We love autumn more than any other season, and it’s not even close. We love it so much that we wrote an essay about it a while back that we hope you’ll find amusing (you may even have heard us present it on NPR’s All Things Considered some years ago):

See You in September

Another Labor Day has come and gone, and once again, I spent the last week of summer gritting my teeth as op-ed columnists and on-air commentators bemoan the passing of another summer. At times like this I feel like a Unitarian enduring a fire-and-brimstone fundamentalist sermon: Though I may concur with certain of the preacher’s points, I can’t help but feel that he’s overstating his case.

For, unless you’re at the beach or poolside—and let’s face it, at any given time, what percentage of us are?—summer is surely the most overrated annual event this side of New Year’s Eve. The joys of the season are largely mythical. For many the word “summer” conjures images of sun, sand, and surf, of long, lazy days spent idling in a hammock, of cookouts, pool parties, and miniature golf. All of which admittedly sounds delightful, but whose docket is so clear? Unless you’re under the age of 16 or make your living as a teacher, your boss, like mine, probably expects you at the office 8 hours a day, five days a week—even in June, July, and August—and would consider “But—it’s summer!” an unacceptable explanation of a prolonged absence.

No, that vision of summer is largely a pipe dream but I’m happy to remind you of some of the season’s attributes that are not: searingly hot vinyl carseats, clothes that stick to one’s damp skin, and yard work. This last is reason enough to resent the onset of summer, and is perhaps the primary motivation for my immigration, all those years ago, from the suburbs of Oklahoma City to the island of Manhattan. Not that this concrete jungle is any kind of summer paradise: It’s hot, hazy, and humid. But at least it doesn’t need mowing.

But in autumn! Ah, autumn is a grand time in Gotham: The city is imbued with the sort of glow usually seen only in the work of a master cinematographer. The haze dissipates, there’s a nip in the air, and the island’s energy, once sapped by the summer heat, returns with a flourish, like a leggy supermodel just back from the Hamptons.

It’s been suggested to me on more than one occasion—and by members of more than one gender—that summer’s tribulations are worth enduring if only for the expanses of skin that are bared for our pleasure: Even this, I submit, is a mixed blessing, at best. Let’s face it, it’s a relatively rare human being who possesses a midriff or a set of gams worthy of display. Most of us look far better in a sweater and slacks than we ever would in a cut-off T-shirt and bikini briefs. The good Lord has blessed us each with a perfectly good imagination: Pray let us give each other occasion to exercise it.

Perhaps the biggest trial summer presents us is olfactory in nature. Yes, there are pleasant smells associated with the season: the sweet scent of a perfectly ripe peach, the alluring aroma of steaks on the grill, the wafting delights of honeysuckle in the air. But summer is decidedly unkind to many of nature’s creatures. Late some August afternoon, stand close and take a good of whiff of your dog, your eight-year-old, or your next-door neighbor. Chances are, all three are in dire need of a good scrubbing and none is likely to undertake it on his own.

So decry the passing of summer if you must, but be aware that the sentiment is not unversal, that there are others like me whose hearts are set aloft by the delights of autumn—by shopping for new school clothes, sampling the season’s first pumpkin pie, or indulging in a long stroll on a chill night with just a hint of woodsmoke in the air. And we fall-o-philes will no longer remain silent. We will loudly celebrate our seasonal preferences with energy, enthusiasm, and pride—autumnal pride!

We know it’s not quite autumn yet—not according to the calendar, anyway—but just as Labor Day is by viewed by so many summer lovers as the unofficial end of their favorite season, for us fall-o-philes, it’s the unofficial beginning of autumn. So we’re celebrating by adding a slew of autumn-themed tunes to the Cladrite Radio playlist. Keep listening—you’ll notice them over the coming days and weeks.

And just to whet your appetite, we’ve included two of our favorites below, along with some delightful lyrics that capture our mood.

Happy autumn, everyone!

Nat “King” Cole — “‘Tis Autumn”

Kay Kyser and His Orchestra — “Shine on, Harvest Moon”

‘Tis Autumn
Old Father Time checked, so there’d be no doubt.
Called on the North wind to come on out,
Then cupped his hands so proudly to shout,
“La-di-dah di-dah-di-dum, ’tis autumn!”

Trees say they’re tired, they’ve born too much fruit.
Charmed on the wayside, there’s no dispute.
Now shedding leaves, they don’t give a hoot.
La-di-dah di-dah-di-dum, ’tis autumn!

Then the birds got together
To chirp about the weather.
La-dah-di la-dah-di la-dah-dum
After makin’ their decision,
In birdie-like precision,
Turned about, and
Made a beeline to the south.

My holding you close really is no crime.
Ask the birds and the trees and old Father Time.
It’s just to help the mercury climb.
La-di-dah di-dah-di-dum, ’tis autumn.

—Henry Nemo, words and music

Read more

As the Pitch Perfect series continues, we today feature a collection of 1949 advertising slogans that were used to market various forms of transportation, including bicycles, railroads, motorboats, and cruise lines.

Abroad without crossing the sea (Montreal Tourist & Convention Bureau).
Across the hall or across the continent (Lakewood Fireproof Storage Co.).
Across the Atlantic (United American Lines).
America’s quality bicycle (Shelby).
America’s sleepheart (Chesapeake & Ohio Lines).
Aristocrat of winter trains, The (Atlantic Coast Line), Wilmington, N. C.
As sturdy as they are beautiful (Rollfast bicycles).

Go by air-conditioned train (North Coast Limited.
Good neighbor of your community, A (Baltimore & Ohio).
Good plans make good travel.
Go the motor coach way (5th Avenue Coach Co.), New York.
Greatest name in yachting, The (Consolidated yacht).
Read more

Warm up your DVRs! Turner Classic Movies is showing four hours of “The March of Time” on Sunday, starting at 8 p.m. ET.

At its peak, The March of Time provided news on current events for over 20 million people per month in 9,000 theaters throughout the United States. Lasting from 1935 through 1951, the series experienced the most sustained success of any documentary-like programming before the age of television, and it was recognized with a special Academy Award in 1936 for “having revolutionized one of the most important branches of the industry—the newsreel.” Its format and approach to depicting news events became a major influence on news documentaries and public affairs programming.

Time-Life-Fortune, Inc., which was headed by Henry Luce, sponsored The March of Time under the watchful eye of Roy Larsen, but it was Louis de Rochemont who innovated the techniques and structure that defined the series. De Rochemont, who had a lifelong passion for true-life dramas, was the director of short films for Fox Movietone News when he brought the idea for what he termed “pictorial journalism” to Larsen. He based his proposal on a radio version of The March of Time, which he felt could be re-created on film. Larsen and de Rochemont began work in June 1934, and the first episode debuted at the Capitol Theatre in New York City on February 1, 1935.

The March of Time modernized and updated the newsreel, which had declined in craftsmanship and popularity after the coming of sound. Companies that made newsreels usually did so as a sideline, meaning they invested little money, effort, or personnel into their productions. They did not staff actual journalists to write scripts or to organize the footage, because they were looking to turn the most profit with the least amount of money. Newsreels were sold as part of a package deal to studios or distributors, and they consisted of film snippets of disasters, sporting events, beauty contests, or crazy fads. Producers stayed away from world events, especially those that generated controversy. In contrast, Larsen and de Rochemont wanted to produce a new film each month that dealt with the type of contemporary events and issues found in the pages of Time or Life magazine. Their approach was to turn a topical event or issue into a story with a beginning, middle, and end so that it could be easily understood to all audiences. Each episode cost between $25,000 and $75,000 in an era when the average newsreel was produced for $8,000 to $12,000.

The goal for The March of Time was to present an event or situation so effectively that viewers felt like they were experiencing the real thing. To accomplish that goal, de Rochemont combined archival footage, re-enactments, interviews, and dramatic voice-over by the deep-throated Westbrook Van Voorhis. He became so associated with the series that he was billed as the Voice of Time–and occasionally mocked as the Voice of God or Voice of Doom. His voice of authority was particularly memorable at the conclusion of each episode when he emphatically pronounced, “Time marches on!” … Read more

Here is the schedule of March of Time episodes to be aired on TCM on Sunday, September 5th, on TCM:

8:00 p.m.
Dogs for Sale – June 11, 1937
Dust Bowl – June 11, 1937
Poland and War – June 11, 1937
8:30 p.m.
Inside Nazi Germany – Jan. 18, 1938
9:00 p.m.
Show Business at War – May 1943
9:30 p.m.
Youth in Crisis – Nov. 1943
10:00 p.m.
Palestine Problem – Sept. 17, 1945
10:30 p.m.
American Beauty – Oct. 5, 1945
11:00 p.m.
Problem Drinkers – June 14, 1946
11:30 p.m.
Mid-Century-Half Way to Where? – Feb. 3, 1950

• “The March of Time” at HBO Archives


• “The March of Time” on Facebook

No slang we’ve encountered in an old movie caught us more offguard than the use of “groupie” in The Man with Two Faces (1934) , starring Edward G. Robinson, Mary Astor, Ricardo Cortez, Mae Clarke, and Louis Calhern, and based on a play cowritten by George S. Kaufman and Alexander Woollcott called The Dark Tower.

We’d long assumed that “groupie” was a product of the rock era, that it was coined to describe those women (and men, too, we suppose) who are willing to go that extra mile in demonstrating their devotion to a particular musician or band.

But a scene in THE MAN WITH TWO FACES suggests that the term might be much older.

In the film, Astor plays Jessica Wells, a troubled actress who was formerly married to a controlling creep named Stanley Vance (Calhern). Prior to the action depicted in the film, Vance had abandoned Wells, leaving her a total mess, her life and career in ruins. Finally, when word was received that Vance had died, Wells had slowly begun to pull herself together.

As the film opens, Wells is healthy and about to open on Broadway. Suddenly—wouldn’t you know it?—Vance appears on the scene, very much alive, and everyone close to Wells is concerned that she will crack up again.

In the pertinent scene, another actress (Clark) is sitting on Calhern’s lap as he flirts shamelessly with her. In walks a sardonic actor from the troupe (Robinson) who says, dismissively, “Well—a new groupie!”

Now, it’s possible he could be referring to Vance, since Clarke’s character is an actress and more likely to have an admiring fan, or he could—and I think this possibility the more likely one—be referring to Clarke’s character as Calhern’s groupie, without the fan/performer connotation we usually associate with the word.

Either way, we were surprised to hear the word uttered in a seventy-five-year-old movie. And our friend who works for the Oxford English Dictionary was, too.

“I’m very surprised to hear that the word is that early,” he told us when we mentioned the scene to him. “Every source I’ve ever seen puts it in the late ’60s.” The verdict’s not in yet—he’s still looking into the matter—but it appears that I might just have helped uncover what Jesse said could be “a major discovery.”

Now, it’s not as though we get a free copy of the OED for our contribution or anything (we live in Manhattan—who has room, anyway?), but we do get a kick out of the possibility that we may have contributed a cite that reveals a particular usage to be more than three decades older than was previously thought. We can’t really take any credit, of course—we were just indulging our interest in old movies.

But it’d be nice if our hobby actually provided a service. We leave our small marks in such ways as we can.