Podcast appearances and mentions of martin block

El programa se lanzó el 3 de febrero de 1935, originalmente como una emisión de relleno entre la cobertura del juicio de Bruno Hauptmann, el secuestro y posterior asesinato del hijo de Charles Lindbergh a manos de un carpintero del Bronx. Con José Manuel Corrales.

Comedy is always something that brings people together, even if they like different styles. Matt and I get into some stuff that's laying heavy on his mind, sports, movies and what makes him truly tick...Radio/DJ and everything that goes with it. Enjoy! Mentions: Matt: https://www.instagram.com/realmattmysh/?hl=en High Speed Daddy: https://www.highspeeddaddy.com/?rfsn=7178368.317ce6 Live Rishi: Use the code "TABLE50" get 50% off your entire order - https://liverishi.com/ Composure: https://composurelifestyle.com/ use the code RAW Me: https://berawpodcast.com/ 'til next time! The History of the Radio DJ The radio disc jockey, commonly known as the DJ, has a rich history rooted in the evolution of radio broadcasting and popular culture. The role of the DJ has transformed dramatically over the decades, shaping and reflecting societal changes in music, technology, and communication. The Birth of the Radio DJ: 1920s-1930s The concept of a radio DJ emerged in the early 20th century, shortly after the invention of radio broadcasting. In the 1920s, radio stations primarily focused on live programming, such as news, lectures, and music performed by live bands. However, as phonograph records gained popularity, stations began to experiment with playing pre-recorded music. The term "disc jockey" was first coined in the 1930s by radio commentator Walter Winchell, combining "disc" (referring to records) and "jockey" (a rider or operator). Early DJs played an essential role in introducing audiences to recorded music, often providing commentary and curating selections to entertain listeners. The Golden Age: 1940s-1950s The role of the radio DJ expanded significantly during the 1940s and 1950s, an era often referred to as the golden age of radio. DJs like Martin Block, who hosted the popular "Make Believe Ballroom" on New York's WNEW, pioneered the art of creating a personal connection with listeners. Block's conversational style and his ability to simulate a live music venue using pre-recorded tracks revolutionized radio. During this period, DJs became cultural tastemakers, promoting emerging genres such as rhythm and blues and early rock and roll. Figures like Alan Freed gained national fame for their enthusiastic promotion of rock music, helping break racial barriers in the music industry by introducing black artists to white audiences. Freed's "Moondog Rock and Roll Party" in the 1950s is credited with popularizing the term "rock and roll," cementing the DJ's role in shaping music history. The Rise of Personality DJs: 1960s-1970s By the 1960s, radio had become more competitive, and DJs began emphasizing their personalities to stand out. This era saw the rise of "Top 40" radio formats, where DJs played a carefully curated list of the most popular songs. Radio personalities like Wolfman Jack and Casey Kasem became household names, blending humor, storytelling, and vibrant on-air personas with their musical expertise. During the 1970s, FM radio gained prominence over AM radio, allowing DJs to adopt freer, more experimental formats. Album-oriented rock (AOR) stations gave DJs the freedom to play entire records and explore deeper cuts, appealing to more niche audiences. This period also marked the emergence of specialized DJs for genres like country, jazz, and disco. The Modern Era: 1980s-Present The role of the DJ continued to evolve with the advent of digital technology and the internet. In the 1980s and 1990s, DJs transitioned to digital formats, using CDs and later MP3s to expand their libraries. Radio consolidation in the 1990s introduced more uniform programming, but it also made room for syndicated shows hosted by iconic DJs like Howard Stern and Rush Limbaugh. In the 21st century, the rise of streaming platforms and podcasts transformed how DJs interact with audiences. Many DJs now operate across multiple platforms, blending traditional radio with digital content. While their role has shifted, radio DJs remain vital curators of culture, bringing music, stories, and community to listeners worldwide.

Dr. Martin Block explains the importance of inclusion in physical education and sports for children and adults with autism and other disabilities.  Dr. Block is Professor of Kinesiology at the University of Virginia, where he directs the Kinesiology for Individuals with Disabilities (KID) program.  

Same Time, Same Station 08/11/2024 Doris Day Part 6. “The Kraft Music Hall 12/30/1948 Doris Day Al Jolson “National Guard Show” 1961: Martin Block with Doris Day Part 1. “The Swingin Years” 05/xx/1974 Hall Of Fame Doris Day. “Yesterday USA” 06/25/2023 Sunday Night Show. Walden, Larry, and John with Perry Huntoon. Doris Day part 6. If you would like to request shows, please call (714) 449-1958 E-mail: Larry Gassman: LarryGassman1@gmail.com John Gassman: John1Gassman@gmail.com

Same Time, Same Station 08/11/2024 Doris Day Part 6. “The Kraft Music Hall 12/30/1948 Doris Day Al Jolson “National Guard Show” 1961: Martin Block with Doris Day Part 1. “The Swingin Years” 05/xx/1974 Hall Of Fame Doris Day. “Yesterday USA” 06/25/2023 Sunday Night Show. Walden, Larry, and John with Perry Huntoon. Doris Day part 6. If you would like to request shows, please call (714) 449-1958 E-mail: Larry Gassman: LarryGassman1@gmail.com John Gassman: John1Gassman@gmail.com

World Dj Day / 9 MarchWorld Dj Day / Since 2002 at the suggestion of the International club industry is world day DJ, which is most likely not an official holiday, but a very important charity event. Annually the world week, during which a variety of stocks, the fees from which go on the needs of the charity. Part of the funds goes to support children's organizations. The climax of the celebrations is the world day DJ falling on the 9th of March.All income received by the radio stations, clubs, DJs goes to charity, they need care, and a variety of funds.DJ is the abbreviation of the English phrase disc jockey – and serves as a definition of the profession of the person listen to various songs and picks to the public recorded music.The concept of disc jockey in the current interpretation suggests a different, regardless of source, types of music playback.For the first time this word came from the lips of Walter Winchell American commentator in 1934 and was voiced in relation to Martin Block, radio host.Profession DJ rightfully considered one of the most difficult activities related to music. DJing includes not only the successful collection of musical compositions, it is creating a mood appropriate to the moment, the creative work that requires inspiration, a subtle understanding of music and, of course, a well-honed skills.Today, this profession is quite popular, many people have successfully built their career in the field of music digiana. Among them are brilliant DJs are considered "stars" in their profession...Track List:Sultan + Shepard feat. Fractures - All That RemainsHools - IskierkaRadiohead - Street Spirit (Fran Bux Unofficial remix)Andy Woldman, Katrin Souza - Fragile Star (Eric Rose remix)Innellea - The Awakening - Five Phases Project (1_5)Pekka - Sensitive (Extended mix)Amir Telem & Radical Fantasy - Kiss the Sky (Kyotto remix)Kamilo Sanclemente - From The SkyDeviu - Become HumanMark Hoffen - DreamsRoy Rosenfeld feat. Sébastien Léger - Cherry On TopBudakid - Silent SummerAlex'O'Rion - With YouMonastetiq, Starving Yet Full - Call on You (Extended mix)Alfa Romero - Claim Your LoveCarl Dern - BitenA;an Cerra - Zambala (Jaap Ligthart remix)Tantsui - Soft RockPaul Losev - SehnsuchtBonus track:Koan - Aine HillCompiled & mixed by Paul SidorovOnlyMusic™ & OM Library™

World Dj Day / 9 MarchWorld Dj Day / Since 2002 at the suggestion of the International club industry is world day DJ, which is most likely not an official holiday, but a very important charity event. Annually the world week, during which a variety of stocks, the fees from which go on the needs of the charity. Part of the funds goes to support children's organizations. The climax of the celebrations is the world day DJ falling on the 9th of March.All income received by the radio stations, clubs, DJs goes to charity, they need care, and a variety of funds.DJ is the abbreviation of the English phrase disc jockey – and serves as a definition of the profession of the person listen to various songs and picks to the public recorded music.The concept of disc jockey in the current interpretation suggests a different, regardless of source, types of music playback.For the first time this word came from the lips of Walter Winchell American commentator in 1934 and was voiced in relation to Martin Block, radio host.Profession DJ rightfully considered one of the most difficult activities related to music. DJing includes not only the successful collection of musical compositions, it is creating a mood appropriate to the moment, the creative work that requires inspiration, a subtle understanding of music and, of course, a well-honed skills.Today, this profession is quite popular, many people have successfully built their career in the field of music digiana. Among them are brilliant DJs are considered "stars" in their profession...Track List:Sultan + Shepard feat. Fractures - All That RemainsHools - IskierkaRadiohead - Street Spirit (Fran Bux Unofficial remix)Andy Woldman, Katrin Souza - Fragile Star (Eric Rose remix)Innellea - The Awakening - Five Phases Project (1_5)Pekka - Sensitive (Extended mix)Amir Telem & Radical Fantasy - Kiss the Sky (Kyotto remix)Kamilo Sanclemente - From The SkyDeviu - Become HumanMark Hoffen - DreamsRoy Rosenfeld feat. Sébastien Léger - Cherry On TopBudakid - Silent SummerAlex'O'Rion - With YouMonastetiq, Starving Yet Full - Call on You (Extended mix)Alfa Romero - Claim Your LoveCarl Dern - BitenA;an Cerra - Zambala (Jaap Ligthart remix)Tantsui - Soft RockPaul Losev - SehnsuchtBonus track:Koan - Aine HillCompiled & mixed by Paul SidorovOnlyMusic™ & OM Library™

Guest speaker Dr. Martin Block (@MartinBlockUVA) joins us today to talk about the excellent APE Master's Program at the University of Virginia including its unique qualities and realistic experiences, the funding to keep the program alive, and tips to success from one of his current students in the program. Specially, he discusses how his program was developed initially through federal funding (OSEP), and then through partnerships with the local schools he has been able to maintain the program for almost 30 years. Martin Block is the Director of the program of kinesiology for individuals with disabilities at the University of Virginia, where he has been since 1992. He is the current editor for PALESTRA and has co-authored dozens of book chapters and empirical articles related to the field of APE.

On the eighth episode of The Panzer Podcast we'll be diving into the Panther Ausführung G-- the final and most produced Panther tank during the war-- we'll have a chance to explore the who, what, why, and when of the last variation as well as it's not-so-humble beginnings as the Panther II. Which yes, we will side quest our way through the Panther II into the Panther G, while also touching on the effects of the Holocaust and Nazi Forced labor within the armaments industry and how that directly affected the Panther program, especially so late in the war. We also get a chance to discuss the Kazakh Dandelion and other various rubber pursuits. Buckle up, this episode is a long one! Enjoy! -John Burgess ThePanzerPodcast@gmail.com So, my sources list was beginning to get too long, so instead I've decided to start including any new sources that I have added because of the episode. I include a whole lot of sources in each episode because within each episode I am pulling my notes from all of the books that I've read to get this series underway. So if you would like to check the full source list, you can go back to each episode description to see where I've left off. Going back to episode 007, all of my sources there is the complete list so far. I am now going to add the additional books I've used in this episode, and will continue to, going forward, always add new additional sources to each episode if they have not been listed previously. Additional Sources Include: "The I.Abteilung/Panzer-Regiment 4 in Italy 1944-1945" by Martin Block and John Nelson, “A World History of Rubber: Empire, Industry and the Everyday” by Stephen Harp, “The Devil's Milk: A Social History of Rubber” by John Tully, “The Battle for Rubber in the Second World War” by William Clarence-Smith, “Forced Laborers in the Third Reich” by Ulrich Herbert, "Less than Slaves: Jewish Forced Labor" by Benjamin Ferencz, "Arbeitslager Zement" by Florian Freund, "Industry and Ideology: IG Farben in the Nazi Era" by Peter Hayes, "Vernichtung durch Arbeit" by Hermann Kaienburg, and "German Military Transport of World War Two", by John Milsom.

Martin Block interviews famous easy listening music conductor Percy Faith on the National Guard public service transcription. But first we hear a "Summer Montage" with Faith's recordings of The Theme From A Summer Place, Summer Breeze and Summer of '42.

For this episode of What's New in APE, I led a discussion with APE journal editors Dr. Martin Block, Dr. Jeffrey Martin, and Pauli Rintala addressing their experiences within the field of Adapted Physical Activity and as research editors. Discussed in this podcast are a variety of topics including effective strategies for teaching and learning in APE, overcoming language barriers, and the importance of research for the adapted field. Dr. Martin Block, editor of Palaestra, is the Program Director of Kinesiology for Individuals with Disabilities at the University of Virginia. He received his Ph.D. from the University of Maryland in 1990. He has also served as past president of the International Federation of Adapted Physical Activity (IFAPA) and past president of the National Consortium of Physical Education for Individuals with Disabilities (NCPEID). Dr. Jeffrey Martin, editor of APAQ, is a professor at Wayne State University. He received his Ph.D. in exercise and sport psychology in 1992 from the University of North Carolina, Greensboro. Currently, his major research focuses on the psychosocial aspects of disability sport and physical activity and he has published over 200 research articles and book chapters. Pauli Rintala, editor of the European journal for Adapted Physical Activity, is a recently retired professor from the University of Jyväskylä, who specialized in APA. He received a Ph.D. from Oregon State University and since then has been in Finland where he has worked within various different fields and with many different research projects.

My history of The Cyrkle starts in the fall of 1961 at Lafayette College in Easton, Pa. when I met Tom Dawes in line to get a medical checkup which I guess must have been required for all freshmen. But before I continue I'd like to share a bit of my personal musical history leading up to that time.My mom tells me that at the age of 10 months she was surprised to hear me hum “Little Brown Jug” back to her after singing it to me while being diapered. But that spurt of musicality gave me no interest in the guitar and piano lessons that I had for a short time in early grade school.There were two events that happened around the fifth grade that really turned me on to music. The first occurred in the car on family trips when we listened to music on the radio and if we were in the car at the right time we would hear Martin Block's “Make Believe Ballroom” which played the current hits of the day. I found myself harmonizing to Rosemarie Clooney's “This Old House” It was weird at first but after hearing it several times on different trips I began to own the experience really enjoyed my mastering of the ability to harmonize. The second event occurred on our back porch in Brooklyn after receiving a portable transistor radio for my birthday. I was with friends tuning to different stations and came across Alan Freed's rock and roll radio show. I had never heard anything like it and I was totally mesmerized. I listened all evening and happily missed some of my favorite tv shows. One particular song that stands out that evening is “Story Untold” by The Nutmegs. It's a typical 4 chord doowop song but it was mind blowing to me. From that moment on I was one with rock and roll. As I'm writing this a third event came to my mind. It's not significant in my musical development but is an indication of my perception relative to music. There was a tv show called “Your Hit Parade”. They had a house band and house singers that would perform the nations current hits. It was after my bedtime but I could hear it as I was falling asleep. Most of the songs came under the heading of “standards” and the performers and arrangements were fine. One day they performed a rock and roll song that had made it to the national charts. I don't remember the song but I have a clear memory of noting how poor the performance was. They clearly didn't understand how to do rock music and I remember saying to myself “this show is over”. It went off the air not long after that.We moved from Brooklyn to Eastchester, N.Y. in 1955 where I began the 7th grade. I took piano lessons for a while during this time but changed over to guitar, inspired cause I so loved seeing Elvis singing with a guitar in his hand. I also introduced myself to rudimentary recording techniques. I was given a tape recorder followed by a second tape recorder on subsequent birthdays. The first recorder allowed me to record songs off the radio and also to record myself singing and playing. But the coolest thing happened when I got the second machine. I sang a background part of “In The Still Of The Night” into the first recorder. I then put my head next to the speaker of machine #1 and played back that part while singing the second part with the microphone from the second machine in front of “us”. When finished I had 4 background parts and a lead vocal recorded. The quality was awful but the parts and the concept were correct. Today we simply call it overdubbing and it is taken for granted in the music industry but at the time it was really cool. In high school I had a decent f hole acoustic guitar with an electric pickup and a decent guitar amp. My friend and next door neighbor played accordion in a band which also had a guitar player. They were scheduled to play at a high school dance when the guitar player's amp broke. He asked if they could borrow my amp for the evening. Encouraged by my mom, I told them ok if they let me

Episode one hundred and thirty-five of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “The Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel, and the many records they made, together and apart, before their success. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on "Blues Run the Game" by Jackson C. Frank. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ Errata I talk about a tour of Lancashire towns, but some of the towns I mention were in Cheshire at the time, and some are in Greater Manchester or Merseyside now. They're all very close together though. I say Mose Rager was Black. I was misremembering, confusing Mose Rager, a white player in the Muhlenberg style, with Arnold Schultz, a Black player who invented it. I got this right in the episode on "Bye Bye Love". Also, I couldn't track down a copy of the Paul Kane single version of “He Was My Brother” in decent quality, so I used the version on The Paul Simon Songbook instead, as they're basically identical performances. Resources As usual, I've created a Mixcloud playlist of the music excerpted here. This compilation collects all Simon and Garfunkel's studio albums, with bonus tracks, plus a DVD of their reunion concert. There are many collections of the pre-S&G recordings by the two, as these are now largely in the public domain. This one contains a good selection. I've referred to several books for this episode: Simon and Garfunkel: Together Alone by Spencer Leigh is a breezy, well-researched, biography of the duo. Paul Simon: The Life by Robert Hilburn is the closest thing there is to an authorised biography of Simon. And What is it All But Luminous? is Art Garfunkel's memoir. It's not particularly detailed, being more a collection of thoughts and poetry than a structured narrative, but gives a good idea of Garfunkel's attitude to people and events in his life. Roots, Radicals, and Rockers: How Skiffle Changed the World by Billy Bragg has some great information on the British folk scene of the fifties and sixties. And Singing From the Floor is an oral history of British folk clubs, including a chapter on Dylan's 1962 visit to London. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Today, we're going to take a look at a hit record that almost never happened -- a record by a duo who had already split up, twice, by the time it became a hit, and who didn't know it was going to come out. We're going to look at how a duo who started off as an Everly Brothers knockoff, before becoming unsuccessful Greenwich Village folkies, were turned into one of the biggest acts of the sixties by their producer. We're going to look at Simon and Garfunkel, and at "The Sound of Silence": [Excerpt: Simon and Garfunkel, "The Sound of Silence"] The story of Simon and Garfunkel starts with two children in a school play.  Neither Paul Simon or Art Garfunkel had many friends when they met in a school performance of Alice in Wonderland, where Simon was playing the White Rabbit and Garfunkel the Cheshire Cat. Simon was well-enough liked, by all accounts, but he'd been put on an accelerated programme for gifted students which meant he was progressing through school faster than his peers. He had a small social group, mostly based around playing baseball, but wasn't one of the popular kids. Art Garfunkel, another gifted student, had no friends at all until he got to know Simon, who he described later as his "one and only friend" in this time period. One passage in Garfunkel's autobiography seems to me to sum up everything about Garfunkel's personality as a child -- and indeed a large part of his personality as it comes across in interviews to this day. He talks about the pleasure he got from listening to the chart rundown on the radio -- "It was the numbers that got me. I kept meticulous lists—when a new singer like Tony Bennett came onto the charts with “Rags to Riches,” I watched the record jump from, say, #23 to #14 in a week. The mathematics of the jumps went to my sense of fun." Garfunkel is, to this day, a meticulous person -- on his website he has a list of every book he's read since June 1968, which is currently up to one thousand three hundred and ten books, and he has always had a habit of starting elaborate projects and ticking off every aspect of them as he goes. Both Simon and Garfunkel were outsiders at this point, other than their interests in sport, but Garfunkel was by far the more introverted of the two, and as a result he seems to have needed their friendship more than Simon did. But the two boys developed an intense, close, friendship, initially based around their shared sense of humour. Both of them were avid readers of Mad magazine, which had just started publishing when the two of them had met up, and both could make each other laugh easily. But they soon developed a new interest, when Martin Block on the middle-of-the-road radio show Make Believe Ballroom announced that he was going to play the worst record he'd ever heard. That record was "Gee" by the Crows: [Excerpt: The Crows, "Gee"] Paul Simon later said that that record was the first thing he'd ever heard on that programme that he liked, and soon he and Garfunkel had become regular listeners to Alan Freed's show on WINS, loving the new rock and roll music they were discovering. Art had already been singing in public from an early age -- his first public performance had been singing Nat "King" Cole's hit "Too Young" in a school talent contest when he was nine -- but the two started singing together. The first performance by Simon and Garfunkel was at a high school dance and, depending on which source you read, was a performance either of "Sh'Boom" or of Big Joe Turner's "Flip, Flop, and Fly": [Excerpt: Big Joe Turner, "Flip, Flop, and Fly"] The duo also wrote at least one song together as early as 1955 -- or at least Garfunkel says they wrote it together. Paul Simon describes it as one he wrote. They tried to get a record deal with the song, but it was never recorded at the time -- but Simon has later performed it: [Excerpt: Paul Simon, "The Girl For Me"] Even at this point, though, while Art Garfunkel was putting all his emotional energy into the partnership with Simon, Simon was interested in performing with other people. Al Kooper was another friend of Simon's at the time, and apparently Simon and Kooper would also perform together. Once Elvis came on to Paul's radar, he also bought a guitar, but it was when the two of them first heard the Everly Brothers that they realised what it was that they could do together. Simon fell in love with the Everly Brothers as soon as he heard "Bye Bye Love": [Excerpt: The Everly Brothers, "Bye Bye Love"] Up to this point, Paul hadn't bought many records -- he spent his money on baseball cards and comic books, and records just weren't good value. A pack of baseball cards was five cents, a comic book was ten cents, but a record was a dollar. Why buy records when you could hear music on the radio for free? But he needed that record, he couldn't just wait around to hear it on the radio. He made an hour-long two-bus journey to a record shop in Queens, bought the record, took it home, played it... and almost immediately scratched it. So he got back on the bus, travelled for another hour, bought another copy, took it home, and made sure he didn't scratch that one. Simon and Garfunkel started copying the Everlys' harmonies, and would spend hours together, singing close together watching each other's mouths and copying the way they formed words, eventually managing to achieve a vocal blend through sheer effort which would normally only come from familial closeness. Paul became so obsessed with music that he sold his baseball card collection and bought a tape recorder for two hundred dollars. They would record themselves singing, and then sing back along with it, multitracking themselves, but also critiquing the tape, refining their performances. Paul's father was a bass player -- "the family bassman", as he would later sing -- and encouraged his son in his music, even as he couldn't see the appeal in this new rock and roll music. He would critique Paul's songs, saying things like "you went from four-four to a bar of nine-eight, you can't do that" -- to which his son would say "I just did" -- but this wasn't hostile criticism, rather it was giving his son a basic grounding in song construction which would prove invaluable. But the duo's first notable original song -- and first hit -- came about more or less by accident. In early 1956, the doo-wop group the Clovers had released the hit single "Devil or Angel". Its B-side had a version of "Hey Doll Baby", a song written by the blues singer Titus Turner, and which sounds to me very inspired by Hank Williams' "Hey, Good Lookin'": [Excerpt: The Clovers, "Hey, Doll Baby"] That song was picked up by the Everly Brothers, who recorded it for their first album: [Excerpt: The Everly Brothers, "Hey Doll Baby"] Here is where the timeline gets a little confused for me, because that album wasn't released until early 1958, although the recording session for that track was in August 1957. Yet that track definitely influenced Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel to record a song that they released in November 1957. All I can imagine is that they heard the brothers perform it live, or maybe a radio station had an acetate copy. Because the way everyone has consistently told the story is that at the end of summer 1957, Simon and Garfunkel had both heard the Everly Brothers perform "Hey Doll Baby", but couldn't remember how it went. The two of them tried to remember it, and to work a version of it out together, and their hazy memories combined to reconstruct something that was completely different, and which owed at least as much to "Wake Up Little Suzie" as to "Hey Doll Baby". Their new song, "Hey Schoolgirl", was catchy enough that they thought if they recorded a demo of it, maybe the Everly Brothers themselves would record the song. At the demo studio they happened to encounter Sid Prosen, who owned a small record label named Big Records. He heard the duo perform and realised he might have his own Everly Brothers here. He signed the duo to a contract, and they went into a professional studio to rerecord "Hey Schoolgirl", this time with Paul's father on bass, and a couple of other musicians to fill out the sound: [Excerpt: Tom and Jerry, "Hey Schoolgirl"] Of course, the record couldn't be released under their real names -- there was no way anyone was going to buy a record by Simon and Garfunkel. So instead they became Tom and Jerry. Paul Simon was Jerry Landis -- a surname he chose because he had a crush on a girl named Sue Landis. Art became Tom Graff, because he liked drawing graphs. "Hey Schoolgirl" became a local hit. The two were thrilled to hear it played on Alan Freed's show (after Sid Prosen gave Freed two hundred dollars), and were even more thrilled when they got to perform on American Bandstand, on the same show as Jerry Lee Lewis. When Dick Clark asked them where they were from, Simon decided to claim he was from Macon, Georgia, where Little Richard came from, because all his favourite rock and roll singers were from the South. "Hey Schoolgirl" only made number forty-nine nationally, because the label didn't have good national distribution, but it sold over a hundred thousand copies, mostly in the New York area. And Sid Prosen seems to have been one of a very small number of independent label owners who wasn't a crook -- the two boys got about two thousand dollars each from their hit record. But while Tom and Jerry seemed like they might have a successful career, Simon and Garfunkel were soon to split up, and the reason for their split was named True Taylor. Paul had been playing some of his songs for Sid Prosen, to see what the duo's next single should be, and Prosen had noticed that while some of them were Everly Brothers soundalikes, others were Elvis soundalikes. Would Paul be interested in recording some of those, too? Obviously Art couldn't sing on those, so they'd use a different name, True Taylor. The single was released around the same time as the second Tom and Jerry record, and featured an Elvis-style ballad by Paul on one side, and a rockabilly song written by his father on the other: [Excerpt: True Taylor, "True or False"] But Paul hadn't discussed that record with Art before doing it, and the two had vastly different ideas about their relationship. Paul was Art's only friend, and Art thought they had an indissoluble bond and that they would always work together. Paul, on the other hand, thought of Art as one of his friends and someone he made music with, but he could play at being Elvis if he wanted, as well as playing at being an Everly brother. Garfunkel, in his memoir published in 2017, says "the friendship was shattered for life" -- he decided then and there that Paul Simon was a "base" person, a betrayer. But on the other hand, he still refers to Simon, over and over again, in that book as still being his friend, even as Simon has largely been disdainful of him since their last performance together in 2010. Friendships are complicated. Tom and Jerry struggled on for a couple more singles, which weren't as successful as "Hey Schoolgirl" had been, with material like "Two Teenagers", written by Rose Marie McCoy: [Excerpt: Tom and Jerry, "Two Teenagers"] But as they'd stopped being friends, and they weren't selling records, they drifted apart and didn't really speak for five years, though they would occasionally run into one another. They both went off to university, and Garfunkel basically gave up on the idea of having a career in music, though he did record a couple of singles, under the name "Artie Garr": [Excerpt: Artie Garr, "Beat Love"] But for the most part, Garfunkel concentrated on his studies, planning to become either an architect or maybe an academic. Paul Simon, on the other hand, while he was technically studying at university too, was only paying minimal attention to his studies. Instead, he was learning the music business. Every afternoon, after university had finished, he'd go around the Brill Building and its neighbouring buildings, offering his services both as a songwriter and as a demo performer. As Simon was competent on guitar, bass, and drums, could sing harmonies, and could play a bit of piano if it was in the key of C, he could use primitive multitracking to play and sing all the parts on a demo, and do it well: [Excerpt: Paul Simon, "Boys Were Made For Girls"] That's an excerpt from a demo Simon recorded for Burt Bacharach, who has said that he tried to get Simon to record as many of his demos as possible, though only a couple of them have surfaced publicly. Simon would also sometimes record demos with his friend Carole Klein, sometimes under the name The Cosines: [Excerpt: The Cosines, "Just to Be With You"] As we heard back in the episode on "Will You Love Me Tomorrow?", Carole Klein went on to change her name to Carole King, and become one of the most successful songwriters of the era -- something which spurred Paul Simon on, as he wanted to emulate her success. Simon tried to get signed up by Don Kirshner, who was publishing Goffin and King, but Kirshner turned Simon down -- an expensive mistake for Kirshner, but one that would end up benefiting Simon, who eventually figured out that he should own his own publishing. Simon was also getting occasional work as a session player, and played lead guitar on "The Shape I'm In" by Johnny Restivo, which made the lower reaches of the Hot One Hundred: [Excerpt: Johnny Restivo, "The Shape I'm In"] Between 1959 and 1963 Simon recorded a whole string of unsuccessful pop singles. including as a member of the Mystics: [Excerpt: The Mystics, "All Through the Night"] He even had a couple of very minor chart hits -- he got to number 99 as Tico and the Triumphs: [Excerpt: Tico and the Triumphs, "Motorcycle"] and number ninety-seven as Jerry Landis: [Excerpt: Jerry Landis, "The Lone Teen Ranger"] But he was jumping around, hopping onto every fad as it passed, and not getting anywhere. And then he started to believe that he could do something more interesting in music. He first became aware that the boundaries of what could be done in music extended further than "ooh-bop-a-loochy-ba" when he took a class on modern music at university, which included a trip to Carnegie Hall to hear a performance of music by the avant-garde composer Edgard Varese: [Excerpt: Edgard Varese, "Ionisation"] Simon got to meet Varese after the performance, and while he would take his own music in a very different, and much more commercial, direction than Varese's, he was nonetheless influenced by what Varese's music showed about the possibilities that existed in music. The other big influence on Simon at this time was when he heard The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Girl From the North Country"] Simon immediately decided to reinvent himself as a folkie, despite at this point knowing very little about folk music other than the Everly Brothers' Songs Our Daddy Taught Us album. He tried playing around Greenwich Village, but found it an uncongenial atmosphere, and inspired by the liner notes to the Dylan album, which talked about Dylan's time in England, he made what would be the first of several trips to the UK, where he was given a rapturous reception simply on the grounds of being an American and owning a better acoustic guitar -- a Martin -- than most British people owned. He had the showmanship that he'd learned from watching his father on stage and sometimes playing with him, and from his time in Tom and Jerry and working round the studios, and so he was able to impress the British folk-club audiences, who were used to rather earnest, scholarly, people, not to someone like Simon who was clearly ambitious and very showbiz. His repertoire at this point consisted mostly of songs from the first two Dylan albums, a Joan Baez record, Little Willie John's "Fever", and one song he'd written himself, an attempt at a protest song called "He Was My Brother", which he would release on his return to the US under yet another stage name, Paul Kane: [Excerpt: Paul Kane, "He Was My Brother"] Simon has always stated that that song was written about a friend of his who was murdered when he went down to Mississippi with the Freedom Riders -- but while Simon's friend was indeed murdered, it wasn't until about a year after he wrote the song, and Simon has confused the timelines in his subsequent recollections. At the time he recorded that, when he had returned to New York at the end of the summer, Simon had a job as a song plugger for a publishing company, and he gave the publishing company the rights to that song and its B-side, which led to that B-side getting promoted by the publisher, and ending up covered on one of the biggest British albums of 1964, which went to number two in the UK charts: [Excerpt: Val Doonican, "Carlos Dominguez"] Oddly, that may not end up being the only time we feature a Val Doonican track on this podcast. Simon continued his attempts to be a folkie, even teaming up again with Art Garfunkel, with whom he'd re-established contact, to perform in Greenwich Village as Kane and Garr, but they went down no better as a duo than Simon had as a solo artist. Simon went back to the UK again over Christmas 1963, and while he was there he continued work on a song that would become such a touchstone for him that of the first six albums he would be involved in, four would feature the song while a fifth would include a snippet of it. "The Sound of Silence" was apparently started in November 1963, but not finished until February 1964, by which time he was once again back in the USA, and back working as a song plugger. It was while working as a song plugger that Simon first met Tom Wilson, Bob Dylan's producer at Columbia. Simon met up with Wilson trying to persuade him to use some of the songs that the publishing company were putting out. When Wilson wasn't interested, Simon played him a couple of his own songs. Wilson took one of them, "He Was My Brother", for the Pilgrims, a group he was producing who were supposed to be the Black answer to Peter, Paul, and Mary: [Excerpt: The Pilgrims, "He Was My Brother"] Wilson was also interested in "The Sound of Silence", but Simon was more interested in getting signed as a performer than in having other acts perform his songs. Wilson was cautious, though -- he was already producing one folkie singer-songwriter, and he didn't really need a second one. But he *could* probably do with a vocal group... Simon mentioned that he had actually made a couple of records before, as part of a duo. Would Wilson be at all interested in a vocal *duo*? Wilson would be interested. Simon and Garfunkel auditioned for him, and a few days later were in the Columbia Records studio on Seventh Avenue recording their first album as a duo, which was also the first time either of them would record under their own name. Wednesday Morning, 3AM, the duo's first album, was a simple acoustic album, and the only instrumentation was Simon and Barry Kornfeld, a Greenwich Village folkie, on guitars, and Bill Lee, the double bass player who'd played with Dylan and others, on bass. Tom Wilson guided the duo in their song selection, and the eventual album contained six cover versions and six originals written by Simon. The cover versions were a mixture of hootenanny staples like "Go Tell it on the Mountain", plus Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'", included to cross-promote Dylan's new album and to try to link the duo with the more famous writer, and one unusual one, "The Sun is Burning", written by Ian Campbell, a Scottish folk singer who Simon had got to know on his trips to the UK: [Excerpt: Simon and Garfunkel, "The Sun is Burning"] But the song that everyone was keenest on was "The Sound of Silence", the first song that Simon had written that he thought would stand up in comparison with the sort of song that Dylan was writing: [Excerpt: Simon and Garfunkel, "The Sound of Silence (Wednesday Morning 3AM version)"] In between sessions for the album, Simon and Garfunkel also played a high-profile gig at Gerde's Folk City in the Village, and a couple of shows at the Gaslight Cafe. The audiences there, though, regarded them as a complete joke -- Dave Van Ronk would later relate that for weeks afterwards, all anyone had to do was sing "Hello darkness, my old friend", for everyone around to break into laughter. Bob Dylan was one of those who laughed at the performance -- though Robert Shelton later said that Dylan hadn't been laughing at them, specifically, he'd just had a fit of the giggles -- and this had led to a certain amount of anger from Simon towards Dylan. The album was recorded in March 1964, and was scheduled for release  in October. In the meantime, they both made plans to continue with their studies and their travels. Garfunkel was starting to do postgraduate work towards his doctorate in mathematics, while Simon was now enrolled in Brooklyn Law School, but was still spending most of his time travelling, and would drop out after one semester. He would spend much of the next eighteen months in the UK. While he was occasionally in the US between June 1964 and November 1965, Simon now considered himself based in England, where he made several acquaintances that would affect his life deeply. Among them were a young woman called Kathy Chitty, with whom he would fall in love and who would inspire many of his songs, and an older woman called Judith Piepe (and I apologise if I'm mispronouncing her name, which I've only ever seen written down, never heard) who many people believed had an unrequited crush on Simon. Piepe ran her London flat as something of a commune for folk musicians, and Simon lived there for months at a time while in the UK. Among the other musicians who stayed there for a time were Sandy Denny, Cat Stevens, and Al Stewart, whose bedroom was next door to Simon's. Piepe became Simon's de facto unpaid manager and publicist, and started promoting him around the British folk scene. Simon also at this point became particularly interested in improving his guitar playing. He was spending a lot of time at Les Cousins, the London club that had become the centre of British acoustic guitar. There are, roughly, three styles of acoustic folk guitar -- to be clear, I'm talking about very broad-brush categorisations here, and there are people who would disagree and say there are more, but these are the main ones. Two of these are American styles -- there's the simple style known as Carter scratching, popularised by Mother Maybelle Carter of the Carter family, and for this all you do is alternate bass notes with your thumb while scratching the chord on the treble strings with one finger, like this: [Excerpt: Carter picking] That's the style played by a lot of country and folk players who were primarily singers accompanying themselves. In the late forties and fifties, though, another style had become popularised -- Travis picking. This is named after Merle Travis, the most well-known player in the style, but he always called it Muhlenberg picking, after Muhlenberg County, where he'd learned the style from Ike Everly -- the Everly Brothers' father -- and Mose Rager, a Black guitarist. In Travis picking, the thumb alternates between two bass notes, but rather than strumming a chord, the index and middle fingers play simple patterns on the treble strings, like this: [Excerpt: Travis picking] That's, again, a style primarily used for accompaniment, but it can also be used to play instrumentals by oneself. As well as Travis and Ike Everly, it's also the style played by Donovan, Chet Atkins, James Taylor, and more. But there's a third style, British baroque folk guitar, which was largely the invention of Davey Graham. Graham, you might remember, was a folk guitarist who had lived in the same squat as Lionel Bart when Bart started working with Tommy Steele, and who had formed a blues duo with Alexis Korner. Graham is now best known for one of his simpler pieces, “Anji”, which became the song that every British guitarist tried to learn: [Excerpt: Davey Graham, "Anji"] Dozens of people, including Paul Simon, would record versions of that. Graham invented an entirely new style of guitar playing, influenced by ragtime players like Blind Blake, but also by Bach, by Moroccan oud music, and by Celtic bagpipe music. While it was fairly common for players to retune their guitar to an open major chord, allowing them to play slide guitar, Graham retuned his to a suspended fourth chord -- D-A-D-G-A-D -- which allowed him to keep a drone going on some strings while playing complex modal counterpoints on others. While I demonstrated the previous two styles myself, I'm nowhere near a good enough guitarist to demonstrate British folk baroque, so here's an excerpt of Davey Graham playing his own arrangement of the traditional ballad "She Moved Through the Fair", recast as a raga and retitled "She Moved Thru' the Bizarre": [Excerpt: Davey Graham, "She Moved Thru' the Bizarre"] Graham's style was hugely influential on an entire generation of British guitarists, people who incorporated world music and jazz influences into folk and blues styles, and that generation of guitarists was coming up at the time and playing at Les Cousins. People who started playing in this style included Jimmy Page, Bert Jansch, Roy Harper, John Renbourn, Richard Thompson, Nick Drake, and John Martyn, and it also had a substantial influence on North American players like Joni Mitchell, Tim Buckley, and of course Paul Simon. Simon was especially influenced at this time by Martin Carthy, the young British guitarist whose style was very influenced by Graham -- but while Graham applied his style to music ranging from Dave Brubeck to Lutheran hymns to Big Bill Broonzy songs, Carthy mostly concentrated on traditional English folk songs. Carthy had a habit of taking American folk singers under his wing, and he taught Simon several songs, including Carthy's own arrangement of the traditional "Scarborough Fair": [Excerpt: Martin Carthy, "Scarborough Fair"] Simon would later record that arrangement, without crediting Carthy, and this would lead to several decades of bad blood between them, though Carthy forgave him in the 1990s, and the two performed the song together at least once after that. Indeed, Simon seems to have made a distinctly negative impression on quite a few of the musicians he knew in Britain at this time, who seem to, at least in retrospect, regard him as having rather used and discarded them as soon as his career became successful. Roy Harper has talked in liner notes to CD reissues of his work from this period about how Simon used to regularly be a guest in his home, and how he has memories of Simon playing with Harper's baby son Nick (now himself one of the greats of British guitar) but how as soon as he became successful he never spoke to Harper again. Similarly, in 1965 Simon started a writing partnership with Bruce Woodley of the Seekers, an Australian folk-pop band based in the UK, best known for "Georgy Girl". The two wrote "Red Rubber Ball", which became a hit for the Cyrkle: [Excerpt: The Cyrke, "Red Rubber Ball"] and also "Cloudy", which the Seekers recorded as an album track: [Excerpt: The Seekers, "Cloudy"] When that was recorded by Simon and Garfunkel, Woodley's name was removed from the writing credits, though Woodley still apparently received royalties for it. But at this point there *was* no Simon and Garfunkel. Paul Simon was a solo artist working the folk clubs in Britain, and Simon and Garfunkel's one album had sold a minuscule number of copies. They did, when Simon briefly returned to the US in March, record two tracks for a prospective single, this time with an electric backing band. One was a rewrite of the title track of their first album, now titled "Somewhere They Can't Find Me" and with a new chorus and some guitar parts nicked from Davey Graham's "Anji"; the other a Twist-beat song that could almost be Manfred Mann or Georgie Fame -- "We Got a Groovy Thing Goin'". That was also influenced by “Anji”, though by Bert Jansch's version rather than Graham's original. Jansch rearranged the song and stuck in this phrase: [Excerpt: Bert Jansch, “Anji”] Which became the chorus to “We Got a Groovy Thing Goin'”: [Excerpt: Simon and Garfunkel, "We Got a Groovy Thing Goin'"] But that single was never released, and as far as Columbia were concerned, Simon and Garfunkel were a defunct act, especially as Tom Wilson, who had signed them, was looking to move away from Columbia. Art Garfunkel did come to visit Simon in the UK a couple of times, and they'd even sing together occasionally, but it was on the basis of Paul Simon the successful club act occasionally inviting his friend on stage during the encore, rather than as a duo, and Garfunkel was still seeing music only as a sideline while Simon was now utterly committed to it. He was encouraged in this commitment by Judith Piepe, who considered him to be the greatest songwriter of his generation, and who started a letter-writing campaign to that effect, telling the BBC they needed to put him on the radio. Eventually, after a lot of pressure, they agreed -- though they weren't exactly sure what to do with him, as he didn't fit into any of the pop formats they had. He was given his own radio show -- a five-minute show in a religious programming slot. Simon would perform a song, and there would be an introduction tying the song into some religious theme or other. Two series of four episodes of this were broadcast, in a plum slot right after Housewives' Choice, which got twenty million listeners, and the BBC were amazed to find that a lot of people phoned in asking where they could get hold of the records by this Paul Simon fellow. Obviously he didn't have any out yet, and even the Simon and Garfunkel album, which had been released in the US, hadn't come out in Britain. After a little bit of negotiation, CBS, the British arm of Columbia Records, had Simon come in and record an album of his songs, titled The Paul Simon Songbook. The album, unlike the Simon and Garfunkel album, was made up entirely of Paul Simon originals. Two of them were songs that had previously been recorded for Wednesday Morning 3AM -- "He Was My Brother" and a new version of "The Sound of Silence": [Excerpt: Paul Simon, "The Sound of Silence"] The other ten songs were newly-written pieces like "April Come She Will", "Kathy's Song", a parody of Bob Dylan entitled "A Simple Desultory Philippic", and the song that was chosen as the single, "I am a Rock": [Excerpt: Paul Simon, "I am a Rock"] That song was also the one that was chosen for Simon's first TV appearance since Tom and Jerry had appeared on Bandstand eight years earlier. The appearance on Ready, Steady, Go, though, was not one that anyone was happy with. Simon had been booked to appear on  a small folk music series, Heartsong, but that series was cancelled before he could appear. Rediffusion, the company that made the series, also made Ready, Steady, Go, and since they'd already paid Simon they decided they might as well stick him on that show and get something for their money. Unfortunately, the episode in question was already running long, and it wasn't really suited for introspective singer-songwriter performances -- the show was geared to guitar bands and American soul singers. Michael Lindsay-Hogg, the director, insisted that if Simon was going to do his song, he had to cut at least one verse, while Simon was insistent that he needed to perform the whole thing because "it's a story". Lindsay-Hogg got his way, but nobody was happy with the performance. Simon's album was surprisingly unsuccessful, given the number of people who'd called the BBC asking about it -- the joke went round that the calls had all been Judith Piepe doing different voices -- and Simon continued his round of folk clubs, pubs, and birthday parties, sometimes performing with Garfunkel, when he visited for the summer, but mostly performing on his own. One time he did perform with a full band, singing “Johnny B Goode” at a birthday party, backed by a band called Joker's Wild who a couple of weeks later went into the studio to record their only privately-pressed five-song record, of them performing recent hits: [Excerpt: Joker's Wild, "Walk Like a Man"] The guitarist from Joker's Wild would later join the other band who'd played at that party, but the story of David Gilmour joining Pink Floyd is for another episode. During this time, Simon also produced his first record for someone else, when he was responsible for producing the only album by his friend Jackson C Frank, though there wasn't much production involved as like Simon's own album it was just one man and his guitar. Al Stewart and Art Garfunkel were also in the control room for the recording, but the notoriously shy Frank insisted on hiding behind a screen so they couldn't see him while he recorded: [Excerpt: Jackson C Frank, "Blues Run the Game"] It seemed like Paul Simon was on his way to becoming a respected mid-level figure on the British folk scene, releasing occasional albums and maybe having one or two minor hits, but making a steady living. Someone who would be spoken of in the same breath as Ralph McTell perhaps. Meanwhile, Art Garfunkel would be going on to be a lecturer in mathematics whose students might be surprised to know he'd had a minor rock and roll hit as a kid. But then something happened that changed everything. Wednesday Morning 3AM hadn't sold at all, and Columbia hadn't promoted it in the slightest. It was too collegiate and polite for the Greenwich Village folkies, and too intellectual for the pop audience that had been buying Peter, Paul, and Mary, and it had come out just at the point that the folk boom had imploded. But one DJ in Boston, Dick Summer, had started playing one song from it, "The Sound of Silence", and it had caught on with the college students, who loved the song. And then came spring break 1965. All those students went on holiday, and suddenly DJs in places like Cocoa Beach, Florida, were getting phone calls requesting "The Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel. Some of them with contacts at Columbia got in touch with the label, and Tom Wilson had an idea. On the first day of what turned out to be his last session with Dylan, the session for "Like a Rolling Stone", Wilson asked the musicians to stay behind and work on something. He'd already experimented with overdubbing new instruments on an acoustic recording with his new version of Dylan's "House of the Rising Sun", now he was going to try it with "The Sound of Silence". He didn't bother asking the duo what they thought -- record labels messed with people's records all the time. So "The Sound of Silence" was released as an electric folk-rock single: [Excerpt: Simon and Garfunkel, "The Sound of Silence"] This is always presented as Wilson massively changing the sound of the duo without their permission or knowledge, but the fact is that they had *already* gone folk-rock, back in March, so they were already thinking that way. The track was released as a single with “We Got a Groovy Thing Going” on the B-side, and was promoted first in the Boston market, and it did very well. Roy Harper later talked about Simon's attitude at this time, saying "I can remember going into the gents in The Three Horseshoes in Hempstead during a gig, and we're having a pee together. He was very excited, and he turns round to me and and says, “Guess what, man? We're number sixteen in Boston with The Sound of Silence'”. A few days later I was doing another gig with him and he made a beeline for me. “Guess what?” I said “You're No. 15 in Boston”. He said, “No man, we're No. 1 in Boston”. I thought, “Wow. No. 1 in Boston, eh?” It was almost a joke, because I really had no idea what that sort of stuff meant at all." Simon was even more excited when the record started creeping up the national charts, though he was less enthused when his copy of the single arrived from America. He listened to it, and thought the arrangement was a Byrds rip-off, and cringed at the way the rhythm section had to slow down and speed up in order to stay in time with the acoustic recording: [Excerpt: Simon and Garfunkel, "The Sound of Silence"] I have to say that, while the tempo fluctuations are noticeable once you know to look for them, it's a remarkably tight performance given the circumstances. As the record went up the charts, Simon was called back to America, to record an album to go along with it. The Paul Simon Songbook hadn't been released in the US,  and they needed an album *now*, and Simon was a slow songwriter, so the duo took six songs from that album and rerecorded them in folk-rock versions with their new producer Bob Johnston, who was also working with Dylan now, since Tom Wilson had moved on to Verve records. They filled out the album with "The Sound of Silence", the two electric tracks from March, one new song, "Blessed", and a version of "Anji", which came straight after "Somewhere They Can't Find Me", presumably to acknowledge Simon lifting bits of it. That version of “Anji” also followed Jansch's arrangement, and so included the bit that Simon had taken for “We Got a Groovy Thing Going” as well. They also recorded their next single, which was released on the British version of the album but not the American one, a song that Simon had written during a thoroughly depressing tour of Lancashire towns (he wrote it in Widnes, but a friend of Simon's who lived in Widnes later said that while it was written in Widnes it was written *about* Birkenhead. Simon has also sometimes said it was about Warrington or Wigan, both of which are so close to Widnes and so similar in both name and atmosphere that it would be the easiest thing in the world to mix them up.) [Excerpt: Simon and Garfunkel, "Homeward Bound"] These tracks were all recorded in December 1965, and they featured the Wrecking Crew -- Bob Johnston wanted the best, and didn't rate the New York players that Wilson had used, and so they were recorded in LA with Glen Campbell, Joe South, Hal Blaine, Larry Knechtel, and Joe Osborne. I've also seen in some sources that there were sessions in Nashville with A-team players Fred Carter and Charlie McCoy. By January, "The Sound of Silence" had reached number one, knocking "We Can Work it Out" by the Beatles off the top spot for two weeks, before the Beatles record went back to the top. They'd achieved what they'd been trying for for nearly a decade, and I'll give the last word here to Paul Simon, who said of the achievement: "I had come back to New York, and I was staying in my old room at my parents' house. Artie was living at his parents' house, too. I remember Artie and I were sitting there in my car one night, parked on a street in Queens, and the announcer said, "Number one, Simon & Garfunkel." And Artie said to me, "That Simon & Garfunkel, they must be having a great time.""

National Guard Session episode 164. Public Service Transcription. Martin Block chats with singer Jerry Vale.

Radio transcription National Guard Session with Martin Block and Lawrence Welk.

Folge 77 – Fette Kuh! So. Jetzt isses raus! [Folge anhören? HIER KLICKEN!] … ist keine Beleidigung, auch wenn es sich vielleicht sogar so anhört. Ne, es geht um die 1a-Burger-Bude (so sagt Buddy) in Köln mit Namen „Die Fette Kuh“. Zu Gast bei Buddy und Ralf ist der Küchenchef Martin Block – ein Mann der weiß mit Fleisch umzugehen. Martin, selbst Podcaster und mega-engagierter Koch, hat in dem Burger-Restaurant in den letzten Jahren so richtig Drive gegeben, dass selbst der Gault Milau das Restaurant erwähnt hat – als „bester Bürgerladen“. Damit die Podcaster nicht verhungern (Eingeweihte wissen, dass Ralf und Buddy ja fast am Hungertuch nagen), hat Martin Verpflegung mitgebracht. Meatballs vom Wagyu-Rind (ja, von Philipps Wagyu – höre Folge 67) und Bacon-Jam (ja, wirklich Speck-Marmelade) verfeinern den Talk mit Martin enorm. Und „zack“ – da war sie wieder die Diskussion ob des Paniermehls in Klopsen – und weshalb und wieso. Martin, mit seiner offenen und trockenen Art, hat merklich Spaß an der Plauderei mit Ralf und Buddy – und Ihr hoffentlich auch: Bitte mal reinhören. Es lohnt sich!Übrigens freuen sich Facebook, Instagram und Twitter, wenn Ihr dort Ralf und Buddy auf GASTROSURVIVALfolgt, denn bald – das sei schon mal verraten – wird es für die „Fans“ der Gastro Survival Passionistas was ganz besonderes geben … aber nur dann, wenn Ihr fleissig folgt und kommentiert.Zu gewinnen gibt es, wie immer auch etwas: Die Gastro Survival Passionistas spendieren ein Wahnsinns-Messer im Porsche-Design von der Firma Chroma. Also: Zuhören, Frage (im Kommentarfeld bei Instagram oder Facebook) beantworten und mit ein wenig Glück, könnt Ihr das Messer gewinnen. Neue Songs gibt's für die Playlist von Buddy und Ralf auf Spotify – reinhören lohnt sich. Hier geht es zur Playlist: GASTRO SURVIVAL TUNES [https://spoti.fi/3rP9mR0]  

In this episode, let's talk about autism in sport. References: Coster, W., Law, M., Bedell, G., Khetani, M., Cousins, M., & Teplicky, R. (2012). Development of the participation and environment measure for children and youth: Conceptual basis. Disability and Rehabilitation: An International, Multidisciplinary Journal, 34(3), 238–246. https://doi.org/10.3109/09638288.2011.603017 Darcy, S., & Dowse, L. (2013). In search of a level playing field—The constraints and benefits of sport participation for people with intellectual disability. Disability & Society, 28(3), 393–407. https://doi.org/10.1080/09687599.2012.714258 Ferguson, B. R., & Shapiro, S. K. (2016). Using a naturalistic sport context to train social skills in children. Child & Family Behavior Therapy, 38(1), 47–68. https://doi.org/10.1080/07317107.2016.1135700 Matson, J. L., & Goldin, R. L. (2013). Comorbidity and autism: Trends, topics and future directions. Research in Autism Spectrum Disorders, 7(10), 1228–1233. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.rasd.2013.07.003 Links: Teachers Including Children with Autism in General Physical Education: Eight Possible Solutions by Zhang and Griffin - https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/EJ794569.pdf A Teacher's Guide to Adapted Physical Education by Martin Block - http://archive.brookespublishing.com/documents/four-key-steps-to-including-adapted-sports.pdf High-Quality Physical Education for Pupils with Autism - https://www.afd.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/AUTISM-BOOKLET_v5.pdf Parents Exercising with Autism: What Parents Need to Know - https://exerciseright.com.au/exercising-for-kids-with-autism-what-parents-need-to-know/ https://exerciseright.com.au/kids-autism-spectrum-disorder/ https://www.carautismroadmap.org/choosing-a-sport-for-your-son-or-daughter-with-asd/ Autism Parents' Handbook Peers https://bourgase.com/teaching/special-education/autism/ For more information, head over to Aspect Australia - www.autismspectrum.org.au. Disclaimer: I'm not a professional, just a student with a passion for autism.

This NBC radio program began on Dec 11, 1944 as a 15 min show airing at 7 pm weeknights. Sponsored by Chesterfield cigarettes, the show featured live musical performances and comedic skits. By September of 1949 the show was extended to a half hour. Regular co-hosts were Jo Stafford and Peggy Lee, but on this show a special guest, Dorothy Lamour is onboard. The Fontaine Sisters were regulars along with the Mitchell Ayers Orchestra and announcer Martin Block. Songs heard on this show are "Dear Hearts and Gentle People," " What Is This Thing Called Love?" " If I knew You Were Coming..." "Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo" "You're Wonderful" The show was also telecast no NBC TV from 1948-50. Perry Como recorded exclusively for RCA Victor for 44 years after signing with them in 1943. He recorded 81 albums, 484 singles and made 2565 appearances on television, videos, films in a career that lasted over 50 years. He died on May 12, 2001 at the age of 88. This track will be in the Playlist "Variety / Comedy / Musicals"

Hi folks, I’m jeff Bressler, turning on the lights of the Make Believe Ballroom and welcoming you into the Crystal Studio for another program of the greats hits of the 1930s and 1940s.I’m hosting the show in the hope of keeping the music and traditions of past hosts Martin Block, Al Jarvis, William B Williams, and Steve Allen alive.So let’s get this week's singing and dance ballroom party underway with music, stories, audio clips, and recollections from this golden era of music.

Wie der lokale Einzelhandel ist die Gastronomie durch die aktuelle Krise als weitere Branche besonders hart betroffen. Wohl dem, der bereits in den Wochen, Monaten und Jahren zuvor eine breite Fangemeinde aufgebaut hat und es versteht, die digitalen Chancen und Möglichkeiten für sich und das Geschäft zu nutzen. So wie die Fette Kuh, der Kult-Burgerladen, in Köln. Ich hatte die großartige Gelegenheit mit „Creative Burger Director“ Martin Block zu sprechen. Gemeinsam mit den Eigentümern, dem Führungskreis und dem gesamten hoch motivierten Team ist es Küchenchef Martin gelungen, die Fette Kuh am Laufen zu halten. Mit seiner jahrelangen Erfahrung und seiner Social-Media- und Digital-Affinität drückte er dem Burger-Tempel früh seinen Stempel auf. Weit über die Stadtgrenzen ist der Laden bekannt – und die über Jahre gewonnenen und treuen Fans sorgten auch in den letzten harten Wochen für relativ stabile Umsätze. Möglich würde dies durch digitale Kanäle, Innovationen, schnelles Handeln und eine starke Teamleistung. Wie die Fette Kuh Homepage, Webshop, Lieferdienst, neue Arten des Payments, Merchandising und Social Media zur Stabilisierung des Geschäfts nutzte, verrät euch Martin in den rund 55 Minuten des kulinarisch-digitalen Podcast, den du dir als Fan, Gastronom und Marktbegleiter auf keinen Fall entgehen lassen solltest. Bock auf Burger garantiert! » Die Fette Kuh: http://www.diefettekuh.de/ » Der Fette Shop: https://www.derfetteshop.de/ » Bacon Bakery | Blog von Martin: https://www.baconbakery.de/

Wie Einzelhändler gute Erfahrungen während der Corona-Pandemie machten In dieser Ausgabe des Tech Briefings schauen sich Daniel Fiene und Richard Gutjahr an, wie die Corona-Pandemie Einzelhändler motivierte einen Online-Shop zu eröffnen. Martin Block, Chefkoch vom Kölner Burger-Restaurant "Die fette Kuh", erzählt von einem Kulturwandel: Zunächst war die Schließung des Restaurants für das Team ein Schock. Doch schnell verwandelten sie den Schock in eine Chance, die am Ende verkrustete Strukturen aufbrach. Aron Ulbrich von den Munich Wine Rebels berichtet, wie digitale Weinverkostungen zum Überraschungserfolg wurden: Auch nach der Corona-Pandemie möchte er auf den Online-Handel nicht mehr verzichten. Das Tech Briefing gibt es auch als Newsletter: https://www.thepioneer.de/originals/tech-briefing See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Den allerførste jazzradio var sandsynligvis radiostationen WNEW i New York. På WNEW var der en programvært, som hed Martin Block. Han begyndte i 1935 på at spille plader i sine udsendelser, og så skabte han en illusion om, at han sendte fra et fiktivt dansested ude i byen, hvor plademusikken kom fra et orkester på tribunen. Deraf kom navnet på udsendelserne – The Make Believe Ballroom. Sidenhen begyndte Martin Block på at sende fra ægte spillesteder og fra oktober 1938 samlede han hver onsdag at en flok af den bedste solister, som var til rådighed i New York til live jam sessions i WNEWs studie. Udsendelsen, som præsenteres Radio Jazz studievært Tom Buhmann, indeholder en stribe af disse jam sessions, som er blevet bevaret og mirakuløst har overlevet lige til vores tid. Sendt i Radio Jazz i 2019 Der er mere jazz på www.radiojazz.dk

In today's very special episode we had an interview with Dr. Martin Block about the International Symposium of Adapted Physical Activity (ISAPA) and APE at an international level. Dr. Block is a professor of APE and co-director of the Masters program in APE at the University of Virginia,. In addition to these roles, Dr. Block also serves as the President of the International Federation of Adapted Physical Activity (IFAPA). IFAPA is an organization of adapted physical activity professionals and students from all around the world. Currently, This podcast covers IFAPA and ISAPA, and differences in APE between the United States and other countries. It also covers the gap between research and practitioners in APE, and what IFAPA is doing to address this gap. For more information on IFAPA, you can visit their website at: http://ifapa.net If you are interested in the 2019 ISAPA, check out their website at: http://isapa2019.org/index.shtml

  Welcome to episode sixteen of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs. Today we’re looking at “Crazy Man Crazy” by Bill Haley and the Comets. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. —-more—- Resources As always, I’ve created a Mixcloud streaming playlist with full versions of all the songs in the episode.   Unfortunately, there aren’t many good books about Bill Haley available. There are two biographies which are long out of print — one by John Swenson which I read as a very small child, and one from the nineties by one of Haley’s sons. Another of Haley’s sons has a biography due out in April, which might be worthwhile, but until then the only book available is a self-published biography by Otto Fuchs. I relied on volume one of Fuchs’ book for this post — it’s very good on the facts — but it suffers from being written by someone whose first language is not English, and it also *badly* needs an editor, so I can’t wholly recommend it. This box set, which is ridiculously cheap, contains almost every track anyone could want by Haley and the Comets, and it also includes the early country music sides I’ve excerpted here, as well as tracks by the Jodimars (a band consisting of ex-Comets). Unfortunately it doesn’t contain his great late-fifties singles “Lean Jean” and “Skinny Minnie”, but it has everything else.   Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript   We’ve talked before about how there were multiple different musics that got lumped together in the mid-fifties under the name “rock and roll”. There’s rockabilly, Chicago rhythm and blues, doo-wop, New Orleans R&B, the coastal jump bands, and Northern band rock and roll. We’ve looked at most of these – and the ones we haven’t we’ll be looking at over the next few weeks – but what we haven’t looked at so far is Northern band rock and roll. And in many ways that’s the most interesting of all the rock and roll musics, because it’s the one that at first glance has had almost no obvious impact on anything that followed, but it’s also the one that first came to the attention of the white American public as rock and roll – the one that made the newspapers and got the headlines. And it’s the one that had only one real example. While the other styles of music had dozens of people making them, Northern band rock and roll really only had Bill Haley and the Comets. A whole pillar of rock and roll – a whole massive strand of the contemporary view of this music – was down to the work of one band who had no peers and left no real legacy. Or at least, they seem to have left no legacy, until you look a bit closer. But before we look at where the Comets’ music led, we should look at where they were coming from. Bill Haley didn’t set out to be a rock and roll star, because when he started there was no such thing. He set out to be a country and western singer. He played with various country bands over the years – bands with names like The Down Homers and the Texas Range Riders – before he decided to become a band leader himself, and started his own band, the Four Aces of Western Swing. Obviously this wasn’t a full Western Swing band in the style of Bob Wills’ band, but they played a stripped-down version which captured much of the appeal of the music – and which had a secret weapon in Haley himself, the Indiana State Yodelling Champion. Yes, yodelling. Let me explain. Jimmie Rodgers was a huge, huge, star, and his gimmick was his yodelling: [excerpt “Blue Yodel (T For Texas)”: Jimmie Rodgers] Every country singer in the 1940s wanted to sound like Jimmie Rodgers – at least until Ernest Tubb and Hank Williams came along and everyone wanted to sound like them instead. And that’s the sound that Bill Haley was going for when he started the Four Aces of Western Swing. [excerpt of “Yodel Your Blues Away” by the Four Aces of Western Swing] That’s how Bill Haley started out – as a Jimmie Rodgers imitator whose greatest strength was his yodelling. It definitely doesn’t sound like the work of someone who would change music forever. You’d expect, without knowing the rest of his history, that the Four Aces of Western Swing would become a footnote to a footnote; a band who, if they were remembered at all, would be remembered for one or two singles included on some big box set compilation of vintage country music. Much of their music was derivative in the extreme, but there were a handful of more interesting tracks, some of which would still be of interest to aficionados, like “Foolish Questions”. [Excerpt of “Foolish Questions” by the Four Aces of Western Swing] But without Bill Haley’s future career, it’s unlikely there’d be any more attention paid to the Four Aces than that. They don’t really make a dent in country music history, and didn’t have the kind of career that suggested they would ever do so. Most of their records didn’t even get a proper release – Haley was signed to a label called Cowboy Records, which was a Mafia-run organisation. The first five thousand copies of every Cowboy release went to Mafia-owned jukeboxes, for free, and artists would only get royalties on any records sold after that. Since jukeboxes accounted for the majority of the money in the record business at this point, that didn’t leave much for the artists – especially as Haley had to pay his own recording and production costs, and he had to do any promotion himself – buying boxes of records at $62.50 for two hundred and fifty copies, and sending them out to DJs through the post at his own expense. It was basically a glorified vanity label, and the only reason Haley got any airplay at all was because he was himself a DJ. And after a few unsuccessful singles, he decided to give up on performance and become just a DJ. But soon Haley had a new band, which would become far more successful – Bill Haley and his… Saddlemen. Yes, the Saddlemen. By all accounts, the Saddlemen weren’t Haley’s idea. One day two musicians turned up at the radio station, saying they wanted to join his band. Billy Williamson and Johnny Grande were unhappy with the band they were performing in, and had heard Haley performing with his band on the radio. They had decided that Haley’s band would be a perfect showcase for their talents on steel guitar and accordion, and had travelled from Newark New Jersey to Chester Pennsylvania to see him. But they’d showed up to discover that he didn’t have a band any more. They eventually persuaded him that it would be worth his while going back into music, and Haley arranged for the band to get a show once a week on the station he was DJing on. While Haley was the leader on stage, they were an equal partnership – the Saddlemen, and later the Comets, split money four ways between Haley, Williamson, Grande, and the band’s manager, with any other band members who were later hired, such as drummers and bass players, being on a fixed salary paid out by the partnership. The band didn’t make much money at first — they all had other jobs, with Williamson and Grande working all sorts of odd jobs, while Haley was doing so much work at the radio station that he often ended up sleeping there. Haley worked so hard that his marriage disintegrated, but the Saddlemen had one big advantage – they had the radio station’s recording studio to use for their rehearsals, and they were able to use the studio’s recording equipment to play back their rehearsals and learn, something that very few bands had at the time. They spent two whole years rehearsing every day, and taking whatever gigs they could, and that eventually started to pay off. The Saddlemen started out making the same kind of music that the Four Aces had made. They put out decent, but not massively impressive, records on all sorts of tiny labels. Most of these recordings were called things like “Ten Gallon Stetson”, and in one case the single wasn’t even released as the Saddlemen but as Reno Browne and Her Buckaroos. This was about as generic as country and western music could get. [excerpt: “My Sweet Little Gal From Nevada” – Reno Browne and Her Buckaroos] But Bill Haley had bigger plans, inspired by the show that was on right before his. The radio had changed enormously in a very short period of time. Before the Second World War, playing records on the radio had been almost unknown, until in 1935 the first recognised DJ, Martin Block, started his radio show “Make Believe Ballroom”, in which he would pretend to be introducing all sorts of different bands. The record labels spent much of the next few years fighting the same kind of copyright actions they would later fight against the Internet — in this case aided by the Musicians’ Union, but harmed by the fact that there was no federal copyright protection for sound recordings until the 1970s. Indeed a lot of the musicians’ strikes of the 1940s were, in part, about the issue of playing records on the radio. But eventually, the record labels — especially the ones, like RCA and Columbia, which were also radio network owners — realised that being played on the radio was great advertising for their records, and stopped fighting it. And at the same time, there was a massive expansion in radio stations — and a drop in advertising money. After the war, restrictions on broadcasting were lifted, and within four years there were more than twice as many radio stations as there had been in 1946. But at the same time, the networks were no longer making as much money from advertising, which started going to TV instead. The solution was to go for cheap, local, programming — and there was little programming that was cheaper than getting a man to sit in the studio and play records. And in 1948 and 49, Columbia and RCA introduced “high fidelity” records — the 33RPM album from Columbia, and the 45RPM single from RCA. These didn’t have the problems that 78s had, of poor sound quality and quick degradation, and so the final barrier to radio stations becoming devoted to recorded music was lifted. This is, incidentally, why the earlier musicians we’ve talked about in this series are largely forgotten compared to musicians from even a few years later — their records came out on 78s. Radio stations threw out all their old 78s when they could start playing 45s, and so you’d never hear a Wynonie Harris or Louis Jordan played even as a golden oldie, because the radio stations didn’t have those records any more. They disappeared from the cultural memory, in a way the fifties acts didn’t. And the time we’re talking about now is right when that growth in the radio was at its height, and all the new radio stations were turning to recorded music. But in the early fifties, only a handful of stations were playing black music, only for an hour or two a day at most. And when they did, the DJ was always a white man — but usually a white man who could sound black, and thought himself part of black culture. Zenas Sears in Atlanta, Dewey Phillips in Memphis, Alan Freed in Cleveland, Johnny Otis in LA — all of these were people who even many of their black listeners presumed were black, playing black records, speaking in black slang. All of them, of course, used their privilege as white men to get jobs that black people simply weren’t given. But that was the closest that black people came to representation on the radio at the time, and those radio shows were precious to many of them. People would tune in from hundreds of miles away to hear those few DJs who for one hour a day were playing their music. And the show that was on before Bill Haley’s country and western show was one of those handful of R&B shows. “Judge Rhythm’s Court” was presented by a white man in his forties named Jim Reeves (not the singer of the same name) under the name of “Shorty the Bailiff”. Reeves’ theme was “Rock the Joint” by Jimmy Preston and the Prestonians: [excerpt “Rock the Joint”, Jimmy Preston and the Prestonians] Haley liked the music that Reeves was playing — in particular, he became a big fan of Big Joe Turner and Ruth Brown — and he started adding some of the R&B songs to the Saddlemen’s setlists, and noticed they went down especially well with the younger audiences. But they didn’t record those songs in their rare recording sessions for small labels. Until, that is, the Saddlemen signed up to Holiday Records. As soon as they started with Holiday, their style changed completely. Holiday, and its sister label Essex which also released Saddlemen records, were owned by Dave Miller, who also owned the pressing plant that had pressed Haley’s earlier records for the Cowboy label, and Miller had similar mob connections. Haley would later claim that while Miller always said the money to start the record labels had come from a government subsidy, in fact it had been paid by the Mafia. His labels had started up during the musicians’ union strikes of the 1940s, to put out records by non-union musicians, and Miller wasn’t too concerned about bothering to pay royalties or other such niceties. Haley also later claimed that Miller invented payola – the practice of paying DJs to play records. This was something that a lot of independent labels did in the early fifties, and was one of the ways they managed to get heard, even as many of the big labels were still cautious about the radio. Miller wanted to have big hits, and in particular he wanted to find ways to get both the white and black markets with the same records, and here he had an ally in Haley, who took a scientific approach to maximising his band’s success. Haley would try things like turning up the band’s amplifiers, on the theory that if customers couldn’t hear themselves talking, they’d be more likely to dance – and then turning the amps back down when the bar owners would complain that if the customers danced too much they wouldn’t buy as many drinks. Haley was willing to work hard and try literally anything in order to make his band a success, and wasn’t afraid to try new ideas and then throw them away if they didn’t work. This makes his discography frustrating for listeners now – it’s a long record of failed experiments, dead ends, and stylistic aberrations unlike almost any other successful artist’s. This is someone not blessed with a huge abundance of natural talent, but willing to work much harder in order to make a success of things anyway. Miller was a natural ally in this, and they hit on a formula which would be independently reinvented a couple of years later by Sam Phillips for Elvis’ records – putting out singles with a country song on one side and an R&B song on the other, to try to appeal to both white and black markets. And one song that Dave Miller heard and thought that might suit Haley’s band was “Rocket 88” This might have seemed an odd decision – after all, “Rocket 88” was a horn-driven rhythm and blues song, while the Saddlemen at this point consisted of Haley on acoustic guitar, double-bass player Al Rex, Billy Williamson on steel guitar, and Johnny Grande, an accordion player who could double on piano. This doesn’t sound the most propitious lineup for an R&B song, but along with ace session guitarist Danny Cedrone they actually managed to come up with something rather impressive: [excerpt of “Rocket 88”] Obviously it’s not a patch on the original, but translating that R&B song into a western swing style had ended up with something a little different to the hillbilly boogie one might expect. In particular, there’s the drum sound…. Oh wait, there’s no drumming there. What do you mean, you heard it? Let’s listen again… [excerpt of “Rocket 88”] There are no drums there. It’s what’s called slapback bass. Now, before we go any further, I’d better explain that there’s some terminological confusion, because “slap bass” is a similar but not identical electric bass technique, while the word “slapback” is also used for the echo used on some rockabilly records, so talking about “rockabilly slapback bass” can end up a bit like “Who’s on first?” But what I mean when I talk about slapback bass is a style of bass playing used on many rockabilly records. It’s used in other genres, too, but it basically came to rockabilly because of Bill Haley’s band, and because of the playing style Haley’s bass players Al Rex and Marshall Lytle used. With slapback bass, you’re playing a double bass, and you play it pizzicato, plucking the strings. But you don’t just pluck them, you pull them forward and let them slap right back onto the bridge of the instrument, which makes a sort of clicking sound. At the same time, you might also hit the strings to mute them – which also makes a clicking sound as well. And you might also hit the body of the instrument, making a loud thumping noise. Given the recording techniques in use at the time, slapback bass could often sound a lot like drums on a recording, though you’d never mistake one for the other in a live performance. And at a time when country music wasn’t particularly keen on the whole idea of a drum kit – which was seen as a dangerous innovation from the jazz world, not something that country and western musicians should be playing, though by this time Bob Wills had been using one in his band for a decade – having something else that could keep the beat and act as a percussion instrument was vital, and slapback bass was one of the big innovations that Haley’s band popularised. So yes, Bill Haley and the Saddlemen’s version of “Rocket 88” had no drum kit on it. Despite this, some people still cite this, rather than Jackie Brenston’s original, as “the first rock and roll record”. As we’ve said many times, though, there is no such thing. But Haley’s recording makes an attractive candidate – it’s the mythical “merging of black R&B with white country music”, which of course was something that had been happening since the very start, but which people seem to regard as something that marked out rock and roll, and it’s the first recording in this style by the person who went on to have the first really massive rock and roll hit to cross over into the pop charts. “Rocket 88” wasn’t that big hit. But Haley and Miller felt like they were on to something, and they kept trying to come up with something that would work in that style. They put out quite a few singles that were almost, but not quite, what they were after, things like a remake of “Wabash Cannonball” retitled “Jukebox Cannonball”, and then they finally hit on the perfect formula with “Rock the Joint”, which had been in Haley’s setlist off and on since he heard it on Jim Reeves’ programme. The original “Rock the Joint” had been one of the many, many, records that attempted to cash in on the rock craze ignited by Wynonie Harris’ version of “Good Rockin’ Tonight”, but it hadn’t done much outside of the Philadelphia area. Haley and the band went into the studio to record their own version, which had a very different arrangement – and listen in particular to the solo… [excerpt “Rock the Joint” – Bill Haley and the Saddlemen] That solo is played by the session musician, Danny Cedrone, who played the lead guitar on almost all of Haley’s early records. He wasn’t a member of the band – Haley kept costs low in these early years by having as small a band as possible, but hiring extra musicians for the recordings to beef up the sound — but he was someone that Haley trusted to always play the right parts on his records. Haley and Cedrone were close enough that in 1952 – after “Rocket 88” but before “Rock the Joint” – Haley gave Cedrone a song for his own band, The Esquire Boys. That song, “Rock-A-Beatin’ Boogie”, would probably have been a hit for Haley, had he recorded it at the time — instead, he didn’t record it for another three years. But that song, too, shows that he was on the right track. He was searching for something, and finding it occasionally, but not always recognising it when he had it. (Excerpt: “Rock-A-Beatin’ Boogie” by The Esquire Boys) “Rock the Joint” was a massive success, by the standards of a small indie country label, reportedly selling as much as four hundred thousand copies. But even after “Rock the Joint”, the problems continued. Haley’s next two records were “Dance With a Dolly (With a Hole in Her Stockin’)” – which was to the tune of “Buffalo Gals Won’t You Come Out Tonight?” – and “Stop Beatin’ Around the Mulberry Bush”, which was a rewrite of “Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush” as a hillbilly boogie. But “Stop Beatin’ Around the Mulberry Bush” was notable for one reason – it was the first record by “Bill Haley and Haley’s Comets”, rather than by the Saddlemen. The pun on Halley’s comet was obvious, but the real importance of the name change is that it marked a definitive moment when the band stopped thinking of themselves as a country and western band and started thinking of themselves as something else – Haley didn’t pick up on the term “rock and roll” til fairly late, but it was clear that that was what he thought he should be doing now. They now had a drummer, too – Dick Richards – and a sax player. Al Rex was temporarily gone, replaced by Marshall Lytle, but Rex would be back in 1955. They were still veering wildly between rhythm and blues covers, country songs, and outright novelty records, but they were slowly narrowing down what they were trying to do, and hitting a target more and more often – they were making records about rhythm, using slang catchphrases and trying to appeal to a younger audience. And there was a genuine excitement in some of their stage performances. Haley would never be the most exciting vocalist when working in this new rock and roll idiom – he was someone who was a natural country singer and wasn’t familiar with the idioms he was incorporating into his new music, so there was a sense of distance there – but the band would make up for that on stage, with the bass player riding his bass (a common technique for getting an audience going at this point) and the saxophone player lying on his back to play solos. And that excitement shone through in “Crazy Man Crazy”, which became the Comets’ first real big hit. This was another example of the way that Haley would take a scientific approach to his band’s success. He and his band members had realised that the key to success in the record business was going to be appealing to teenagers, who were a fast-growing demographic and who, for the first time in American history, had some real buying power. But teenagers couldn’t go to the bars where country musicians played, and at the time there were very few entertainment venues of any type that catered to teenagers. So Bill Haley and the Comets played, by Johnny Grande’s count, one hundred and eighty-three school assemblies, for free. And at every show they would make note of what songs the kids liked, which ones got them dancing, which ones they were less impressed by, and they would hone their act to appeal to these kids. And one thing Haley noted was that the teenagers’ favourite slang expression was “crazy”, and so he wrote… [excerpt: Crazy Man Crazy, Bill Haley and the Comets] That went to number fifteen on the pop charts, a truly massive success for a country and western band. Marshall Lytle, the Comets’ bass player, later claimed that he had co-written the song and not got the credit, but the other Comets disputed his claims. This is another of those records that is cited as the first rock and roll record, or the first rock and roll hit, and certainly it’s the first example of a white band playing this kind of music to make the charts. And, more fairly to Haley, it’s the first example of a band using guitars as their primary instruments to get onto the charts playing something that resembles jump band music. “Crazy Man Crazy” is very clearly patterned after Louis Jordan, but those guitar fills would be played by a horn section on Jordan’s records. With Danny Cedrone’s solos, Bill Haley and the Comets were responsible for making the guitar the standard lead instrument for rock and roll, although it took a while for that to *become* the standard and we will see plenty of piano and saxophone, including on later records by Haley himself. So why was Haley doing something so different from what everyone else did? In part, I think that can be linked to the reason he didn’t stay successful very long – he wasn’t part of a scene at all. When we look at almost all the other musicians we’re talking about in this series, you’ll see that they’re all connected to other musicians. The myth of the lone genius is just that – a myth. What actually tends to happen is that the “lone genius” is someone who uses the abilities of others and then pretends it was all himself – and it almost always is a him. There’s a whole peer group there, who get conveniently erased. But the fact remains that Haley and the Comets, as a group, didn’t have any kind of peer group or community. They weren’t part of a scene, and really had no peers doing what they were doing. There was no-one to tell them what to do, or what not to do. So Bill Haley and the Comets had started something unique. But it was that very uniqueness that was to cause them problems, as we’ll see when we return to them in a few weeks…

  Welcome to episode sixteen of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs. Today we're looking at "Crazy Man Crazy" by Bill Haley and the Comets. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. ----more---- Resources As always, I've created a Mixcloud streaming playlist with full versions of all the songs in the episode.   Unfortunately, there aren't many good books about Bill Haley available. There are two biographies which are long out of print -- one by John Swenson which I read as a very small child, and one from the nineties by one of Haley's sons. Another of Haley's sons has a biography due out in April, which might be worthwhile, but until then the only book available is a self-published biography by Otto Fuchs. I relied on volume one of Fuchs' book for this post -- it's very good on the facts -- but it suffers from being written by someone whose first language is not English, and it also *badly* needs an editor, so I can't wholly recommend it. This box set, which is ridiculously cheap, contains almost every track anyone could want by Haley and the Comets, and it also includes the early country music sides I've excerpted here, as well as tracks by the Jodimars (a band consisting of ex-Comets). Unfortunately it doesn't contain his great late-fifties singles "Lean Jean" and "Skinny Minnie", but it has everything else.   Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript   We've talked before about how there were multiple different musics that got lumped together in the mid-fifties under the name "rock and roll". There's rockabilly, Chicago rhythm and blues, doo-wop, New Orleans R&B, the coastal jump bands, and Northern band rock and roll. We've looked at most of these – and the ones we haven't we'll be looking at over the next few weeks – but what we haven't looked at so far is Northern band rock and roll. And in many ways that's the most interesting of all the rock and roll musics, because it's the one that at first glance has had almost no obvious impact on anything that followed, but it's also the one that first came to the attention of the white American public as rock and roll – the one that made the newspapers and got the headlines. And it's the one that had only one real example. While the other styles of music had dozens of people making them, Northern band rock and roll really only had Bill Haley and the Comets. A whole pillar of rock and roll – a whole massive strand of the contemporary view of this music – was down to the work of one band who had no peers and left no real legacy. Or at least, they seem to have left no legacy, until you look a bit closer. But before we look at where the Comets' music led, we should look at where they were coming from. Bill Haley didn't set out to be a rock and roll star, because when he started there was no such thing. He set out to be a country and western singer. He played with various country bands over the years – bands with names like The Down Homers and the Texas Range Riders – before he decided to become a band leader himself, and started his own band, the Four Aces of Western Swing. Obviously this wasn't a full Western Swing band in the style of Bob Wills' band, but they played a stripped-down version which captured much of the appeal of the music – and which had a secret weapon in Haley himself, the Indiana State Yodelling Champion. Yes, yodelling. Let me explain. Jimmie Rodgers was a huge, huge, star, and his gimmick was his yodelling: [excerpt "Blue Yodel (T For Texas)": Jimmie Rodgers] Every country singer in the 1940s wanted to sound like Jimmie Rodgers – at least until Ernest Tubb and Hank Williams came along and everyone wanted to sound like them instead. And that's the sound that Bill Haley was going for when he started the Four Aces of Western Swing. [excerpt of "Yodel Your Blues Away" by the Four Aces of Western Swing] That's how Bill Haley started out – as a Jimmie Rodgers imitator whose greatest strength was his yodelling. It definitely doesn't sound like the work of someone who would change music forever. You'd expect, without knowing the rest of his history, that the Four Aces of Western Swing would become a footnote to a footnote; a band who, if they were remembered at all, would be remembered for one or two singles included on some big box set compilation of vintage country music. Much of their music was derivative in the extreme, but there were a handful of more interesting tracks, some of which would still be of interest to aficionados, like "Foolish Questions". [Excerpt of "Foolish Questions" by the Four Aces of Western Swing] But without Bill Haley's future career, it's unlikely there'd be any more attention paid to the Four Aces than that. They don't really make a dent in country music history, and didn't have the kind of career that suggested they would ever do so. Most of their records didn't even get a proper release – Haley was signed to a label called Cowboy Records, which was a Mafia-run organisation. The first five thousand copies of every Cowboy release went to Mafia-owned jukeboxes, for free, and artists would only get royalties on any records sold after that. Since jukeboxes accounted for the majority of the money in the record business at this point, that didn't leave much for the artists – especially as Haley had to pay his own recording and production costs, and he had to do any promotion himself – buying boxes of records at $62.50 for two hundred and fifty copies, and sending them out to DJs through the post at his own expense. It was basically a glorified vanity label, and the only reason Haley got any airplay at all was because he was himself a DJ. And after a few unsuccessful singles, he decided to give up on performance and become just a DJ. But soon Haley had a new band, which would become far more successful – Bill Haley and his... Saddlemen. Yes, the Saddlemen. By all accounts, the Saddlemen weren't Haley's idea. One day two musicians turned up at the radio station, saying they wanted to join his band. Billy Williamson and Johnny Grande were unhappy with the band they were performing in, and had heard Haley performing with his band on the radio. They had decided that Haley's band would be a perfect showcase for their talents on steel guitar and accordion, and had travelled from Newark New Jersey to Chester Pennsylvania to see him. But they'd showed up to discover that he didn't have a band any more. They eventually persuaded him that it would be worth his while going back into music, and Haley arranged for the band to get a show once a week on the station he was DJing on. While Haley was the leader on stage, they were an equal partnership – the Saddlemen, and later the Comets, split money four ways between Haley, Williamson, Grande, and the band's manager, with any other band members who were later hired, such as drummers and bass players, being on a fixed salary paid out by the partnership. The band didn't make much money at first -- they all had other jobs, with Williamson and Grande working all sorts of odd jobs, while Haley was doing so much work at the radio station that he often ended up sleeping there. Haley worked so hard that his marriage disintegrated, but the Saddlemen had one big advantage – they had the radio station's recording studio to use for their rehearsals, and they were able to use the studio's recording equipment to play back their rehearsals and learn, something that very few bands had at the time. They spent two whole years rehearsing every day, and taking whatever gigs they could, and that eventually started to pay off. The Saddlemen started out making the same kind of music that the Four Aces had made. They put out decent, but not massively impressive, records on all sorts of tiny labels. Most of these recordings were called things like "Ten Gallon Stetson", and in one case the single wasn't even released as the Saddlemen but as Reno Browne and Her Buckaroos. This was about as generic as country and western music could get. [excerpt: “My Sweet Little Gal From Nevada” – Reno Browne and Her Buckaroos] But Bill Haley had bigger plans, inspired by the show that was on right before his. The radio had changed enormously in a very short period of time. Before the Second World War, playing records on the radio had been almost unknown, until in 1935 the first recognised DJ, Martin Block, started his radio show "Make Believe Ballroom", in which he would pretend to be introducing all sorts of different bands. The record labels spent much of the next few years fighting the same kind of copyright actions they would later fight against the Internet -- in this case aided by the Musicians' Union, but harmed by the fact that there was no federal copyright protection for sound recordings until the 1970s. Indeed a lot of the musicians' strikes of the 1940s were, in part, about the issue of playing records on the radio. But eventually, the record labels -- especially the ones, like RCA and Columbia, which were also radio network owners -- realised that being played on the radio was great advertising for their records, and stopped fighting it. And at the same time, there was a massive expansion in radio stations -- and a drop in advertising money. After the war, restrictions on broadcasting were lifted, and within four years there were more than twice as many radio stations as there had been in 1946. But at the same time, the networks were no longer making as much money from advertising, which started going to TV instead. The solution was to go for cheap, local, programming -- and there was little programming that was cheaper than getting a man to sit in the studio and play records. And in 1948 and 49, Columbia and RCA introduced "high fidelity" records -- the 33RPM album from Columbia, and the 45RPM single from RCA. These didn't have the problems that 78s had, of poor sound quality and quick degradation, and so the final barrier to radio stations becoming devoted to recorded music was lifted. This is, incidentally, why the earlier musicians we've talked about in this series are largely forgotten compared to musicians from even a few years later -- their records came out on 78s. Radio stations threw out all their old 78s when they could start playing 45s, and so you'd never hear a Wynonie Harris or Louis Jordan played even as a golden oldie, because the radio stations didn't have those records any more. They disappeared from the cultural memory, in a way the fifties acts didn't. And the time we're talking about now is right when that growth in the radio was at its height, and all the new radio stations were turning to recorded music. But in the early fifties, only a handful of stations were playing black music, only for an hour or two a day at most. And when they did, the DJ was always a white man -- but usually a white man who could sound black, and thought himself part of black culture. Zenas Sears in Atlanta, Dewey Phillips in Memphis, Alan Freed in Cleveland, Johnny Otis in LA -- all of these were people who even many of their black listeners presumed were black, playing black records, speaking in black slang. All of them, of course, used their privilege as white men to get jobs that black people simply weren't given. But that was the closest that black people came to representation on the radio at the time, and those radio shows were precious to many of them. People would tune in from hundreds of miles away to hear those few DJs who for one hour a day were playing their music. And the show that was on before Bill Haley's country and western show was one of those handful of R&B shows. "Judge Rhythm's Court" was presented by a white man in his forties named Jim Reeves (not the singer of the same name) under the name of "Shorty the Bailiff". Reeves' theme was "Rock the Joint" by Jimmy Preston and the Prestonians: [excerpt "Rock the Joint", Jimmy Preston and the Prestonians] Haley liked the music that Reeves was playing -- in particular, he became a big fan of Big Joe Turner and Ruth Brown -- and he started adding some of the R&B songs to the Saddlemen's setlists, and noticed they went down especially well with the younger audiences. But they didn't record those songs in their rare recording sessions for small labels. Until, that is, the Saddlemen signed up to Holiday Records. As soon as they started with Holiday, their style changed completely. Holiday, and its sister label Essex which also released Saddlemen records, were owned by Dave Miller, who also owned the pressing plant that had pressed Haley's earlier records for the Cowboy label, and Miller had similar mob connections. Haley would later claim that while Miller always said the money to start the record labels had come from a government subsidy, in fact it had been paid by the Mafia. His labels had started up during the musicians' union strikes of the 1940s, to put out records by non-union musicians, and Miller wasn't too concerned about bothering to pay royalties or other such niceties. Haley also later claimed that Miller invented payola – the practice of paying DJs to play records. This was something that a lot of independent labels did in the early fifties, and was one of the ways they managed to get heard, even as many of the big labels were still cautious about the radio. Miller wanted to have big hits, and in particular he wanted to find ways to get both the white and black markets with the same records, and here he had an ally in Haley, who took a scientific approach to maximising his band's success. Haley would try things like turning up the band's amplifiers, on the theory that if customers couldn't hear themselves talking, they'd be more likely to dance – and then turning the amps back down when the bar owners would complain that if the customers danced too much they wouldn't buy as many drinks. Haley was willing to work hard and try literally anything in order to make his band a success, and wasn't afraid to try new ideas and then throw them away if they didn't work. This makes his discography frustrating for listeners now – it's a long record of failed experiments, dead ends, and stylistic aberrations unlike almost any other successful artist's. This is someone not blessed with a huge abundance of natural talent, but willing to work much harder in order to make a success of things anyway. Miller was a natural ally in this, and they hit on a formula which would be independently reinvented a couple of years later by Sam Phillips for Elvis' records – putting out singles with a country song on one side and an R&B song on the other, to try to appeal to both white and black markets. And one song that Dave Miller heard and thought that might suit Haley's band was "Rocket 88" This might have seemed an odd decision – after all, "Rocket 88" was a horn-driven rhythm and blues song, while the Saddlemen at this point consisted of Haley on acoustic guitar, double-bass player Al Rex, Billy Williamson on steel guitar, and Johnny Grande, an accordion player who could double on piano. This doesn't sound the most propitious lineup for an R&B song, but along with ace session guitarist Danny Cedrone they actually managed to come up with something rather impressive: [excerpt of "Rocket 88"] Obviously it's not a patch on the original, but translating that R&B song into a western swing style had ended up with something a little different to the hillbilly boogie one might expect. In particular, there's the drum sound.... Oh wait, there's no drumming there. What do you mean, you heard it? Let's listen again... [excerpt of "Rocket 88"] There are no drums there. It's what's called slapback bass. Now, before we go any further, I'd better explain that there's some terminological confusion, because "slap bass" is a similar but not identical electric bass technique, while the word "slapback" is also used for the echo used on some rockabilly records, so talking about "rockabilly slapback bass" can end up a bit like "Who's on first?" But what I mean when I talk about slapback bass is a style of bass playing used on many rockabilly records. It's used in other genres, too, but it basically came to rockabilly because of Bill Haley's band, and because of the playing style Haley's bass players Al Rex and Marshall Lytle used. With slapback bass, you're playing a double bass, and you play it pizzicato, plucking the strings. But you don't just pluck them, you pull them forward and let them slap right back onto the bridge of the instrument, which makes a sort of clicking sound. At the same time, you might also hit the strings to mute them – which also makes a clicking sound as well. And you might also hit the body of the instrument, making a loud thumping noise. Given the recording techniques in use at the time, slapback bass could often sound a lot like drums on a recording, though you'd never mistake one for the other in a live performance. And at a time when country music wasn't particularly keen on the whole idea of a drum kit – which was seen as a dangerous innovation from the jazz world, not something that country and western musicians should be playing, though by this time Bob Wills had been using one in his band for a decade – having something else that could keep the beat and act as a percussion instrument was vital, and slapback bass was one of the big innovations that Haley's band popularised. So yes, Bill Haley and the Saddlemen's version of "Rocket 88" had no drum kit on it. Despite this, some people still cite this, rather than Jackie Brenston's original, as "the first rock and roll record". As we've said many times, though, there is no such thing. But Haley's recording makes an attractive candidate – it's the mythical "merging of black R&B with white country music", which of course was something that had been happening since the very start, but which people seem to regard as something that marked out rock and roll, and it's the first recording in this style by the person who went on to have the first really massive rock and roll hit to cross over into the pop charts. "Rocket 88" wasn't that big hit. But Haley and Miller felt like they were on to something, and they kept trying to come up with something that would work in that style. They put out quite a few singles that were almost, but not quite, what they were after, things like a remake of "Wabash Cannonball" retitled "Jukebox Cannonball", and then they finally hit on the perfect formula with "Rock the Joint", which had been in Haley's setlist off and on since he heard it on Jim Reeves' programme. The original "Rock the Joint" had been one of the many, many, records that attempted to cash in on the rock craze ignited by Wynonie Harris' version of "Good Rockin' Tonight", but it hadn't done much outside of the Philadelphia area. Haley and the band went into the studio to record their own version, which had a very different arrangement – and listen in particular to the solo... [excerpt "Rock the Joint" – Bill Haley and the Saddlemen] That solo is played by the session musician, Danny Cedrone, who played the lead guitar on almost all of Haley's early records. He wasn't a member of the band – Haley kept costs low in these early years by having as small a band as possible, but hiring extra musicians for the recordings to beef up the sound -- but he was someone that Haley trusted to always play the right parts on his records. Haley and Cedrone were close enough that in 1952 – after "Rocket 88" but before "Rock the Joint" – Haley gave Cedrone a song for his own band, The Esquire Boys. That song, "Rock-A-Beatin' Boogie", would probably have been a hit for Haley, had he recorded it at the time -- instead, he didn't record it for another three years. But that song, too, shows that he was on the right track. He was searching for something, and finding it occasionally, but not always recognising it when he had it. (Excerpt: "Rock-A-Beatin' Boogie" by The Esquire Boys) "Rock the Joint" was a massive success, by the standards of a small indie country label, reportedly selling as much as four hundred thousand copies. But even after "Rock the Joint", the problems continued. Haley's next two records were "Dance With a Dolly (With a Hole in Her Stockin')" – which was to the tune of "Buffalo Gals Won't You Come Out Tonight?" – and "Stop Beatin' Around the Mulberry Bush", which was a rewrite of "Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush" as a hillbilly boogie. But "Stop Beatin' Around the Mulberry Bush" was notable for one reason – it was the first record by "Bill Haley and Haley's Comets", rather than by the Saddlemen. The pun on Halley's comet was obvious, but the real importance of the name change is that it marked a definitive moment when the band stopped thinking of themselves as a country and western band and started thinking of themselves as something else – Haley didn't pick up on the term "rock and roll" til fairly late, but it was clear that that was what he thought he should be doing now. They now had a drummer, too – Dick Richards – and a sax player. Al Rex was temporarily gone, replaced by Marshall Lytle, but Rex would be back in 1955. They were still veering wildly between rhythm and blues covers, country songs, and outright novelty records, but they were slowly narrowing down what they were trying to do, and hitting a target more and more often – they were making records about rhythm, using slang catchphrases and trying to appeal to a younger audience. And there was a genuine excitement in some of their stage performances. Haley would never be the most exciting vocalist when working in this new rock and roll idiom – he was someone who was a natural country singer and wasn't familiar with the idioms he was incorporating into his new music, so there was a sense of distance there – but the band would make up for that on stage, with the bass player riding his bass (a common technique for getting an audience going at this point) and the saxophone player lying on his back to play solos. And that excitement shone through in "Crazy Man Crazy", which became the Comets' first real big hit. This was another example of the way that Haley would take a scientific approach to his band's success. He and his band members had realised that the key to success in the record business was going to be appealing to teenagers, who were a fast-growing demographic and who, for the first time in American history, had some real buying power. But teenagers couldn't go to the bars where country musicians played, and at the time there were very few entertainment venues of any type that catered to teenagers. So Bill Haley and the Comets played, by Johnny Grande's count, one hundred and eighty-three school assemblies, for free. And at every show they would make note of what songs the kids liked, which ones got them dancing, which ones they were less impressed by, and they would hone their act to appeal to these kids. And one thing Haley noted was that the teenagers' favourite slang expression was "crazy", and so he wrote... [excerpt: Crazy Man Crazy, Bill Haley and the Comets] That went to number fifteen on the pop charts, a truly massive success for a country and western band. Marshall Lytle, the Comets' bass player, later claimed that he had co-written the song and not got the credit, but the other Comets disputed his claims. This is another of those records that is cited as the first rock and roll record, or the first rock and roll hit, and certainly it's the first example of a white band playing this kind of music to make the charts. And, more fairly to Haley, it's the first example of a band using guitars as their primary instruments to get onto the charts playing something that resembles jump band music. "Crazy Man Crazy" is very clearly patterned after Louis Jordan, but those guitar fills would be played by a horn section on Jordan's records. With Danny Cedrone's solos, Bill Haley and the Comets were responsible for making the guitar the standard lead instrument for rock and roll, although it took a while for that to *become* the standard and we will see plenty of piano and saxophone, including on later records by Haley himself. So why was Haley doing something so different from what everyone else did? In part, I think that can be linked to the reason he didn't stay successful very long – he wasn't part of a scene at all. When we look at almost all the other musicians we're talking about in this series, you'll see that they're all connected to other musicians. The myth of the lone genius is just that – a myth. What actually tends to happen is that the "lone genius" is someone who uses the abilities of others and then pretends it was all himself – and it almost always is a him. There's a whole peer group there, who get conveniently erased. But the fact remains that Haley and the Comets, as a group, didn't have any kind of peer group or community. They weren't part of a scene, and really had no peers doing what they were doing. There was no-one to tell them what to do, or what not to do. So Bill Haley and the Comets had started something unique. But it was that very uniqueness that was to cause them problems, as we'll see when we return to them in a few weeks...

ONE, the first national gay magazine, attracted the attention of the FBI and was at the heart of a landmark U.S. Supreme Court case. Dorr Legg, Martin Block, and Jim Kepner were key to ONE's success. But don't expect them to agree on its origin story. Visit our episode webpage for background information, archival photos, and other resources. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

ONE, the first national gay magazine, attracted the attention of the FBI and was at the heart of a landmark U.S. Supreme Court case. Dorr Legg, Martin Block, and Jim Kepner were key to ONE’s success. But don’t expect them to agree on its origin story. Visit our episode webpage for background information, archival photos, and other resources.

Martin Block ist Küchenchef, Grill-Blogger und Familienvater von 2 Kindern. Er ist regelmäßiger Gast in den Podcasts Küchen-Funk und Feuer, Glut & Herzblut. In dieser Episode spreche ich mit Martin über seine Highlights aus über 150 Episoden Küchen-Funk und entlocke ihm seine Tipps.

In this episode, I had the opportunity to sit down and have an in-depth conversation with a panel of experts on teaching children with autism in a physical education setting. The panelist for this podcast are all professors and researchers within the field of adapted physical education and specialize in physical education for children with autism. The panelist were Dr. Martin Block, a professor of adapted physical education in the department of Kinesiology at Virginia University and the author of the textbook A Teacher's Guide To Adapted Physical Education: Including Students with Disabilities in Sports and Recreation; Dr. Sean Healy an assistant professor in adapted physical education in the department of Kinesiology at Humboldt University; and Melissa Bittner a past podcast guest and who recently finished up her dissertation and will begin teaching and conducting research next fall in adapted physical education in the department of Kinesiology at California State University Long Beach. This podcast is part two of a two part episode. Part two focuses specifically on how to work with bullying and children with autism and current research trends in the field of autism and physical activity.

In this episode, I had the opportunity to sit down and have an in-depth conversation with a panel of experts on teaching children with autism in a physical education setting. The panelist for this podcast are all professors and researchers within the field of adapted physical education and specialize in physical education for children with autism. The panelist were Dr. Martin Block, a professor of adapted physical education in the department of Kinesiology at Virginia University and the author of the textbook A Teacher's Guide To Adapted Physical Education: Including Students with Disabilities in Sports and Recreation; Dr. Sean Healy an assistant professor in adapted physical education in the department of Kinesiology at Humboldt University; and Melissa Bittner a past podcast guest and fellow Texas Woman's University PhD candidate who is finishing up her dissertation and will begin teaching and conducting research next fall in adapted physical education in the department of Kinesiology at California State University Long Beach. This podcast is part one of a two part episode. Part one focuses specifically on (a) what is autism and how has the definition recently changed, (b) motor delays in children with autism, and (c) evidence based practices to use with children with autism.

Sat, 01 Apr 2017 06:30:00 +0000 https://5ideen.podigee.io/19-018-5i-ein-imbiss-wurde-zur-marke-die-erfolgsgeschichte-der-fetten-kuh cc1dd21f89c25622f98145e4c1dfaf4a Imbiss klingt im ersten Augenblick nicht besonders sexy, aber DIE FETTE KUH in Köln beweist seit 5 Jahren das Gegenteil. Auf 50qm versorgen 40 Mitarbeiter die Gäste mit den besten Burgern des Landes. Aber nicht nur das, der Kult-Imbiss vertreibt unter der Marke sogar mehrere Sorten Bier "DAS FETTE..." und hat die erste Auflage (5.000 Exemplare) des "FETTEN BUCHS" in 5 Monaten bereits fast ausverkauft. Erfahrt alles über die Geschichte und die Philosophie hinter dem Fleisch! Im Gespräch mit Martin Block, dem Küchenchef der Fetten Kuh und Veranstalter des regelmäßigen #MEATUP_CGN. Es spricht David "Dave" Brych. E-Mail: dave@5ideen.com / http://www.twitter.com/DavidBrych ► Martins Blog: http://www.baconbakery.de ► Martin auf Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/baconbakery/ ► Die FETTE KUH online: http://diefettekuh.de Links: 5 IDEEN Kanal auf YouTube http://www.youtube.com/c/5ideenvideos HeroTube - YouTube Marketing http://www.herotube.de FROG MOTION MEDIA - Content Marketing in Bewegtbild http://www.fromo.de 19 full no Dave Brych - Creative Producer für Content Marketing bei FROG MOTION MEDIA.

Your Hit Parade. November 21, 1942. The #1 tune is, "White Christmas." Despite being an army rebroadcast, many "Lucky Strike Green Has Gone To War" tag lines have been left in. Martin Block (host), Barry Wood, Joan Edwards, Mark Warnow and His Orchestra, Ethel Smith. oldtimeradiodvd.com