HiddenMysteries: The Singing Lady

By Jerry Tenuto

After careful introspection as to how I might bridge the passage of 2007 to the hopefulness of a new and better 2008, I came upon the following epiphany:

None of us need a rehashing of what has been, in many regards, a thoroughly rotten year.

Not only that, but thanks to an overabundance of derriere-licking Republican lackeys in Congress, we’re most likely stuck with Il Regime Fascista di RoveBushCheney for yet another 386 days. (The mere thought of potential damage, at home and abroad, these ideologues and their minions could accomplish during that time chills my marrow.)

As it were, while awaiting a visit from Mr. Hankey I was thumbing through The Complete Directory to Prime Time Network and Cable TV Shows by Tim Brooks and Earle Marsh. Therein I came across a short history of a pioneer in children’s radio and television entertainment, Ireene Wicker. My curiosity went into high gear.

Ms. Wicker was an early radio singer-storyteller who excelled in relating classic and neo-classic tales so as to be enjoyable to children. Her specialization was preparing and performing scripts as well as songs based upon fairy tales, legends, and historic events; for 20-some years she entertained and enlightened American youngsters.

Continuing messages within her programs were concepts of civic responsibility and ideals upon which American freedoms were based. A testament to her insightfulness, Ireene wrote books that survive today as children’s favorites ("How the Ocelots Got Their Spots," "Scuffy, the Tugboat," "The Little Hunchback Horse"). Without preaching throughout her career, she championed equality and liberty, always relating that diversity is good in a free society.

During the 1930s and 40s, Ms. Wicker’s programs were consistently rated first in national polls of radio editors, with a regular listenership of 25 million children.

Having a very popular long-running radio program, and an audience of children now in its second and third generations, it was inevitable that Ireene’s show graduate to the new medium of television.

"The Singing Lady" debuted on the fledgling ABC-TV network Nov. 7, 1948. As on radio, the show combined songs and skits assisted by two co-performers along with the Suzari Marionettes.

The program was so popular that in February 1950 ABC renewed it for a full year.

Despite her large viewership, however, ABC summarily cancelled the Singing Lady that August.

The demise of Ireene Wicker’s lifelong efforts had nothing to do with quality or content; rather, it had everything to do with the evils of elitist control.

Irene Seaton was born in Quincy, Ill. in 1900. After graduating from the University of Illinois, she continued her pursuit of music and drama at Chicago’s Goodman School of Theater, appearing there in several professional plays.

Shortly after beginning her radio career, a numerologist suggested that adding a third "e" to her name would lead to success — apparently good advice.

She took on the surname Wicker from her first husband, radio producer/writer/actor Walter, her co-star in several soap operas.

They had two children, Walter Jr. and Nancy; it was Ireene’s relating of children’s stories to them that inspired her youth-oriented radio program.

The story goes that Kellogg’s, the cereal folks, provided Ms. Wicker with a list of nursery rhymes and suggested she use them as the basis for a children’s program. Thus began on Chicago radio dramatizations of children’s stories by Ireene, who sang and acted out all the parts.

Her versatility led Ireene Wicker to become known as "The Lady With a Thousand Voices."

Divorced from Charles Wicker in 1938, she remarried in 1941 to Victor J. Hammer, brother of Armand (the baking soda namesake).

During World War II, Charles Jr. trained as a fighter pilot and was killed in combat.

Forced Off The Air

In 1947 three former FBI agents began publication of Counterattack: The Newsletter of Facts to Combat Communism. This four-page weekly rag was at best a channel of misinformation and supposition, at worst the most insidious bastardization of protections guaranteed under the First Amendment.

Under the guise of purporting to inform Americans of the evils of "The Red Menace," Counterattack subverted common sense rationality by disseminating fear and innuendo.

Although there were many who discounted its veracity, numerous members of society’s elite depended upon the newsletter to remain properly "informed." Among its most ardent admirers was a New York columnist by the name of Ed Sullivan, just making a major career breakthrough as host of a television variety show (its run would last an incomparable 23 years).

Counterattack was published by a group that called itself American Business Consultants. Boy, if that doesn’t sound like one of the extremist right-wing organizations which support our current fascists in the White House…

This newsletter was largely responsible for the blacklisting of the original "Hollywood 10" — filmmakers and movie stars who were thrown out of work by the commie witchhunt of "Tail-Gunner Joe" McCarthy and "Trickie Dick" Nixon.

However, that wasn’t good enough for this unfortunate ex-FBI trio. Their next target was the broadcasting industry, from owners to writers, producers to actors. Since regular television programming had just been born, there were dozens of individuals to target — people who brought their messages of socialistic society right into American living rooms.

It was 1950 when the good folks at Counterattack published a book entitled "Red Channels: The Report of Communist Influence in Radio and Television." Not really a book in the traditional sense, this was a compilation of little more than résumés with the sole purpose of outing 151 broadcasters with whom the right-wing elite didn’t approve.

The tome offered no elucidation upon any of the information printed within its pages. Quite the opposite, its compilers attempted to divest themselves of any liability by inserting a preface that whatever had been included came from publicly accessible records and documents.

Although Counterattack’s annual subscription rate of $24 was pricey for the time, which kept circulation at 7,500 or less — suggesting a small, select readership — the release of "Red Channels" had devastating effects upon those 151 persons named.

Maligned by their mere inclusion were the usual suspects such as Orson Welles, Arthur Miller, Dashiell Hammett, and Leonard Bernstein, plus the less obvious Burl Ives, Burgess Meredith, Ruth Gordon.

Found within the pages of "Red Channels" was one woman who had spent practically her entire career teaching children lessons in good citizenship, proper deportment, and an appreciation for classic tales through entertainment: Ireene Wicker.

According to its published "records," the book named Ms. Wicker as one of 30,000 individuals who had signed a petition to put Benjamin B. Davis, a Communist, on the ballot for New York City Council.

Despite protestations of never having signed such a petition — indeed, she claimed to be wholly unfamiliar with Mr. Davis or his run for office — Ireene was besmirched by publication of these "facts."

Ms. Wicker was additionally accused of being a Communist sympathizer when aid extended to refugee children of the Spanish Civil War, a number of whom provided shelter in her own home, was misrepresented in "Red Channels" as support for leftist causes.

And so the network, forced to distance itself from Ireene, ordered the immediate cancellation of her television show.

Despite losing a son during WWII, Ms. Wicker was mercilessly vilified.

Not one to take this trashing of her good name lying down, Ireene sued those responsible for publication of Counterattack and "Red Channels."

The accusers admitted that the data concerning her to be one of the petitioners for Davis had been found in The Daily Worker, a Communist newspaper, and had never been verified. When Ms. Wicker’s attorney demanded a complete list of the 30,000 signatures, something Counterattack was unprepared to produce, the newsletter relented — shifting the blame onto The Daily Worker.

When faced with proof that she assisted refugee children and not any political entity, as well as created myriad interactive and passive patriotic lessons for American children, those who had trampled Ireene’s loyalty to the United States into the muck admitted the possibility of error on their part.

Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. Although the insinuations were cleared up and her good name had been restored, inclusion in "Red Channels" kept any viable national advertisers from associating themselves with Ireene Wicker.

The mid-20th century world was far less sophisticated or forgiving than today.

Although she found work at a small-market radio station in Massachusetts, and made occasional guest appearances, Ms. Wicker’s career would never regain its previous vitality.

ABC made a minor attempt at reparation, providing her with a weekend morning show for one year beginning in 1953; unfortunately, her star had by then been obliterated.

As if the ruination of her professional life hadn’t been enough, her second husband, Victor, named brother Armand executor of his estate. In a hypocritical joke upon free enterprise, father Hammer, a pharmacist, was a professed Communist. He escaped the meager life in Russia, then made a fortune as proprietor of a giant chemical company. His well-known baking soda logo, named after Armand, is a tribute to the Communist sickle and hammer.

Armand became known throughout the world as one of the most selfish and deceitful businessmen on the planet in his own right. Victor, perhaps the only brother possessed of good spirit, remained subservient to his sibling throughout life. As executor of Victor’s estate — and openly annoyed with Ireene’s inclusion in "Red Channels" — Armand took out his venomous hatred by disowning his aged sister-in-law. He kept her tied up in court until legal fees exhausted the $1 million left by Victor, and refused to release the title of their $400,000 house.

Ireene Wicker Hammer left the Planet, virtually unnoticed, on Nov. 17, 1987, from a West Palm Beach, Fla. nursing home. Thirty-nine years and 10 days had passed since "The Singing Lady" lit up television screens across America.

Shortly thereafter, in a surprise move the greedy, vindictive Armand Hammer signed the deed to Ireene and Victor’s house over to their surviving daughter, Nancy.

Just a little something to consider the next time you bake a batch of cookies, or open the refrigerator door, and see that little orange box fighting off stale aromas…

Well, anyway, have a Happy New Year!

Shalom.

Jerry Tenuto is an erstwhile Philosopher and sometime Educator. A veteran with seven years of service in the U.S. Army, he holds a BS and MA in Communications from Southern Illinois University at Carbondale. Depending upon your taste in political stew, you can either blame or thank Jerry for his weekly "Out Of The Blue" feature in The Lone Star Iconoclast. Visit his blog Blue State View at <illinoiscentral.blogspot.com>.

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The Singing Lady

Thursday, January 03 2008 @ 12:41 AM CST