For any of today's post to make sense, you'll need to read last week's entry, Bigotry Stalks the Boxoffice. You'll find a link on the right. Read both the blog entry and, particularly, the linked page. I'll enjoy this fine Thai Rhapsody Beef Salad (marinated sliced beef tossed with lettuce, cucumber, tomato, onions, chili paste and lime juice) and Kendall Jackson Chardonnay while I wait. As my host, Suwit Patthanawanich of Thai Rhapsody in Mill Creek, Washington* always tells me, "take your time."

And we're back.

We're going to do a bit of a serpentine today, though without Alan Arkin's flailing arms (google if you must)—we're going to start with Lerner and Loewe, talk about me for a bit, jump to Hemingway, talk about Gingrich for another bit, take a detour to one of America's first black illustrators, and end with the Dionne Quintuplets; and, as always, you'll be asked to click for a big reveal. Here we go:

Once in the highlands, the highlands of Scotland, deep in the night on a murky brae—okay, I have no idea what a brae is or whether being on a murky one is pleasant or uncomfortable. However, as a lover of showtunes you will recognize that bit of lyric as being from the musical Brigadoon, the story of a mythical Scottish town that awakes every one hundred years. The Broadway production opened in 1947 and ran for 581 performances. However, the original story upon which Lerner and Loewe based their show wasn't Scottish at all—it was German and the likelihood of Broadway mounting a musical in 1947 about Germany was zero, though Zero Mostel would open Springtime for Hitler twenty-years later in The Producers. So, Lerner and Loewe set their story in Scotland and right around the day I was born in Rhode Island, Rhode Island-born Van Johnson was on a soundstage singing about going home with Bonnie Jean. Sure, Van, whatever you say.

Speaking of Scotland, my parents had the foresight and wisdom to attach a fine Scottish Gaelic name to their son—Kenneth. Name Your Pets will tell you that the name Kenneth means handsome and you'll note if you glance up and to the left how truly true that truly is. In addition to that bit of obviousness, Ken also means to understand. If I were to design and publish a handsome magazine that required of its readers a deep understanding, I would name it Ken. Well, I would if someone hadn't already thought of that.

In 1938, the publisher and editor of then five-year-old Esquire launched a spin-off of the men's leisure magazine and called it Ken. It was viewed as an anti-facist, anti-communist periodical and was self-described this way:

A magazine of unfamiliar fact and informed opinion, filling in the shadows cast by coming events all over the world; equally opposed to the development of dictatorship from neither Left or Right, whose one fixed editorial aim is to give unhampered and unbiased demonstration of whatever dangers threaten this our democracy from without and within, in accord with the Lincolnian dictum of "Let the people know the truth and this country is safe."

As the Spanish Civil War raged in 1938 one champion of the Loyalist cause identified Ken as the ideal vehicle for his reports and stories. Ernest Hemingway was among the first to contract with Ken (and Esquire) editor Arnold Gingrich (and you thought I was going to bring Newt into this) and began sending in his writings almost from the moment he set foot in Spain; publishing 14 in all.

Ken was also known for its support of minority voices and counted E. Simms Campbell among its contributors. Campbell was one of the first African-American commercial illustrators to enjoy national exposure, though you would be hard-pressed to spot a black face among his watercolors of harem girls, hula dancers, lingerie models, and blushing brides. Though Campbell's editorial and cover work did much to enliven Esquire and Ken, the advertising art he and others toiled over didn't stop the advertisers themselves from abandoning Ken and it's left-leaning ways. Advertisers were a skittish bunch, then as now. Ken folded in just over a year, but not before they published a story about one Henry D. Allen, the charming anti-Semite who was responsible for the Boycott the Movies pamphlet I share on this page and in last week's Timecode. Convicted check kiter Allen filed suit against Ken which you'll read about shortly.

After Boxoffice reprinted the anti-Semitic flyer in its October 1, 1938 issue, the weekly magazine was inundated with letters from studio heads and exhibitors with many congratulating Publisher Ben Shlyen for his courage and many others scolding the magazine for fomenting more trouble. Over the next few issues, Boxoffice not only published several lengthy articles on the controversy, it printed many of the letters and comments—most submitted anonymously. Boxoffice also fingered Allen as the publisher of the leaflet and sent Western Manager Ivan Spear to investigate. Spear managed to corral and interview a member of Allen's legal team. You'll find this interview on the next page.

Let's see: I covered Brigadoon, Me, Hemingway, Gingrich (though, not Newt), and something you didn't know about the art in Esquire. I think I still owe you the Dionne Quintuplets.

Well, it was our Western Manager, Ivan Spear, who signed Ontario's Dionne Quintuplets to a contract to appear at the 1933-34 Chicago World's Fair. They were less than a year old.

Now, go read this week's Timecode. And for an extra heaping helping of Timecode, you can find it in this month's print edition of Boxoffice. Just click the Subscribe button at the top of this page (the digital online edition is free).

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*damn, I still had to pay full price.