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Hey, I'm 14 hundred WRJN.
The music of the stars we are back.
Good morning, I'm Lou Wregani.
We're back on Facebook.
Join us, won't you?
And we'll be here to hide new.
And on New Year's Eve from 7 to 1 a.m.
On the Civic Media Radio Network.
The music of the stars is on the air.
Here's a picture you've never seen.
The loves of Joanna Godden and Charles Williams, Sydney Torch, collaborated on the music.
British picture, you know.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
The music of the stars is on the air.
A British picture that I am not able to find, 1947 while I live.
It's about a woman who becomes convinced that an amnesiac woman is the reincarnation
of her deceased sister.
And the plot is a young composer and a pianist dies.
She fell from the cliffs at Cornwall.
Her sister, Julia, keeps her memory alive.
And every year, in her honor,
the orchestra does her one composition.
It's a tear-jigger.
But I wish it was more popular because there's a haunting melody in there,
the dream of old woman, written by Charles Williams,
who wrote the Oscar winner, the apartment, 1960.
While on the anniversary of that yearly broadcast, a young woman
shows up at the home and begins playing the piano.
Is it the reincarnation?
Not everybody in the family shares that view.
A minute to go.
Interesting, coming?
No.
I understand.
It's quite like a whole time, isn't it?
You and I, the dream,
twenty-five years, and one minute to go.
Switch it on, Peter.
Tonight we are broadcasting the Dream of Oldman,
a tone poem by the young pianist and composer, Oldman Prevellion.
Going to her tragic death, which occurred twenty-five years ago today,
the word was never finished.
But Miss Margaret Rubens, the well-known concert pianist,
has written the last few bars.
The broadcast is in the nature of a tribute.
Ladies and gentlemen, the Dream of Oldman.
The Dream of Oldman.
The Dream of Oldman.
The Dream of Oldman.
The Dream of Oldman.
The Dream of Oldman.
The Dream of Oldman.
The Dream of Oldman.
Yes?
How is she?
She's asleep.
That's all it is.
Isn't it Mayor Meyer?
Yes, yes.
That's all it is, Miss Julia.
It's not like me to behave as I did.
I'm sorry.
You mustn't be sorry for sorrow, Miss Julia.
Things have been shut up inside you for a quarter of a century.
What's happened at night has let them loose.
She said, exactly, it's all in use to sit.
The movements are technically belong to Owen.
There's no real resemblance.
And yet tonight I saw my sister.
And yet I saw my sister.
I'm sorry.
Owen, come to me, I'm glad.
Tell me where I shall find you.
I'll wait till the night I'm gone.
True one to you, I shall be.
Heave in the broom that veiled the night.
The night in the world that veiled her.
But I must come true till dawn breaks through.
A dream I am dreaming of, you know.
He loved her.
He couldn't really find her.
He did your way like me.
And they both think every day.
He loved her.
A dream I am dreaming of, you know.
A dream I am dreaming of, you know.
A dream I am dreaming of, you know.
Charles Williams, the Oscar winner.
The 1960s.
Some like it hot.
The key to love.
Belongs to you.
It leads to a blow away.
When dreams come true.
When dreams turn the key.
And for your love.
You find the one that you're hard men.
To share your lonely apartment.
When you find the one.
You're dreaming of, you hold till forever.
The key to love.
When you find the one.
You're dreaming of, you hold till forever.
The key to love.
I try to sing, you say I'm off key.
Why can't you see how much this hurts me.
With your perfect beauty and your perfect bitch.
You're a perfect arrow when I come around.
Must you always put me down.
If you say my singing is off key my love.
You will hurt my feelings down to see my love.
I wish I had a year like yours a voice that would be.
All I have is feeling and the voice got gay.
You insist my music goes against the rules.
Yes, but rules were never made for love, sick fools.
I wrote this little song for you, but you don't care.
It's a crooked song, I've on all my heart and then.
The things that you would see if you would do your part.
There's even if I'm out of tune.
I have the gentle heart.
I took your picture with my trustee.
Roll a flex.
And now all I have developed is a complex.
Possibly in vain I hope you we can own my love.
And forget those rigid rules that undermine my dream of a life of love and music.
With someone who understand that even though I may be out of tune.
When I attempt to say how much I love you.
All that matters is the message that I bring, which is my dear one.
I love you.
So not draw it with your being.
So not draw it with your being.
So not draw it with your being.
Tall and tan and young and lovely.
The girl from Ipanema goes walking.
And when she passes each one she passes goes.
When she walks she's like a samba that swings so cool and sway so gentle.
That when she passes each one she passes goes.
But I watch her so sadly.
How can I tell her I love her?
Yes, I would give my heart gladly.
But each day when she walks to the sea.
She looks straight ahead not at me.
Tall and tan and young and lovely.
The girl from Ipanema goes walking.
And when she passes I smile but she doesn't see.
Look what a beautiful thing, but full of grace.
It's the little girl who comes and passes.
She doesn't give any balance to the sea.
The girl from Ipanema goes walking.
And when she walks she's like a samba that swings so gentle.
But I watch her so sadly.
Yes, I would give my heart gladly.
But each day when she walks to the sea.
She looks straight ahead not at me.
Tall and tan and young and lovely.
The girl from Ipanema goes walking.
And when she passes I smile but she doesn't see.
Look what a beautiful thing, but full of grace.
She doesn't give any balance to the sea.
She never sees me.
There's a girl I must explain you.
She's called the girl from Nymphomania.
And I don't know what Nymphomania means.
But they say her popularity comes from what she gives to charity.
Not from reading books or thick magazines.
Though she's inferior medley.
She's not so dumb evidently.
She knows her roles from her Bentley.
There are girls more familiar with Proust.
But they do not respond when they're ghost.
I know girls from Smith and Brynmore.
But she goes out more and she gives in more.
She taught me the Nymphomania means nice.
That's what it means nice.
We looked it up twice.
Her IQ is two.
I don't care to you.
She's dumb but she's fun.
This song is all done.
I got some stuff to tell you about Alan Sherman.
It's his 100th birthday today.
What a success for a few months.
And then forgotten so much so that Capitol Records cancelled his contract.
He was 46 years old.
Died of emphysema.
At the end he was singing with an oxygen bottle alongside of him.
All those song lyrics.
He wrote plays magazine articles.
He had a sense of childlike innocence.
As if the words were just building blocks.
He's lying in a crib and kind of fitting them all together,
according to which color combinations he would like the most.
But when he sat down and right away produced the package of cigarettes and matches.
Well he got into Chicago one morning at about 230.
He said I had trouble with the airline ticket man in Philadelphia.
If I go straight from Philly to Los Angeles, $188.
But if I stop in Chicago, it's called a stopover.
And the guy and I have to pay 34 bucks extra.
So I said, I'm not going to do any such thing.
And he said, yes, you're good.
And I said, prove it.
Well, they got out the terror book.
He got it out and it's a fascinating book like Catch 22.
So sad that this guy didn't live longer.
They made a musical about him in Chicago, his hometown.
His real name is Alan Copeland.
And a hundred years ago today he was born.
And he made eight albums.
And only one song sold.
And that's that one you know that I'm not going to play.
Well, maybe I should.
No, you've heard it enough, didn't you?
What, you want to hear it again?
Hello, mother, hello, father, about a kid at camp.
You want to hear that?
Really want to hear that again?
Well, okay.
All right.
In his honor, Camp Granada.
Is there really such a thing?
The camp was well here.
Here's Alan Sherman with his one and only hit.
Hello, mother, hello, father.
Here I am at Camp Granada.
Camp is very entertaining.
And they say we'll have some fun if it stops raining.
I went hiking with Joe Spivey.
He developed poison ivy.
You remember Leonard Skinner.
He got to main poisoning last night after dinner.
All the counselors hate the waiters.
And the lake has alligators.
And the head coach wants no sissies.
So he reads to us from something called Ulysses.
No, I don't want this.
It should scare you.
But my bunkmate has malaria.
You remember Jeffrey Hardy.
They're about to organize a searching party.
Take me home.
Oh, mother, father, take me home.
I hate Granada, don't leave me.
Out in the forest where I might get eaten by a bear.
Take me home.
I promise I will not make noise.
Or mess the house with other boys.
Oh, please don't make me stay.
I've been here one whole day.
Dearest father, darling mother.
How's my precious little brother?
Let me come home if you miss me.
I would even let Ampert the hawk and kiss me.
Wait a minute.
It stopped hailing.
Guys are swimming.
Guys are sailing.
Playing baseball.
Gee, that's better.
Mother, father, kindly disregard this ladder.
Granada, I'm falling under your spell.
And if you could speak what a fascinating tale you would tell.
Of an age the world is long forgotten.
Of an age that weaves the silent magic in Granada through death.
But on in the sky greets the day with a sigh for Granada.
Or she can remember the splendor that once was Granada.
It still can be found in the hills all around as I wander along.
And trance by the beauty before me.
And trance by a land full of flowers and sun.
When day is done and the sun starts to set in Granada.
I envy the blush of the snow-clad to Sierra Nevada.
Soon it will welcome the stars while a thousand guitars.
Place off of an arrow.
And moonlit Granada will live again the glory of yesterday.
Romantic and gay.
And soon it will welcome the stars while a gang of guitars play a soft of an arrow.
And moonlit Granada will live again the glory of yesterday.
Romantic and gay.
The music of the stars on W-R-J-N.
G-R-A-N-A-D-A.
Camp Granada.
Blah!
Hello, Mata.
Hello, Fata.
I am back at Camp Granada.
And I'm writing you this letter just to say my compound fractures getting better.
No one here knows where my trunk is and my bunk is where the skunk is.
This year the food's improving.
Cause the little black things in it are not moving.
I can't versus quite a swimmer.
She says swimming.
Makes you slimmer.
Her name's Mrs. Pellegrini.
Have you ever seen a whale in a bikini?
All our bathrooms have such thin doors.
G-I wish they'd move them indoors.
We're all tired of mother goose here.
So next Friday night they're having Lenny Bruce here.
Let me stay.
Oh, Mata, let me stay.
I love Granada every night.
The campfire's really keen.
Oh, Mata, please send some unwitting.
Let me stay.
Up here in Mata nature's land and tiptoed truda to lips.
Granada to leave would be a shame.
Besides, I'd miss the poker game.
Please don't worry.
Granada, Mata, I'll take care of Lil' Brada.
He plays ball here and he rolls here.
And I hope they teach him how to blow his nose here.
He wakes up at half past six hand.
Goes directly to the quicksand.
He was lonely, now he's better.
He's like all of us except his bed is wetter.
Is that name sound familiar to you kids out there?
Alan Sherman, every summer at school lets out.
All these kids, they leave home to go to camp.
You know, for a lot of these kids it's their first time away from home.
And they get homesick.
Alan Sherman immortalized that reaction to camp.
He was 38 when he wrote that.
It was hotter than the Beatles.
At number two on Billboard's chart.
1963.
The guy was a superstar for just a few months.
President Kennedy was a big fan.
He would sing the lyrics around the White House.
But he often said that's based on his own childhood experiences.
His life wasn't easy.
Today is a hundred years of age.
Born in Chicago.
His parents divorced when he was six.
And his upbringing was anything but funny.
So a lot of that was based on his own past performance.
His mother married four times and they would move all over.
He went to 21 different schools all over the country.
Well he wrote for the school newspaper as a kid.
He joined the army.
Was there two months?
Was discharged? Allergies?
And then he created this popular long running TV game show.
I've got a secret.
Yeah, that's his creation.
And then he go to parties and do these parodies.
Everybody wanted them to come to their parties.
Summertime pool parties.
Since Caesar was a fan, he met Harpal Marks and George Burns.
They were fans.
Then he got a contract with Warner's.
Now this is important.
His first album, the first album.
His first album.
All those parody songs came out in 62.
They didn't expect it to do very well.
It sold more than a million copies in three months.
And then he filled in for Johnny Carson on the tonight show.
Mel Brooks gave him credit to inspire him.
Seinfeld, Al Yankovic.
And after a few years,
you ruined his own career.
Too much money.
Too much fame.
And cigarettes. A lot of cigarettes.
Emphasima, asthma.
Blue Borscht, a great pianist.
And his music arranger.
Brilliant talent.
Blue Borscht.
He said, if I ever saw a success ruin a guy,
it was Alan Sherman.
He blew all the money.
Died at 48.
Respiratory failure.
Ten years after he won his first Grammy.
We salute the great entertainer
who made it big for a few weeks in 1963.
After winning his first Grammy.
But for a while he was bigger than a Beatles.
And he was bigger than a Beatles.
And he was bigger than a Beatles.
Billy May and Glenn Durham.
The music of the stars.
Why look so awfully tragic?
Put on a happy face.
Smiling can work like magic.
Put on a happy face.
Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy.
It's not your style.
You look so good that you'll be glad you decided to smile.
Pick out a pleasant outlook.
Stick out that noble chin.
Wipe off the full of doubt look.
Slap on a happy grin.
And spread sunshine all over the place.
Just put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Why do you mope around so sourly?
It's such a strain.
I always try to chuckle hourly.
It clears the brain.
I knew a girl so gloomy.
She'd never laugh or sing.
She wouldn't listen to me.
Now she's a mean old thing.
So spread sunshine all over the place.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
Put on a happy face.
OK, I will. I promise right now time for news.
Thank you for watching.