Columnist Joe Delaney: More magic moments

Joe Delaney

Friday, Jan. 9, 1998 | 9:40 a.m.

MAGIC MOMENTS 2: This is the second in a series of special show business moments this columnist has experienced in more than 50 years spent in various areas of the entertainment world. ... We began, at age 15, as a "gopher," going for this and that, backstage at Philadelphia' Earle Theatre, a major 1930s vaudeville house.

Al Jolson, considered by many to be the greatest entertainer in the first half of this century, accorded me a very special moment. ... In the 1920s, Jolson became the catalyst for "talking pictures" when he sang in the original "Jazz Singer," later remade as a vehicle for Neil Diamond. ... The mid-1940s found Jolson involuntarily retired.

Decca Records, now MCA, was about to cut his album out of its catalog. ... The late Sidney Skolsky, an entertainment columnist, came up with the idea for the film, "The Jolson Story," with Larry Parks portraying Jolson.

We were there

Parks, a fine actor, lip-synched those original Decca recordings, including such Jolson classics as "Swanee," "My Mammy," and "Rock-A-Bye Your Baby With a Dixie Melody." ... Sales for the nearly-deleted album sky-rocketed. ... Success of both the film and the album prompted a second film, "Jolson Sings Again" plus an album by that title.

My job at Decca was to create an album tie-in with the second film. ... Jolson, then in his 60s, agreed to do a 15-minute performance every hour for 13 hours, 10 a.m. to 10 p.m., at 13 different RKO Manhattan Theatres. ... He was backed by the Bob Crosby Bobcats.

Jolson loved Dixieland music. ... We gave him the best players: Yank Lawson, Matty Matlock and Eddie Miller, Gene Schroeder, Bob Haggart, and drummer George Wettling, subbing for Ray Bauduc. ... We all traveled by limousine with piano, bass and drum set-ups at each theatre.

How it ended

The 13th appearance was at RKO's West 86th Street Theatre; we were onstage exactly at 10 p.m. ... Jolson walked to center stage to thunderous applause and asked the capacity crowd if "they wanted to watch this 'cockamamie' movie or listen to the real Jolson in person?" ... The response was immediate: "Sing, Al, we want you." ... And sing he did, non-stop, for two solid hours and left with them yelling for more.

Jolson left us less than a year later. ... That day and night will live forever in my memory and, I'm sure, in the memories of all those present in the RKO West 86th Street Theatre that evening.

How I began

Seventy-six years ago today, on a rainy Philadelphia night at 8 o'clock, on Passayunk Avenue, across from the old Moyamensing Prison, we made our entry into this world. ... My grandfather later told me that I was born "on the wrong side of the street." ... The family later moved to 25th & Lehigh, the Shibe Park area.

Orphaned before I was five, I lived with various Irish-American families, one school term at a time, until I was 12. ... From age 13 to 17, I had my own apartment, attended high school, and worked nights in an Italian-American bakery in charge of the late shift.

It was always large families I lived with. ... I was the extra kid, always made to feel welcome, both with the Irish and the Italian families. ... From age 17 to 19, I worked in the wholesale floor-covering business, the only gentile wholesale linoleum salesman in Philadelphia.

Growing up

At age 15, I worked nights, weekends at the Earle Theatre. ... I was an ordinary trumpet player, studied music, loved jazz, worked part-time with a juke box operator, hoping to be in the record business someday. ... On Dec. 8, 1941, a Monday, at age 19, I was rejected by the U.S. Marines due to a recent surgery. ... The U.S. Army Air Corps was not that particular.

An honorable discharge as a master sergeant in 1946 led me to a job with Decca Records where I started as a salesman, went into promotions, then recording, before launching Decca's Coral label, a wholly owned subsidiary. ... From there I re-organized the London label, then went off to New Orleans and Tulane Law School in 1951. ... I've been a member of the Louisiana Bar since 1953.

SUN readers who have tolerated this column these past 31 years know the rest of the story. ... It's time for our annual January hiatus so I shall be absent from this space until Jan. 29. ... See you then.