"YOU HAVE ALL the charm of a fishcleaners apron "You have ...
Most give the nod to Jack Benny for the greatest radio comedy show of all time, with a somewhat more savvy segment nominating Fred Allen. Good choices. But for my money, it was Harris/Faye.
Harris was a singer and bandleader-Benny's bandleader for some years-and Faye was an escapee from Hollywood. They married in 1941, at the height of Faye's popularity as the top singing star for 20th Century Fox, and stayed that way until Harris' death in 1995 (probably an entertainment-industry record for fidelity). Faye died in 1998. I still have her obit squirreled away; it closed the coffin lid on an era for me.
Faye, sick of the movie business, simply drove away from Hollywood in 1945 and never went back. The next year, she and Harris started a radio show that lasted eight years by count, but more than half a century in my head. You might call it a family situation comedy, but you'd be wrong.
Each episode featured a song by Faye and usually one by Harris. Faye's voice was soft, friendly-sexy, I guess-but with a sly humor behind it. Harris had a surprisingly wide range, something he consciously played down, but which kept him going as a Las Vegas act into the 70s. Born in Indiana, he grew up in Nashville and played the Southern shtick for all it was worth, though not the way anyone else would play it. He weaved black and religious influences ("Shadrak," "That Old Time Religion") into big-band renditions and slid through semi-patter songs with deceptive ease.
But?it's not their singing I care most about; it's the ensemble work of the program, one of the most engaging shows ever broadcast. Part of it was the knife-twisting writing by Ray Singer and Dick Chevillat. (Singer went on to I Love Lucy and (god help us) Gilligan's Island. Chevillat? No major trace of him that I can find.) The writing wouldn't have completed it, though, without the melding of Harris, Faye, Tetley and-maybe the kingpin-Elliott Lewis.
Lewis is a lost jewel of acting. A superb dramatic actor on radio shows like Suspense, he reached his comic height on Harris/Faye, playing Frankie Remley, Harris' guitarist in the band. Together, Lewis and Harris could rip the side off a virgin building with their dialogue or dig into each other like earth loaders. Their snickering fire fed Faye, Tetley and people like Gale Gordon in the supporting cast. A verbal slip by Faye (she would hiccup/blunder now and then) was good for five minutes of escalating viciousness in those days of live shows.
But that viciousness was contained in a vessel of immense human warmth. You couldn't help loving these people-Harris, with his mock duncity, Lewis as conniving as a three-legged rat, Faye a throaty delight who could hammer either of them on demand, Tetley throwing verbal skewers with Robin Hood accuracy. Nobody has ever equaled their perfect fluidity.
Ah yes, the music. I goofed this time around, picking up a slopped-together CD called Phil Harris: Southern Gentleman of Song, taken from 1949 radio broadcasts. Naturally, it includes his personal theme, "That's What I Like About the South," and some good stuff, but it's about half an hour long and just not up to snuff. And nothing out there includes my personal favorite: "The Eighth Street Association Barbecue (and Fancy Dress Ball)."
As for Faye, because of her contract tie-in to Fox, most of her music on record is from soundtracks, not capturing the depth of her personality. But ah, wouldn't you want to spend the night?