ErN 138,
entry Dec. 2010
revised December 2021
Leon Jessel—>The Parade of
the Tin (or Wooden) Soldiers—>Betty Boop—>Totò
contains audio
I'm not too bad at
connecting music with composers, although like many, I'm
hazy when it comes to the precise names of Strauss
waltzes, Sousa marches and the famous last movements of
Almost Anyone's Violin Concerto. Yet, I did know that
Claude Joseph Roget de Lisle wrote La Marseillaise and
that Fučík composed the great circus march, Entrance of the Gladiators,
so I figured I was doing pretty well. But the other day I
heard one of the world's most famous marches, one that
"everyone knows", and realized I didn't know the name of
the composer and I had not forgotten it but had never
known it! I polled a few musician friends and got the same
result —no hits.
The march was called, originally, The Parade of the Tin
Soldiers and the composer is Leon Jessel (the
image, right, is from 1918). Harold B. Segel, professor of
comparative literature at Columbia University, said the change from "tin" to
"wooden" came in 1911 when Russian
impresario Nikita Balieff chose Jessel's piece for a
choreography routine and changed the title. Balieff's
wooden-soldier routine was a reference to a tale about
Czar Paul I: he left his parade grounds without issuing a
"halt" order to marching soldiers, so they marched to
Siberia before being remembered and ordered back. OK, but
no matter what title you are familiar with, you know the
march. That march we all know winds through some
lighthearted moments on its way through the string of
associations in the title of this entry, but, alas, it
passes through unspeakable darkness in the life of the
composer.
Leon
Jessel was a German composer, born in 1871 in Stettin (now
Szczecin, Poland). He was the
eldest son of a shopkeeper and was meant to take over
the shop, but couldn't leave music alone. He had early
instruction from an organist in Stettin. He composed and sent an early work, "Zukunftsträume"
(Future Dreams) to the great "Waltz King", himself,
Johann Strauß (the Younger), who encouraged him to
compose music, and that was
that. He supported
himself as a rehearsal pianist
for a number of small local theaters in southern
Germany and moved up into composing.
In his personal life, he
met a non-Jewish woman and left his synagogue and
converted to Christianity in 1894 in order to marry
her. He
celebrated by writing an operetta
about it, "Die Brautwerbung"
(Courtship).
They moved to Berlin in 1911, where Jessel
composed. He and his wife divorced and
Jessel remarried in 1921.
Jessel had early success with an operetta, "Die
Beiden Husaren" (The Two Hussars) (1913) and
then "Schwarzwaldmädel" (The Girl from the
Black Forest -German
libretto by August Neidhart, 1867-1934). It
opened in Berlin in 1917 and within 10 years had
played 6,000 times (!) in Germany. It
is the only one of his operettas that ever crops up
today, at least among the remaining stalwarts of
German-language operetta. All in all, Jessel
wrote two dozen operettas and many light
orchestral works and songs.Today
we can say he was one of the many German and Austrian
composers of the post-Johann Strauss generation, the
best-known of whom was Franz Lehar. Other than that, not
much remains of Jessel's music but Parade of the Wooden
Soldiers. It was not from an operetta but was
composed for the piano. It is known around the world.
Jessel wrote The Parade in 1905.
The original German "tin" title is still found in some
English versions, although "wooden" is much more common.
The piece was well-known in vaudeville in Europe and the
US in the 1920s and, in a performance by a vaudeville
troupe, the Parade
was filmed with sound by inventor Lee DeForest in 1923.
There is also a 1923 Victor recording of a version by Paul
Whiteman's orchestra. There were no lyrics, but English
lyrics were written later by Ballard MacDonald (1882-1935)
and are often heard. There was then a choreographed
production of the music on stage in 1928, a color film of
which still exists. Perhaps the best-known early use of
the music was Max Fleisher's 1933 Betty Boop
cartoon, Parade of the
Wooden Soldiers. The cartoon opens with a few
live seconds of the popular violinist of the 30s and 40s,
Rubinoff, as he plays and conducts his orchestra in the
opening bars, but Jessel's name is not in the film credits
that I noticed. (I would like to be wrong, but I bet
Jessel got no money from it. More about royalties at Copyright Laws that Make Your Head Hurt.)
If you can't recall the melody, read the MacDonald lyrics
in a natural cadence and the melody may pop into your
head:
The
toy shop door is locked up tight and everything is quiet
for the night.
And
suddenly the clock strikes twelve—the fun's begun!
If
you still can't hear it, listen
to it!
There's
some confusion about names and titles. Don't confuse
Jessel's Parade of the
Wooden [or Tin] Soldiers with Victor Herbert's "March of
the Toys" from his 1903 operetta, Babes in Toyland. The
name situation is not helped by the wonderful Laurel &
Hardy 1934 version of Herbert's operetta. It was
originally filmed as Babes
in Toyland but then reissued as March of the Wooden Soldiers.
Confused yet? It's
amusing, yes, but the fun is over; here is the "unspeakable
darkness". (If you don't want to read about a person whose
life was ruined and taken by absolute evil, you can skip
the next paragraph, but maybe you shouldn't.)
In the 1920s and
into the 1930s, Jessel's operettas were popular. The music
was light but robust, and the plots fed the nostalgia for
turn-of-the-century German imperial enthusiasm with such
catchy songs, for example, as "We Wander through the Wide,
Wide World" from The
Girl from the Back Forest. That operetta was one
of Hitler's favorites. In 1930 the handwriting on the wall
in Germany was perhaps still unclear. Maybe Jessel thought
that his conversion to Christianity and his sense of
nationalism would help him. His second wife was even a
member of the the Nazi party. Yet, none of that helped.
None of it. His works were banned in 1933.
(Ironically, in that same year the German post office
issued a commemorative stamp on the occasion of the first
filming of his Black
Forest operetta!). His wife was expelled from the
Nazi party in 1934; Jessel was forced out of the Reichsmusikkammer
(State Music Bureau) in 1937 and recording and
distribution of his music was prohibited. In 1939, he
wrote to a friend: "I cannot work in a time when
hatred of Jews threatens my people with destruction,
where I do not know when that gruesome fate will
likewise be knocking at my door." The goose-steppers
came calling in 1941 and arrested Jessel for spreading Greuelmärchen
("horror fairy tales") about the state. The Gestapo took
him to their infamous torture chamber at Alexanderplatz in
Berlin. He was then taken to the Jewish hospital in Berlin
where death finally had mercy on him on January 4, 1942.
He is interred at the Wilmersdorf cemetery in Berlin and
remembered in the exhaustive Lexikon verfolgter Musiker und Musikerinnen der
NS-Zeit (Lexicon of Persecuted Musicians in the
National-Socialist Period) published by the University of
Hamburg.

His
Parade, of
course, is remembered and remains popular. The music has
gone through many incarnations over the decades. It is
perennially choreographed on stage and is still a favorite
among dance troupes such as the Rockettes, for example, in
their Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall in New York
each year. (They cancelled their whole show this year
(2021) because of the pandemic, but they have used it for
decades. The trail to Italy and Naples is via the first
feature-length Italian color film, Totò a colori (both
these images). The film is from 1952 and features
Neapolitan comic, Totò, as one
Antonio Scannagatti, a down-and-out composer who dreams of
moving to Milan and cracking La Scala and the big-time publishers.
After a series of misadventures, Totò tries to flee
pursuers by masquerading as a marionette (shown). He
"escape dances" across the stage to the music of The Parade of the Wooden
Soldiers, jerked along by invisible strings. It
reminds everyone —as it is
meant to do— of
Pinocchio. It's a
masterpiece of pantomime and one of the best loved and
most widely-recalled Totò episodes in Italian cinema.
So, there is no
satisfaction in this tale, but if there is solace at all,
it is that Leon Jessel lives on in that one little march
that I will never again be able to listen to in quite the
same way.