Jewish Hour Recordings And Interviews

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Jewish Hour Recordings And Interviews

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Jewish Hour - Sam Levinson Interview 1967-12-01: The program opens with Phoenix‐based host Jack introducing humorist and author Sam Levenson to listeners of the American Jewish Hour on station KPHO, noting that Levenson is in town to promote a “new book” after earlier success with Meet the Folks (1950). Levenson replies that the latest work—identified a few minutes later as Everything But Money—took five years to write, recounts his childhood in New York tenements, and has already reached No. 1 on the national best-seller lists. He jokes that compliments of this sort are normally reserved “when they’re lowering the body” at a funeral.  The conversation establishes that Levenson’s volume is running as a daily serial in the Yiddish Forverts and has been embraced by both Jewish and Christian audiences. This leads to a wider lament about the dwindling circulation of Yiddish newspapers, the scarcity of new Jewish records, and the near disappearance of Yiddish theatre in New York. Jack counters with the Broadway success of the musical revue “Let’s Sing Yiddish.”  Levenson confirms an upcoming guest slot on “The Tonight Show” for 21 February and rib-bings Jack about possibly launching a rival “Jewish Hour” from Phoenix now that he has discovered the city’s warm climate. Jack promises to forward all listener mail about the broadcast, while Levenson quips that he only wants the complaints so he knows where to improve. A convivial, round-table atmosphere develops as family friends Nettie Galphan and her granddaughter Susan briefly join the microphone, each attesting to Levenson’s lifelong storytelling talent. The group reminisces about shared apartments, local acquaintances, and Phoenix’s appeal for “health reasons,” filling the remainder of the half-hour with informal banter and comic asides.  Jewish Hour - Voices - Cooking - 1975-11-23: Jack Kriegel opens the American Jewish Hour on Phoenix’s KOOL radio, appeals for listener support, and sets a loose, family-style tone that will prevail for the next hour-plus.  He turns the microphone over to retired elocution teacher Mrs. Lois Feldman, who performs two long nineteenth-century dramatic monologues—“Guilty or Not Guilty” and “The Face on the Bar-Room Floor.” Relatives kibitz, correct her tempo, and demand re-takes, so the poems are heard in full, then partially restarted, giving listeners both polished declamation and off-air rehearsal chatter.  After a short break Kriegel conducts a studio chat with Renee Kitovsky, recently returned from a year on an Israeli kibbutz. They cover daily schedules, language acquisition, and volunteer opportunities; Kriegel invites her back for a fuller report and plugs local Jewish-community services between live reads for a mortuary and the Phoenix Jewish News.  Music bridges the segments. Kriegel cues Mickey Katz’s Yiddish novelty record “Shayne Vi Di Levone” and urges the audience to “sing along with the whole gang,” embodying the program’s mix of English and heritage culture.  The final half-hour is an impromptu cooking lesson taped in a home kitchen. Multiple voices—presumably family members—prepare a sweet yeast dough: proofing twice, punching down, whipping egg whites with sugar, spreading the meringue over the rolled dough, and topping it with cinnamon sugar, butter, and raisins. Listeners hear real-time measurements (“five fingers of whiskey” morphs into “five fingers of sugar”), technique tips (beat whites before adding sugar; keep hands wet), and light bickering about portion sizes, sanitation, and microphone placement.  Spontaneous asides continue to the end: someone feeds a parking meter, commercials are shuffled on the fly, and the host jokes about dropping a scheduled record to finish the recipe. The tape thus documents both a grassroots ethnic-radio format and a slice of multigenerational domestic life in Phoenix. Jewish Hour Tape Unknown: The tape opens with an informal driveway interview: an unidentified man questions lawn-care contractor James Jackson about his eight years in the trade, seven children, lack of savings, and hopes for old-age security. When the interviewer presses him on mutual funds and Social Security, Jackson good-naturedly demurs, saying one “can’t get rich in this business.”  After a brief aside about hiding tape recorders at parties, the recording switches to a live broadcast of the “Jewish Folk Hour” on Miami’s FM station WEDR 99.1. The host promotes hard-to-find Yiddish and Israeli LPs at Miami Beach Radio, 1229 Lincoln Road, and cues Lionel Hampton’s “Shalom Shalom,” an Israeli folk-dance medley, and a new Chava Alberstein single. Listeners hear jingles and ad copy exactly as they went to air.  A mid-show Community News Report lists local Jewish events: a teenage career-planning program at the YM-YWHA of Greater Miami (8500 SW 8 Street) and a dinner dedicating “Langer Field” to civic leader Sidney Langer on Wednesday, November 8. Commercial underwriting comes from Corner Bank of Miami Beach.  Promotional spots follow. One plugs the new Phil Rachey Hour airing Sunday, October 22, 4–5 p.m., immediately after the Folk Hour; another launches a call-in Mystery Song Contest (phone 633-0167) with free records for the first two correct callers. The host jokes that the prize line rings “right after the Jewish Folk Hour.”  Music yields to a family gathering taped in DeLand, Florida. Retiree H. P. Shapiro and relatives describe their 30-family congregation: Friday-night lay-led services, two Torah scrolls, monthly lox-and-bagel breakfasts, and a building wryly portrayed as a “kibbutz” outpost guarded by barbed wire. Attendance, they claim, outpaces local Baptist, Presbyterian, and Catholic churches despite a chronic shortage of children.  The conversation ranges from denominational labels—“an Orthodox rabbi would spit three times and leave”—to plans for recruiting newcomers from nearby Deltona. Shapiro’s son narrates, older relatives reminisce about High-Holy-Day chants, and a plaque honoring the late Dr. Nathaniel J. Shapiro is mentioned. Spontaneous singing (“L’chu N’ran’nah”) and playful quarrels over microphone etiquette punctuate the segment.  A short coda captures disconnected telephone chatter, aborted playback requests, and the tape’s abrupt end, preserving both on-air and off-air life in a single spool.  Estimated recording date: Multiple promos advertise an upcoming Sunday, October 22 broadcast, and Community News publicizes a Wednesday, November 8 dinner in the same calendar year. The only year in the 1960s when October 22 fell on a Sunday is 1967; WEDR was still carrying ethnic programming then, before its 1970 format shift. The tape was therefore almost certainly recorded in October 1967.  Jewish Hour Recording - Judy: The tape stitches together three distinct segments—family debate, a field interview, and a museum soundtrack—capturing the informal style of Phoenix’s “Jewish Hour” recordings. The first ten minutes preserve a spirited kitchen-table argument among several women (voices identified only as Louise, Fanny, Mary, and others). Prompted by Freud’s theories on child development, they weigh the harm of staying in an unhappy marriage against the risks of divorce. They return repeatedly to parental “obligations,” dating after forty, and whether single mothers should sacrifice adult companionship for the sake of children. The talk is unscripted, full of overlaps and Yiddish interjections. Personal anecdotes follow. One speaker recalls a Chicago bus tour that ended with a kosher meal “under the Loop”; another describes a relative’s filthy guest bathroom and the mortification of cleaning human waste off the wall. The exchanges drift between humor and complaint, illustrating the family’s conversational rhythm.  At roughly the thirteen-minute mark the microphone moves to the American Heritage/Royal London Wax Museum on East Van Buren Street. Recorder in hand, the interviewer chats with receptionist Karen Waldner, who reports visitor traffic of 50–150 people a day, opening hours of 9:30 a.m.–8:30 p.m., seven days a week, and the address “55 East Van Buren.” Plans are made to “take some pictures” before touring the exhibits.  The tape then cuts to the museum’s canned narration for its life-size Last Supper tableau. A male voice guides patrons across the scene, identifying each apostle, recounting Judas’s question “Lord, is it I?” and supplying capsule biographies of Bartholomew, James the Lesser, Peter, and the rest. The solemn reading lasts several minutes before the family conversation resumes.  In the final half-hour the group plays an alphabetical word-game of Jewish foods—shlungen (sweetbreads), shmivovitz (slivovitz), shmatte, knaydlach—sparring over correct Yiddish spellings and whether dishes like liver or zorabraten count as “really Jewish.” Household bickering continues in the background, yielding a vivid portrait of mid-century domestic life.  Estimated recording date: The wax museum cited here relocated to 5555 E. Van Buren Street and reopened in November 1971 as the Royal London Wax Museum; receptionist Waldner’s remark that attendance is “picking up” suggests the site was still new. Given that context, the tape was most likely made in 1972 or 1973, during the museum’s first full seasons after the move.  Theodore Bikel - Channukah Program - 1971-12-12 The program is a rebroadcast of NBC’s Eternal Light Hanukkah special Oil for but One Day, conceived and narrated by actor-folksinger Theodore Bikel. Bikel opens with a spirited Yiddish–Hebrew medley and outlines the holiday’s central symbols—dreidel letters, latkes, candle-lighting—framing Hanukkah as both a celebration and a parable of dedication and freedom. Across the half-hour Bikel links the Maccabean revolt to other struggles for liberty. He recites Jefferson’s vow of “eternal hostility to every form of tyranny,” sings the African-American spiritual “Follow the Drinking Gourd” to illustrate the Underground Railroad, invokes Ireland’s quest for independence, and commemorates Jewish resistance from the Warsaw Ghetto to modern Israel. Each vignette is punctuated by folk songs or liturgical melodies, underscoring the idea that “every battle for freedom lights the way for a further freedom.” The production closes with a prayerful chorus—“When Judah Maccabee’s heirs shall rebuild the Holy Temple”—followed by a reminder that scripts may be ordered for 50 ¢ from the Jewish Theological Seminary, and a network tag: “This recorded program was another production of the NBC Religious Programs Unit.” After the network sign-off, Phoenix substitute host Cy Clark ends the local American Jewish Hour, wishing listeners “Shalom” and noting that regular host Jack will return when rested. Probable recording date: Oil for but One Day first aired nationally on December 20 1959, but the tape comes from a Phoenix Jewish Hour broadcast labeled December 12 1971 (a Sunday that year). The closing reference to Jack’s expected return and the absence of any post-1960 historical events support the conclusion that the tape was recorded during that 1971 rebroadcast rather than at the 1959 premiere. Original Interview 1974-02-14 Host Jack Kriegel records an on-location segment for the American Jewish Hour at the recently re-launched New York Bagels & Bialy restaurant, 4811 North Central Avenue, Phoenix. He notes the date—Thursday, 14 February, both Valentine’s Day and Arizona Statehood Day—before entering the shop to gather background on its new half-partnership under Burt and Jan Tubman. Jan Tubman describes the expanded menu: traditional breakfasts, $2.45 holiptzes (stuffed cabbage) offered twice a week, and extended evening hours that will be posted soon. Kriegel tastes the fare while encouraging listeners to keep mailing suggestions for the show’s weekly giveaways. The microphone then circles through the staff. Counterman Max Kravitz touts “mile-high sandwiches.” Waitress Louise reports steady breakfast crowds and generous tips. Baker Herb Brill, a Brooklyn transplant, explains the constant sell-outs of both bagels and bialys and invites advance phone orders. Several patrons give off-the-cuff endorsements. “Woody Allen” from Boston jokes that he always stops in when visiting Phoenix. Ben Sliver claims lifelong bagel eaters can live “at least a hundred years.” Al Dell praises the shop’s atmosphere, while gallery owners Mr. and Mrs. Fenton credit the Jewish Hour for leading them to “rediscover” the restaurant. Jay Cohen, a musician who once played on the program, drops in as well. Kriegel signs off the field piece by urging the community to use Bagels & Bialy as a post-show or post-game meeting spot, echoing Eddie Cantor’s catch-phrase, “We’d love to spend a Sunday with you on the air.” Back in the studio he cues the freshly recorded deli segment for later broadcast, introduces a Russian vocalist’s record for listeners, and runs a scripted radio spot detailing Bagels & Bialy’s varieties, phone numbers (602-265-0678 / 602-265-0863), and new management. He also plugs Beth El’s local staging of the Broadway musical Milk and Honey, reminding listeners that tickets are $3.50. Collection of Yiddish Songs from Radio A continuous, 33-minute dub of Yiddish-radio music—likely compiled around 1972-73 from 78-rpm discs played over Phoenix’s “American Jewish Hour”—opens with a comic male-chorus number built on the refrain “Ikh bin a mensch fun yenem shtam,” shifts to a trio’s bilingual lullaby and klezmer dance instrumental, segues into a brisk Tin Pan Alley medley of “Alexander’s Ragtime Band,” “Ma, He’s Making Eyes at Me,” “Dinah,” and “Tree in the Meadow,” proceeds through polished renditions of “Just One of Those Things,” “Love Is a Lovely Thing,” and “Nearest Thing to Heaven,” and concludes—mid-chant—with Aaron Lebedeff’s exuberant “Romania, Romania”; apart from a stray microphone aside (“What is it—like a guitar?”), no announcements, commercials, or station IDs survive, and the mono transfer’s moderate hiss matches other 1971-75 reels in the same collection. Generation of Israel 1971-04-29 The broadcast opens with Jack Kriegel introducing the special program “Generations of Israel” on Phoenix’s KOOL radio and reading verbatim the 1948 Declaration of the Establishment of the State of Israel. Kriegel thanks a roster of sponsoring local Jewish organizations and frames the hour as a tribute to Israel’s struggle for statehood and survival. Archival audio follows of United Nations delegates casting the historic November 29 1947 partition vote, then of David Ben-Gurion recounting the perilous decision to declare independence despite scant arms, an expected multi-state Arab invasion, and British restrictions that had kept the Haganah underground. Ben-Gurion describes the newborn state’s improvised military buildup and the resolve that sustained its fighters through the 1948 war. An Israeli military historian—identified only as a former archaeologist—explains how familiarity with biblical battle sites still informs modern strategy: the same hill lines, wadis, and passes that confronted kings of Judah now funnel tank columns and determine artillery positions. He argues that Israel’s geographic literacy and fight-on-its-own ethos remain core strategic assets. The program then turns to a survivor’s testimony. A woman who endured the Kovno ghetto, multiple labor camps, and a death-march details starvation rations, daily corpse removals, crematoria smoke, and the murder of children whose mothers dressed them in Sabbath clothes “for their last trip.” Her narrative reminds listeners that Israel also became a refuge for the remnant of European Jewry. Kriegel resumes with a reflection on nation-building: citing Ben-Gurion and Chaim Weizmann, he lauds scientific ingenuity, especially desalination research at the Weizmann Institute, as the key to making the Negev bloom. Israel’s achievements in agriculture, water engineering, and self-reliant defense are presented as proof that “faith of an eternal people” paired with technology can overcome resource scarcity and hostile neighbors. The closing commentary notes that Israel is “now twenty-three years old—young as a state, ancient as a people.” Kriegel argues that determination, self-confidence, and independence will carry the nation through any future missile batteries or diplomatic crises, and he signs off with the program’s theme music. Jewish Hour - 1975-04-27 Sheila and Ray Cooper Jack Kriegel opens the American Jewish Hour on Phoenix’s KOOL radio, then cedes the microphone to his daughter Sheila Kriegel Wall, who is guest-hosting while he recovers from an injury; studio engineer Ray Lucero keeps the levels steady. House ads remind listeners that sponsor support keeps the program alive. Sheila reads live copy for Best Cleaners at 1515 N. 7th Avenue and later for Miracle Mile Delicatessen & Restaurants in the Park Central and Christown shopping centers, complete with phone numbers and catering pitches. The main segment features Dr. Jay Cooper, invited to explain Tay-Sachs disease ahead of a new community-wide screening effort. Jack, ignoring doctor’s orders not to drive, drops by briefly to introduce the topic and praise Sheila’s on-air work before relinquishing the chair. Dr. Cooper details the fatal infant disorder’s enzymatic cause and stresses that about one in thirty American Jews is a symptom-free carrier; carriers function normally because they retain roughly half the usual enzyme level. He publicizes two upcoming blood-test clinics: Sunday 4 May (9 a.m.–5 p.m.) at the Phoenix Jewish Community Center, 1718 W. Maryland, and Tuesday 6 May at Arizona State University’s Hillel Foundation—likely the only local opportunities “in the very near future.” For printed fact sheets or brochures, listeners are directed to the Phoenix chapter of the March of Dimes at 602-257-9275. Dr. Cooper urges individual activism so families “need never suffer the tragedy of a Tay-Sachs child.” Music punctuates the talk: Sheila cues the uptempo Yiddish number “Ich wilsich spilen,” spins a Theodore Bikel selection (“Delegori del Nainu”), and signs off with Eddie Cantor’s “I Love to Spend Each Sunday with You.” Sheila ends the 43-minute broadcast thanking her guests and reminding the audience to return next week. The reel’s repeated references to the May 4/6 testing dates and its filename date fix the recording at Sunday, 27 April 1975