Funny, It Doesn't Sound Jewish: How Yiddish Songs and Synagogue Melodies Influenced Tin Pan Alley, Broadway, and Hollywood

Chapter 4: “Writes” of Passage

74 chapter 4 “Writes” of Passage Marching backward into the future. theodore bikel describing his career in a 1988 radio interview (wnew, New York City) Accent-Free Adaptations–“And the Angels Sing” T hus far the examples of adaptation, adoption, and absorption have been loaded. Jewish material has not been so much converted as it has been recycled .1 Although stylized for Yankee audiences, these selections retain a recognizably Jewish inflection. But it’s equally possible to adapt, adopt, and absorb Jewish song-stuff without leaving any accent. In 1939, a Jewish dance (Ex. 4-1a) was so gussied up by Ziggy Elman, the jazz trumpeter, it was hardly recognizable (Ex. 4-1b)—despite its original title of “Fralikh in Swing.” Freylekh, from the German freulich, means happy; the tune is a.k.a. “Der shtiler bulgar” (The Quiet Bulgar): With words by Johnny Mercer,* the bridge section of the adaptation shows vigorous assimilation: Ziggy Elman (1914-1968) was one of several jazz musicians who were also adept at playing klezmer music, among them: trumpeters Mannie Klein (1908-1994) and the African American Charlie Shavers (1913-1917), fiddler Abe Schwartz (18811963 ), and trombonist Sy Zentner (1917-2000). Others were destined to build international careers known for the most part only to those of the same ethnic background, including clarinetists Naftule Brandwein (or Brandwine, 1884-1963), David Tarras (1897-1989), and his son-in-law Sam Musiker (1916-64), whose name bespoke his profession. Better known to the public at large was clarinetist Mickey Katz (1909-1985). Far less a purist than the others, he was influenced by the antics of Spike Jones (1911-1965), in whose band he played from 1943 to 1947. Among Tin Pan Alley tunes Katz targeted there were “Shrimp Boats,” which—to keep it kosher—he turned into “Herring Boats,” and “Davy Crockett,” converted to “David Crockett.” In the 1990s, African-American clarinetist Don Byron revived Katz’s repertoire in live performance. Returning to Elman’s swinging angels, the freylekh on which he based his tune, originates from Romania; but Russia was generally the more likely source for adaptations . Witness the following examples, decade by decade. In the 1920s, Gershwin and Herbert Stothart adapted two Russian songs for the musical Song of the Flame: “Cossack Love Song,” based on “Minka, Minka,” and the title song (Ex.4-3a) from “Kazbeck” (Ex. 4-3b): In the 1930s, Jack Lawrence, author of the hit ballad “All or Nothing at All,” combined a Ukrainian folk song with a paraphrase of an old English rhyme into a blockbuster smash for Dinah Shore. In the Russian original, a mother exhorts her son not to be enticed by pretty girls (Ex. 4-4a); but Lawrence has it as a daughter, not a son, receiving mama’s advice about the opposite sex (Ex. 4-4b):2 In the 1940s, Sholom Secunda’s Yiddish tune “Dona, Dona”3 (Ex. 4-5a), later popularized in English by Theodore Bikel, Joan Baez, and others, is a partial absorption from the main theme of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake ballet (Ex. 4-5b). But unlike the Jack Lawrence adaptation, this was not a willful borrowing. If anything, Irving Berlin’s “Russian Lullaby” is more consonant with the Swan Lake strain (Ex. 4-5c): “writes” of passage 75 76 funny, it doesn’t sound jewish In “Somewhere” (from West Side Story), Leonard Bernstein shows an affinity for the succeeding phrase of Tchaikovsky’s ballet theme. Like the Secunda melody, Bernstein’s also is an inadvertent analogue, despite its rhythmic allegiance to Tchaikovsky: “Dona, Dona” and “Russian Lullaby” are not so much Tchaikovsky-inspired as they are recollections of Mother Russia refined through a Jewish sensibility. “Somewhere,” on the other hand, is more Tchaikovsky-oriented as processed through an American sensibility. With the latter two examples, we depart from opening melodic statements to interior and to penultimate phrases. In these regions also, there are examples of Russo-American crossover. One such illustration is a secondary phrase from the sultry “Amado Mio,” performed by Rita Hayworth (but dubbed by singer Anita Ellis) in the film noir classic Gilda (Ex. 4-7a). These notes are virtually a retrograde version of an interior section from a 1934 Tin Pan Alley tango, “The Moon Was Yellow”(Ex.4-7b). Play the notes of Ex. 7a backwards and you can almost reproduce Ex. 4-7b. Whatever the lineage might have been between the...