Tag: Alfred Stieglitz

Music in the Air

Above: The Cat and the Fiddle (Pete Gordon) and Mickey Mouse (a monkey in a very creepy costume) were featured in 1934's Babes In Toyland.

We close out the old year and ring in the new with a bit of song and dance from three musicals that entertained New Yorkers in the waning days of 1934.

Dec. 22, 1934 cover by Arnold Hall.

The work of composer Jerome Kern and lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II were prominent in two of those films, adapted from successful Broadway productions—the romantic comedy Music in the Air and the sentimental Sweet Adeline. Success on the stage did not necessarily translate to the screen in either case, according to critic John Mosher.

SOUR NOTES…The famed silent movie star Gloria Swanson showed off her singing chops in Music in the Air, but it wasn’t enough to save the film from becoming a box office failure. The film centered on the stormy relationship between opera star Frieda Hotzfelt (Swanson) and librettist Bruno Mahler (John Boles, pictured). (TCM)
TALL ORDER…For those who recalled Helen Morgan’s tragedy-tinged Broadway performance as Addie in Sweet Adeline, Irene Dunn’s more comical take, although delivered with authority, could not hold up the pallid performances of her co-stars, including Donald Woods, right. (TCM)

And there was Babes in Toyland, a Hal Roach film headlined by the comedy duo Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. The film was well received by critics, including Mosher, who wrote that Babes in Toyland “was far more successful than [1933’s] Alice in Wonderland, and the children will probably be far less bored by it than they generally are by those films designed especially for them.” However, similar to Alice the costumes seem creepily crude, such as the weird rubber pig costumes and the almost terrifying Mickey Mouse, portrayed by a hapless monkey dressed to resemble the big-eared icon. It was apparently the first and last time Walt Disney allowed the Mickey Mouse character to be portrayed outside of a Disney film. No wonder.

Clockwise, from top left, Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy with Felix Knight (Tom-Tom) and Charlotte Henry (Bo-Peep); the Three Little Pigs with the villain Silas Barnaby, portrayed by Henry Brandon; a very creepy Mickey Mouse (a monkey in costume); and Laurel and Hardy with The Cat and the Fiddle (Pete Gordon). (eofftvreview.wordpress.com/psychotronicaredux.wordpress.com/YouTube/MUBI)

 * * *

Alms for the Poor

Woolworth store heiress Barbara Hutton was one of the richest women in the world in the 1930s, and her lavish lifestyle in the midst of Depression attracted the attention, and the ire, of newspaper columnist Ed Sullivan. In his “Notes and Comment,” E.B. White made this observation:

COUGH IT UP, LADY…Ed Sullivan, who in 1934 was a well-known Daily News show business columnist, thought Woolworth dime store heiress Barbara Hutton should show more concern for the needy. Known for her lavish spending during the Great Depression, in 1934 Hutton was married to a self-styled Georgian prince named Alexis Mdivani—Mdivani would be the first of Hutton’s seven husbands. Sullivan would go on to greater fame on television with the Ed Sullivan Show. (clickamericana.com/npg.org.uk)

 * * *

Oh Baby

Most of us know something about the weird and somewhat tragic tale of the Dionne quintuplets, raised from infancy before the public gaze and exploited to sell everything from dolls and books to soap and toothpaste. When E.B. White made this brief mention in his “Notes and Comment,” the story of the quintuplets was still a jolly one, and their delivering physician, Dr. Allan Roy Dafoe had gone from being a country doctor to one of North America’s most trusted medical authorities. Dafoe would become the childrens’ guardian and impresario, and make a fortune marketing their story and images.

QUINTUPLE YOUR MONEY…After he delivered the Dionee quintuplets, Dr. Allan Roy Dafoe went from being a country doctor to one of North America’s most trusted medical authorities. That later translated into big profits from companies eager to cash in on the quint’s popularity, as these 1937 ads attest. (Pinterest)

 * * *

In the Year 2400

“The Talk of the Town” examined the “Buck Rogers” craze, fed by a cartoon strip, a radio show, and an array of toys.

YESTERDAY’S TOMORROW…A Buck Rogers “pop-up” book was just one of the many formats that could be consumed by avid followers of the early sci-fi hero. Also pictured are a themed pocket watch and the “must have” sci-fi toy of 1934, Buck’s XZ-31 Rocket Pistol. (Pinterest/Bullock Museum)

 * * *

What’s It All About, Alfie?

Art and architecture critic Lewis Mumford offered praise for Alfred Stieglitz’s latest exhibition at the photographer’s gallery, An American Place. Mumford noted Stieglitz’s “astringent quality” that rose above the philistine tastes and “stupidities” of American life.

LIFE AND WORK INTERTWINED…Clockwise, from top left: Alfred Stieglitz’s famed 1930 image of Grand Central Terminal; one of the photographer’s many images of clouds under the title Equivalent, 1930; image taken from Stieglitz’s studio/gallery window titled From My Window at An American Place, North, 1931; Dorothy Norman, circa 1931; Georgia O’Keeffe, 1933. Stieglitz, who was married to Georgia O’Keeffe, became Dorothy Norman’s mentor and lover in the late 1920s. (National Gallery of Art/Art Institute of Chicago)

 * * *

From Our Advertisers

The back cover of The New Yorker was coveted by tobacco companies, the makers of Camels and Lucky Strikes (seen here) both featuring sumptuous photos of stylish women using their product, women being a key growth market for the companies…

…same for the brewers, who also sought out female consumers to bolster sales of their brands…

…Ponds continued to roll out the seeming legions of socialites and lower-tier royalty to sell their jars of cold cream…

…the magazine’s ads were often directed at middlebrow class anxieties, as we see here…

…by constrast, this ad from Bonwit Teller (graced by fashion illustrator W. Mury) took us out of the stuffy parlor and onto the beckoning beaches of the Caribbean…

…we move on to our cartoonists…all of the spot illustrations in the issue were holiday-themed, and here are a few choice examples…

…Daniel ‘Alain’ Brustlein introduced a bit of color to a monastery’s dining hall…

…James Thurber continued to explore the dynamics between the sexes…

…Barbara Shermund did a bit of dreaming with her modern women…

…Carl Rose gave us Christmas cheer, with some reservations…

…and lastly, Perry Barlow with something for the holiday procrastinator…

Next Time: Farewell to 1934…

 

Life With Father

If you’ve ever come across the byline B.H. Arkwright, you were most likely reading the work of Clarence Day Jr., who in February 1931 began writing for The New Yorker under that pseudonym and also under his given moniker, which in four short years would become a household name.

Jan. 21, 1933 cover by Theodore Haupt.

In the Jan. 21, 1933 issue Day would publish his first humorous story in The New Yorker about upper-middle-class family life in the 1890s. A subsequent collection of these stories would be published in 1935 under the title Life with Father. Sadly, Day would die shortly thereafter and wouldn’t witness the enormous cultural impact his stories would have on mid-century America.

Here is an excerpt of Day’s first story about his father, describing an exchange between his parents that would set the tone for the series:

Life with Father was a hit with readers, inspiring a 1939 Broadway production by Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse that would run for 3,224 performances over 401 weeks—it was, and still is, the longest-running non-musical play on Broadway. The play would be adapted into a 1947 film featuring Irene Dunne and William Powell in the leading roles. The stories even made it to the small screen in a CBS TV series that ran from 1953 to 1955.

ALL IN THE FAMILY…Clockwise, from top left, Clarence Day, Jr. (1874-1935) in undated photo; Dorothy Stickney and Howard Lindsay in the Broadway production of Life with Father, 1939; Day’s father and inspiration, stockbroker Clarence Day, Sr. (1844-1927); scene from the 1947 feature film Life with Father with Irene Dunne, William Powell, and a 14-year-old Elizabeth Taylor. (britannica.com/theguardian.com/IMDB)

Day was also a cartoonist, contributing satirical cartoons for U.S. suffrage publications in the 1910s and also publishing collections of humorous essays including a Darwinian satire on the origins of human nature, This Simian World (1920), and the rambling, whimsical The Crow’s Nest (1921). Both featured Day’s simplistic cartoons and anthropomorphic tales that anticipated the work of James Thurber later in the decade.

CATTAIL…Self-portrait of Clarence Day rendered as a cat in a selection from The Crow’s Nest (1921). The entire book is available as a free e-book from The Project Gutenberg.

As we know, New Yorker founding editor Harold Ross was a man of contradictions, at once profane and puritanical, the latter on display when it came to one of Day’s cartoon submissions for the magazine. According to Brendan Gill’s memoir Here at The New Yorker, Ross balked at publishing the drawing below because it showed an exposed breast. Either Day or an editor simply removed the nipple (note the broken line in the nipple’s place) and the cartoon was published.

 *  *  *

Big Man’s Big Man

August Gennerich not only served as President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s bodyguard, he was also a close family friend. “The Talk of the Town” featured a lengthy account of the man, an excerpt of which is below:

ON GUARD…Augustus “Gus” Gennerich (1887-1936) was a friend of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt’s as well as one of FDR’s most trusted guards. He began his career in 1909 as a NYC policeman and in 1929 was assigned to be then-Governor Roosevelt’s bodyguard in the city. The Roosevelts were heartbroken when Gus died unexpectedly at age 50 from a heart attack. (picryl.com)

*  *  *

Desert Solitude

In 1933 Georgia O’Keeffe (1887–1986) was well into her Southwestern phase when her husband Alfred Stieglitz staged a show of her work at his last New York gallery, An American Place. O’Keeffe and Stieglitz lived together in New York until 1929, when O’Keeffe began spending more time in the Southwest—most likely to put some distance between herself and Stieglitz, who was in a long-term affair with photographer and writer Dorothy Norman. After this show opened O’Keeffe would suffer a nervous breakdown (per the above) and not return to painting until 1934. Lewis Mumford visited An American Place and had this to say about O’Keeffe’s work:

ANOTHER AMERICAN PLACE…New Mexican Landscape by Georgia O’Keeffe, 1930. (springfieldmuseums.org)

*  *  *

The Bookish Type

Modernist American poet and writer Archibald MacLeish (1892–1982) was a man of letters to the letter, serving as the ninth Librarian of Congress (1939-44) and during which time initiated the process of naming U.S. poet laureates. Here he contributes some of his verse to The New Yorker:

DESK JOB…Archibald MacLeish, circa late 1930s. (Library of Congress)

It was no accident that MacLeish contributed to The New Yorker: in addition to being among the literary expatriates in Paris including Gertrude Stein and Ernest Hemingway, MacLeish and his wife, Ada Hitchcock, were part of the Riviera crowd hosted by Gerald and Sara Murphy, which included among other notables John O’Hara, Dorothy Parker, and Robert Benchley.

OVER THERE…Gerald and Sara Murphy hosting friends at a Riviera beach party, circa 1923. Gerald is the man standing in the striped shirt; Sara is at right with a parasol. I believe that is Benchley at the bottom right, and Parker seated at center-right. (Beinecke Library)

*  *  *

From Our Advertisers

We begin with this ad from Helena Rubinstein that parodies Lois Long’s “Tables for Two” column (Long signed that column as “Lipstick”) and announced a new “Red Poppy” shade…

…on the other hand, the folks at Tangee borrowed from the old Temperance Movement song, The Lips that touch liquor, shall never touch mine, to promote a lipstick guaranteed to snag a sugar daddy like the one illustrated below (recalling Monopoly’s Uncle Pennybags)…

…more advertising weirdness comes our way from the staid Best & Company, its execs somehow persuaded by an ad man to go with this chef motif…

…Leg ‘O Mutton referred to a type of puffy sleeve introduced in 1830s France that had a revival in the late 1880s…

MMMMM, MUTTON…The Leg ‘O Mutton look, circa 1890s. (genealogylady.net)

…the National Auto Show moved on and the National Motor Boat and Engine Show took its place at the Grand Central Palace…

…I’m trying to imagine the guy at left stowing his top hat in an overhead bin…

…down on earth folks could enjoy some down-to-earth home cooking at Mary Elizabeth’s, or go some Italian at Caruso’s…

…and for reference…

Top left, Mary Elizabeth’s success on Fifth Avenue led to expansion into Boston; below, a 1921 menu at Mary Elizabeth’s in New York; at right, 1930s postcard advertising Caruso’s on 42nd Street. (restaurant-ingthroughhistory.com)

…of course you couldn’t legally drink at those places, so you had to go to a speakeasy or mix your cocktails at home…but this is just sad, ‘ol Buddy here flavoring his bootleg with some Green Ribbon…let’s hope the playboy’s guests aren’t blinded before the night is over…

…we all know the tricky ways of the tobacco companies, including this 3-page Q&A from the makers of Camels offering smokers and would-be smokers THE TRUTH and THE FACTS about the cigarettes folks smoke…turns out Camels are the best!…

…and now for a bit of fresh air before we turn to our cartoonists…

…beginning with Al Frueh and his impressions of a show at the Guild Theatre…

…Peter Arno contributed this illustration across pages 12-13 in “The Talk of the Town” section…

…Helen Hokinson offered up some scandal among the “girls”…

…James Thurber gave us an awkward moment among the tender youth of the unclad world…

…Otto Soglow’s Little King rose to the occasion, as always…

…Daniel Alain’s artist tried his best to make some small talk while at work…

…and we close with E. Simms Campbell, and the yawning gulf between owners and workers…

Next Time: A Slice of Paradise…

 

 

Georgia on My Mind

Although artist Georgia O’Keeffe has long been celebrated for her desert imagery and interpretations of natural forms, during the 1920s her heart was very much in New York City.

July 6, 1929 cover by Theodore Haupt.

And New York City was where it all began for O’Keeffe (1887-1986). In January 1916, the famed photographer Alfred Stieglitz (1864-1946) was shown a portfolio of charcoal drawings by O’Keeffe’s friend, Anita Pollitzer. Stieglitz was so impressed that he immediately made plans to exhibit the drawings—without O’Keeffe’s permission. The longtime art critic for The New Yorker, Robert Coates, told the story in the opening lines of his July 6 profile piece on the artist:

O’Keeffe moved from Texas to New York in 1918, and she and Stieglitz would marry in 1924, a marriage that would last until his death in 1946 (despite the fact he took a longtime lover, 22-year-old Dorothy Norman, in 1927).

TWO OF A KIND…Alfred Stieglitz, left, photographed by Paul Strand at Lake George, New York, in 1929. Exhausted and depressed, Stieglitz had retreated to the lake for the summer after learning that his exhibition space in the Anderson Galleries, which he called “The Room,” would be demolished along with the gallery building.  ∞  Center, a photo Stieglitz had attached to a July 10, 1929 letter to O’Keeffe, who had begun spending summers painting in New Mexico. Below the photograph he wrote, “I have destroyed 300 prints to-day. And much more literature. I haven’t the heart to destroy this…”  ∞  O’Keeffe in a 1929 photograph by Stieglitz, after her return from New Mexico. (aperture.org/Yale Beinecke Library/flashbak.com) click to enlarge

Following O’Keeffe’s first exhibition at the 291 gallery, Stieglitz established a firm hold over the display and sale of her work:

During the 1920s O’Keeffe found much inspiration on the streets of Manhattan, and particularly in the proximity of the Shelton Hotel, where she lived from 1925 to 1936. The Shelton, which opened in Midtown in 1924 as the tallest hotel in the world, provided a perfect vantage point for O’Keeffe to observe city life:

EYE OF THE BEHOLDER…Georgia O’Keeffe was captivated by her adopted city, particularly views from and around New York’s Shelton Hotel, where she lived from 1925 to 1936. Top row, from left: New York Street with Moon (1925)  ∞  New York Street No. 1 (1926)  ∞  Shelton Hotel New York No. 1 (1926)  ∞  The Shelton with Sunspots (1926)  ∞  East River From the Shelton (1926)  ||  Bottom row, from left: New York Night (1929)  ∞  Radiator Building – Night, New York (1927)  ∞  East River From the 30th Story of the Shelton Hotel (1928)  ∞  Ritz Tower, Night (1928). (museothyssen.org/okeeffemuseum.org/curiator.com/virginia.edu/isak.typepad.com/ theartstack.com (2)/ephemeralnewyork.wordpress.com/artnet.com) click to enlarge

 *  *  *

During the early decades of the 20th century Martin Couney (1870-1950) was renowned for his baby incubator exhibits at various world’s fairs and for his long-standing display of incubating babies at New York’s Coney Island, wedged between the usual sideshow attractions of freaks and burlesques. Couney charged visitors 25 cents to view the infants (in order that their parents would not have to pay for their medical care). “The Talk of the Town” looked in on Couney…

I’M NOT A DOCTOR. I JUST PLAY ONE IN REAL LIFE…Clockwise, from top left, Incubator display building on Coney Island circa 1920s; Martin Couney with babies in undated photo; Couney’s early infant incubators in operation at the Trans-Mississippi Exposition in Omaha, 1898; the infant Beth Allen in a Coney Island incubator, 1941. (NPR/New York Public Library Digital Collections/Beth Allen)

Although many physicians at the time reviled Couney as a showman and a quack (he was most likely not a trained medical doctor), he nevertheless saved the lives of thousands of infants who would have died if left to the care of hospitals that were slow to catch on to this lifesaving device (they weren’t widely adopted until after Couney’s death in 1950). The “Talk” article credited Couney for saving “about six thousand lives.” Many of those babies went on to live long and healthy lives:

SEEING IS BELIEVING…Beth Allen (pictured, at left, in 2016, and as an infant in the photo montage above) was born three months premature in Brooklyn in 1941. Her mother initially rejected putting Beth in one of Couney’s Coney Island incubators, but her father persuaded Martin Couney to talk to his wife, who acquiesced. At right, Lucille Horn (pictured with daughter Barbara in 2015) was given little hope by doctors when she was born premature in 1920. The hospital staff told her father that they didn’t have a place for her, and that she had no chance of survival. Nevertheless, her father grabbed a blanket to wrap her in, hailed a taxicab and took her to Couney’s infant exhibit at Coney Island. Barely 2 pounds in 1920, she lived to age 96. (AP/NPR StoryCorps)

 *  *  *

The Electric Company

The 1920’s saw an explosion of labor-saving electric appliances, ranging from electric fans and irons to vacuum cleaners and refrigerators. The decade also saw a massive proliferation of electric lights, and the huge power plants that would be needed to keep everything running. “Talk” looked in on the Edison Company’s East River power plant to see how it all worked:

STILL HUMMING…Edison’s East River power plant (now ConEd), entered service in 1926 and is still in operation today (with a number of updates and additions over the years). At right, a 1920s view of the Broadway lights (newtownpentacle.com/Museum of the City of New York)

The opening of the Edison plant on the East River was a big deal in 1926. According to the ConEd website, “the six-story boilers installed at Fourteenth Street and East River were so large that a luncheon for nearly 100 people was served inside one of them before the renovated station went into operation… during the opening day ceremony in 1926, Queen Marie of Rumania flipped the switch to start the 100,000 horsepower turbine generator.”

“Talk” also offered some interesting insights into the plant’s complex operations, including an unusual storm warning system:

YOU GET THE IDEA…A Philadelphia Electric Company control room in the 1920s. New York’s was undoubtedly much larger. (IEEE Computer Society)

*  *  *

From Our Advertisers

Fleischmann Yeast was a regular advertiser in The New Yorker for a good reason: Raoul Fleischmann (of the New York yeast and baking giant) hated the baking business but loved hanging out with the Algonquin Round Table crowd, which included New Yorker founding editor Harold Ross. When the fledging magazine nearly went belly up in 1925, Fleischmann kicked in the money (and on a number of occasions thereafter) to keep it going. Hence the “free” advertising he received for his product, touted not as a baking aid, but rather as a cure for constipation and other intestinal turmoils. In this ad, a physician who “treated German Royalty” endorsed the generous consumption of yeast cakes…

…a  footnote on the Fleischmann ad: Dr. Kurt Henius (1882-1947) was a doctor of medicine and a professor on the Friedrich-Wilhelms (now Humboldt) University medicine faculty at the Charité hospital in Berlin, Germany. Because he was Jewish, he was dismissed from the university in 1935, and in 1939 he fled from the Nazis to safety in Luxembourg, where he died in 1947.

 *  *  *

During prohibition we see plenty of ads in The New Yorker for ginger ale and sparkling water, but this one for Pabst Blue Ribbon beer caught my eye. This was, of course, “near-beer,” with an alcohol content of 0.5%…

According to Forbes magazine, the few breweries that managed to survive during Prohibition made everything from ceramics and ice cream to the barely alcoholic near beer. Pabst also turned to making cheese, which was aged in the brewery’s ice cellars. The brand, “Pabst-ett,” was sold to Kraft in 1933 at the end of Prohibition…

(Courtesy Pabst Blue Ribbon)

…and this colorful ad comes courtesy of Texaco. Did you ever see two young people more enamored with petroleum products?…

…before we get to the cartoons, here is a two-page illustration in the July 6 issue by Constantin Alajalov (click to enlarge)…

…this peek into the world of trolley car conductors appears to be by Perry Barlow…

…and finally, Peter Arno revealed the thankless work of one stuntman…

Next Time: Not Your Grandpa’s Tammany…

 

The Gentleman Bandit

The plight of “The Gentleman Bandit” Gerald Chapman was recounted in the April 18 “Talk of the Town,” pitting the sensibilities of urbane New Yorkers against Connecticut Yankee morality.

The New Yorker noted that many of Gotham’s citizens were sympathetic to Chapman, who during the previous year had murdered a police officer during a crime spree in Connecticut.

Screenshot 2015-03-30 09.44.00
April 18, 1925 cover by H.O. Hofman (New Yorker Digital Archive)

The magazine suggested that Chapman—who grew up on the Lower East Side and had a long history of bootlegging and other crimes—had been sentenced to death by a Connecticut judge and jury because they hated all things associated with New York City:

You do not have to go so far as Dubuque to find a definite hatred of New York and things from New York. In Connecticut there is a very lively detestation of the loud and happy neighbor down the Sound. People from New York, to mention only one Connecticut grievance, rush through the tidy little Yankee State in week-end automobile parties, which break the Sabbath and the speed laws. This breeds no great affection.

DEATH ROW
“The Gentleman Bandit” Gerald Chapman (Hartford Courant)

Chapman was America’s first “celebrity gangster,” and the first to be dubbed “Public Enemy Number One” by the press. He was executed by hanging a year later, on April 6, 1926. A full account of Chapman’s life can be found here.

The magazine continued its habit of William Randolph Hearst-watching, noting that the famed publisher seemed headed for retirement at his San Simeon estate in California:

Mr. Hearst retires to San Simeon and its vast acres, with only the expense accounts of his editors whom he sends for to worry about. He is not a young man,–he is sixty-two,–and he feels that his time to play has arrived…

In other news, invitations to the new Embassy Club (695 Fifth Avenue) of New York were being extended “to a selected list of persons; that is to say, to most persons owning town residences not situated in Brownsville or the Bronx.” It was further observed “when the Embassy Club opens formally, it is believed that Mr. Michael Arlen (subject of my post “The Ordeal of Michael Arlen”) will be invited to attend, if he survives Hollywood.”

Note: The Embassy Club location is now more or less occupied by Bottega Veneta. It’s hard to tell with all of the changes to the facades on the streetscape. It is, however just around the corner from the St. Regis Hotel, which became home to the King Cole Bar and its famous Mayfield Parrish mural in 1932 (See my blog on “A Dry Manhattan” for more about the mural).

The “Profile” featured Alfred Stieglitz, noting the famed photographer’s “ruthless self-direction” in his pursuit of the truth. “His life is a dynamic gesture, as of Life itself, trying to find out what Life is.”

Screenshot 2015-03-30 10.31.08
(New Yorker Digital Archive)

This issue features The New Yorker’s first automobile ad, from the bygone Pierce Arrow automobile company. Pierce Arrow would be a frequent early advertiser, soon to be joined by other car manufacturers in the magazine’s pages. But not just yet. As I’ve noted before, advertising (and editorial content) in these first issues is scant, and so it is no surprise that the magazine is barely limping along during these precarious months.

Screenshot 2015-03-30 11.10.58
(New Yorker Digital Archive)

Many of the advertisements are more of this variety…

Screenshot 2015-03-30 11.10.38
(New Yorker Digital Archive)

Screenshot 2015-03-30 11.17.28

And then we have this gem on the inside back cover. Perhaps the only time a church will ever advertise in The New Yorker. Then again, we shall see…

Screenshot 2015-03-30 11.11.28
(New Yorker Digital Archive)