GENE AUSTIN
Lemuel Eugene Lucas, better known as Gene Austin, was born June 24, 1900 in
Gainesville, located in the Red River Valley of north Texas. He was the only
child of Nova and Belle Lucas, both Missouri natives. Nova, the son of George
Washington and Kate Lucas, would die in 1943, long after he and Belle were
divorced. Belle, the daughter of Alva and Elmansa Hearrel, was a descendent of a
famous Shoshone maiden, Sacajawea, her great, great grandmother. Sacajawea -
known as the "Bird Woman" and celebrated for her courage, resourcefulness, and
good humor - accompanied Lewis and Clark in their expedition from North Dakota
to the Pacific Coast, 1800-1806. Belle would die August 3, 1956 and be buried
alongside Nova in Gainesville.
In his autobiography, Gene would recall those early developmental years with
considerable fondness.
My Texas childhood...was rich in the stuff that mattered most to a small boy
at the start of the twentieth century. Plenty of room to grow in, fresh air and
sunshine, nourishing simple food, friendly neighbors, pleasant climate, horses,
cattle, rabbits, chickens; and most of all, first-hand contact with the singing
cowboys. It was a typical Mark Twain childhood.
Gainesville was located in cattle country crossed by the Chisholm Trail, the
fabled thoroughfare traveled by cowboys and steers on the way to the stockyards
of the Upper Midwest. While still a toddler, Gene would wander off to the Trail
while his mother was engaged in chores, drawn to the western trail songs sung by
the cowboys during the cattle drives. His access to this music, however, was cut
short by Belle - who upon hearing these songs re-enacted at home by Gene -
denied him access to "at dreadful trail where any bolting steer could trample my
child to death, or gore him!"
Restricted from enjoying one form of forbidden fruit, Gene substituted another
in short order, gravitating to the parlour houses located on a few side streets
of the town which presided over a thriving prostitution trade. Hearing the
exotic improvisations of the piano-playing "professors," he inched his way up to
the stoop, eventually being invited inside by the friendly occupants. This
district became the new center of Gene’s life, and he curried favor by running
errands for the professors and attractive ladies of the night. His mother’s
suspicions were again aroused when he echoed this new music at home; despite his
evasive responses to her inquiries, she soon discovered the source of his new
material, and once again he was denied access to what he perceived to be an
innocent pleasure.
Gene, however, had greater distractions to deal with at this time. His parents
didn’t get along. The headstrong Belle, who longed for adventure and travel, had
tired of life with Nova, a gentle soul who was unwilling to assert his
preordained authority. Acquiring a divorce, Belle took Gene off for a prolonged
visit with her relatives, an unruly lot given to extended bouts of arguing and
fighting. She eventually returned to Gainesville and, in short order, decided to
marry a blacksmith named Jim Austin. Jim insisted soon after the marriage that
his young stepson adopt the Austin family name.
Although a county seat, Gainesville was small enough to afford daily encounters
between Belle, Jim, and Nova. It appears that this circumstance played a large
role in Jim’s decision to move his family to Louisiana and open his own
"smithy". Gene would later relate that he instantly disliked his new home in the
swampy village of Yellow Pine.
The air was heavy, the shadows thick and plentiful, the sky visible only in
patches, the rains frequent, the insects, heat and humidity unbearable; this
could never replace what I had left behind. What a change! Then and there
whatever feeling I could have had for Big Jim vanished. To me it seemed
my adventurous days were over, because the area was infested with snakes
and alligators, creatures I didn’t like; and there were bogs, quagmires and
quicksand. Also, I couldn’t understand the people, who spoke unlike us
Texans; and worst of all, I couldn’t hear any of my favorite music…All I
heard was Mother nagging me to go to school; and after school, Big Jim
ordering me to make myself useful around the shop.
To make matters worse, Jim began drinking heavily and "nice" families shunned
the Austins due their humble working class background. As a result, Gene
instinctively withdrew into a shell.
While loitering after my school in order to delay the inevitability of chores in
the forge, Gene discovered the songs of cotton pickers working the nearby
plantations. One of the workers, a kindly old black man named Esau, befriended
Gene after hearing him singing along to the music. Over his parent’s
protestations, Gene regularly visited Esau’s shanty in "The Quarter" for the
next ten years. "Uncle Esau" provided the human dignity and understanding Gene
required in the face of a steady stream of beatings and verbal abuse at home.
By his early teens, Gene had because big and strong enough to stand up to his
step-father. When Jim came at him one day, threatening to beat the music out of
him, his rebellious spirit surged to the fore. "You an’ that ol’ smithy can go
to the devil! I’ve taken my last punishment from you," Gene snarled back. After
an evening stopover with Uncle Esau, Gene went to the local railroad yard in
order to catch the first freight train passing through Yellow Pine. His brief
adventure as a runaway took him back to Gainesville where he became reacquainted
with his natural father, Nova Lucas. A fracas with one of the town’s leading
businessmen, a Colonel Mills, however, resulted in his father advising him to
return to Jim and Belle.
But Gene’s inability to submit to his stepfather’s enforced regimen of physical
labor without the pleasures of Uncle Esau’s company and plantation music caused
him to leave home again shortly after his return. Hopping a train which carried
him deep into the heart of Texas, he began fraternizing with the professors with
the hope of adding to his repertoire of songs. He moved on to wide array of
jobs, including selling balloons for a circus and playing a calliope for a
traveling carnival. Gene would later provide the following assessment of this
period of his life:
In my wildest imagination, I had never thought that the wanderlust of my
mother had rubbed off on me. But I soon developed a restlessness that kept
me on the go; fortunately for me I was always able to hustle some grub and a
place to sleep. I became good at my job, but not wanting to limit myself as a
parlour-house professor, I decided to try my luck in cabarets, which today would
be considered honky tonks, singing the songs of Uncle Esau’s people, as well as
songs I had picked up from the cowboys on the trail, and the parlour-house
"blues." I became an itinerant entertainer, and my wanderings took me all
over the country.
Gene eventually matriculated to New Orleans. Associates always seemed to be
touting that city, arguing that if you could make it there as a singer, then you
could succeed anywhere. He soon located the parlour-house district and, shortly
thereafter, joined the army as one of General Pershing’s recruits for the
ill-starred Mexican expedition. In pursuit of the elusive Pancho Villa, Gene’s
army service—which largely consisted of inclement weather, treachery from
civilians, and ambush from guerrillas—was abruptly terminated when fellow
soldier Tom Mix, the future film cowboy star, instigated a check on his date of
birth.
Discharged from the military and back in New Orleans, Gene picked up where he’d
left off. Becoming a top entertainer in parlour houses, he moved on the cabaret
circuit. On the eve of his seventeenth birthday, he received a special delivery
letter from his mother indicating that she and Jim were coming to take him back
home. In the face of this dilemma, Gene again enlisted in the army and was
assigned to the 156th Infantry of the 39th Division. After four months of guard
duty on the New Orleans docks, with most of his off-duty time spent performing
in the parlour-houses, he was transferred to Camp Merritt, New Jersey, where he
did stevedore work in the depot detail.
Wishing for more adventure, Gene—responsible for getting a company onto a
troopship headed for France--absent-mindedly-on-purpose remained aboard until
the boat had sailed out well beyond docking area. Following an obligatory
reprimand by the commanding officer, he was rewarded with immediate assignment
to a company scheduled to leave for the front. Surviving a year of battle in the
trenches, Gene became a victim of the 1918 Spanish flu epidemic. During his
convalescence, he met a Medical Corps dentist, Lieutenant Knapp, who had admired
his singing at the military "Y" hut. Knapp convinced him that becoming a dental
assistant would be a good trade to learn, not only while in the army but as a
civilian.
He stayed in Paris for a year after the signing of the Armistice, working as
Lieutenant Knapp’s assistant. On the way home, Knapp offered to take Gene on as
an associate if he would go to dental school. Following a stint in a preparatory
school, Gene enrolled in the University of Maryland dental program. In addition
to working in Knapp’s office, he continued performing in obscure night clubs,
which helped in financing his education. By now familiar with the problems in
getting some patients to pay their bills, Gene switched to law school, convinced
he’d be of greater use if he could help Dr. Knapp collect outstanding accounts.
One night another performer, Roy Bergere, who’d been impressed by Gene’s singing
during a night club engagement, suggested that they work together in vaudeville.
It didn’t take much persuasion for Gene to begin rehearsals for a piano-and-song
act with his new partner after apologizing to Knapp that the entertainment
business would always be his first love. A break-in date at a Philadelphia
theatre, however, was so poorly received that the manager felt impelled to
cancel the balance of the engagement. Undeterred, the duo headed to New York
City, spending several lean months in an attempt to secure vaudeville bookings.
During his free hours, Gene began developing another dimension of his musical
talent, that of songwriting. He relates that the inspiration behind his first
successful song composition came about while sitting on a city park bench,
watching people walk by as sparrows in the trees engaged in morning singing.
Before long, I became bothered by a tune in my subconscious mind that
seemed to be crying to be written. The unknown tune soon found its way
to the surface. The rhythmic sound of high heels fell into place with the
"tweet-tweets" of the sparrows. Without much knowledge of what I was
doing, I pulled out a pencil and some paper and wrote these words, "When
my sugar walks down the street, all the birdies go tweet-tweet-tweet." I
continued to write until I had completed the entire chorus and a verse.
Several days later, Gene came up with the idea for another song while riding the
elevator up to his hotel room. When Gene absent-mindedly dropped the shells of
the peanuts he was eating on the floor, the elevator operator groaned, "Mistuh
Gene, how come you do me like you do?" Feeling that these words succinctly
expressed his misgivings about the recent months of futility in New York, Gene
quickly improvised a melody to complete the song.
"How Come You Do Me Like You Do" was not only accepted by the song publisher,
Mills Music, Inc., but Austin and Bergere were engaged to help promote it. This
work enabled the duo to make valuable contacts with both performers and cabaret
owners. After the song became a big hit, they began a successful run playing at
Lou Clayton’s Mahjong Club. When Bergere started working professionally with his
new wife, Gene continued there as a single until prohibition agents found
sufficient liquor on the premises to have it shut down.
Hoping to eventually break into the vaudeville circuit, Gene began working for
the song publishers, Stark & Cowan, as a general demonstrator. (The firm would
publish the Austin and Bergere composition, "Tell Me If You Want Somebody Else,"
in 1924.) During one appointment in April 1924, he met his future wife, a
vaudeville dancer still in her teens named Kathryn Arnold. Despite the awkward
arrangement of having to include her mother as a chaperone on all of their
dates, the courtship proceeded smoothly and, on June 16, 1924, they were
married.
The August 16, 1924 issue of Billboard would report that Austin was
employed as a songwriter and contact man with the recording companies by Jack
Mills, Inc., an up and coming music publisher. The first week on the job proved
unproductive; Gene, who’d always subscribed to the conventional wisdom that
"songs write themselves," found himself pressing in trying to come up with a
decent song. He was rescued from his immediate dilemma when directed to
demonstrate the Mills catalog to the Vocalion label. After listening to a few
songs, the executive—recognizing Gene’s regional dialect--confided to him about
a "southern problem" facing the company.
There’s a chain of music stores in Nashville that sent up a blind man
to record some hill-billy songs. They happen to be one of our largest
accounts and we can’t afford to offend them. But this George Reneau’s
voice sounds absolutely impossible.
Sympathetic about the plight of both Vocalion and the blind musician, who wanted
nothing more than to return home, Gene agreed to try lending his voice to some
recording sessions. The approach clicked, and Austin cut a series of records to
Reneau’s guitar and harmonica accompaniment between April 1924 and February
1925, including "The Wreck on the Southern 97"/"Lonesome Road Blues" (#14809),
"You Will Never Miss Your Mother Until She Is Gone"/"Life’s Railway To Heaven"
(#14811), and "Turkey in the Straw"/"Little Brown Jug" (#14812). The label on
these releases read as follows: "Sung & Played by George Reneau – The Blind
Musician of the Smoky Mountains – Guitar and Mouth Harp." Although Austin
professed no great affinity for country music, the credibility of his singing
and yodeling reflected its close proximity during his youth combined with his
natural skills for mimicry. The success of these releases spurred Edison to
bring the duo into the studio to record many of the same songs during September
1924.
In the meantime, Reneau confided that he was on the "Oregon Short Line" (out of
money). Gene suggested that Reneau play his guitar and harmonica on New York
street corners while he kept a lookout for the cops. This ploy proved so
successful that the blind musician had second thoughts about returning home;
only Gene’s warnings that they would inevitably be apprehended by the law
convinced Reneau to board a train headed back to Nashville.
Austin’s big break as a recording artist came when Mills asked him select some
songs and demonstrate them to Victor’s star singer, Aileen Stanley. After being
introduced to Miss Stanley and musical director Nat Shilkret at the Victor
Company studios, he ran through his first selection, the self-penned "When My
Sugar Walks Down the Street." He couldn’t believe his ears when Stanley
responded, "Don’t bother with the others, this is just what I wanted. Thank you,
young man." After listening to the song one more time, Shilkret then took him
aside and said, "you’re going to sing on [Miss Stanley’s] record. You know,
young man, I have a hunch if you cut some recordings alone, we may be able to
start a new style of singing in popular records, I’m going to take a chance on
you. I’ll give you a hundred dollars a record. If they sell, we can talk about a
contact."
When asked what gave him the idea for his type of singing, Austin replied,
"Well, Mister Shilkret, when I came to New York, all the singers were tryin’ to
follow the great Al Jolson. I knew I could never sing as loud or perhaps as good
as Mister Jolson, so since he was always talkin’ about how his mammy used to
croon to him, I just croon like his mammy."
This conversation would appear to have Austin placing himself in the vanguard of
the crooning tradition. While crooning didn’t become a full-fledged movement
within the record industry until the introduction of electronic microphones by
the major labels in mid-1925, Austin’s soft, laid-back style translated well
using the acoustic process. However, he was not the only singer to achieve
success employing this type of understated vocal technique prior to the advent
of electronic recording. In 1924 Cliff Edwards, popularly known as "Ukelele
Ike," enjoyed success with "It Had to Be You," "All Alone," and other releases
for Pathe and the American Records conglomerate, as did Nick Lucas, "the
Crooning Troubador," with the Brunswick label. Furthermore, Whispering Jack
Smith, Johnny Marvin, and others possessing a crooning delivery were extremely
popular with record buyers shortly after the electronic process became widely
used. Nevertheless, Austin’s immense success--among singers, he was only rivaled
in popularity by Al Jolson during the 1920s—made it inevitable that he would be
viewed as the figurehead, if not the actual originator, of the crooning genre.
Austin accompanied Stanley on "When My Sugar Walks Down the Street" in Victor’s
New York City studio, January 30, 1925. On the strength of this performance,
more sessions followed over the next three months, including a duet with country
performer Carson Robison, comic sketches accompanied by Billy "Yuke" Carpenter,
and "tenor with orchestra" fare. His first hit release of note, "Yearning,"
backed by "No Wonder" (Victor 19625), was recorded March 12, 1925.
Austin felt confident enough about his prospects to quit his job with Mills
Music. While waiting for the public’s verdict on his first group of releases, he
and his wife put together an act and hit the road. By the time they hit
Columbus, Ohio, however, Nat Shilkret was on the phone, exclaiming, "For
heaven’s sake, Gene, why did you run off without letting us know where you were
going? I spent over a week trying to locate you. I have good news for you. All
I’ve heard for the last month is, ‘More Gene Austin records!’ I want you to
leave immediately and get back to New York as fast as you can."
One hit record seemed to follow another during Austin’s early years as a Victor
recording artist. He claims that royalties during the first three months for his
first four records under the Victor contract totaled ninety-six thousand
dollars; he carried the uncashed check around for a considerable period of time
in order to impress skeptics. Nurtured by his wife, and—in view of the
uniqueness of his singing style—given free rein by his label to select song
material, Austin would look back on this period as the happiest of his life. He
prided himself in his ability to find first-rate material that had often been
ignored or rejected by established singers. Notable choices from that first year
included "Yes Sir, That’s My Baby" (composed by Gus Kahn and Walter Donaldson),
"The Flapper Wife" (Beatrice Burton-Carl Rupp), "Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue"
(Young-Lewis-Henderson), "Sleepy Time Gal" (Alden-Egan-Lorenzo-Whiting), and
"Sweet Child" (Whiting-Lewis-Simon). However, he remained uneasy over his
inability to convince Victor officials of his need to interpret the soulful
music he’d learned from Uncle Esau. But for the time being, he and Kathryn
focused on adjusting to a significantly more lavish lifestyle punctuated by a
beautiful new home, a large car, expensive clothes, and access to the best that
New York night life could offer.
Eventually the pressures that are a natural by-product of success began to
undercut his peace of mind. He became defensive when told that the Tin Pan Alley
denizens were convinced he could turn any song into gold. Decades later, he
would comment, "They were so wrong. I’d always told them hit songs don’t care
who sings them. They wouldn’t take no for an answer; and when I refused to be
pushed into a song I didn’t think suited me, I got the reputation of being high
hat and hard to get along with."
Austin decided that automobile tour back to his hometown of Yellow Pine would be
just the ticket for regaining a fresh perspective on a career that seemed to be
rapidly spinning out of control. On the way down to Louisiana, he pointed out
the milestones of his life to Kathryn. The visit with Jim and Belle, who had
relocated to the nearby town of Minden, went smoothly; they both seemed to be
deeply impressed by Gene’s newfound celebrity. As soon as he had finished an
informal performance for houseguests on the first evening home with his parents,
he slipped off the visit his beloved mentor, Uncle Esau. Esau, refusing Gene’s
offer to buy him a new home, proved as kindly and helpful with his counsel as he
had in the past. Austin’s chief regret was that he still hadn’t shared the
secret of this special relationship with his wife.
The next morning, Austin was awoken from a deep sleep by a phone call from Nat
Shilkret in New York. He exclaimed, "We are flooded with so many orders for new
Gene Austin records, I want you to come back as fast as you can make it. Can you
leave immediately?" Austin hastily made preparations to return back East, but
not before arranging the purchase of a large farm house for his parents as well
as providing funds for Esau’s immediate needs.
After meeting his recording obligations, Austin formed his own music publishing
company with the aim of placing African American songs in a position to be
recorded by Victor and the other major labels. He also began booking personal
appearances as a means of funding his new venture as well as to popularize this
music. Caught up in a whirlwind of conferences with songwriters, booking agents,
theatrical managers, bankers, and record company executives, Austin agonized
that Kathryn always seemed stuck with either "a moody husband or an absent one."
He justified the situation to her by noting that in the uncertain world of show
business, it was best to "get it while the getting’s good."
One day not long after Austin’s return from Louisiana, the latest batch of
records he’d sent Esau was returned with the word "deceased" stamped crosswise
across the package. Despite his outward success, Austin relates that his
personal life fell into complete disarray.
For months to come, I tried to cling onto a form of communication with
Esau’s spirit. The practice of spiritualism left me shaken and lost in a
solitariness of forsaken gloom. This was the beginning of such gnawing
doubts and fears that I turned to another spirit, alcohol, to bolster my
imagination into believing that I was a complete individual and did have
the power and initiative to carry on without the help of the one I believed
had supreme authority and held the key or controlling influence over my
voice, deeds and person.
He added that heavy drinking, rather than numbing the pain, made him
temperamental, arrogant, and belligerant. In the process, he disappointed, even
hurt, those closest to him. Realization of the impact of his behavior led to
further self-recrimination.
By mid-1925, his records were so popular in England that London’s prestigious
Princess Club made Austin an offer to perform there. He eagerly accepted, in
part to escape the stifling atmosphere of New York, but also to hopefully make
contact with British scientists then investigating survival after death. The
English reserve, combined with his own extreme shyness, dictated against
Austin’s wishes to gain entry to a scientific séance. In his words, "The net
result of my three months in London was that the supply of Gene Austin records
was sold out in England as well as in America; and ‘Nipper’ was yelping for his
star to hurry back; and I picked up some English songs for my music company’s
catalog, which turned out to be hits."
Upon his return to the States, Austin, thirsting for the blues music of his
youth, began frequenting the Harlem club scene. One of his new associates was
pianist Fats Waller, who had first approached Austin with songs to publish while
he was employed at Mills Music. He also was attracted by Harlem’s reputation for
"conjur" activity, believing that it accounted for his career. Looking only for
proof of the continuation of the bond between Esau and himself, he gave any
"prince" or "princess" a fair trial, stipulating only that he be treated as any
other client from downtown.
One of his recordings from this period, "Me Too" (Victor 20143)—coupled with
"For My Sweetheart," has baffled more than one fan of early sound recording
history. Recorded in New York on August 12, 1926, the song exhibits a
considerable amount of rumbling noise, a feature one wouldn’t expect of a
release from a major artist on the label then known for the highest quality
sound reproduction. One researcher, Don Peak, consulted the August 13, 1926
issue of The New York Times for clues. The front page headlines read,
"STORM TIES UP CITY TRAFFIC, FLOODS SUBWAYS, KILLS BOY" and "LIGHTNING STARTS 15
FIRES." Other records recorded on that day do not display similar background
noise. However, Austin’s cut included a spare accompaniment (violin and piano,
only), whereas some of the other releases featured a fuller band arrangement.
Furthermore, the full impact of the storm may have been limited to the Austin
session. Regarding the aesthetic judgment of the Victor brass in deciding to
release the track, The New Amberola Graphic (Number 47, Winter 1984)
observed that "most [sound reproduction] machines in use in 1926 were not
sensitive enough to reproduce the low frequency of rumbling thunder, so it is
safe to assume that the customers never even noticed it."
Following another stage tour, while his wife remained back home with her family
in St. Louis expecting their first child, Austin entered the Victor studios
resolved to record a song which had been in the files of a leading publishing
for several years. As noted by David Ewen, in All the Years of American
Popular Music,
"My Blue Heaven"…was written in 1924, three years before its publication;
{Walter} Donaldson wrote it one afternoon at the Friars Club in New York
while waiting for his turn at the billiard table. George Whiting, then appearing
in vaudeville, adapted the lyrics to the melody and used it in his act, but the
song failed to attract much attention. For three years it lay in discard until
Tommy Lyman, a radio singer, picked it up for use as his theme song.
By now, Austin’s arrangement with Victor regarding the choice of material to
record had soured. He was convinced that the best material which he brought to
the company’s attention was going to other artists. In view of his own family
situation, he felt this was one song he had to commit to disc. He pleaded, and
finally gave Nat Shilkret an ultimatum that he wouldn’t do another session
unless his interpretation was commercially released. According to Austin, an
agreement was reached for "My Blue Heaven" to be coupled with "Are You Thinking
of Me Tonight?", the most highly regarded song among those he was planning to
record at that time.
Austin relates that it was scheduled last on the September 14, 1927 recording
agenda in order minimize potential conflicts with the Victor brass. However, as
soon as satisfactory takes had been achieved for the other songs, the orchestra
members put away their instruments and filed out of the studio. When Austin
complained, Shilkret replied, "I’m sorry Gene. I didn’t know at the time I made
you that promise that the musicians had another date and would have to leave. We
can make it another day." H. Allen Smith, in A Short History of Fingers,
documents the singer’s refusal to back down:
I grabbed an old guy with a cello and talked him into standing by. Then
I grabbed a song plugger who could play pretty fair piano. And the third
fellow I got was an agent who could whistle – bird calls and that sort of
thing. I made the record with those three.
When Austin proved intractable, Shilkret resigned himself to the possibility of
Austin’s first major flop. To the contrary, however, it immediately struck a
chord with the American public. Austin would later claim, in an interview
published by the Los Angeles Times (March 8, 1959, Part V) that the
record sold over eight million copies. The song would also have an unhappy
postscript; ready to leave for St. Louis with a freshly pressed copy of "My Blue
Heaven" to be united with his family, he received a telegram notifying him of
the death of his newborn son.
Following an interlude of healing, which consisted primarily of "soaking up the
blues and booze" with Waller and other musicians in Harlem, Austin was able to
return to his apartment and once again deal with responsibilities of both his
career and everyday life. Kathryn finally agreed to return from St. Louis
provided he maintained certain standards of sober behavior. Gratified at his
improvement, she agreed accompany him to activities involving New York’s social
elite. Since Kathryn seemed to particularly enjoy weekend excursions on their
stockbroker’s yacht, Gene suggested they purchase one of their own. The process
of gathering information on boats and navigation helped bring the couple closer
together. They submitted blueprints to a custom boat builder in Maryland who’d
come highly recommended. The yacht, paid in full by a certified check for
seventy-five thousand dollars, was delivered to a Hudson Rover mooring directly
alongside the couple’s apartment. Christened My Blue Heaven, Austin convinced
his wife that a whopping party was needed to launch it in style. He would
recall,
What people came to see us off! Songwriters and music publishers,
vaudeville and night club headliners, agents, stockbrokers, newspaper
columnists. Walter Donaldson, Benny Davis, composer of my first big
hit record, "Yearning," Harry Warren and I took turns at the little piano
rolled out on the deck. Aileen Stanley and I re-created our duet of "All
the birdies go tweet-tweet-tweet." The fun was endless, there was a
spirit of friendship; and even Jimmy Walker, popular mayor of New
York, dropped in for a couple of choruses of his famous song, "Will
You Love Me in December as You Do in May"!
The Austin’s planned itinerary - sailing to New Orleans and then up the
Mississippi, across the Great Lakes and the St. Laurence, and completing the
voyage down the North Atlantic back to New York – was widely covered by the
media. With the boat setting sail in a southerly direction, the first few days
were spent touring the Atlantic coast. Night were spent in ports along the way.
Upon reaching Southport, North Carolina, Captain Ott told Austin that a storm
warning had been issued on the receiving radio; the Coast Guard was advising
those in the vicinity that the winds could reach hurricane force. Due to the
danger of floundering in shallow waters if they stuck to the inland route, Ott
recommended that they head out to sea and ride out the bad weather.
The storm hit with intense fury almost immediately after the boat had left the
harbor. With no sending equipment on their radio, the captain focused his
efforts on locating one of the small islands in the area in order to beach the
vessel. With Kathryn in virtual hysterics, Austin retreated to his liquor
cabinet and poured out his troubles to the steward inside the galley.
When calm weather finally appeared, it came with astonishing suddenness.
Surrounded by heavy blankets of fog and unsure of their location, the crew
retreated to the cabinet radio set. Out of the static they heard a voice say,
Those were three more songs introduced and made famous by Gene