lucille Starr, Eddy Arnold, Heather, a fan, Marion Worth, Billy Walker and Skeets McDonald. 

We were sitting at our table when someone said, “Well, look who just came in!” Everyone turned, and much excitement and chatter arose throughout the room as this gentleman with grey thinning hair strode in smiling, as people began surrounding him. I soon learned it was the legendary “B” Western star, Ken Maynard, one of my heroes of Saturday matinees.

 

A poster of Ken Maynard. 

Maynard started out performing in rodeos and was a trick rider with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. He first appeared in silent pictures in 1923. With his white cowboy hat, fancy shirt, and pair of six-shooters, from the 1920s to the mid-1940s, he appeared in more than 90 films. He died penniless in 1973 at the Motion Picture Home in Woodland Hills, California.

  

Another Ken Maynard poster. 

That night in Hollywood he was a star again, and all there recognized him as a true legend and were delighted he had come. Georgianna was excited, too, because Ken Maynard was her father’s favorite cowboy star. She asked me if we could get a photo of her and Maynard so she could send it to her father. He was delighted to pose with Georgianna and Heather. He was charming when I spoke to him about my matinee days as a kid – and when I told him how much I admired him.

 

Ken Maynard on his horse, Tarzan. 

Don’t miss the next chapter. Early interest in music and movies.