St. Peterburg Times – Jan 31, 1950
RADIO IN REVIEW
Phil Harrises Re-Estimated, And
the Verdict Is ‘Good’
By JOHN CROSBY
Probably no show in radio ever
started out less auspiciously than the Phil Harris – Alice Faye operation back
in the Fall of 1946. Radio critics everywhere shuddered in rare unison. Looking
back through my yellowing clippings on this program, I discover that first few
episodes were largely kissing games, which immensely simplified the task of the
writers. Either Phil was kissing Alice. Or both of them were kissing the
children.
What little dialogue there was
revolved around this osculation, more or less reviewing it. “Ya ain’t giving,
honey,” Mr. Harris would mutter, a bad notice for Miss Faye. Or he’d exclaim –there’s
no more exclamatory comedian in the business than Harris—“You blond beautiful
bundle of dynamite! Put your arms around me and tell me how much you love me!”
While not exactly opposed to
domestic felicity, critics –not just this one, either—muttered that it was a
rather slender pretext for a radio show. Even as late as 1948. I find myself
complaining that the Harris show was loud, crude and in decidedly questionable
taste.
* * *
WELL, ALL THAT is in the past. Great
changes have been wrought in the Harris household. The writers, for one thing,
have been put to work, dreaming up something besides stage directions for
kissing sequences. The children, while still in existence, are largely kept in
the back room safely out of mischief, especially at the microphone. Miss Faye,
who is not the most vivid of radio performers, has been pepped up a bit and, at
the same time, her role has been abbreviated, a wise measure. Above all, the
flame of love that once lit up the countryside for miles around has been dimmed
to something approaching connubial candlepower. Miss Faye and Mr. Harris appear
to have got used to having one another around the house.
The writers have happily turned
Mr. Harris loose with his pal, Frankie Remley (Elliott Lewis), a character as
innocent of book learning and as full of pool room wisdom as Mr. H. himself. These
two raffish, ingenuous hoodlums are wonderfully funny together, grappling with
Harris’ home life, something Harris only vaguely understands or trying to pound
some sense into Harris’ carefree band.
The best way I can describe the
Harris band is to point out the Harris is unquestionably the intellectual
superior of any member of it. When he explains that he and the band are about
to go into television and are there any questions, the guitar player speaks up
and says: “Yes—what’s television?”
* *
*
SEVERAL NEW characters have been
added to fill in the spaces left by the absent children. One of them, a lad
named Julius, is a pugnacious delivery boy with a fierce disdain for both
Harris and Remley. Another is Miss Faye’s brother, Willie, a fey lisping
character who represents culture as opposed to Harris and Remley who are pure
animal. Culture, in this case, has grounds for a libel suit. Mr. Harris
addresses this creature in what might be described as verbal pirouettes.
“I hope your next upside-down cake
turns out right side up.” It’s pretty bad and I wish they’d quit it. And I’m
not referring simply to Harris. All these fey characters on comedy programs
have become not only tiresome but just a little indecent.
Miss Faye’s personality has been
substantially rearranged so that, instead of being required to flame like white
fire, she is now asked to be an all wise mother to her child – husband. This is
an impossible role for any woman and especially for Miss Faye but, well there
isn’t too much of Miss Faye anymore.
The Harris program is unabashed
farce not susceptible to close examination but at its best when, for instance,
Remley and Julius are lousing up an auction, it is hilarious fun and I’m sorry I
said all the harsh things about it I once did. It was the show that changed,
though, not me.
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