Locomotive to the Past George Schultz (top 10 books to read TXT) 📖

that his recording, the previous year, of There Are Such Things had (finally) knocked Bing Crosby’s all-time best-selling recording, of White Christmas, out of first place—had spun two other records, onto the best-seller list. They were The Night We Called It A Day and Night And Day.

It was amazing how many, of the multitude of things—that Grandpa Piepczyk had taught him, over his youthful years—“had schtuck”! (Like the old man. Jason had always pronounced the word, “stuck”—with a heavy, syrupy, German dialect.)

In his early-forties existence, whenever something, of note—in the world of popular music—would appear, on the scene, some long-forgotten item, of which the old man would have informed “Jimmy Root”, never failed to “pop to the surface”! And—almost invariably—the tidbit would serve the young man well, in his, highly-satisfying, chosen, field of endeavor!

For instance, once Frank had recorded the two similar-sounding tunes, listed above, it reminded our favorite “radio personality” of a particularly extensive “sermon” that his grandfather had delivered—had repeated, practically word-for-word, on two or three different occasions. The old man had been a little repetitive—especially in his final two or three (or four or five) years, of his too-short lifetime.

Those two recordings—Jason had informed his growing audience, on the occasion of each recording being released—had come from what would later become known as “The Stordahl Session”!

Our Hero had not remembered his grandfather mentioning the name, of Axel Stordahl—although the gifted arranger/conductor had been a close friend, and associate, of Paul Weston, whom the old man had, practically, adored! (Well, literally adored!)

Both of these, top-flight, musicians had been, extremely-talented, arrangers—with the Tommy Dorsey band. Mr. Weston—and his wife-to-be—had left TD’s aggregation, when Johnny Mercer had founded Capitol Records. And the couple had come out with a few recordings, in 1942 and 1943—all of which had done well. None, though, had never quite reached the “Hit” category.

A few months after Mr. Weston and Miss Stafford had departed the Dorsey band, Frank was recruited—to replace baritone Barry Wood, on Your Hit Parade.

When Frank left the Dorsey group, he took Axel Stordahl with him. Mr. Stordahl then went on, to arrange the three or four tunes—that Frank would croon, every Saturday night. The show’s musical conductor was a man named Mark Warnow—who was reputed to not have gotten along well with Frank.

At the same time, Axel was also featured as the arranger/conductor—during Frank’s very successful, ten-year, run at Columbia Records, from 1942-to-1952. The two went on to collaborate—on many recordings—over that decade!

In addition, Frank seemed to always have a radio show—and, at least, one TV program. The latter had also featured Axel’s wife—June Hutton—as female vocalist. She’d gone on—to become Grandpa’s favorite “girl-type singer”. The many Sinatra commitments had, of course, meant week-in and week-out needs, for continual orchestra arrangements—and as many conducting assignments—for the talented, industrious, Mr. Stordahl.

The Weston/Stordahl combine had also written many songs together—during their final Dorsey days, and even beyond. Two of these ballads turned out to be out and out hits: I Should Care and Day By Day.

It was surprising, then, that Jason had not remembered all this “data”, pertaining to Mr. Stordahl. Not till Frank’s recording of Night And Day had turned up, at the radio studio! Once that had happened, all of the, highly-informative, background—Grandpa’s voluminous dissertations—had come flooding back, to Our Hero! This took place—with the arrival, of the initial RCA Victor disc!

“Frank had still been employed… by the Dorsey band,” Jason had explained, to his, by-then-sizeable, audience. “But Victor . . . the same label that had had a long-standing contract, with Tommy… offered Frank a substantial amount of money, to record six songs! Six ballads! All independent… of the band. This was unknown, to Tommy! Till a few months, before this recording… Night And Day . . . was to come out. Tommy was furious, of course… and Frank’s leaving the band soon followed.”

It was at that point that the station’s “head gazink” had shown up—outside the studio’s window! His expression—was that, of incredibility! Surprisingly—or maybe not—Jason paid him no mind!

“I really believe,” Jason spieled on, “that Frank already had the Hit Parade gig sewn up, by then. In any case, these records will, I’m sure, come to be known as ‘The Stordahl Session’! Because all six songs were arranged… and conducted . . . by Axel Stordahl! As I understand it, Frank paid him something like fifteen-hundred dollars… for the six arrangements, So, Frank must have gotten a tidy piece of change… from the people, at Victor!”

Jason then played Night And Day. He, then, followed—by turning the record over. And playing the “B” side, of the disc—Street Of Dreams.

About halfway through the playing of “Street”, Jason took note, of Mr. Garback! His expression had—notably—changed! He looked furious!

But still, he did not enter the studio! Instead, he stormed off! Presumably, back to his office! Which left Our Boy to wonder: Now, what’s got him all pissed off?

He would soon find out. About ten minutes, before he was to go off the air, a woman named Caroline Carveth—who’d seemed to have had no official title, but who was some sort of assistant, to President Garback—stuck her head, into the studio. This was while a record was playing (but, she’d appeared not to have cared—whether her voice would’ve gone out, over the air, or not). She proclaimed, loudly, “When you’re all through, in here… haul your ass down, to Brooks’ office! He wants to see you. Pronto!”

It should be noted that Miss Carveth was the only person—working, at the station—who could (and did) get away with great amounts, of profanity. In her case, that particular privilege seemed to emerge—as an every-other-word sort of situation. Books Garback, himself, seldom used such language. And Our Favorite Radio Personality knew of no one else, in the station’s environs—who could (and did) call the exalted poobah, “Brooks”.

Given all this “history”, the situation—Our Boy figured—must be serious!

Twenty minutes later, Jason found himself seated—uncomfortably—in one of the president’s “comfy” visitor’s chairs! While the great man paced—rather hurriedly—behind his desk!

“Jason?” he queried. “Jason… where do you come