BIOGRAPHY
The Story of Charlie Kunz

Clap Hands Here Come's Charlie.

America
Charlie Kunz was born in Allentown, Pennsylvania, on August 18 th, 1896, the only son of a master baker, who played the French horn. He began his playing career at the age of six and made his first appearance as a schoolboy prodigy at seven, studying earnestly until he reached 16, when he formed his first semi-pro band. He always paid tribute to the insistence of his parents that he should practice regularly and attentively, recalling with affectin: " if I did’n know my music lesson, mother always had a nice wee switch and I used to get it too, -bless her !" Apart from his ability at the piano he was a church organist and played the Eb.alto in the local brass band. He was given the chance to go to college but wanted te start earning his living and took on a series of testing jobs, including book-shop clerk, ribbon weaver, shoe factory assistant, milkman and builder of motor trucks. As he jokingly said: " I asked for it!"
He spent the 1914-18 war in even tougher occupations, such as making shells and riveting ship’s boilers, but he continued to play, for by now he was leading his own resident band at night in the roof garden restaurant of the largest hotel in his native Allentown. By the time he reached 19 he had a 10-piece band at a big local ballroom, playing opposite visiting celebrities like Paul Whiteman and Vincent Lopez and he was on his way to stardom.
London
He came to England in 1922 for American bandleader Paul Specht, to lead what was discribed as an "sweet music" band (The Criterions) at the Trocadero Restaurant in Piccadilly for sixteen weeks. When his college boy colleagues went back to the States, Charlie stayed on to form his first British band and make his debut with it at Lyons Popular Cafe. Then he went on to the Grafton Gallaries where he fronted a 14~piece which once again played opposite the daddy-of-them-all, Paul Whiteman . Next came a spell with the Dix Band at Olympia in Kensington, followed by a honourable association with the controversial Ma Merrick at her illustrious jazz haunt The 43 Merrick’s in Gerrard Street, where he had what he called by a laughable under-statement, "some exciting times". Space doesn't allow me to elaborate but suffice it to say that the 43 was a fashionable, but somewhat lively establishment !
The Bandleader
From there he went to the intimate Chez Henri Club in Long Acre, which he regarded as his "most loved job ever", remaining there for eight and a half years and leaving to hit the hot spots of his career with regular broadcasts, gramophone records and widespread fame at Casani's Club, run by former dance champion Santos Casani. His success brought demands for stage appearances and after a year at Casani's Club he went out on tour, starting at the Holborn Empire in 1934 as a lionised soloist earning 800 pounds a week, when that kind of salary was a fortune. Such was his popularity that he often needed police protection at the stage door, proving that fan worship existed long before the Beatles.

Among the host of musicians and singers associated with Charlie during his golden band-leading days there were three ever-present stalwarts: guitarist Ernie Penfold, bassist Frank Davis drummer Tommy Blades. Few people will need to be reminded that Vera Lynn was his vocalist at Casani's Club, a newcomer from a semi-pro band in East London who made her first-record broadcast with Charlie. Other singers with him at Casani's Club and on the air were Harry Bentley and George Barclay, plus occasional broadcasts by Eve Becke and Phyllis Robbins. During the war he travelled extensively to entertain the troops and did a great deal for charities.

For some inexplicable reason Charlie never played abroad - perhaps because he was such a home-lover - but he widely toured Great Britain. Everyone came to know his merry little signature tune, (which was even recorded by Ella Fitzgerald) “Clap hands here come’s Charlie” and his tricky signing-off number “Pink Elephants". Except for some early records on Sterno, he was always associated with Decca, starting on Rex in 1935. Altogether he made over one hundred 78s and LPs featuring his compelling medleys. (medley no 109) . Attempts to make an album of songs from the musical "My Fair Lady" a few months before his tragic death had to be abandonded half-way through, despite long rests between each tune to conserve his failing strength. "I should have brought my bed along with me" he cracked good humouradly to admiring studio mechanicians as he warmed his chilled hands on a hot water bottle. It took him two days to make one LP in tortuous 20-minute sessions and for a radio series he had to record the programme in 3-minute "takes" between bouts of coughing.
His Ilness
When he died at the age of 61 in 1958 it was the end of a tenacious battle against adverse health which he bore with courage and good cheer for 14 tiresome years. Yet he never dispaired and resolutely pretended that he was far fitter than he was. He had no time at all for self-pity or submission. He battled until the end.

First he went down with a tubercular spine following the loss of one lung in 1945 at the peak of his career and had to spend 10 months of complete immobility in a plaster cast. It seemed possible that he would never play again, but he fought his way back to better health and renewed acclaim. It was a miraculous comeback from a crippling illness whith racked his frail physique. Within a year he was playing again as competently as ever, sustained and encouraged by his adoring wife Pat, whose faith in his ultimate recovery never wavered.

Eight years later in 1953 he developed serious trouble with his delicate hands whith was described by newspapers as arthritis, but was actually an obscure complaint discovered by a Frenchman and called Dubitron Contraction, a blight frequently suffered by jockeys. It contracted the ligaments and twisted those magic fingers with the 11-note span, but five skilled operations combined with physiotherapy at the Plastic Surgery Hospital at Chepstow, Monmouthshire, restored their use and he went home to practice five-finger exercises on a dummy keyboard stretched across hit bed, determined to continue his carear, which he did after two years of heartbreaking silence. He went on making records and broadcasting, but he never really regained his health. He went into a gradual decline, aggravated by bronchial asthma, which gave him acute breathing problems. Gradually his strength failed and he died peacefully in his sleep on March 16th, 1958. It was a great shock to Pat who awoke to find him lifeless after a heart attack. He was buried at Streatham Vale Cemetery, in South London, alongside his second wife, Nin, who, as far as I have been able to discover, died in 1939 at quite an early age. His last resting place is marked by a life-sized benevolent angel who watches over him as ceaselessly as Pat did in their joyful 17 years together. They were married at Chichester Register Office on December 24th, 1942, and lived at his lovely country home sentimentally called "The Remnants" at Middleton on-Sea. After his death Pat moved to her present little oak-beamed cottage which had been cleverly fashioned out of a 17th Century cow shed.
The family connections
Pat was a dancer who had appeared in many West End musicals under her maiden name of Patricia Kelly and she had been a close friend of Nin, which is how she came to meet Charlie, who had a London home at Dollis Hill as well as his seaside retreat mainly for the benefit of his children at Middleton where they all used to go riding on the beach. Pat was his constant companion on whom he depended so much both at home and at the theatre, where she stage-managed his act and comforted him in the dressing room. He was, of course, a perfectionist, never completely satisfied with a performance. He always felt it could have been just a little bit better. He would never approve a recording unless it was exactly as he wanted it. "There was one tune where he was always inclined to make a mistake, however much he tried not to do so," she recalled nostalgically. "It was a strange little song called “Nature Boy' and he didn't really like playing it at all, but did so because it was popular at the time. I don't know what it was about that song but it always seemed to tie him in knots!

“After the operation on his hands they used to get very cold due to lack of circulation and he had to wear white cotton gloves when playing to keep them warm. We had to buy stacks of gloves to keep him supplied with nice clean ones for every show”.

Charlie had just a trace of his old American accent despite hit many years in England, which he came to love as much as if he had been born here. He had no brothers, but two sisters, Carrie, who is now dead, and Marie, who still lives in Allentown. He had three sons, Joseph by his American wife, Peter and Gerald, all by his second wife. Joseph, the eldest, was a saxclarinettist who died several years ago. Pat lost touch with Peter, who had many different jobs and moved around a lot. But she is very fond of Gerald and treats him as if he were her son, for she had no children of her own. He is a prominent exhibition organiser responsible for such big events at the annual Motor Show in London. He was due to be warned a few days after his father died, but carried on with his plans because Charlie made him promise to do so.
Charlie is very popular
Charlie was a lovable man, tolerant, unassuming and kind. He was thoughtful to everyone, not least his fans, who were never turned away. He appreciated their adoration and enjoyed giving them a pleasant word and an autograph. He was even tempered and understanding and never had a cross word with anyone. He was eternally grateful for his fawn and popularity. It is surprising, considering his long and distinguished career, that he was chosen only once for the Royal Command Performance, This was at the London Palladium on October 29th, 1951, and even then he didn't appear solo. He was included in a piano spectacular spot with Ivor Moreton and Dave Kaye, Carroll Gibbons and Billy Thorburn. Among the other stars were wisecracking comic Bud Flanagan with his placid partner Chesney Allen, who until a short time ago lived only a few doors away frow Pat in quiet retirement at Middleton. Charlie was thrilled to be honoured in such a way and was delighted at being presented to the Royal Family, comprising Queen Elizabeth (the Queen Mother) Princess Margaret and the Duchess of Gloucester. But he must have been disappointed that he was never selected as a top soloist which he most certainly was for a quarter of a century.
Mister Kunz, his normal style
Many years ago I interviewed Charlie for a family magazine article dealing with his personal tastes and characteristics and he told me that he was 5ft. 7-1/2in. tall, weighed 10 stone, had grey hair, brown eyes, took size 7 1/2 shoes and never wore a hat! He said that he had played in his familiar melodic style since 1914 when he changed over from classical to dance music. His favourite songs “ Night and Day", and "With a Song in my Heart" and “All the things you are” His advice to ambitions pianists was: "Take things easy and dont rush. Have a lots of patience. He wore Savage Club or Water Rat ties - "never anything loud” His customary stage act lasted 22 minutes and consisted of popular and light music. His choice of clothes at home comprised anything in which he felt comfortable and he told me with a nice sence of humour: "At times I look like a beachecomber!" On stage he wore evening dress in the winter and a pearl grey outfit in the summer. Before his illnesses he enjoyed riding, billiards and gardening. He was quite a keen reader and an enthusiast of poker and rummy. He gave me a list of his favourite flowers (roses and carnations), food (ravioli), drink (burgundy), dance band (Billy Ternent), radio shows ("Take it from here", "Ray's a laugh", Much binding in the Marsh, vocalist (Sam Browne), comedian (Eddie Gray), opera (Madame Butterfly), play (Edward My Son) and books (those written by Prances Parkinson Keyes and Douglas Reed). His superstitions were touching wood and not cutting his nails on a Friday. He never wore make up on stage and he used a white spot focussed on his piano and himself, leaving other colours to the discretion of the electrician. He smoked 20 cigarettes a day at the time I interviewed him, some 25 years ago and he confessed that he liked his breakfast in bed ! He spent his holiday in Spain, Portugal, Switzerland, the South of France and Germany. His favourite county was Sussex and his favourite country was Switzerland. Asked for his views on modern music at the time, he replied cautiously: "I like it in very small doses", He wrote a few light tunes but they were never published. His routine for a day at that time was going to the theatre in the morning to practice when doing a stage show and taking a rest after lunch on doctor's orders before he did his two performances in the evening. When not touring he had his breakfast in bed and got up when he felt like it to practice and prepare programmes before lunch. He rested until tea-time and thee dealt with his considerable fan mail, answering every single letter he received, until mid-evening, when he went off to bed to read and listen to the radio. He was never later to bed than 9 p.m

At least
Wartime rumours surrounded Charlie for some strange reason, but they were, of course, quite false, and doubtless caused by his popularity. Goebbels claimed that Charlie was really a German who had left Britain to fight with the Wehrmacht on the Russian Front. Once while playing Birmingham Charlie did a broadcast which was picked upon by Nazi radio which labelled him an imposter”. But the biggest joke of all was the suggestion that he included morse code messages on the piano during his broadcasts and for his crime had been imprisoned in the Tower of London! When Charlie died it was a bigg loss to his immence public all over the world who missed him very much, not only for his smoothing music but his charm. No pianist has ever managed to replace him or ever will. He was completely distinctive inimitable.

First published: Memory Lane: 1977 no. 9/34, written by Chris Hayes. England


Columbia, 7 March 1929


Published by Han Bulterman, Amstelveen, The Netherlands, 1996
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