Tag Archives: Pennies From Heaven

TWO THANK-YOU NOTES (1947)

Heartfelt people knew to write thank-you notes.  Here’s a singular one, showing just how much love a man of feeling could fit on a penny postcard (mailed from St. Louis, May 12, 1947):

I’ve tried to trace the doctor but with no success.  However, 440o South Drexel Boulevard still can be seen on Google Earth — a pleasant small apartment building or multi-family house.

I wonder what Louis and Dr. Teplitz and family had for dinner.  May 12 was a Monday; had the Teplitzes invited Louis for a Shabbos feast?  Not improbable, and Louis would have loved it.

This was the wondrous early heyday of Louis’ All-Stars.  The other side of the postcard is a studio portrait of Jack Teagarden, which leads to this delightful illustration of gratitude.  To me, PENNIES FROM HEAVEN is a thank-you note to the cosmos, especially in this performance:

Don’t you, even for a moment, wish that Louis had come to your house for dinner?  I know I do.

May your happiness increase!

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LOUIS ROUTS DEATH

I don’t know what viewers will see in this clip from the 1936 Bing Crosby musical PENNIES FROM HEAVEN, which gave Louis his first starring role in a full-length motion picture.  Some may find it offensive, demeaning.  After all, the premise of this dramatization of “The Skeleton in the Closet” is racist.  Colored folks, everyone knew back then, were frightened to death of spooks.

But I see Louis the peerless actor, storyteller, comedian, also the man who was a great dancer.  And that masked drummer, young Lionel Hampton, is swinging heroically. 

But when Louis blows his mighty horn and chases that skeleton back to the graveyard, I see a man vanquishing death.  Not only for himself, but for all of us.  What we love and what we create lives on.