much of that glitter and excitement spilling right across the street into the Roosevelt, where the after-party was taking place. This gave Thompson and Coakley a captive audience of A-list celebrities. After that enchanted evening, their stock rose dramatically. So, beginning Monday, September 26, the orchestra “featuring Kay Thompson” was broadcast over KHJ six nights a week through the end of Coakley’s engagement on October 25.
Kay could not help but notice Coakley’s handsome eighteen-year-old saxophone player and vocalist, an affable fellow by the name of Alvin Morris, who, in 1936, would change his name to Tony Martin and become a big-time singer and movie star. Kay alternately called him “Mr. Suede” (because he always wore it), or simply “Mr. M.,” nicknames she was still using on the air in 1939 when she and Tony co-headlined the series Tune-Up Time (CBS Radio).
Kay quickly became known for her startling vocal arrangements. She loved to take a song, do the first verse straight, then reinvent it, changing the tempo, adding lyrics, and improvising improbable flourishes that spiraled into the wild blue yonder. Her groundbreaking swing arrangements oozed Thompsonian gusto at every fast-and-furious turn. Not everyone appreciated her tampering, however. To the ears of übercolumnist Walter Winchell, she crossed the line by reinventing Hoagy Carmichael’s “Stardust.” Appalled that Kay had “messed around with it on the air,” Winchell chastised her for being “sacrilegious.” Winchell did not forgive and forget, either. In 1937, he declared, “Kay Thompson simply spoils lovely hits by re-writing them.”
The Winchell-Thompson controversy fueled an onslaught of cover versions of “Stardust” from just about every band and vocalist on the map. In his autobiography, Carmichael credits Winchell for turning “Stardust” into the standard it is today, though it was Thompson’s “desecration” that got the fire started.
During the fall of 1932, three young male singers caught Thompson’s eyes and ears. They were eighteen-year-old Hal Hopper, a tenor from Oklahoma City (later the father of actor Jay North of Dennis the Menace fame), eighteen-year-old Woody Newbury, a tenor from Dallas, Texas, and seventeen-year-old Chuck Lowry, a baritone from Los Angeles. They called themselves the Three Rhythm Kings, inspired by Bing Crosby’s recently defunct trio, the Rhythm Boys. Kay took them under her wing and helped them create special arrangements to showcase their three-part harmonizing. Kay adopted the Three Rhythm Kings as her new backup singers, succeeding the Three Ambassadors.
Building on the group’s exposure with Coakley’s orchestra, Warner Brothers’ radio station, KFWB, launched a new series called Kay Thompson and the Three Rhythm Kings on Sunday night, October 2, 1932. Amazingly, with concurrent radio shows broadcasting over KFI, KHJ, and now KFWB, Kay had managed to become the belle of West Coast radio.
A s Kay turned twenty-three that November of 1932, Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected president, to serve the first of four terms, a regime that would lead the nation out of the Great Depression and into the Second World War.
Kay had been so busy in California, she hadn’t made it back to St. Louis since April. The Finks were laying the pressure on thick for her to come home for Thanksgiving, but Kay replied that she was too busy to get away. Then, in mid-November, just minutes before one of her radio shows, Kay received a telegram from her mother: FATHER TERRIBLY ILL COME HOME AT ONCE .
“I stayed for the whole broadcast,” Kay recalled. “I couldn’t walk out on them.” As soon as it was over, she boarded the next train to St. Louis only to find that the seriousness of her father’s condition had been greatly exaggerated. Leo had been diagnosed with a heart condition known as angina pectoris, but he clearly was not on his deathbed. The panic had been a ruse—a rather sadistic
Kay could not help but notice Coakley’s handsome eighteen-year-old saxophone player and vocalist, an affable fellow by the name of Alvin Morris, who, in 1936, would change his name to Tony Martin and become a big-time singer and movie star. Kay alternately called him “Mr. Suede” (because he always wore it), or simply “Mr. M.,” nicknames she was still using on the air in 1939 when she and Tony co-headlined the series Tune-Up Time (CBS Radio).
Kay quickly became known for her startling vocal arrangements. She loved to take a song, do the first verse straight, then reinvent it, changing the tempo, adding lyrics, and improvising improbable flourishes that spiraled into the wild blue yonder. Her groundbreaking swing arrangements oozed Thompsonian gusto at every fast-and-furious turn. Not everyone appreciated her tampering, however. To the ears of übercolumnist Walter Winchell, she crossed the line by reinventing Hoagy Carmichael’s “Stardust.” Appalled that Kay had “messed around with it on the air,” Winchell chastised her for being “sacrilegious.” Winchell did not forgive and forget, either. In 1937, he declared, “Kay Thompson simply spoils lovely hits by re-writing them.”
The Winchell-Thompson controversy fueled an onslaught of cover versions of “Stardust” from just about every band and vocalist on the map. In his autobiography, Carmichael credits Winchell for turning “Stardust” into the standard it is today, though it was Thompson’s “desecration” that got the fire started.
During the fall of 1932, three young male singers caught Thompson’s eyes and ears. They were eighteen-year-old Hal Hopper, a tenor from Oklahoma City (later the father of actor Jay North of Dennis the Menace fame), eighteen-year-old Woody Newbury, a tenor from Dallas, Texas, and seventeen-year-old Chuck Lowry, a baritone from Los Angeles. They called themselves the Three Rhythm Kings, inspired by Bing Crosby’s recently defunct trio, the Rhythm Boys. Kay took them under her wing and helped them create special arrangements to showcase their three-part harmonizing. Kay adopted the Three Rhythm Kings as her new backup singers, succeeding the Three Ambassadors.
Building on the group’s exposure with Coakley’s orchestra, Warner Brothers’ radio station, KFWB, launched a new series called Kay Thompson and the Three Rhythm Kings on Sunday night, October 2, 1932. Amazingly, with concurrent radio shows broadcasting over KFI, KHJ, and now KFWB, Kay had managed to become the belle of West Coast radio.
A s Kay turned twenty-three that November of 1932, Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected president, to serve the first of four terms, a regime that would lead the nation out of the Great Depression and into the Second World War.
Kay had been so busy in California, she hadn’t made it back to St. Louis since April. The Finks were laying the pressure on thick for her to come home for Thanksgiving, but Kay replied that she was too busy to get away. Then, in mid-November, just minutes before one of her radio shows, Kay received a telegram from her mother: FATHER TERRIBLY ILL COME HOME AT ONCE .
“I stayed for the whole broadcast,” Kay recalled. “I couldn’t walk out on them.” As soon as it was over, she boarded the next train to St. Louis only to find that the seriousness of her father’s condition had been greatly exaggerated. Leo had been diagnosed with a heart condition known as angina pectoris, but he clearly was not on his deathbed. The panic had been a ruse—a rather sadistic
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