A media giant here in New York and
a good friend for many years, Joe Franklin died on January 24 at age 88.
Joe was a broadcast pioneer and hosted shows on the
old WOR TV Channel 9 in Manhattan, and also WOR AM Radio.
He was still at it most recently on Bloomberg Radio.
Joe loved nostalgia in the media—he titled his
gig “Memory Lane.”
He was among the very first talk shows on TV and he
invented the art of conversation in media, talking to everyone from Bing
Crosby to an unknown Barbra Streisand and hundreds of others.
We got to know Joe and his wife Lois when Franklin occupied
a closet-sized set of offices on 42 street. The space was crammed to the
ceiling with show business memorabilia, including vintage photographs
and movie lobby posters from the 1930s onward.
At the time we were trying to save Building One at Newark
Airport, and later The Marine Air Terminal at LaGuardia Airport.
Geoffrey Arend and Bob Allen of the Hal
Kemp Orchestra (far left) on the Joe Franklin Show. |
Joe had us on his TV and radio shows at
least a dozen times during that era, and we never considered it a coincidence
that both buildings were saved from the Port Authority wrecking ball.
Later, when we created a 27-hour radio broadcast of
the life and times of the Hal Kemp Orchestra of the 1930s, going into
the studio with Dick Hyman, Keith Ingham, and others to record tracks
with Bob Allen, the band’s wonderful “Boy Singer,” Joe
encouraged us and invited us on his all-night radio show, where we played
almost ever recording in the Kemp catalogue, including the new ones with
Bob.
Late one evening after a TV taping, Joe, Bob and I and
our wives all went over to the Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station. We
joked and sang and laughed and ate until we choked, all night long into
the wee small hours of the morning.
I recall both Joe and Bob remarking that “The
Oyster” had been a regular haunt for both “since the 1930s.”
It was an unforgettable evening for me, and I have had
many great moments throughout my life in transportation terminals.
Flossie Arend with Joe Franklin in 1986.
Joe lived in a giant, rambling West
Side Manhattan apartment, and one summer when his wife Lois took the cook
and went away to the country, my wife prepared a dinner for Joe and our
two kids, Flossie & Guffy, which we enjoyed in Joe’s dining
room during what was, for us, a work session on a book we were creating.
Joe had begun his career as a writer for the great pioneering
comedian Eddie Cantor and had collected all there was to know about Eddie
and other greats including WC Fields, Jack Benny, Burns & Allen, Milton
Berle, Morty Gunty, and others.
Joe had taped a few episodes of The Joe Franklin Show
and had also spent some hours sifting through thousands of pictures for
our book.
At some point during the meal Joe fell asleep at the
table while the rest of us were still eating.
We always had a laugh telling that story.
Joe Franklin was wonderful, unflappable, easygoing,
kind, and exceedingly decent; he not only knew everybody, but he never
let stardom or big media types affect him very much.
The last time we saw him was at our friend Pete Castellotti’s
John’s Pizza Restaurant on 44 Street and 8th Avenue in Manhattan.
It was Christmastime and Joe was sharing the spotlight
with our mutual friend, the great Danny Styles at Styles’ Big Band
Dance Party, which Pete hosted every year.
Danny and Joe took turns introducing the music of the
13-piece big band “Vince Giordano and the Nighthawks,” who
played as we danced all night long.
Now beloved Danny and Joe are both gone, and the song
has ended.
But the memories and the beautiful melody of a life
well lived lingers on.
Geoffrey |
