Irving Berlin: American Troubadour.(Review)

By Edward Jablonski. New York: Henry Holt, 1999. [viii, 406 p. ISBN 0-8050-4077-3. $35.]

Capping an active decade in Irving Berlin research, Edward Jablonski's monograph is the third on the composer to appear in as many years. Charles Hamm issued a remarkable study in 1997 (Irving Berlin: Songs from the Melting Pot: The Formative Years, 1907-1914 [New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press]) that concentrated on the early years of Berlin's songwriting and explicated the social contexts within which his songs were created. Next to appear was the 1998 book by Philip Furia (Irving Berlin: A Life in Song [New York: Schirmer Books]), a narrative of the songwriter's life, distinguished by its many song analyses and its observations on Berlin's attainments as a wordsmith. Jablonski's entry is not only the most conventional biographical treatment of the three, but the second lengthiest Berlin monograph to date, trailing only Laurence Bergreen's 1990 volume As Thousands Cheer: The Life of Irving Berlin (New York: Viking). In fourteen chapters plus "prelude" and "coda," the author covers the range of Be rlin's life, from his impoverished family's emigration from Russia when he was just 5 years old to his peaceful death in a five-story Manhattan townhouse at age 101.

Jablonski's attention to biographical detail, as well as to broader historical and cultural contexts, is laudable. Consider the striking section at the beginning of the book in which he recounts the songwriter's earliest years. After describing the pogroms that drove Berlin's family from Russia, Jablonski offers a hypothetical reconstruction of the harrowing journey to the New World, the examinations on Ellis Island, and life in the tenements of New York's Lower East Side. When covering Berlin's later professional endeavors, Jablonski's commentary is equally replete. Readers who appreciate bounteous descriptions of stage and screen shows will be especially rewarded. The two shows that receive the most discussion are This Is the Army and Annie Get Your Gun. The former, a World War II revue whose proceeds were donated to Allied war efforts, is reported in abundant detail, with explication of the original Broadway production, the him version, and the successful, if sometimes enervating, international stage tour (which, in Italy, came within range of German aircraft).

Particularly welcome is Jablonski's debunking of vexing myths that have persisted in the Berlin literature. He puts in perspective the colorful exaggerations of the songwriter's friend and first biographer, Alexander Woollcott, as well as specimens of hyperbole from various other sources. He also counters song-related fables, considering, for example, differing accounts of the origin of "Blue Skies," and he quotes Berlin himself as dismissing the story that "There's No Business like Show Business" was cut from Annie Get Your Gun and almost literally lost before being reinstated.

Another attractive feature is the spotlight Jablonski shines on the musicians behind the songwriter. Berlin allegedly never learned to notate music, nor was he a skilled pianist; thus, he required the help of "musical secretaries" to develop the arrangements that were circulated as sheet music. These individuals are generally the neglected figures of the music business, but here they receive mention. Jablonski prominently cites Berlin's principal assistants--Clifford Hess, Arthur Johnston, and longtime amanuensis Helmy Kresa-- and credits William Schultz, arranger of the sheet-music version of "Alexander's Ragtime Band." The reader also discovers the aid provided by those who became famous songwriters themselves, such as George Gershwin, who scored "That Revolutionary Rag," and Harry Ruby, musical secretary for the show Yip! Yip! Yaphank. Books on celebrated figures often engage in gratuitous name-dropping, but here the interjections are ...