A hundred years ago this month, the May 1922 issue of Talking Machine World carried this ad promoting the song “Nestle In Your Daddy’s Arms” from its publisher, Leo. Feist Inc., located in the Feist Building, New York City. Presumably, everyone knew where that was, since the ad didn’t bother giving the address. But for those of us not in the know, it was at 231 W. 40th Street.

The song is performed in this video on Columbia Records by Frank Crumit.  If that name sounds familiar, it’s because we previously profiled his wife, Julia Sanderson, with whom he went on to have a popular radio program.  He’s also famous for his thousands of ukulele recordings.

And here it is on the player piano:

You can hear a Victor recording by a quartet at this Library of Congress link.

Music for band in 23 parts is available at this link, and sheet music for piano is available at this link, where it is revealed that the song was penned by Lou Herscher and Joe Burke. Burke went on to pen “Tiptoe through the Tulips” in 1929 and Rambling Rose in 1948. It’s unclear which
came first, but the sheet music also contains French lyrics, “Repose Mon Enfant sur mon Épaule” written by Jean Nelis.

These girls are now close to 90 years old, but they undoubtedly had an appreciation for music their entire lives, thanks to their parents’ foresight in buying this model L-678 radio-phono from General Electric. They are shown here having a concert in their very own room thanks to the instrument. They were able to operate the set themselves, and the turntable could accommodate 12 inch records, even with the lid closed.

Their parents were able to find much of the world’s finest music especially arranged for children, allowing them a wonderful opportunity to develop an appreciation for good music. This set retailed for only $39.95. The ad also featured the model L-500 radio, “encased in handsome mahogany plastic cabinet that won the top award in the nation-wide Modern Plastics contest.” Also shown is the portable model JB-410, which the police officer notices and points out that he also has a GE radio in his squad car.

The ad appeared 80 years ago today in the March 10, 1941, issue of Life magazine.

This young woman is obviously distraught and overwhelmed, but it’s not her fault. It’s the fault of her radio-phono dealer, who neglected to sell her anything in which to store her records. She is pictured in the February 1941 issue of Radio Retailing, which reminds dealers of the potential peril, and explains that “people who buy soon have scarred and battered records scattered all over the house unless dealers simultaneously sell accessories to keep them in.”

To prevent this from happening, the magazine listed the manufacturers of a number of different racks and cabinets, any of which would have solved this woman’s problems. The next page of the magazine showed one reason why the problem was becoming acute: It was the prevalence of compact combination radio-phonos hitting the market. The player didn’t take up much space, but the records that it played represented a storage problem.

This photo, in the January 1921 issue of Talking Machine World, shows an early radio broadcast taking place a century ago in Detroit.

The magazine noted that a number of well-to-do residents and members of the Detroit Radio Association were able to tune in radio concerts and dances, furnished by the Edison phonograph, “providing diversion simultaneously in a number of homes, of which some actually are located between four and five miles away.” In some cases, musicians played in unison with the phonograph.

Among the younger set, radio dances had taken a permanent place as a popular pastime, “in the home of those fortunate enough to have had the necessary receiving apparatus installed.”

Fifty years ago, the December 1970 issue of Popular Mechanics showed how to make this “dancing light display”. The idea was quite simple, and employed no electronics. It simply used a string of Christmas tree lights made up of flasher bulbs mounted on the rear. These were projected through a cardboard with cutouts of various geometric shapes, only a sheet of plastic on the front. Optionally, a speaker could be mounted inside the cabinet.

Even though the changing of the lights was random, according to the article, when music was playing, it would give the illusion of being in time with the music.

EIghty years ago today, the December 27, 1940, issue of the Washington Evening Star carried this Sears-Roebuck ad for a radio-phonograph-recorder.  The set came complete with microphone and five blank discs for $47.88.

It appears to be the Sears Silvertone model  5731.  You can view some photos at this link.