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Billy Murray is unknown to the majority of Americans,
including those professing to know something about popular
music. Therefore, it is understandable that Murray would
receive few votes in any poll attempting to name the twentieth
century's most influential entertainers. After all, his career was
effectively over by the time of the stock market crash of
1929. Moreover, there has never been any concerted
effort to revive his recordings since the period of his peak
popularity. Even during the time when he was a highly
successful artist, between 1903-1927 (the span when his
recordings were recognized to be best sellers), his name
was curiously absent from the mainstream mass media as well
as most entertainment publications.
But one of the greatest entertainers in this century he
was. Murray's influence was centered within the recording
industry; his impact manifested itself from a wide variety
of perspectives. During an era dominated by a formal,
operatically-influenced style of singing, he was a pivotal
figure in ushering in a more natural approach, especially
through the witty interplay of his duets with Ada Jones.
The utilization of many dialogue-like features lead some
contemporary observers such as singer William Robyn to
wrongly dismiss Murray as a "talker."
It is notable that Victor, the company with which Murray
is most closely identified, referred to him primarily as
a comedian. The accomplishments of such notables as Cal,
Stewart, Arthur Collins and Byron G. Harlan, Billy Jones
and Ernest Hare (The Happiness Boys), Spike Jones, Ray
Stevens, and Al Yankovic notwithstanding, Murray left a
greater body of comedy recordings than any other artist in
the history of the medium. Like all great comedians, he
often transcended his material through his mastery of dialect,
nuance, and characterization. His range in the interpretation
of humorous material was awesome. Whereas most comedians
tended to focus on one subcategory such as satire or nonsense
verse, Murray's body of recorded work suggested a talent for
all comic forms (see: Figure 1).
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FIGURE 1: A REPRESENTATIVE LIST OF BILLY MURRAY RECORDINGS
CLASSIFIED BY HUMOR GENRES
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Allegory
The War In Snider's Grocery Store (1914)
Black Humor
Some Little Bug Is Going To Find You (1915)
Blue Humor/Double Entendre
Hinky Dinky Parley Voo (1924)
If You Talk In Your Sleep Don't Mention My Name (1912)
You've Got To See Mama Ev'ry Night (Or You Can't See Mama At All) (1923)
Caricature
He's A Devil In His Own Home Town (1914)
They Start The Victrola (And Go Dancing Around The Floor) (1914)
This Is The Life (1914)
Comic Sketches
At The Village Post Office (1907)
An Evening At Mrs. Clancy's Boarding House (1907)
Ethnic/Racial Humor
Hi Lee Hi Lo (1923)
Indianola (1918)
The Irish Were Egyptians Long Ago (1942)
That Tango Tokio (1913)
When Tony Goes Over The Top (1919)
Nonsense Verse
Can You Tame Wild Wimmen? (1920)
Humpty Dumpty (1922)
Story Book Ball (1918)
What Does the Pussycat Mean When She Says "Me-ow"? (1923)
Whistle It (1907)
Yes, We Have No Bananas (1923)
Nut Songs
My Little 'Rang Outang (1903)
Up In A Cocoanut Tree (1903)
Parody
Africa (1924)
I'm Looking For The Man That Wrote The
Merry Widow Waltz (1908)
K-K-K-Katy (1918)
My Cousin Caruso (1909)
Where Did Robinson Crusoe Go With Friday On Saturday Night? (1916)
Rube Sketches (See: Comic Sketches)
Satire
He Goes To Church On Sunday (1907)
In The Old Town Hall (1920)
My Old New Jersey Home (1920)
Over On The Jersey Side (1909)
Situational Comedy
Any Ice Today, Lady? (1923)
Do You Take This Woman For Your Lawful Wife? (1914)
Don't Bring Lulu (1925)
Everybody Works But Father (1905)
He Went In Like A Lion And Came Out Like A Lamb (1920)
I Don't Like Your Family (1907)
I Love Me (1921)
I'm Afraid To Come Home In The Dark (1907)
I've Got My Captain Working For Me Now (1919)
If War Is What Sherman Said It Was (1915)
Keep Your Skirts Down, Mary Ann (1926)
Topical Humor
The Alcoholic Blues (1919)
He'd Have To Get Under--Get Out And Get Under (To Fix Up His Automobile) (1914)
I Think I Oughtn't Auto Any More (1907)
The Little Ford Rambled Right Along (1915)
On The 5:15 (1915)
Take Your Girlie To The Movies (If You Can't Make Love At Home) (1919)
They Were All Out Of Step But Jim (1918)
Wait Till You Get Them Up In The Air, Boys (1920)
Word Play
And He'd Say Oo-La-La! Wee Wee! (1919)
Fido Is A Hot Dog Now (1915)
Sister Susie's Sewing Shirts For Soldiers (1918)
The Whole Damm Family (1907)
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Murray was far more than a brilliant comedian, though;
he was an incredibly versatile artist who was comfortable
working within a variety of styles. His career was a testament
to the fact that a multi-faceted recording artist could thrive
without being compartmentalized. Murray's contemporaries were
not always successful in avoiding the pigeon-holes provided
for them by the record companies. Henry Burr and Harry
Macdonough--the artists whose record sales came closest to
equalling Murray's during the first two decades of the
century--felt the need to change their names (from Harry
McClaskey and John Scantlebury Macdonald, respectively) as
well as to specialize in ballads and sentimental fare. Collins
and Harlan were identified almost exclusively with coon songs
and novelty items. Virtuoso instrumentalists were channeled
into playing seemingly endless rounds of either short bravura
pieces (e.g., violinist Charles D'Almaine) or time-tested
minstrel fare (e.g., banjo players Vess Ossman and Fred Van
Eps). Even the industrious and well-connected Len Spencer
found it hard to shake the label of rube impersonator for the
remainder of his career after the hitherto unprecedented success
of his comic sketch, "The Arkansaw Traveler."
Murray's career, however, served to shatter such precedents.
After starting out as an interpreter of the sentimental ballads,
vaudeville comedy, and novelty items popular at the time, he
kept on top singing ragtime and other dance numbers. Despite
some diminution of his popularity following World War I, he
adapted well to jazz and band-oriented numbers from a
stylistic point of view. Murray was still regarded highly
enough that the majority of American record companies
attempted to get him into the studio after the electronic
recording process was implemented beginning in mid-1925.
The new technology helped bring into vogue a softer, crooning
form of delivery. Murray was able to adjust yet again to
this new style, despite mixed results at the outset. During
the Great Depression his recorded output consisted largely
of spoken dialogue to children's stories and film cartoons.
He managed a singing comeback in the early 1940s, however,
concentrating this time on Irish numbers which steered clear
of the schlocky approach typifying the output of many other
practitioners within this genre.
But above all else, Murray was born to legitimize the
acoustical sound process which employed recording horns rather
than the electronic microphone. He was endowed with a
particular set of qualities--powerful lungs which enabled him
to project his voice to maximum effect, excellent intonation,
the bility to sing long phrases in rapid-fire material without
taking a breath, and an unerring sense for mastering the
basics of a song prior to the first take--which made him a
virtuoso in that setting. His ability to cut clean, vibrant
records gave that fledging industry the credibility--and sales
impact--necessary to carry it to the next technological phase;
i.e., electronic sound reproduction.
Perhaps of greatest importance to the recording industry,
Murray was one of the first artists--and certainly the most
successful of this group--to focus his energies on the studio
environment. Whereas many of his contemporaries concentrated
on live performance venues such as vaudeville and opera as well
as other professions (e.g., artist management, executive slots
with record companies, politics, education), Murray made a
living largely from the accumulated receipts of his recording
sessions. He considered himself a professional recording
artist, a significant point in an era when such work was
not widely respected. Even many of the recording artists
of that era had reservations about the aesthetic value of the
medium. Concerning the liberties taken by record companies
at the outset of his career, Harry Macdonough commented,
"That didn't matter, because I was completely
indifferent to what they called me. I thought
then that record-making was a sort of lowdown
business, anyway."
Sammy Herman, a xylaphonist who performed with Murray
and Burr as part of the Victor Eight during the mid-1920s,
had negative feelings upon hearing the results of his first
recording for Clear Tone, recalling, "It didn't sound the way
I expected it to sound. I didn't like it."
While a measure of this ill repute was a result of the
poor sound reproduction characterizing pioneer era records
and cylinders, certain artists were simply endowed with poor
recording voices. Sophie Tucker's reaction upon hearing her
first takes represented evidence that sensational live
performers did not always translate well to the studio (as
well as justifying the existence of a cadre of professional
record makers who possessed the voices, diction, and
techniques necessary to produced good records):
"I made the songs "The Lovin' Rag" and "That
Lovin' Two-Step Man." I worked a whole morning
on them. When I heard the playback I turned to
the boys and let out a yell: ‘My Gad, I sound
like a foghorn!’ I was terrible."
Classical music artists held similar reservations about
the new industry. Arturo Toscanini, the most famous conductor
of the first half of the twentieth century, spent little time in
the studio prior to the 1930s. He only began recording heavily
when he was convinced that the technology was sufficiently
advanced to permit reasonably decent sound reproduction
and he given complete control over the process. Caruso,
whose name is virtually synonymous with early recording,
also became involved with extreme misgivings, remaining
highly selective regarding his sessions right up to his
death.
Murray also deserves credit for his role in either
introducing or popularizing countless pop music standards,
including the more notable compositions of the leading
American songwriters of that era such as Irving Berlin,
George M. Cohan, and the von Tilzer brothers, Al and Harry.
The monographs and reference sources available to the
present generation tend to emphasize the role played by
Broadway and other stage performers in putting across a
song to the public. However, few Americans of that day
had the opportunity to take in a stage show featuring the
leading performing artists unless they were financially
well off and resided near the cultural centers generally
located on the Eastern seaboard (e.g., Boston, New York,
Philadelphia, Washington, D.C.). But many rank-and-file
Americans did own cylinder players and Victrolas. Popular
recordings, sold in a wide variety of retail outlets
honeycombing the nation as well as via mail order, often
sold millions of units at a time when radio and television
were not available in the home. Murray and his chief rivals
were household names on a par with sport celebrities like Babe
Ruth and movie stars such as Charlie Chaplin. Composers worked
hard to get their material recorded by these artists; in turn,
their interpretations became the ones most widely imprinted in
the American mind. It was no accident that Warren Beatty
included the American Quartet's rendition of "Oh, You Beautiful
Doll" as part of the aural backdrop to a social gathering of
intellectuals at home during the World War I era in his film,
Reds.
The roll call of song classics Murray made his own is a
lengthy one, including
--Alexander's Ragtime Band
--By The Beautiful Sea
--By the Light of the Silvery Moon
--Casey Jones
--Come, Josephine, In My Flying Machine
--Everything Is Peaches Down In Georgia
--For Me And My Gal
--Give My Regards To Broadway
--The Grand Old Rag (Flag)
--If You Knew Susie (Like I Know Susie)
--In My Merry Oldsmobile
--It's A Long, Long Way To Tipperary
--Meet Me In St. Louis, Louis
--Moonlight Bay
--Oh, You Beautiful Doll
--Over There
--Pretty Baby
--Shine On, Harvest Moon
--Yankee Doodle Boy
So why is Murray's name curiously absent from most
chronicles of the music of the early part of the century?
First and foremost, it should be noted that most music
historians have exhibited a greater interest in genres
other than mainstream pop music, especially classical forms
and rural-based indigenous American forms such as country
and western and the blues. Coverage of popular music has
revealed a bias toward the performing artist in the case of
Broadway musicals and the songwriter regarding Tin Pan Alley
material.
Part of the reason behind this lack of coverage would
appear to be the result of the negative stereotyping found
in much of the era's music. Staunch advocates of political
correctness would be alienated by the ethnic slurs of songs
such as "That Tango Tokio" (Edison 2026; 1913) and "Indianola"
(Victor; 1918). Likewise, feminists would find little humor in
material like "When the Grown-Up Ladies Act Like Babies" (Victor
17678; 1915), "There's a Little Bit of Bad in Every Good Little
Girl" (Victor 18143; 1916), and "Wait Till You Get Them Up In
the Air, Boys" (Columbia 2794; 1919/20).
An even greater downside to the pre-World War I repertoire
was the popularity of the coon song. The last stage of the
minstrel song, the genre--almost always written and performed
by whites--began with songs such as "Coonville Guards" (1881),
("The Coon Dinner" (1882) and "New Coon in Town" (1883)
and peaked with Barney Fagan's "My Gal Is a Highborn Lady"
(1886) and Ernest Hogan's "All Coons Look Alike to Me" (1886).
Hamm defined it in the following manner:
The ‘coon’ song is usually in dialect, with a
text somewhat less than complimentary to blacks.
Musically, it takes on the verse-solo form of
contemporary Tin Pan Alley song, with the chief
melodic material in the chorus, and is sung at a
lively tempo, usually with some bits of simple
syncopation. It is, in fact, nothing more or
less than a slightly deviant offspring of Tin
Pan Alley song, difficult to distinguish in
style from the classics of the ragtime song.
In addition, the recording industry has been largely ignored
in studies of early popular music. This situation is largely
due to the primitive audio properties of acoustic recordings.
the limited frequency range, preponderance of surface noise, and
other features of early recordings have severely limited the
output of reissued material in contemporary configurations such
as the compact disc. It is notable that even legendary artists
whose output reaches back to the acoustic era--e.g., Al Jolson,
Bing Crosby, Paul Whiteman, Louis Armstrong, and Duke
Ellington--have had their later recordings receive far greater
attention than their oftentimes superior early work. The
potential for "cleaning up" and enhancing the sound quality
of pioneer recordings via new technological advances such as
the CEDAR 2 system could eventually improve the public's
access to this material and ultimately stimulate greater
attention on the part of researchers.