In 1928 both sound and silent films appeared on screens across America, but by 1929 sound was ascendent, and in 1932 silents were mostly a distant memory.
August 13, 1932 cover by Rea Irvin.
The New Yorker was slow to embrace sound — in reviews of early talkies, critic John Mosher found the technology stultifying in both dialogue and action, but as equipment and techniques improved he came to embrace the new medium. E.B. White, however, still missed the silent theatre, and the strains of its pipe organ…
SILENCE IS GOLDEN…E.B. White was likely attending a late evening showing of For the Love of Mike,Claudette Colbert’s only silent film. After the Frank Capra-directed film received poor reviews, the 24-year-old Colbert vowed she would never make another movie. Fortunately for her fans, she changed her mind and signed with Paramount in 1929. At right, promotional photograph of Colbert for the 1928 Broadway production La Gringa. (IMDB/Wikipedia)VITAL ORGANISTS…Jesse and Helen Crawford both recorded music on Paramount’s mighty Wurlitzer, sounds that were music to the ears of E.B. White. (theatreorgans.com)
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World’s Fastest Man
That title went to Eddie Tolan after the 1932 Summer Olympic Games, and his fame won him a long entry in the “The Talk of the Town,” although the column (excerpted) took a patronizing tone toward the athlete:
FASTEST IN THE WORLD…U.S. sprinters Ralph Metcalfe (left) and Eddie Tolan pose on the track at 1932 Los Angeles Olympics. Tolan would receive the title of the “world’s fastest human” after winning gold medals in the 100- and 200- meter events. Metcalfe, who be elected to the U.S. Congress in the 1970s, was considered the world’s fastest human in 1934-35. (Marquette University)
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From Our Advertisers
You could tell times were tough when a luxury department store felt the need to sell capes and cuffs designed to “transform” old clothes in to 1932 fashions…
…however, things seemed to be looking up for the folks at Powers Reproduction, who touted the naturalness of their DeSoto ads…
…such as this two-pager that appeared in the New Yorker’s July 23 issue…
…we move on to our cartoonists, beginning with Paul Webb…
…who referenced a recent New Yorker ad (also from the July 23 issue)…
…James Thurber gave us two examples of female aggression…
…this one a bit less deadly…
…here’s an early work by the great George Price (1901-1995), who beginning in 1929 contributed New Yorker cartoons for almost six decades…
…Peter Arno showed us that among the uppers, even nudism had its class distinctions…
…on to our August 20, 1932 issue, and this terrific cover by Harry Brown. With a style reminiscent of the French artist Raoul Dufy, Brown illustrated a number of memorable New Yorker covers during the 1930s…
August 20, 1932 cover by Harry Brown.
…the Marx Brothers were back in cinemas with Horse Feathers, and, according to critic John Mosher, delivered the comic goods…
Xs and Os…Groucho Marx shows David Landau and Thelma Todd how the game of football is really played in Horse Feathers (1932). (IMDB)
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Author, Author
“The Talk of the Town” included this bit of news regarding the Pulitzer Prize-winning author Willa Cather. Beginning in the early 1920s, Cather and her partner, Edith Lewis, spent summers at Manan Island in New Brunswick, Canada:
THESE NEED SOME EDITING…Willa Cather pruning her roses on Manon Island. (University of Nebraska)
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While Cather was enjoying the peace of island life, there were disturbing rumblings on the other side of the ocean, even if Howard Brubaker (writing in his column “Of All Things”) found humor in them…
…the result, however was no laughing matter…
NOT HIS USUAL STYLE…After being appointed as German chancellor, Adolf Hitler greets President Paul von Hindenburg in Potsdam, Germany, on March 21, 1933. This image, intended to project an image of Hitler as non-threatening, was made into a popular postcard. The photo also appeared widely in the international press. (www.ushmm.org)
…Brubaker also commented on the upcoming U.S. presidential elections, and, more importantly, the absence of Greta Garbo, who returned to Sweden after her MGM contract expired…
NOT FEELIN’ IT, PAL…Melvyn Douglas romances Greta Garbo in 1932’s As You Desire Me. Garbo would leave for Sweden after the film wrapped. She would return after a nearly a year of contract negotiations. (IMDB)
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Illustrator Charles LaSalle, who would later be known for his Western-themed art, provided this odd bit of art for the makers of a German hair tonic…
…on to our cartoons, Rea Irvin continued his travelogue of famed tourist destinations…
…Otto Soglow showed us that even the spirit world has its version of Upstairs, Downstairs…
…Carl Rose rendered a cow and a calf made homeless for art’s sake…
…Leo Soretsky contributed only one cartoon to the New Yorker, but it was a doozy…
…on to August 27, 1932…
August 27, 1932 cover by S. Liam Dunne.
…in which the “Talk of the Town” contributors decided to pay homage to Lewis Gaylord Clark (1808 – 1873), who was editor and publisher of the old The Knickerbocker magazine (1833 – 1865)…
…here is one of the entries, with accompanying artwork, written in the style of the old magazine…
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In previous issues, William Steig had illustrated several ads for Old Gold, and now it was Peter Arno’s turn to entice readers to the national habit…
…Lucky Strike, on the other hand, preferred these illustrations of young women, who also happened to be their biggest growth market…by the way, this is not an official “Miss America”—there was no pageant in 1932…
…and we end with cartoons that ponder the female form by Daniel Brustlein (1904–1996), who contributed cartoons and covers to The New Yorker from the 1930s to the 1950s under the pen name Alain…
For all its embrace of the modern city and its technological wonders, the New Yorker mostly despaired of the changes wrought by the introduction of sound to motion pictures.
June 1, 1929 cover by Rea Irvin.
Granted, early sound technology was primitive, with directors, actors and crew members adapting on the fly to the demands of a new medium that required absolute silence on film sets and cumbersome microphones that severely limited the movements of actors. Screenwriters, accustomed to writing brief intertitles in silent films, now had to write expository dialogue, and actors had to rely less on exaggerated facial expressions and body movements and more on the spoken word. And it helped if you didn’t have a speech impediment or heavy accent.
Writing for “The Reporter at Large” column (titled “The Unspeakables”), Hollywood correspondent Jean-Jacques lamented that the talkies were “here to stay”…
BARNLIKE STAGES were erected on both coasts to produce early silent films. Clockwise, from top left, Fox’s World Paragon Studios in Ft. Lee, NJ, circa 1917; interior of the studio; several films in production, side-by-side, at Edison’s Bronx studio, circa 1915; Fox studios in Los Angeles, 1920s. (moviemice.com/Wikipedia)
Jean-Jacques recalled the professions that would now be lost to the talkies, including the “mood musicians” who played their instruments on silent film sets in order to evoke emotions from the actors…
IN THE MOOD…During the silent era “mood musicians” were hired to play their instruments on film sets in order to evoke emotions from the actors. (Pinterest)THE SILENCE of SOUND…In the early days of the talkies the entire set had to be silent, and special care had to be taken to ensure loud cameras were housed in soundproof boxes such as those pictured above. Instead of the introduction of sound expanding the capabilities of filmmaking, it was often limited by the bulky gear used to capture that sound. Therefore, many films consisted of “stage” musical numbers that were static shots. (Caption and image at left courtesy Colorado College. Image at right from cinecollage.net)
The writer also noted the challenges that faced “the old scenario writer…hemmed in by a multitude of new rivals…
WE HAVE WAYS OF MAKING YOU TALK…Dorothy Arzner (left) poses with “It Girl” Clara Bow in a publicity shot for The Wild Party, Bow’s first talking picture. Bow is famously quoted as saying (in 1930) “I hate talkies. They’re stiff and limiting. You lose a lot of your cuteness, because there’s no chance for action.” Arzner tried to remedy that problem: she is credited with inventing the boom mike, which allowed for greater movement by the actor. (Paramount Pictures/Wikimedia Commons)
Jean-Jacques recounted the frustrations experienced by one old-time actor dealing with the limitations of bulky sound equipment…
This actor was not alone, A number of major silent film stars including Charlie Chaplin, Louise Brooks, and Clara Bow did not embrace the novelty of sound pictures. Motion Picture Classic magazine (September 1930) quoted Bow as saying, “I hate talkies … they’re stiff and limiting. You lose a lot of your cuteness, because there’s no chance for action, and action is the most important thing to me.” According to the article, a visibly nervous Bow had to do a number of retakes in The Wild Party because her eyes kept wandering up to the microphone overhead.
SILENCE IS GOLDEN…A number of major silent film stars including (from left) Louise Brooks, Charlie Chaplin and Clara Bow did not embrace the novelty of sound pictures. (Wikipedia)
Jean-Jacques signed off his New Yorker piece with the hope that someday pictures and sound would be combined into a worthy new art form…
Perhaps Jean-Jacques had to look no further than Manhattan’s Rialto Theatre to find that first glimmer of hope, for it was there that the Marx Brothers were tearing up the screen in their first talking picture, The Cocoanuts, reviewed in the magazine’s “The Current Cinema” column…
If the New Yorker was looking for snappy dialogue in motion pictures, there was plenty of it in The Cocoanuts, including this snippet between Groucho Marx, playing Mr. Hammer—an unscrupulous manager of a bankrupt Florida hotel—and wealthy hotel guest Mrs. Potter, played by Margaret Dumont…
Hammer: Do you know that property values have increased since 1929 one thousand per cent? Do you know that this is the biggest development since Sophie Tucker? Do you know that Florida is the show spot of America and Cocoanut Manor the black spot of Florida?
Mrs. Potter: You told me that yesterday.
Hammer: I know but I left out a comma.
Or this gem…
Hammer, to Mrs. Potter: Just think – tonight, tonight when the moon is sneaking around the clouds I’ll be sneaking around you. I’ll meet you tonight under the moon. Oh, I can see it now – you and the moon. Wear a neck-tie so I’ll know you.
SHOW ‘EM HOW IT’S DONE…Zeppo, Groucho, Chico and Harpo Marx in their first sound movie, The Cocoanuts, 1929. (vitaphonedreamer.wordpress.com)BAMBOOZLER… Mrs Potter (Margaret Dumont), inspects Mr Hammer’s (Groucho Marx) Florida property “deals” in The Cocoanuts. (British Film Institute)
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For Sentimental Reasons
Additional evidence that the New Yorker was not always ready to embrace change came from its many articles, particularly in “The Talk of the Town,” that seemed to favor the preservation of buildings that defined the character of certain neighborhoods, including the early 19th century rowhouses that lined Washington Square North…
THEN AND NOW…At left, photo dated 1921 of Washington Square, north side of square looking east from 5th Avenue. Corner house in foreground is No. 12. The far end at right shows Nos. 3, 2, 1. At right, roughly the same block today. (Museum of the City of New York/1homedesigns.com)
At left, photo dated 1936 (by Berenice Abbott) of Washington Square North, nos. 21-25, between Fifth Avenue and MacDougal Street. At right, nos. 19-26 today. (Museum of the City of New York/Wikimedia Commons)
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The Wittier Kaufman
Editor and playwright Beatrice Kaufman worked and played within the orbit of the famed wits of the Algonquin Round Table, but was not a regular member like her husband, playwright and director George S. Kaufman. But Beatrice Kaufman didn’t the need the Algonquin to display her wit. Indeed, according to Michael Galchinsky (writing for the Jewish Women’s Archive), she was regarded as one of the wittiest women in New York in the 1930s and 40s. Here is an example of her work in the June 1 issue of the New Yorker:
THE WITTIEST OF THEM ALL…Editor, writer and playwright Beatrice Kaufman (left, in undated photo). At right, comedian Julius Tannen (left) frolics with Beatrice and her husband, Broadway playwright/producer George S. Kaufman in Atlantic City in the 1920s. (thepurplediaries.com/spartacus-educational.com)
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Rags to Riches
The life of Fred F. French was something out of dime novel; born in dire poverty, he became a self-made real estate tycoon and a schrewd builder of some of Manhattan’s biggest land developments. French was the subject of a profile written by Robert M. Coates, an art critic who would be a longtime contributor to New Yorker. An excerpt, with illustration by Al Frueh:
MONUMENTS TO FRED…Fred French’s New York City buildings included, clockwise from left, the 38-story Fred F. French Building (1927) at 45th Street and 551 Fifth Avenue (designated a National Landmark); Knickerbocker Village (1934) on the Lower East Side; and the East Side’s Tudor City apartment complex (1927-1932). (Pinterest/thelodownny.com/Wikipedia)
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From Our Advertisers
Let’s start with a couple of lovely color ads, which appeared with greater frequency in the magazine…here we have a snatch of the good life, courtesy General Electric…
…and perhaps a less homespun image of the good life, from the makers of Dodge boats…
…and here we have another example of the modern world rushing in, this time in the form of instant coffee crystals…
…and another taste of the modern from Harper’s Bazar magazine, featuring an illustration by French artist and illustrator Charles Martin…
…and just for kicks, another example of Martin’s work from an earlier time…
Image from Sports et Divertissements by Charles Martin, 1914. (Wikipedia)
…and here is a back page ad for costume bag maker Whiting & Davis, with an endorsement by Joan Crawford, who was already a pretty big star by 1929. My guess is that Whiting & Davis paid more for the endorsement than they did for the ad…I included a photo of Crawford (at left) from 1929 just to show that she did have a lighter side…
…this ad from the makers of Flit insecticide begs the question: was our beloved Dr. Seuss (aka Theodore Geisel) a racist? Well…
…although Geisel was a liberal Democrat and a supporter of the New Deal, during World War II he also supported the internment of Japanese Americans, as is evident from this unfortunate 1942 cartoon…
Dr. Seuss 1942 cartoon with the caption ‘Waiting for the Signal from Home’ (slideshare.net)
…later in life Geisel became a staunch environmentalist and anti-war protestor. In 1961 he wrote The Sneetches, which promoted racial equality. Perhaps Geisel lived to regret those earlier drawings…
…and on to our illustrators and cartoonists, beginning with this sketch by Garrett Price, apparently inspired from a recent trip to France (it was featured along with several other small sketches in the “Profile” section)…
…Barbara Shermund had some fun with a double entendre…
…and popped up again with this look at the stock market…
…C.W. Anderson found humor in the strange shapes of modernist furniture…
…Otto Soglow commented on the glitzy hype of Broadway…
…and cartoonist/humorist Don Herold made his comics debut in the New Yorker with this entry…
…and finally, a bonus image I came across while researching the advent of sound motion pictures. The photo, from the silent era, shows two cameramen shooting a parade, possibly for a newsreel. Note how their only support consists of two wooden planks wedged into an open window…
The evolution of filmmaking in the 1920s included the development of “docudramas.” Nanook of the North (1922), which captured the struggles of an Inuit hunter and his family, was received with great acclaim. A few years later Grass (1925),directed by Merian C. Cooper andErnest B. Schoedsack, followed a tribe in Iran as they guided herds to greener pastures. So when Chang: A Drama of the Wilderness opened at the Rivoli, the New Yorker was there (May 7, 1927) to share in the adventure.
May 7, 1927 cover by Ilonka Karasz.
Chang, also directed by Cooper and Schoedsack, told the story of a poor farmer and his family (native, nonprofessional actors) in Issan — now northeastern Thailand — and their constant struggle for survival in the jungle. Cooper and Schoedsack attempted to depict real life but often re-staged events. The danger, however, was real to all involved, as was the slaughter of animals in the film.
(Wikipedia)
According to Ray Young, writing for Viennale, the website for the Vienna International Film Festival (which is screening a retrospective of Chang this fall) Cooper and Schoedsack “open with scenes of domestic bliss and, offsetting title card warnings of the dangers of the jungle, a bucolic Eden ripe for development. But the tone soon shifts as tigers and leopards attack, and the picture evolves into a succession of episodes concerning their survival.”
The perils in Changoften feel rigged, notes Young, “most conspicuously in places where animals appear to have been killed simply for the benefit of the camera. By most accounts, Schoedsack did most of the filming while Cooper covered him with a rifle.”
I’D BE WARY OF THOSE GUYS TOO…Image from the filming of Chang. (criticsroundup.com)JUST PASSING THROUGH…Elephants stampede a village in the film’s finale. (image capture from film)
Chang was nominated for the Academy Award for Unique and Artistic Production at the first Academy Awards in 1929. It was the only year when that award was presented (It lost to F.W. Murnau’s Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans).
However appalled as we are today by the film’s exploitation of humans and animals alike, we have to remember those were different times, even for the usually discerning eye of the New Yorker:
In 1927 most people had a very limited view of the non-Western world, which was perceived as both savage and exotic, populated by child-like “natives” who in this case “lent their facial expressions and habits to the affair most successfully…”
And so in 1927 we also encounter cartoons like this one by Alan Dunn that at once dismiss out-of-town conventioneers (here: an Elks Club) as a bunch of ignorant racists, yet the early New Yorker’s own depictions of blacks was usually limited to Mammies and simple-minded minstrels.
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The massive Graybar Building made its debut at420 Lexington Avenue, the multi-tiered edifice impressing the “Talk of the Town” editors with the latest technology, including push-button elevators:
The Graybar Building (history.graybar.com)
PERMANENT INFESTATION…The Graybar’s rain canopy cables include anti-rat devices (cones) decorated with rats. If you look carefully, the rosettes anchoring the cables are also decorated with rat heads. (deadprogrammer.com)
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The following advertisement needs some explanation: The 1867 Tenement House Act imposed constraints on height and lot coverage that large apartment buildings routinely violated.
According to an article in the Observer by Stephen Jacob Smith (April 30, 2013), “Some developers got out of these requirements by building co-operative buildings, without rental units, but others wanted to retain the revenue and control that came with rentals, while at the same time building larger structures than the tenement laws allowed. And thus was born the ‘apartment hotel.'”
The New York Times’s columnist Christopher Gray wrote (Oct. 4, 1992) that Apartment Hotels were a “widespread fiction of the period,” and “tenants in fact usually set up full kitchens in the serving pantries.” Smith adds that “one of the reasons apartment hotels were allowed to be built more densely than their fully residential counterparts was that there would be no cooking—a fire hazard in those days—in the units.” An so the ad:
Smith writes that by calling their buildings ‘apartment-hotels,’ builders could claim that as hotels they were outside of the rules of tenement legislation. He notes that “some of Manhattan’s most illustrious buildings were constructed using this legal sleight of hand,” including the Sherry-Netherland on Park Avenue.
The famous scaffolding fire at the Sherry-Netherland, which I featured in my last post, no doubt prompted developers to run the following ad in hopes that people would soon forget about the giant roman candle that burned bright near Central Park on the evening of April 12, 1927.
If you are ever in New York, check out the Sherry Netherland. It is a beautiful building.
And finally, this ad from the makers of Wildroot hair care products. I love the flapper artwork by John Held Jr., and even better the words “CRUDE-OIL SHAMPOO” displayed prominently as a selling point.
A New Yorker State of Mind 