Jack “wrote” a story for the Pittsburgh Press that was published March 1, 1936. I presume he didn’t really have time to write it, that Harry Conn ghost-wrote it. This was not long before Conn got into a huff and walked out on Benny for good.
Regardless of who wrote this, there are some nice little stories.
For those not familiar with Benny’s radio evolution, this is before Phil Harris joined the show later in the year when it permanently relocated to Hollywood. Green moved over to the Packard show with Fred Astaire. Vocalist Kenny Baker would remain with Jack until 1939.
Unfortunately, copies of the Pittsburgh broadcasts don’t exist. Blanche Stewart appeared, as did Vi Klein and a woman named Kathrine Lee, along with Jack’s personal secretary, Harry Baldwin. I can’t find my notes about Klein; I believe she was someone’s secretary and not an actress.
The sidebar story reveals Jack did his own audience warm-up. I don’t think it was uncommon for stars on comedy/variety shows to do this in the radio days. Fred Allen did it; he could get away with more satire off the air than he could on. Red Skelton did it with words that would never be permitted on the air.
Jack Benny Confesses He Has Prison Record In ‘Pittsburgh's Jail’
Ace Radio Comedian Remembers When He Was Really Able to Play His Fiddle on Vaudeville Stage
Jack Benny went to jail, but not for long, in Pittsburgh. He recalls the incident and other amusing memories of the days when he played the vaudeville stage here, in his guest column.
By JACK BENNY
Hell-O Again.
This is Jack Benny pushing the middle valve down. Only the valve this time is a typewriter key and what's going round and round isn't the music but my head. I'm a microphonist and this typing machine gets me. Our mutual friend. Si Steinhauser, shoved it in front of me and there was nothing to do but give it a great big hand. So away we go, and let's hope it comes out here. If you follow me you’ll go to jail. If the Pittsburgh cop who once put me behind the bars can prove his identity I’ll give him a ticket to my broadcast tonight. And I’m not fooling. I’ll make him wish he had a sense of humor. He certainly had none the night he and I met.
Well, I want to start off by telling all my friends, and those who hear the Jack Benny program that I am delighted to be in Pittsburgh again. If I were Mary, I would express myself in verse, but since the muse has overlooked me, I will have to do the best I can in unpoetic, and probably ungrammatical, prose.
Pittsburgh has always been a great town for me. I suppose it's because so many of the people living here are music-lovers. It is a well known fact that we concert artists always look forward to giving recitals in Pittsburgh.
As a violinist, I want you to know that I was deeply touched that your distinguished Pittsburgh Symphony selected Thursday, the day of my arrival from New York, as the date on which to begin its new series of radio concerts. I regret that other committments [sic] prevented my making a guest appearance with the orchestra but perhaps Maestro Modarelli will give me an opportunity to do so at some other time. At any rate, I want to take this occasion (seriously) to congratulate him and his men on a very excellent performance.
Of course, I am still essentially a musician. In latter years such Pittsburghers who have seen or heard me on the air will recognize that my recitals are somewhat unorthodox and not in line with the accepted standards of concertizing. I am now going in more for what is better described as "words and music." Unfortunately there is a lot of jealousy on our program. Every time I start to play the "Love in Bloom" concerto, for example, Johnny Green has the orchestra strike up a loud dance tune. You see, he is afraid of me. Of course, that does not make him hesitate to try to be a comedian.
The first time I ever appeared in Pittsburgh, however, it was in a strictly musical act without interruptions by people trying to be funny. My partner and I—we were billed as Benny and Woods—played violin and piano duets. Woods was the pianist and I performed with my accustomed dexterity on the violin.
For the benefit of those who happen to remember having heard any of those early joint-recitals I hasten to assure you that my hand has never lost its skill. I don't know. I guess I just have that magic touch. We played two-a-day at the Davis Theater and were given an honorarium of $200 per week. We concert artists never accept salaries. We call them honorariums. The name is a little longer, but you can't get any more coffee and cake for them than you can with a salary. Not even so much sometimes, as a matter of fact.
One of the few inartistic incidents in my career took place during one of my appearances in Pittsburgh. For the first and last time in my life I visited a jail. Of course, just a brief visit, sort of like dropping in for a little while. Nevertheless. I was there in a strictly official capacity.
* * *
Following my concert one evening I decided to stop in at a restaurant near the theater for a bite to eat before going to bed. Business was not particularly lively at this time, the crowd at the theater having pone home, for some reason or other, before my recital was completed. (Of course, this was highly unusual procedure, but not entirely beyond belief. I can understand that some people can appreciate only a certain amount of music at any one time).
At any rate in this particular restaurant they were serving at only part of the tables at this late hour. Being something of a stranger in town I could hardly be expected to know the customs of the restaurant. Innocently I sat down at one of the tables that was not supposed to be in use. The waiter quite obviously was not a music-lover, or else he would have known who I was. I can't imagine who he thought I was for his tone of voice in suggesting that I remove myself to another table was a little indelicate.
Words, as literary folks say, passed between us. I suppose it was my artistic temperament coming out. Anyhow, I had failed to observe that an officer of the law was also in the restaurant at the time, also bent on getting a snack. He happened to overhear the discussion I was having with the waiter. He expressed the opinion that perhaps it would be better if I left. I had come in to satisfy a justified appetite worked up after a vigorous evening of pushing and pulling the bow back and forth across the strings. I countered the officer's declaration of his views with the statement that that was my intention. Just as in a debate, he stated that he saw the affair in an entirely different light.
In school at Waukegan I had always been taught that it is the right of every American to have and to hold to the liberties guaranteed to him under the Constitution. Upon announcing my position, the officer said that I would either leave or accompany him to the jail. To which I replied, perfectly calm and collected, that then to jail it must be. As I said before, the visit was of extremely short duration. I was able to get in touch with someone at my hotel, the manager I believe, who was good enough to tell the representative of the law that I was Jack Benny, violinist, and generally considered to be a respectable citizen.
* * *
After the war I returned to Pittsburgh. The war did something to me. Whereas before I had been concentrating solely on music, words now began to play a more important role. In short, I had become a monologist, or as others termed it, a master-of-ceremonies. But music was still my great interest. I occasionally carried my violin on stage though I never played it. I played here in Earl Carroll's "Vanities" and also in "The Great Temptation."
* * *
My trip to Pittsburgh last year certainly will always be among my happiest recollections. You can well imagine how highly honored I felt when I arrived early on a cold, wintry morning and discovered that that very fine gentleman, Harry Milholland, had come down to the station to meet me. Then he drove me to the William Penn in his car. Later on that morning. I went to call on him at his office at The Press. We had our pictures taken together, and one of them I remember particularly. I sat at his desk as if I were the editor and he acted as copy-boy bringing the latest stuff from the city-room. I understand he is in Florida now, and I was genuinely sorry to learn it, because ever since my manager arranged the engagement in Pittsburgh I had been looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with Mr. Milholland.
Another highlight of my visit last year was the interview over KDKA with Si Steinhauser. He tried to cross me up with some ad-libbing. But fortunately the members of our cast quite often deviate from the straight and narrow path of the script, so I was ready for him.
Mary, Kenny Baker (who is getting a big kick out of his first visit to Pittsburgh), Johnny Green, Don Wilson and all of us are looking forward to broadcasting tonight from KDKA's fine studios. We rehearsed there yesterday afternoon and everyone agreed that your Pittsburgh radio facilities are as fine as any we've ever come across.
In conclusion we want to tell you how complimented we are at the number of Pittsburgh listeners who have expressed enough interest in our program to apply for tickets. We’re sorry that there can’t be room for everyone and I think my sponsor did the only fair thing—issued the tickets in the order in which requests were received.
With this final push of the keys let me acknowledge my gratitude to Si Steinhauser for making it possible for me to greet all of our Pittsburgh friends through his swell column.
Easy Jack
Mr. Benny Has Nothing To Do Today But Work
Here's Jack Benny's day's work in preparation for tonight's broadcast:
Having read the script, twice on Saturday, with Producer Tom Harrington, Lawton Campbell, sponsor's agent, and Harry Conn, gag writer, and previously rehearsed for two hours, he will:
Report at KDKA at 10 a. m. for two more readings.
Noon to 2 p. m.— Time program, using microphones.
2 to 4:30—Witness Johnny Green's Orchestra rehearsal.
4:30 to 6—Witness Kenny Baker's rehearsal with the orchestra and Don Wilson's timing of commercials.
6 to 6:30—Take part in a dress rehearsal with his cast.
6:30 to 6:45—Relax.
6:45 to 7—Kid with his audience.
7:00—On the air.
7:30—Sign autographs and try to get out of studios.
11:15—Return to studios for repeat broadcast.
Midnight—Sign autographs and try to get to his hotel.
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