Benny's Fiddle Teacher Tells AllKurkdjie’s interview answers another question listeners may have had—Jack Benny was not the one playing those off-key scales and Kreutzer exercises on the radio show. Kurkdjie was. I always figured Benny was doing it because the studio audience might not give a good reaction if someone else at the back of the stage was playing the instrument. But Laura Leibowitz, the very knowledgeable president of the International Jack Benny Fan Club, pointed out in a recent interview (and this makes perfect sense when you think about it):
By BILL MIDDLETON
In speaking of Jack Benny's violin playing, the late Fred Allen made this classic remark: "Jack's a very funny guy. I love him. But he's the only violinist who makes you feel the strings would sound better back on the cat!"
Despite his almost three decades in broadcasting, audiences still do not know how to accept Benny: is he a virtuoso side-tracked into a career as a comedian, or is he a comic with a musical sideline?
Benny isn't talking. But what about Larry Kurkdjie? He is Benny's violin teacher, and shouldn't he have a pretty fair comprehension of which Jack is which? Of course, Larry is a funny man, too. He's rotund and jovial, and can it be a thing of seriousness when he and Jack, adjusted to laughing, put their fiddles under their chins and stare at each other?
Larry says it's serious. When he phoned TV WEEK from California, he pointed out that Jack practices his violin diligently, every day.
"Of course," chuckled Larry, "when we first started we used to have our lessons in the room where people take their Saturday night bath. Jack said that was the only appropriate place. But we've graduated now to Joanie's (Jack's daughter) quarters. Now, nobody objects.
"Also, when we first started we had to close the windows real tight. Now we leave them open. So you can see how well he's progressed."
But back to the original poser — is Benny a musician turned comedian, or a comic who likes to fiddle around?
Larry put it this way:
"I really believe that, as a comedian, he's one of the best violinists. Not the best violinist by a long shot, but one of the best — as a comedian. Jack gets by with difficult, technical passages that fool the layman. That's the beauty of his artistry, the way he covers up. His timing is absolutely beautiful. But he's a human being like the rest of us, and he makes lots of mistakes." Larry chuckled again. "And more so on the violin than otherwise!
"I've had a lot of people tell me they know Jack is a great violinist, and that he makes mistakes purposely. That's wonderful — let them think that.
Larry has been with Jack for twenty-three years, but only within the last four or five years has he been instructing Benny in the art of fiddling. That's because Jack has become serious about playing the violin.
"He recently bought a gorgeous Stradivarius," said Larry. "I'd say it's worth about $28,000. And he owns a beautiful bow that used to belong to the great Belgian violinist, Eugene Ysaye. So, the combination of the Strad (which Jack carries to rehearsals and practices in his dressing room when there's time) and the bow helps him get over the bad passages!"
During the 1960-61 season, Jack's calendar includes nightclub appearances and concert engagements with symphony orchestras in Indianapolis, Cleveland, Milwaukee and Cincinnati. He will, of course, be violin soloist, and his program will not include minor works such as "Love In Bloom." He will choose from such major fiddle fodder as the "Mendelssohn Concerto" (which Larry says is just about Jack's favorite composition) and some bowing exercises by Rimsky-Korsakov.
"He loves Brahms, too," said Larry, "but he hasn't tackled it yet. He likes any good music. He likes to play quartet, and plans on doing some trios — violin, cello, piano. All these things, he gradually plans to use on his TV shows."
Some of Benny's greatest fans include such bowmen as Jascha Heifetz, Mischa Elman, Isaac Stein and other distinguished musicians who count him "one of the boys."
Leonard Bernstein, conductor of the New York Philharmonic, says about Jack:
"Benny has done more than raise thousands of dollars to erase operating deficits of major orchestras. He has brought multitudes of people, who would otherwise not be there, into the concert halls (Jack does the concerts for free) to prove that good music can be entertaining and rewarding."
And the master violinist, Isaac Stern, says with tongue-in-cheek: "When Jack walks out in tails in front of 90 musicians he looks like the greatest of soloists. What a shame he has to play!"
The 66-year-old comedian's violin instructor also used to play with symphony orchestras, two of which were the Boston Symphony and Cleveland Symphony. Larry left Cleveland for Hollywood, and in 1938 he substituted on Jack's show.
"Evidently," said Larry, "he thought I did a pretty good job because I've been on the show ever since. I'm the first violinist — every time you hear that high squeaky fiddle, that's me.
"But Jack uses his fiddle playing to perfection on his TV shows. He's very serious in his playing. Tries very hard. He really plays to the best of his ability."
Larry hesitated, then couldn't resist another chuckle.
"Of course, at times the playing sounds funny, but still he plays to the best of his ability!"
When he was scarcely out of diapers, Jack began (at his father's behest) taking violin lessons and was soon considered something of a child prodigy. While still in grammar school, he became the only knickerbockered member of the pit orchestra at the Barrison Theatre in Waukegan, Illinois.
During high school he doubled between the school band and the Barrison pit, and at 16 he teamed up with Cora Salisbury, the Barrison pianist, as a vaudeville duo. When she left the act, Jack teamed with Lyman Woods. The team of Benny and Woods in due time became vaudeville headliners here and abroad.
Then what made him decide to be a comedian?
Larry explained that he didn't exactly. "One day he just stopped playing and started talking. They laughed."
The story goes that during the first World War, Jack was a sailor in grease paint, and his prime duty was the raising of funds for Navy relief. His routine in the Great Lakes Revue was musical, but one night during his performance the electricity failed and the lights went out in the auditorium. To keep the crowd from getting restless, Jack started to talk. The audience roared with laughter.
The rest is Humorsville history. The fiddler began his career as a comedian, and the violin probably gathered dust notes in Jack's legendary bank vault. But now, with the fiddle tucked neatly under his chin, Jack is both comic and violinist.
"You know," said Larry, "besides the public concerts he gives, Jack plays for benefits that the public doesn't hear about. For service men, hospital groups - he does a lot of that."
Larry used to give concerts himself, but "I've given it up. Takes too much practice!" He also used to play violin on other television shows, but now is only on Benny's. Although he jokes about Jack's violin playing, it is obvious that Larry does consider him to be a good violinist — as a comedian.
"Jack loves to fiddle," said Larry, "but he loves his show better than anything else. It's the first thing in his life, because he loves to make people laugh. He loves to see them happy.
"His second big love is his fiddle. His third big love is golf. I don't know where his wife Mary comes in!"
Then does Larry think that if Jack continues to practice and take his fiddling seriously, he'll turn out to really be one of the best violinists, comedian or not?
"As I told him," Larry said, "if he ever tries to be a greater violinist than he is, I'll punch him in the nose!"
“[O]n television, he is playing the violin. Radio was different. To play, Jack had to put down the script, pick up the violin and settle it, under his chin, before he could play. After he played the violin, he reversed these steps.So it sounds like Jack played the violin during longer, non-dialogue parts (such as the middle commercial for the sponsor, or during his performances of “The Bee” and “Thanks For the Memory” in the ‘30s). Whatever the case, Jack’s violin playing resulted in millions of laughs—and millions of dollars for good causes.
“The set up and take down took time. It was hard to write-around the setup, which disrupted the flow of the show. On radio, Jack playing the violin was rarely feasible.
“Larry Kurkdjie usually played the violin for Jack.”
She Does the Talking for Woody WoodpeckerGrace had a chance to chat with the Baltimore Sun during a whistle stop on the press tour. It’s interesting to read she and her husband apparently sat around thinking up ideas for Woody. Isn’t that what the studio paid Homer Brightman and Cal Howard to do?
By Alan Patureau
If you really want to create some excitement in Sardi’s during a jampacked lunchtime, just fill your lungs, rock back from the table and blast out, “He-he-he-HOE-hoo!” in the manager [sic] of Woody Woodpecker, the cartoon character. Bugle this three times, rapid-fire, then machinegun it down with a long, leer-pitched, “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!”
That’s what the nice grandmotherly lady in our party did the other day, and, my, what a reaction, Jackson. Forks dropped with a united clink, and in the silence that followed, gasps of surprise reported in front the plush-red Netherlands of the joint. Critical seconds later, as it became evident the lady wouldn’t require a straightjacket, everyone laughed.
“Amazing! I get the same delayed reaction when I do Woody’s laugh at a sponsor’s board meeting,” said the plump matron with the twinkly eyes. Sober, too. “They’re not as quick as the youngsters. But they never fail to pick up our option.”
NO doubt the members of the board are as shocked as the average cartoon fan is when he finds out that a 60-year-old actress, Grace Lantz, does the raucous, infectiously gleeful laugh and voice of Woody Woodpecker. She also happens to be the wife of Walter Lantz, the easygoing cartoonist who created Woody 22 years ago and has made a mint since—but that’s not why she got the job.
“Mel Blanc was the first Woody,” Lantz explained. “He makes a terrific Bugs Bunny, but I’m afraid he wasn’t quite right as Woody—made the laugh too harsh and malicious. We had tryouts and, unknown to me, Gracie made an audition recording. My staff narrowed the choice to four—Gracie’s and three male actors’. When I heard hers, I blurted, “Who’s that? Sign him up! I almost fainted when I learned it was my wife.”
Lantz says that Gracie puts just the right blend of fun, irreverence and coyness into Woody’s voice. The dialogue is tape-recorded, then speeded up by 20 per cent to achieve the right effect, Lantz says, but that famous Woody cackle is the undoctored real thing. “You need good breath control to get through the whole cycle,” Gracie volunteered. “I don’t have a copyright on the laugh, but I don’t go out of my way to teach it to people, either. How did a radio actress like me develop such a talent? Oh, I’ve always had a streak of fun. When Walter created Woody, I practiced on the sly.”
Woody Woodpecker burst onto the movie scene in 1941, and Lantz has turned out an average of 10 six-minute cartoons a year since. Woody came to television in 1957 with a weekly half-hour series on ABC. After three years, all the movie cartoons from the 1940s were used up. Recently Lantz signed a seven-year contract with a syndicate to get a new batch of Woodys from the 1950s on TV. In New York, they will be seen Tuesdays at 6:30 PM on Channel 11 starting Jan. 6.
“For years we kept the identity of Woody’s voice a dark secret,” Gracie said. “I was afraid the children might be disappointed if they found out a woman my age was actually Woody. But now we’re to that point in life where we want people to know.” They smiled at each other. “I’m developing some change-of-pace laughs for Woody now. An I’ve-been-sick laugh and an irritated laugh. Shall I demonstrate? No?...”
The Voice Of WoodyBrown’s assessment of “delightful lovebirds” was on the mark, as far as I’m concerned. Walter and Grace Lantz strike me as a couple who enjoyed each other, enjoyed life and enjoyed cartoons. Their interviews together were always light-hearted and talked about funny things. Lantz was liked by his employees and philanthropic in retirement. Grace died in 1992. Walter joined her two years later. She may not have been as good an actor as Mel Blanc but she comes across in news stories as a nice person with a sense of humour, and there’s nothing wrong with that in the slightest.
By VIVIAN BROWN
WALTER LANTZ is one husband who never gets tired of hearing his wife talk.
No wonder. She’s the voice of his brain child, Woody Woodpecker, the animated cartoon.
And Woody is lucky, too. He has a pair of delightful lovebirds to worry about his upbringing.
Woody has been around for a quarter of a century feathering the nest of his inventor and cheering children on screen and in books in 72 countries. Yet Lantz was pioneering animated cartoons long before Woody. He began in 1916 with Gregory La Cava, a year after animated techniques were begun.
Woody Came To Call
The inspiration for Woody came to Lantz when an annoying woodpecker actually pecked his roof into disrepair to the tune of $200. “The best investment I ever made,” he says.
Woody is almost real to Lantz and his wife, Grace.
“I guess you might say we begin talking about Woody at breakfast, and sometimes our imaginations get so wound up, we start laughing like a couple of fools. Then in the evening before dinner, we sit around and throw out all the ideas we had in the morning,” Gracie explains, laughing.
“Woody is like having a good child you’re proud of. We never give him anything to do we wouldn’t like our own child to do, if we had one,” says Lantz. “That’s not to say we don’t let Woody get into mischief,” he adds, “but it is the kinds of naughtiness that’s natural.”
Children write asking what Woody eats, what time he goes to bed, whether he goes to school. The couple answers all the letters.
Now She Growls
Born in Brooklyn, reared in Worcester, Mass., Gracie was in vaudeville with her father, Ed Boyle, before marrying Lantz in 1941. She dubs all the voices on a tape which is speeded up by 15 per cent to attain the metallic effect.
“Walter was not anxious to have me do it in the beginning,” Gracie explains. But she inveigled the studio directors to let her submit a take in the auditions “to see if the old man recognizes my voice.”
Whether he did or did not, she doesn’t say. But she got a lifetime hob of speaking for her husband’s lively sketches.
Gracie has learned how to growl for a new series, the Beary family, the story of mama, papa, teen-age and a 9-year-old bear.
“But Woody is still our baby, and just as popular as ever. He’s starting a brand new television show on 160 stations from coast to coast. Imagine at his age,” says Gracie, proudly.
