Evening star., 1946-04-12


type of music teacher. Her name
was Miss Evelyn or Miss Sarah or
Miss IsaSgoodasamile, and as soon
as you were old enough to have suff1-
cient calcium in your bones to trot
you to her home, your parents
started you off on music lessons.
No, that's not the type of music
teacher mean at all, would be-
come teacher of the juke box.
From nine until twelve, and from
two until six, I would instruct
modern youth in the operation of
the juke box. I would teach them
the approach to the juke box, the
proper insertion of coins, and, most
important of all. how to get the
song you want.
Out With Younger Set.
Only last night I was out with
the younger set. AS a chaperon,
of course. And I tried to play a
juke box. 1t was a gorgeous affair
All red lights, and green lights, and
plastic, and stainless steel, and
chromium, and what have you. I
felt humble approaching it. Stand
ing there in the corner, it made the
Tai Mahal seem shabby, and for
sheer beauty 1t could hold its own
with the Grand Canyon by candle
light. AS one of the other chaperons,
a chap named Larry Johnson, said,
All that juke box needs to make it
complete is prayer rug"
What do you want me to play
kids?" I called to the merry set of
who were doing a stately,
sedate mess of jive on the dance
floor
Play us Some Sunday Morning,
Uncle Henry" they cried.
1t was all I could do to keep
from swatting them. If there is
anything that a man just this side
Of 40 hates to be called it is Uncle
When a man reaches that age he
likes to dream of himself being just
as young, gay and buoyant as the
youngest freshman. He knows his
hair is mighty thin and that he
creaks slightly when he walks, and
has to play doubles at tennis, but,
confound it, he doesn't like to be
reminded of it.
So I went to the juke box, nickel
in hand. I studied the listings OF
the various songs. I studied them
very carefully, despite the binding
lights of the juke and the fountain
which sprayed from its topknot. I
read very clearly that Some Sun
day Morning" was No. 4. I insert
ed the nickel and pushed a button
There was a whirring noise.
Gem Called SYMPHONY"
You know what got? A thing
called Bundle Boogie." Not to be
daunted, I went back to the juke
when Bundle Boogie" had run its
harmonious course, and tried again
for Some Sunday Morning." Il
didn't get it. This time-and my
nickels were running out-I got a
musical gem called Symphony"
I had used up almost a dollars
worth Of nickels and still couldn't
get Some Sunday Morning." At
about IS cents worth I called the
proprietor, Mr.. Arthur Bosworth.
"Mr. Bosworth," I said, would
you be so kind as to call your cleo
trical engineer and see if he can get
me Some Sunday Morning on this
juke box?"
With the Old World courtesy for
which he is celebrated. Mr.. Bos-
worth said he would.
He called In a tall, handsome
chap, carrying a diploma from
M. I. T.
"Is this man capable of operat-
ing juke boX?" I asked.
Il was in charge of a naval YES
sci during the war" the M. I. T.
graduate said.
I gave him two nickels. He went
to work with the touch of a skilled
operator. The first tune he got
was Prisoner of Love-" The radar
failed, he explained. The second
tune he got was "Bumble Boogie."
He got no more nickels.
Let us have teachers for the juke
box
The youngsters, who are going to
run this country in a few years
land who will hate to be called
"Uncle'), are getting their musical
education through the juke box.
Let us not let them down.
distributed by McNaught Syndicate, Inc.)