Amadeo Peter Giannini…

was born on this date in 1870. Giannini was one of Time’s 20 most influential builders and titans of the 20th century. Daniel Kadlec wrote the story:

Like a lot of folks in the San Francisco area, Amadeo Peter Giannini was thrown from his bed in the wee hours of April 18, 1906, when the Great Quake shook parts of the city to rubble. He hurriedly dressed and hitched a team of horses to a borrowed produce wagon and headed into town–to the Bank of Italy, which he had founded two years earlier. Sifting through the ruins, he discreetly loaded $2 million in gold, coins and securities onto the wagon bed, covered the bank’s resources with a layer of vegetables and headed home.

In the days after the disaster, the man known as A.P. broke ranks with his fellow bankers, many of whom wanted area banks to remain shut to sort out the damage. Giannini quickly set up shop on the docks near San Francisco’s North Beach. With a wooden plank straddling two barrels for a desk, he began to extend credit “on a face and a signature” to small businesses and individuals in need of money to rebuild their lives. His actions spurred the city’s redevelopment.

That would have been legacy enough for most people. But Giannini’s mark extends far beyond San Francisco, where his dogged determination and unusual focus on “the little people” helped build what was at his death the largest bank in the country, Bank of America, with assets of $5 billion. (It’s now No. 2, with assets of $572 billion, behind Citigroup’s $751 billion.)

Most bank customers today take for granted the things Giannini pioneered, including home mortgages, auto loans and other installment credit. Heck, most of us take banks for granted. But they didn’t exist, at least not for working stiffs, until Giannini came along.

Giannini also made a career out of lending to out-of-favor industries. He helped the California wine industry get started, then bankrolled Hollywood at a time when the movie industry was anything but proven. In 1923 he created a motion-picture loan division and helped Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks and D.W. Griffith start United Artists. When Walt Disney ran $2 million over budget on Snow White, Giannini stepped in with a loan.

When Giannini died at age 79, his estate was worth less than $500,000. It was purely by choice. He could have been a billionaire but disdained great wealth, believing it would make him lose touch with the people he wanted to serve. For years he accepted virtually no pay, and upon being granted a surprise $1.5 million bonus one year promptly gave it all to the University of California. “Money itch is a bad thing,” he once said. “I never had that trouble.”

The greatest living ballplayer…

Mays.jpgis 73 today. That’s Willie Mays, obviously.

When Joe DiMaggio died in 1999, baseball luminaries were asked who inherited the title of greatest living player. NewMexiKen had a different assumption. I thought Willie Mays became the greatest living ballplayer when Ty Cobb died in 1961.

Manager Leo Durocher, who must have been from Deadwood, once recalled a remarkable home run by Mays: “I never saw a f—ing ball go out of a f—ing park so f—ing fast in my f—ing life!”

Orson Welles…

was born in Kenosha, Wisconsin, on this date in 1915. The following is taken from a longer piece at The Writer’s Almanac:

He was a child prodigy. He started reading Shakespeare when he was three years old, and he had a role in Madame Butterfly the same year. While he was still in high school, he co-authored a textbook on Shakespeare that sold twenty thousand copies.

By the time he was sixteen he had been accepted to Harvard, but instead of going there he went off to Ireland, bought a donkey and a cart, and traveled around the country painting. When he got to Dublin he was completely out of money; he later said, “I guess I could have gotten an honest job, as a dishwasher or a gardener, but I became an actor.” He posed as a professional actor from New York to get a job at the Gate Theatre in Dublin, and it was there that he made his acting debut, at the age of sixteen.

On this date…

Lightning.jpgin 1968, NewMexiKen was leaving the area of the University of Arizona and coasted through a stop sign. A Tucson PD motorcycle officer saw the infraction and pulled me over within seconds. As he told me what he’d seen and asked for my driver’s license I said, “My wife is in labor. I’m just anxious to get to her.” He gave me that “yeah, sure” look and walked back to his motorcycle to write me up. When he came back in a minute or two he said he was just giving me a written warning (no fine, no points). And then he added, “Be careful. We haven’t lost a father yet.”

A small moment made important to me because my oldest child was born later that evening. He’s 36 today, an attorney with a prestigious law firm, a capable photographer as you can see, and a daddy himself.

How can that be? Wasn’t it just yesterday?

Audrey Hepburn…

would have been 75 today. (She died in 1993.)

Ms. Hepburn was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Leading Role five times, winning the first time for Roman Holiday in 1954. She also received the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award, posthumously in 1993. Hersholt had presented the Oscar to Hepburn in 1954.

Audrey Kathleen Hepburn-Ruston was born in Brussels, Belgium, daughter of John Victor Hepburn-Ruston and Ella van Heemstra.

In 1963, it was Audrey Hepburn who sang Happy Birthday to President Kennedy.

Link Wray and Dick Dale…

two guys who ought to be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Link Wray was 75 Sunday. Cub Koda begins his essay about Wray for the All Music Guide:

Link Wray may never get into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, but his contribution to the language of rockin’ guitar would still be a major one, even if he had never walked into another studio after cutting “Rumble.” Quite simply, Link Wray invented the power chord, the major modus operandi of modern rock guitarists. Listen to any of the tracks he recorded between that landmark instrumental in 1958 through his Swan recordings in the early 1960s and you’ll hear the blueprints for heavy metal, thrash, you name it. Though rock historians always like to draw a nice, clean line between the distorted electric guitar work that fuels early blues records to the late-’60s Hendrix-Clapton-Beck-Page-Townshend mob, with no stops in between, a quick spin of any of the sides Link recorded during his golden decade punches holes in that theory right quick. If a direct line from a black blues musician crankin’ up his amp and playing with a ton of violence and aggression can be traced to a young, white guy doing a mutated form of same, the line points straight to Link Wray, no contest. Pete Townshend summed it up for more guitarists than he probably realized when he said, “He is the king; if it hadn’t been for Link Wray and ‘Rumble,’ I would have never picked up a guitar.”

To continue reading what Koda has to to say about Wray, go to the All Music Guide and search on Link Wray. (Direct link seemingly not possible.)

Dick Dale is 67 today. Steve Huey begins his essay about Wray for the All Music Guide:

Dick Dale wasn’t nicknamed “King of the Surf Guitar” for nothing: he pretty much invented the style single-handedly, and no matter who copied or expanded upon his blueprint, he remained the fieriest, most technically gifted musician the genre ever produced. Dale’s pioneering use of Middle Eastern and Eastern European melodies (learned organically through his familial heritage) was among the first in any genre of American popular music, and predated the teaching of such “exotic” scales in guitar-shredder academies by two decades. The breakneck speed of his single-note staccato picking technique was unrivalled until it entered the repertoires of metal virtuosos like Eddie Van Halen, and his wild showmanship made an enormous impression on the young Jimi Hendrix. But those aren’t the only reasons Dale was once called the father of heavy metal. Working closely with the Fender company, Dale continually pushed the limits of electric amplification technology, helping to develop new equipment that was capable of producing the thick, clearly defined tones he heard in his head, at the previously undreamed-of volumes he demanded. He also pioneered the use of portable reverb effects, creating a signature sonic texture for surf instrumentals. And, if all that weren’t enough, Dale managed to redefine his instrument while essentially playing it upside-down and backwards — he switched sides in order to play left-handed, but without re-stringing it (as Hendrix later did).

To continue reading what Huey has to to say about Dale, go to the All Music Guide.

Rock and Roll Hall of Famer Duane Eddy was 66 April 26.

Pete Seeger…

is 85 today. The following is from The Kennedy Center Honors page for Pete.

Pete Seeger is arguably the most influential folk artist in the United States. He was instrumental in popularizing the indigenous songs of this country, and his own songs, among them “If I Had a Hammer,” “We Shall Overcome,” “Turn, Turn, Turn,” and “Where Have All the Flowers Gone,” have served as anthems for an entire generation of Americans.

Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone?
Girls have picked them every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Calamity Jane

According to her very brief autobiography, Martha Jane Canary was born in Princeton, Missouri, on this date in 1852. That may or may not be any more truthful than the rest of that short work. A decent brief biography is found at the Adams Museum & House web site.

What’s unbelievable is to watch the wonderful portrayal of Jane by Robin Weigert on Deadwood, and then think that Calamity Jane was played by Doris Day in the movie Calamity Jane (1953) and Jane Alexander in the made-for-TV movie Calamity Jane (1984).

“Pray for the dead, and fight like hell for the living.”

Mary Harris Jones was born on this date in 1830 (or, more likely, 1837). She is better known to us as Mother Jones. The magazine named after her has a nice biographical essay that begins:

Upton Sinclair knew Mother Jones. The author of the best-selling exposé of the meatpacking industry, The Jungle, even made her a character in one of his novels, a lightly fictionalized work called The Coal War, which chronicled the bloody Colorado coal strike of 1913-14: “There broke out a storm of applause which swelled into a tumult as a little woman came forward on the platform. She was wrinkled and old, dressed in black, looking like somebody’s grandmother; she was, in truth, the grandmother of hundreds of thousands of miners.”

Stories, Sinclair wrote, were Mother Jones’ weapons, stories “about strikes she had led and speeches she had made; about interviews with presidents and governors and captains of industry; about jails and convict camps.” She berated the miners for their cowardice, telling them if they were afraid to fight, then she would continue on alone. “All over the country she had roamed,” Sinclair concluded, “and wherever she went, the flame of protest had leaped up in the hearts of men; her story was a veritable Odyssey of revolt.”

NewMexiKen has known about Mother Jones since the eponymous magazine first came out in 1976. What amazes me is that I had no knowledge of her before that, despite majoring in American history, and even though “For a quarter of a century, she roamed America, the Johnny Appleseed of activists.”

The essay is well worth reading.

Both Sides Now

Judy Collins is 65 today. Ms. Collins won a Grammy in 1968 for “Both Sides Now.” “Send in the Clowns” isn’t bad either. And best of all, “Amazing Grace,” for which I just paid 99 cents at iTunes.

Willie Nelson…

is 71 today. Rolling Stone tells us that:

1961 proved to be a turning point in Nelson’s career. After moving to Nashville, he landed a music publishing contract with Pamper Records. That year, three songs penned by Nelson hit the charts; Faron Young’s “Hello Walls,” Billy Walker’s “Funny How Time Slips Away” and Patsy Cline’s now-legendary lament “Crazy” all hit the Top 40.

BillandWillie.jpg

Throughout the 1960s, Nelson recorded a series of minor country hits. In 1965 he signed a deal with RCA Records, was accepted as a member of the Grand Ole Opry and became deeply entrenched in the Nashville music scene. By the close of the decade, however, Nelson was looking in a new direction. In an attempt to distance himself from what he felf was the formulaic country music coming out of Nashville at the time, Nelson moved back to Austin to reinvent his sound. In 1973 he released Shotgun Willie on Atlantic Records, the first album of his new “outlaw country” image. Nelson reached superstar status in 1975 when, after jumping from Atlantic to Columbia, he recorded the under-produced Red-Headed Stranger, which contained his first smash hit, a remake of Roy Acuff’s “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.”

In 1978 Nelson teamed up with fellow country outlaw Waylon Jennings to record Waylon and Willie and the country anthem “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys.” At the end of the ’70s, Nelson made the jump to the big screen appearing in Robert Redford’s The Electric Horseman and Honeysuckle Rose, for which he recorded his signature song “On the Road Again.”

Edward Kennedy Ellington…

that is, Duke Ellington, was born in Washington, D.C., on this date in 1899.

The PBS web site for JAZZ A Film By Ken Burns sums up Ellington succinctly.

Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington was the most prolific composer of the twentieth century in terms of both number of compositions and variety of forms. His development was one of the most spectacular in the history of music, underscored by more than fifty years of sustained achievement as an artist and an entertainer. He is considered by many to be America’s greatest composer, bandleader, and recording artist.

The extent of Ellington’s innovations helped to redefine the various forms in which he worked. He synthesized many of the elements of American music — the minstrel song, ragtime, Tin Pan Alley tunes, the blues, and American appropriations of the European music tradition — into a consistent style with which, though technically complex, has a directness and a simplicity of expression largely absent from the purported art music of the twentieth century. Ellington’s first great achievements came in the three-minute song form, and he later wrote music for all kinds of settings: the ballroom, the comedy stage, the nightclub, the movie house, the theater, the concert hall, and the cathedral. His blues writing resulted in new conceptions of form, harmony, and melody, and he became the master of the romantic ballad and created numerous works that featured the great soloists in his jazz orchestra.

The Red Hot Jazz Archive has a number of Ellington recordings on line [RealAudio files].

William Randolph Hearst…

was born on this date in 1863. Was Hearst the model for Charles Foster Kane? Here is what Orson Welles had to say in 1975 (written to promote a book about Hearst and actress Marion Davies).

When Frederick Remington was dispatched to the Cuban front to provide the Hearst newspapers with sketches of our first small step into American imperialism, the noted artist complained by telegram that there wasn’t really enough shooting to keep him busy. “You make the pictures,” Hearst wired back, “I’ll make the war.” This can be recognized not only as the true voice of power but also as a line of dialogue from a movie. In fact, it is the only purely Hearstian element in Citizen Kane.

There are parallels, but these can be just as misleading as comparisons. If San Simeon hadn’t existed, it would have been necessary for the authors of the movie to invent it. Except for the telegram already noted and the crazy art collection (much too good to resist), In Kane everything was invented.

Let the incredulous take note of the facts.

William Randolph Hearst was born rich. He was the pampered son of an adoring mother. That is the decisive fact about him. Charles Foster Kane was born poor and was raised by a bank. There is no room here for details, but the differences between the real man and the character in the film are far greater than those between the shipowner and the newspaper tycoon.

And what of Susan Alexander? What indeed.

It was a real man who built an opera house for the soprano of his choice, and much in the movie was borrowed from that story, but the man was not Hearst. Susan, Kane’s second wife, is not even based on the real-life soprano. Like most fictional characters, Susan’s resemblance to other fictional characters is quite startling. To Marion Davies she bears no resemblance at all.

Kane picked up Susan on a street corner—from nowhere—where the poor girl herself thought she belonged. Marion Davies was no dim shop-girl; she was a famous beauty who had her choice of rich, powerful and attractive beaux before Hearst sent his first bouquet to her stage door. That Susan was Kane’s wife and Marion was Hearst’s mistress is a difference more important than might be guessed in today’s changed climate of opinion. The wife was a puppet and a prisoner; the mistress was never less than a princess. Hearst built more than one castle, and Marion was the hostess in all of them: they were pleasure domes indeed, and the Beautiful People of the day fought for invitations. Xanadu was a lonely fortress, and Susan was quite right to escape from it. The mistress was never one of Hearst’s possessions: he was always her suitor, and she was the precious treasure of his heart for more than thirty years, until his last breath of life. Theirs is truly a love story. Love is not the subject of Citizen Kane.

Susan was forced into a singing career because Kane had been forced out of politics. She was pushed from one public disaster to another by the bitter frustration of the man who believed that because he had married her and raised her up out of obscurity she was his to use as he might will. There is hatred in that.

Hearst put up the money for many of the movies in which Marion Davies was starred and, more importantly, backed her with publicity. But this was less of a favor than might appear. That vast publicity machine was all too visible; and finally, instead of helping, it cast a shadow—a shadow of doubt. Could the star have existed without the machine? The question darkened an otherwise brilliant career.

As one who shares much of the blame for casting another shadow—the shadow of Susan Alexander Kane—I rejoice in this opportunity to record something which today is all but forgotten except for those lucky enough to have seen a few of her pictures: Marion Davies was one of the most delightfully accomplished comediennes in the whole history of the screen. She would have been a star if Hearst had never happened. She was also a delightful and very considerable person.

Jay Leno…

is 54 today.

“President Bush’s campaign is now attacking John Kerry for throwing away some of his medals to protest the Vietnam War. Bush did not have any medals to throw away, but in his defense he did have all his service records thrown out.”

Jay Leno

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha

Walter Lantz was born on this date in 1899. Lantz was the creator of such animated characters as Andy Panda, Chilly Willy, Wally Walrus and the greatest cartoon character of them all, Woody Woodpecker.

Walter Lantz was nominated for the Academy Award 10 times. He received the Academy’s Life-Time Achievement Award in 1979.

Lantz.jpg

Click on the image above to visit lantz.toonzone.net for audio and video clips and lots of other goodies.

Ella Fitzgerald…

was born in Newport News on this date in 1918. Scott Yanow’s essay for the All Music Guide is excellent.

“The First Lady of Song,” Ella Fitzgerald was arguably the finest female jazz singer of all time (although some may vote for Sarah Vaughan or Billie Holiday). Blessed with a beautiful voice and a wide range, Fitzgerald could outswing anyone, was a brilliant scat singer, and had near-perfect elocution; one could always understand the words she sang. The one fault was that, since she always sounded so happy to be singing, Fitzgerald did not always dig below the surface of the lyrics she interpreted and she even made a downbeat song such as “Love for Sale” sound joyous. However, when one evaluates her career on a whole, there is simply no one else in her class.

One could never guess from her singing that Ella Fitzgerald’s early days were as grim as Billie Holiday’s. Growing up in poverty, Fitzgerald was literally homeless for the year before she got her big break. In 1934, she appeared at the Apollo Theater in Harlem, winning an amateur contest by singing “Judy” in the style of her idol, Connee Boswell. After a short stint with Tiny Bradshaw, Fitzgerald was brought to the attention of Chick Webb by Benny Carter (who was in the audience at the Apollo). Webb, who was not impressed by the 17-year-old’s appearance, was reluctantly persuaded to let her sing with his orchestra on a one-nighter. She went over well and soon the drummer recognized her commercial potential. Starting in 1935, Fitzgerald began recording with Webb’s Orchestra, and by 1937 over half of the band’s selections featured her voice. “A-Tisket, A-Tasket” became a huge hit in 1938 and “Undecided” soon followed. During this era, Fitzgerald was essentially a pop/swing singer who was best on ballads while her medium-tempo performances were generally juvenile novelties. She already had a beautiful voice but did not improvise or scat much; that would develop later.

On June 16, 1939, Chick Webb died. It was decided that Fitzgerald would front the orchestra even though she had little to do with the repertoire or hiring or firing the musicians. She retained her popularity and when she broke up the band in 1941 and went solo; it was not long before her Decca recordings contained more than their share of hits. She was teamed with the Ink Spots, Louis Jordan, and the Delta Rhythm Boys for some best-sellers, and in 1946 began working regularly for Norman Granz’s Jazz at the Philharmonic. Granz became her manager although it would be nearly a decade before he could get her on his label. A major change occurred in Fitzgerald’s singing around this period. She toured with Dizzy Gillespie’s big band, adopted bop as part of her style, and started including exciting scat-filled romps in her set. Her recordings of “Lady Be Good,” “How High the Moon,” and “Flying Home” during 1945-1947 became popular and her stature as a major jazz singer rose as a result. For a time (December 10, 1947-August 28, 1953) she was married to bassist Ray Brown and used his trio as a backup group. Fitzgerald’s series of duets with pianist Ellis Larkins in 1950 (a 1954 encore with Larkins was a successful follow-up) found her interpreting George Gershwin songs, predating her upcoming Songbooks series.

After appearing in the film Pete Kelly’s Blues in 1955, Fitzgerald signed with Norman Granz’s Verve label and over the next few years she would record extensive Songbooks of the music of Cole Porter, the Gershwins, Rodgers & Hart, Duke Ellington, Harold Arlen, Jerome Kern, and Johnny Mercer. Although (with the exception of the Ellington sets) those were not her most jazz-oriented projects (Fitzgerald stuck mostly to the melody and was generally accompanied by string orchestras), the prestigious projects did a great deal to uplift her stature. At the peak of her powers around 1960, Fitzgerald’s hilarious live version of “Mack the Knife” (in which she forgot the words and made up her own) from Ella in Berlin is a classic and virtually all of her Verve recordings are worth getting.

Fitzgerald’s Capitol and Reprise recordings of 1967-1970 are not on the same level as she attempted to “update” her singing by including pop songs such as “Sunny” and “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” sounding quite silly in the process. But Fitzgerald’s later years were saved by Norman Granz’s decision to form a new label, Pablo. Starting with a Santa Monica Civic concert in 1972 that is climaxed by Fitzgerald’s incredible version of “C Jam Blues” (in which she trades off with and “battles” five classic jazzmen), Fitzgerald was showcased in jazz settings throughout the 1970s with the likes of Count Basie, Oscar Peterson, and Joe Pass, among others. Her voice began to fade during this era and by the 1980s her decline due to age was quite noticeable. Troubles with her eyes and heart knocked her out of action for periods of time, although her increasingly rare appearances found Fitzgerald still retaining her sense of swing and joyful style. By 1994, Ella Fitzgerald was in retirement and she passed away two years later, but she remains a household name and scores of her recordings are easily available on CD.

Edward R. Murrow…

was born in Greensboro, North Carolina on this date in 1908. According to The Encylcopedia of Television

Edward R. Murrow is the most distinguished and renowned figure in the history of American broadcast journalism. He was a seminal force in the creation and development of electronic newsgathering as both a craft and a profession. …

David Halberstam once observed in The Powers That Be that Murrow was “one of those rare legendary figures who was as good as his myth.” …

Ed Murrow’s rich, full, and expressive voice first came to the attention of America’s listening public in his many rooftop radio broadcasts during the Battle of Britain in 1939. In words evocative of America’s original founding fathers, Murrow frequently used the airwaves to revivify and popularize many democratic ideals such as free speech, citizen participation, the pursuit of truth, and the sanctification of individual liberties and rights, that resulted from a broader liberal discourse in England, France, and the United States. Resurrecting these values and virtues for a mass audience of true believers during the London Blitz was high drama–the opposing threat of totalitarianism, made real by Nazi bombs, was ever present in the background. Ed Murrow’s persona was thus established, embodying the political traditions of the Western democracies, and offering the public a heroic model on which to focus their energies.

Continue reading about Murrow from The Encylcopedia of Television.

See also the Radio Hall of Fame entry for Murrow, which includes a brief sound clip from London during the war.