Chapter 6 Chapter Six
I quickly regained my composure and began to introduce other contestants.The show went well.The accordionist played a stomp and after him came the comedian who acted like a seasoned professional.The singer's voice is also very beautiful.Everything is going smooth.It was the turn of the last contestant—the female pianist.After I announced that it was her turn to play, she panicked and cried, then fled the house in a panic.There are three minutes left in our program.I knew I couldn't let the three minutes stand out.I'm an announcer.
I walked back to the microphone and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, we were born amateurs and we grew into professionals as we went along." I kept talking, and finally it was the director's gesture that made me shut up.
The live broadcast is over.I guess I saved the show and they should thank me for that.Maybe they'll give me a job doing...
The director came over, "What's the matter with you, what's your name?" He growled at me, "You're fifteen seconds out of time."
That was the end of my broadcasting career.
Paul Ash didn't invite me to tour the country with him, but the contest he started had an interesting result, Otto, Natalie, Richard, Seymour, Eddie, Howard, Steve all put His surname was changed to "Sheldon", only Uncle Harry kept the surname "Shechtel".
In early May, cousin Seymour surprised everyone by announcing that he was getting married. Seymour was only nineteen, but it seemed to me that he had grown up long ago. While living in Denver, I met his bride-to-be, Sidney Singer.Sidney is a charming girl who works as a secretary in Harry's agent's office, and it is there that Seymour meets her.I found her to be genuine, intelligent, and very good-humoured. The wedding was very simple, and all the people present were relatives.After the wedding, I congratulated Seymour, "She is a very good girl, I wish you a happy life together." "Don't worry. I'll try." After six months, they parted painfully. "What's the matter?" I asked Seymour. "She found out I was having an affair." "And then filed for divorce?" "No, she forgave me." "Then why-" "She caught me with someone else and then filed for divorce." "Did you see her again afterward?" "No, she hated me and said she would never see me again. She went to Hollywood. She had a brother there, and she got a job at MGM as a secretary to a female director who It's Dorothy Azner."
My brief exposure to broadcasting piqued my interest in the business and I was excited to go into broadcasting.Broadcasting could very well be the career direction I've been looking for.In all my spare time, I hung around WBBM and other stations in Chicago looking for a job as an announcer.In a word, there is no chance at all.I just had to face the fact that I was back in a hopeless situation with no future in sight. On a Sunday afternoon, the family went out.Sitting in front of my little upright piano at home, I came up with a melody.I thought the melody wasn't too bad, so I filled in the lyrics again.I named it "The Silent Self".I looked at the sheet music and thought, and then what?I can let it lie quietly on the piano bench, or I can try to do something. I decided to try and do something about it. It was 1936, and there were orchestras in the ballrooms of hotels across the country, and their concerts were broadcast nationally.The conductor of the Bismarck Hotel Orchestra was a genial young musician named Phil Levant.I didn't speak to him, but we would often nod to each other as he passed the coat locker on his way to the ballroom. I decided to show him the song I wrote.As he passed the coat locker that night, I said, "Excuse me, Mr. Levant. I wrote a song. I wonder if you'd like to see it." From the expression on his face, I can tell that such a request is often made to him.However, his performance was still very gentle. "Very happy," he said. I handed him the sheet music, and he glanced at it and walked away.I thought to myself, there will be no more of this matter. An hour later, Phil Levant returned. "That song of yours..." he said. I held my breath, "Huh?" "I love it, it's very creative. I think it's going to be a hit. Do you mind if I change it to an orchestral performance?" mind? "Never mind," I said, "it's—that's really nice." He likes my songs. The next night, as I was hanging the hats and coats on the wall, I was stunned when I heard "The Quiet Self" playing from the big ballroom around the corner.Because the concert is broadcast to the whole country, people all over the country can hear the songs I wrote.It was ecstatic. That night, I dragged my exhausted body home and started to take a hot bath. I was lounging in the water when Otto rushed into the bathroom, "Your phone." at this time? "Who is it?" "He said he was Phil Levant." I jumped out of the bathtub, grabbed a towel, and rushed out to answer the phone. "Mr. Levant?" "Sheldon, I have a Harms publisher here. He heard your song on the radio in New York. They want to publish it." The receiver almost fell to the ground in my hand. "Would you come over right away? He's waiting for you." "Come right away." I quickly dried myself, put on my clothes, and grabbed a sheet of music. "What's the matter?" Otto asked. I told him what happened, "Can I borrow the car?" "Of course." He handed me the key. "Be careful." I ran downstairs, got into the car, drove onto the outer ring road, and headed straight for the Bismarck Hotel.My first song was coming out, my brain was buzzing, and then I heard sirens behind me and saw red lights flashing.I had to pull over to the side of the road and a policeman got off his motorcycle and walked up to my car. "Why are you driving so fast?" "I didn't know I was speeding, officer. I'm going to see a music publisher at the Bismarck Hotel. I work at the hotel, in the coat locker. Somebody wants to publish a song I wrote, and I—" "What about the driver's license?" I showed him my driver's license.He put his driver's license in his pocket. "Okay, come with me." I stared at him closely, "Where are you going with me? Just give me a ticket, I have important—" "It's the new procedure now," he said. "We don't issue tickets anymore. Violators go straight to the police." My heart sank, "Officer, I have to go to this meeting. If you give me a ticket, I'd love to—" "I said come with me." I have no choice. He started the motorcycle and drove in front of me.I had no choice but to follow.Instead of meeting my publisher, I ended up at the police station. As I was driving into the next corner, the yellow light just turned to red.The police have already passed, but I can only stop and wait for the green light.When I started the car again, the police motorcycle was gone.I drove forward slowly so that he wouldn't think I was trying to get rid of him.The further I drive, the brighter my mood becomes.He's gone, he's forgotten about me.He went to find someone else who could be sent to prison.I speed up and head straight for the Bismarck Hotel. I parked the car in the garage and went to the coat storage.I couldn't believe my eyes: the policeman was waiting for me inside.He was furious, "You think you can get away from me? Uh?" Confused, I said, "I'm not trying to slip away. I gave you my driver's license, and I told you I'm coming here..." "Well, well," he said, "you didn't run away. Now let's go to the police station." Desperate, I said, "Let me call dad." He shook his head, "I've wasted enough..." "Just a moment." "Go ahead and make a long story short." I called home. It was Otto who answered the phone. "Hello." "Otto—" "How's it going?" "I'm going to the police station." I explained the situation to him. Otto said, "Let me speak to the police." I handed the receiver to the policeman, "My father wants to talk to you." He took the phone hesitantly, "Well... no, I don't have time to listen. I'm going to take your son to the police station... what?... oh, really?... that would be interesting. I know your Meaning... Actually, I have... I have a brother-in-law who is looking for a job... Seriously? I'll write it down." He took out his pen and pad and started writing. "You're very kind, Mr. Sheldon. I'll send him over tomorrow morning." He glanced at me. "Your son needn't worry." I was dumbfounded by their conversation.The policeman put down the receiver, handed me back the driver's license, and said, "Don't let me catch you speeding again." I watched him go. I asked the waitress at the coat locker, "Where's Phil Levant?" "He's conducting the band," she said, "but someone's waiting for you in the manager's office." When I arrived at the manager's office, I saw a well-dressed man in his fifties. I walked in.He said, "So you're the Wonder Boy. I'm Brent, and I work for TB Harms." TB Harms is one of the world's largest music publishers. "They heard your song in New York," he said, "and they're going to publish it." My heart began to sing. He hesitated, "Just one question." "what is the problem?" "They don't think it's appropriate to have Phil Levant recommending you, he's not big enough. They want two bigger names to come in and do a real referral." My heart began to sink.I don't know anyone with a bigger name. "Horace Hayter is playing at the Drake Hotel," said Brent. "Maybe you can go find him and show him your song." a band conductor. "OK." He gave me his business card, "Ask him to call me." "Okay." I replied. I looked at my watch. At quarter to eleven, Horace Hayter should still be in the act.I got into Otto's car and drove slowly to the Drake Hotel.When I got there, I went to the ballroom, where Horace was conducting the band. I walked into the hotel and the manager asked me, "Do you have a reservation?" "No, I'm here to see Mr. Hatter." "You wait there." He pointed to an empty table in the corner against the wall. I waited fifteen minutes.When Horace Hatter came off the bandstand, I went up to him, "Mr. Hatter, my name is Sidney Shelton. I have a song here..." "Sorry," he said, "I don't have time..." "But Harms intends to..." He started walking. "Harms is going to publish the song," I called after him, "but they want someone like you to recommend it." He stopped and walked back, "Bring it to me to have a look." I handed him the sheet music. He studied the song score carefully, as if he had heard the singing voice in his mind, "It's a good song." "Are you interested in recommending?" I asked. He raised his head, "Yes, I want fifty percent of the copyright." I was 100% happy to give him, "Great!" I handed him the business card Brent had given me. "I have a piece to make up. Come see me tomorrow." The next night, I was at the Drake Hotel again, and I heard Horace Hitter and his band playing my song, which was even better than Phil Levant's arrangement.I sat down and waited for Hatt.After the performance, he walked over to my seat. "Have you spoken to Mr. Blunt?" I asked. "Talked. We've reached an agreement." I laughed happily.My debut novel is about to be published. The next night Brent came to see me in the coat locker of the Bismarck Hotel. "Is everything settled?" I asked. "I'm afraid not." "But……" "Hat asked for five thousand dollars up front, and we've never had such a high upfront payment for a new song." I was stunned.After get off work, I drove to the Drake Hotel again to meet Horace Hayter. "Mr. Hatter, I don't care about the advance," I said, "I just want my first song to be published." "We'll figure it out," he assured me. "Don't worry. I'm going to publish it myself. I'm going to New York next week. It's going to have a lot of air on the radio." In addition to his nightly radio appearances, Hatter was the host of "Horace Hatter and the Musical Cavaliers," a popular weekly show. "The Quiet Self" will airwaves across the country from New York.
Over the next few weeks, I managed to listen to Horace's radio show, and he was right. "The Quiet Self" does air quite often, appearing both on his radio show and on "Horace Hayter and the Musical Cavaliers."He used my song but didn't publish it. I am not discouraged.Since I can write one song that makes the heart of a big publishing house, I can also write another one and type it out.I did.I spent all my free time at the piano, writing songs.I figured twelve would be enough to send to New York, which is a good number.I can't make a trip to New York myself because I can't afford to lose these jobs and I have to earn money to support my family. Natalie listened to my song and she was so excited. "It's better than Irving Berlin, dear. Much better. When are you going to New York?" I shook my head, "Natalie, I can't go to New York. I have three jobs here and if I..." "You have to go." Her tone was firm. "They won't even listen to the songs sent by mail. You have to go and go there yourself." "We can't afford to go," I said, "if..." "My dear, this is your chance. You can't afford to lose it." I don't know, she has already made the decision for me. That night, we had a family meeting.Otto finally reluctantly agreed to let me go to New York.I can get a job there before my work finds a buyer. We decided, next Saturday I will go.Natalie's farewell gift to me was a Greyhound bus ticket to New York. Richard and I were talking in bed that night and he said, "Are you really going to be as great a songwriter as Irving Berlin?" I answered matter-of-factly, "Yes." I figured when I made a lot of money, Natalie wouldn't have to go out to work again.
In early May, cousin Seymour surprised everyone by announcing that he was getting married. Seymour was only nineteen, but it seemed to me that he had grown up long ago. While living in Denver, I met his bride-to-be, Sidney Singer.Sidney is a charming girl who works as a secretary in Harry's agent's office, and it is there that Seymour meets her.I found her to be genuine, intelligent, and very good-humoured. The wedding was very simple, and all the people present were relatives.After the wedding, I congratulated Seymour, "She is a very good girl, I wish you a happy life together." "Don't worry. I'll try." After six months, they parted painfully. "What's the matter?" I asked Seymour. "She found out I was having an affair." "And then filed for divorce?" "No, she forgave me." "Then why-" "She caught me with someone else and then filed for divorce." "Did you see her again afterward?" "No, she hated me and said she would never see me again. She went to Hollywood. She had a brother there, and she got a job at MGM as a secretary to a female director who It's Dorothy Azner."
My brief exposure to broadcasting piqued my interest in the business and I was excited to go into broadcasting.Broadcasting could very well be the career direction I've been looking for.In all my spare time, I hung around WBBM and other stations in Chicago looking for a job as an announcer.In a word, there is no chance at all.I just had to face the fact that I was back in a hopeless situation with no future in sight. On a Sunday afternoon, the family went out.Sitting in front of my little upright piano at home, I came up with a melody.I thought the melody wasn't too bad, so I filled in the lyrics again.I named it "The Silent Self".I looked at the sheet music and thought, and then what?I can let it lie quietly on the piano bench, or I can try to do something. I decided to try and do something about it. It was 1936, and there were orchestras in the ballrooms of hotels across the country, and their concerts were broadcast nationally.The conductor of the Bismarck Hotel Orchestra was a genial young musician named Phil Levant.I didn't speak to him, but we would often nod to each other as he passed the coat locker on his way to the ballroom. I decided to show him the song I wrote.As he passed the coat locker that night, I said, "Excuse me, Mr. Levant. I wrote a song. I wonder if you'd like to see it." From the expression on his face, I can tell that such a request is often made to him.However, his performance was still very gentle. "Very happy," he said. I handed him the sheet music, and he glanced at it and walked away.I thought to myself, there will be no more of this matter. An hour later, Phil Levant returned. "That song of yours..." he said. I held my breath, "Huh?" "I love it, it's very creative. I think it's going to be a hit. Do you mind if I change it to an orchestral performance?" mind? "Never mind," I said, "it's—that's really nice." He likes my songs. The next night, as I was hanging the hats and coats on the wall, I was stunned when I heard "The Quiet Self" playing from the big ballroom around the corner.Because the concert is broadcast to the whole country, people all over the country can hear the songs I wrote.It was ecstatic. That night, I dragged my exhausted body home and started to take a hot bath. I was lounging in the water when Otto rushed into the bathroom, "Your phone." at this time? "Who is it?" "He said he was Phil Levant." I jumped out of the bathtub, grabbed a towel, and rushed out to answer the phone. "Mr. Levant?" "Sheldon, I have a Harms publisher here. He heard your song on the radio in New York. They want to publish it." The receiver almost fell to the ground in my hand. "Would you come over right away? He's waiting for you." "Come right away." I quickly dried myself, put on my clothes, and grabbed a sheet of music. "What's the matter?" Otto asked. I told him what happened, "Can I borrow the car?" "Of course." He handed me the key. "Be careful." I ran downstairs, got into the car, drove onto the outer ring road, and headed straight for the Bismarck Hotel.My first song was coming out, my brain was buzzing, and then I heard sirens behind me and saw red lights flashing.I had to pull over to the side of the road and a policeman got off his motorcycle and walked up to my car. "Why are you driving so fast?" "I didn't know I was speeding, officer. I'm going to see a music publisher at the Bismarck Hotel. I work at the hotel, in the coat locker. Somebody wants to publish a song I wrote, and I—" "What about the driver's license?" I showed him my driver's license.He put his driver's license in his pocket. "Okay, come with me." I stared at him closely, "Where are you going with me? Just give me a ticket, I have important—" "It's the new procedure now," he said. "We don't issue tickets anymore. Violators go straight to the police." My heart sank, "Officer, I have to go to this meeting. If you give me a ticket, I'd love to—" "I said come with me." I have no choice. He started the motorcycle and drove in front of me.I had no choice but to follow.Instead of meeting my publisher, I ended up at the police station. As I was driving into the next corner, the yellow light just turned to red.The police have already passed, but I can only stop and wait for the green light.When I started the car again, the police motorcycle was gone.I drove forward slowly so that he wouldn't think I was trying to get rid of him.The further I drive, the brighter my mood becomes.He's gone, he's forgotten about me.He went to find someone else who could be sent to prison.I speed up and head straight for the Bismarck Hotel. I parked the car in the garage and went to the coat storage.I couldn't believe my eyes: the policeman was waiting for me inside.He was furious, "You think you can get away from me? Uh?" Confused, I said, "I'm not trying to slip away. I gave you my driver's license, and I told you I'm coming here..." "Well, well," he said, "you didn't run away. Now let's go to the police station." Desperate, I said, "Let me call dad." He shook his head, "I've wasted enough..." "Just a moment." "Go ahead and make a long story short." I called home. It was Otto who answered the phone. "Hello." "Otto—" "How's it going?" "I'm going to the police station." I explained the situation to him. Otto said, "Let me speak to the police." I handed the receiver to the policeman, "My father wants to talk to you." He took the phone hesitantly, "Well... no, I don't have time to listen. I'm going to take your son to the police station... what?... oh, really?... that would be interesting. I know your Meaning... Actually, I have... I have a brother-in-law who is looking for a job... Seriously? I'll write it down." He took out his pen and pad and started writing. "You're very kind, Mr. Sheldon. I'll send him over tomorrow morning." He glanced at me. "Your son needn't worry." I was dumbfounded by their conversation.The policeman put down the receiver, handed me back the driver's license, and said, "Don't let me catch you speeding again." I watched him go. I asked the waitress at the coat locker, "Where's Phil Levant?" "He's conducting the band," she said, "but someone's waiting for you in the manager's office." When I arrived at the manager's office, I saw a well-dressed man in his fifties. I walked in.He said, "So you're the Wonder Boy. I'm Brent, and I work for TB Harms." TB Harms is one of the world's largest music publishers. "They heard your song in New York," he said, "and they're going to publish it." My heart began to sing. He hesitated, "Just one question." "what is the problem?" "They don't think it's appropriate to have Phil Levant recommending you, he's not big enough. They want two bigger names to come in and do a real referral." My heart began to sink.I don't know anyone with a bigger name. "Horace Hayter is playing at the Drake Hotel," said Brent. "Maybe you can go find him and show him your song." a band conductor. "OK." He gave me his business card, "Ask him to call me." "Okay." I replied. I looked at my watch. At quarter to eleven, Horace Hayter should still be in the act.I got into Otto's car and drove slowly to the Drake Hotel.When I got there, I went to the ballroom, where Horace was conducting the band. I walked into the hotel and the manager asked me, "Do you have a reservation?" "No, I'm here to see Mr. Hatter." "You wait there." He pointed to an empty table in the corner against the wall. I waited fifteen minutes.When Horace Hatter came off the bandstand, I went up to him, "Mr. Hatter, my name is Sidney Shelton. I have a song here..." "Sorry," he said, "I don't have time..." "But Harms intends to..." He started walking. "Harms is going to publish the song," I called after him, "but they want someone like you to recommend it." He stopped and walked back, "Bring it to me to have a look." I handed him the sheet music. He studied the song score carefully, as if he had heard the singing voice in his mind, "It's a good song." "Are you interested in recommending?" I asked. He raised his head, "Yes, I want fifty percent of the copyright." I was 100% happy to give him, "Great!" I handed him the business card Brent had given me. "I have a piece to make up. Come see me tomorrow." The next night, I was at the Drake Hotel again, and I heard Horace Hitter and his band playing my song, which was even better than Phil Levant's arrangement.I sat down and waited for Hatt.After the performance, he walked over to my seat. "Have you spoken to Mr. Blunt?" I asked. "Talked. We've reached an agreement." I laughed happily.My debut novel is about to be published. The next night Brent came to see me in the coat locker of the Bismarck Hotel. "Is everything settled?" I asked. "I'm afraid not." "But……" "Hat asked for five thousand dollars up front, and we've never had such a high upfront payment for a new song." I was stunned.After get off work, I drove to the Drake Hotel again to meet Horace Hayter. "Mr. Hatter, I don't care about the advance," I said, "I just want my first song to be published." "We'll figure it out," he assured me. "Don't worry. I'm going to publish it myself. I'm going to New York next week. It's going to have a lot of air on the radio." In addition to his nightly radio appearances, Hatter was the host of "Horace Hatter and the Musical Cavaliers," a popular weekly show. "The Quiet Self" will airwaves across the country from New York.
Over the next few weeks, I managed to listen to Horace's radio show, and he was right. "The Quiet Self" does air quite often, appearing both on his radio show and on "Horace Hayter and the Musical Cavaliers."He used my song but didn't publish it. I am not discouraged.Since I can write one song that makes the heart of a big publishing house, I can also write another one and type it out.I did.I spent all my free time at the piano, writing songs.I figured twelve would be enough to send to New York, which is a good number.I can't make a trip to New York myself because I can't afford to lose these jobs and I have to earn money to support my family. Natalie listened to my song and she was so excited. "It's better than Irving Berlin, dear. Much better. When are you going to New York?" I shook my head, "Natalie, I can't go to New York. I have three jobs here and if I..." "You have to go." Her tone was firm. "They won't even listen to the songs sent by mail. You have to go and go there yourself." "We can't afford to go," I said, "if..." "My dear, this is your chance. You can't afford to lose it." I don't know, she has already made the decision for me. That night, we had a family meeting.Otto finally reluctantly agreed to let me go to New York.I can get a job there before my work finds a buyer. We decided, next Saturday I will go.Natalie's farewell gift to me was a Greyhound bus ticket to New York. Richard and I were talking in bed that night and he said, "Are you really going to be as great a songwriter as Irving Berlin?" I answered matter-of-factly, "Yes." I figured when I made a lot of money, Natalie wouldn't have to go out to work again.