Joke of the Day (Fred Allen, on One Man’s Object of Affection)

“The last time I saw him, he was walking down Lover’s Lane, holding his own hand.”—Irish-American radio comedian Fred Allen (1894-1956), quoted by Ivan G. Shreve Jr., “ ‘If Frank Fay Were Acid, He Would Have Consumed Himself’ – Fred Allen,” Thrilling Days of Yesteryear blog, May 2, 2017

It’s said that when the Irish deliver an insult to someone they know well, it’s often a form of endearment. But such was not the case stateside when Fred Allen lobbed this verbal grenade at fellow Irish-American comic Frank Fay.

Fay certainly has a place in entertainment history as the actor who played gentle tippler Elwood P. Dowd in the original 1944 Broadway production of Harvey, and before that as the prototypical stand-up monologuist.

But even in show business, an industry with no shortage of egotists, Fay’s self-regard was thought far beyond the norm. And he was especially scorned as a philanderer and alcoholic who abused his first wife, the rising and highly admired Hollywood star Barbara Stanwyck.

I try to source any quote used here on this blog, but I had a tougher time than usual doing so with this one. (There is a variation on it, by the way: the title of the post that Shreve wrote for his blog.) But I did see the quote used in the Madison State Journal back in October 1960, a year before Fay’s death at age 69, and from all that I have read there seems little doubt that Allen loathed Fay.

I thought of this quote as a rather cynical prelude to Valentine’s Day. No doubt there are many who, as Allen said, are more than happy to stroll down Lover’s Lane by themselves. I’m sure you can think of one such person. So can I. A hint: the right hand that fellow will be holding is probably smeared with heavy beige makeup meant to camouflage questions about why it looks so bruised all the time.

Quote of the Day (Fred Allen, Describing At Least Some of Those Appearing Last Night on the Oscars)

“A celebrity is a person who works hard all his life to become well-known, then wears dark glasses to avoid being recognized."—American radio comedian Fred Allen (1894-1956), Much Ado About Me (1956)

Quote of the Day (Comedian Fred Allen, on a Dull Town)

“The town was so dull that when the tide went out, it refused to come back.”—Comedian Fred Allen (1894-1956), quoted in Russell Baker’s Book of American Humor, edited by Russell Baker (1993)

Quote of the Day (Radio’s Fred Allen, on a ‘Successful Man in His Field’)

“The head of our [advertising] agency was a very successful man in his field. He would enjoy being in any field. He suffered from claustrophobia. He had to stay out of Rhode Island. He always felt that the state was closing in on him.”— Radio comedian Fred Allen (1894-1956), Treadmill to Oblivion (1954)

Quote of the Day (Fred Allen, on Stars’ Sunglasses)

“Some movie stars wear their sunglasses even in church. They're afraid God might recognize them and ask for autographs.”—Radio comedian Fred Allen (1894-1956)

(This NBC publicity photo was taken in connection with Allen’s 1940s radio program, Allen’s Alley.)

Quote of the Day (Fred Allen, Chastising Gag-Stealer Milton Berle)

“You’re using my act. You might as well put my photographs in the lobby too.”—Fred Allen, in a note (with accompanying bundle of pictures), to Milton Berle, “The Thief of Badgag,” quoted in Phil Berger, The Last Laugh: The World of Stand-Up Comics, Updated Edition (2000)

This Day in Broadcast History (Fred Allen Airs Last Radio Show)

June 26, 1949—The final episode of Fred Allen’s radio show did more than bring to an end 17 years of the career of one of the broadcast medium’s most popular—and, among his peers, most admired—figures. It also served as an object lesson in how fickle the American public can be when a new technology replaces an old one.

Only 26 months before, Allen had reached the height of his career by landing on the cover of Time Magazine, which celebrated the nasal-voiced comedian’s achievement in producing a remarkably literate entertainment that had captured the allegiance of hundreds of thousands. Only a year later, his show had fallen to only 28th place—and, with television no longer an upstart technology, but an increasingly established one, the possibility loomed that there would be no end to his fall.

Allen’s last show featured the comic who figured in a fake feud that fueled the ratings of both men—Jack Benny. Unlike his good friend, Benny would go on to forge a new career for himself on television that would equal and even surpass what he had achieved on radio.

Last year, I commented briefly on Allen in the context of his quip about Ed Sullivan. I think he warrants far more extended treatment than that, however. In a short space such as this, I still can’t do him justice, so for now I think I’ll just confine myself to aspects of his life and career that appeal to me:

* His first major job growing up was working in a library—the Boston Free Library, as a matter of fact. His father, a bookbinder, had gotten him the position. It served as a launching-pad in his show business career for two reasons: a) he had access to all the books this highly intelligent, studious, and curious mind could want, and b) one of those books, on juggling, enabled him to enter the library’s amateur night show, and start his career in the entertainment industry.

* A talented performer, he was far less staff-dependent than other stars, before or since. True, Allen did hire people like future novelist Herman Wouk to work for him. But they functioned more as sources of raw material than as people who did most of the work. Ninety percent of the show’s writing derived from Allen himself, either writing or rewriting.

* He took on the censors from the beginning. Few performers have fought them week after week with his tenacity. They dogged him virtually from the moment he stepped in front of the microphone, objecting even to innocuous routines such as this: “My sister married an Irishman”—“Oh, really?”—“No, O’Reilly.” In turn, he skewered the advertising and network suits every chance he could.

* He was a truly decent human being, with a kindness to match his intelligence. After his death, Wouk hailed him in this manner: “His generosity to the needy, his extraordinary loyalty to his associates (in a field not noted for long loyalties) showed the warmth of heart that made his satire sound and important.”

* He was devoted to his wife. Like Benny, Allen put his wife, Portland, on the show. When advertisers claimed that their testing of audiences showed that the show would be better off without her, he refused to budge, saying that he would only stay on if she did. It was said that the two things he lived for were the show and her. He never drove, so one of the more common entertainer sightings in Manhattan was of Allen and his wife walking arm-in-arm from their hotel suite. On one of the few times he didn’t do so, on St. Patrick’s Day in 1956, he suffered a heart attack and died. If he’d had the chance to comment on it before he died, I’m sure he would have noted that it served him right. A product of a broken home himself, he made sure that he would break that pattern in his own adulthood.

Quote of the Day (Fred Allen, on Ed Sullivan)

“Ed Sullivan will be around as long as someone else has talent.”—Attributed to radio comedian Fred Allen, in TV Guide (June 21, 1958 issue), commemorating the 10th anniversary of Sullivan’s variety show that week.

This quote fascinates me for a couple of reasons. 

First, because of the mordant comic genius who supposedly uttered it (he had died two years before it appeared in print)—John Florence Sullivan, better known as Fred Allen. 

I remember the first time I went to visit my grandparents’ grave in Gate of Heaven Cemetery in Hawthorne, NY., and was startled also to find, not too far away, not only a headstone for my grandfather’s hero, labor leader Michael J. Quill, but also one for a man far more famous in the same era—Allen. 

I’m afraid that more than 50 years after his death, Allen has been forgotten by a couple of generations of comedy fans. He deserves a far better fate. 

If you can’t visit the Paley Center for Media in Manhattan to listen to a tape of one of his shows, then turn on Saturday Night Live, which, in its spoofs of advertising, satire of current events, and still-often brilliant sketches, essentially possesses the same comic DNA.

But second, as Allen’s sardonic quip indicates, entertainment columnist Ed Sullivan possessed little talent himself—but he sure had a way of recognizing it in others. 

The Ed Sullivan Show—initially called The Talk of the Town—premiered June 20, 1948, and ran until June 6, 1971. He never really got over its demise, dying only three years later. By the end of his life, he surely felt out of sorts with the cultural changes taking place in America. 

Can you imagine one small episode in his life--the impresario inviting Peter Noone of Herman's Hermits--whom, he had learned, had been raised Roman Catholic--out for Sunday mass with him on the morning of his big appearance? I can't.

For a long time, Sullivan seemed ready to join Allen among the annals of the forgotten in the entertainment industry, remembered dimly for Jackie Mason’s hysterically funny hooded-eye, hunched-over impersonation. 

More recently, however, segments of his must-see variety show have been released on DVD, so a new generation of fans can experience what it must have felt for the first time to see Elvis Presley, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Supremes, The Doors -- who were banned from the show, lest we forget, after refusing to bowdlerize “Light My Fire”-- and a host of other new acts too numerous to mention.