It’s in the Record Book for Milwaukee-Born Comedian

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Johnny Standley 'It's in the Book'

The only comedian to ever have topped the U.S. pop singles chart with a stand-up bit was a Milwaukeean. If barely so.  

Johnny Standley took “It’s in the Book,” a mock preacherly retelling of the Mother Goose rhyme about Little Bo Peep, to #1 on Billboard’s weekly chart of best-selling singles in late November of 1952, 70 years ago this week. Born into an Oklahoma-based family of traveling entertainers, Milwaukee was where the closest hospital was when Johnny’s mother gave birth to him in December 1912. 

As the uncredited writer of a November 1951 article about Standley appearing in Buffalo, OK’s Harper County Journal put it, “Although born in Milwaukee while the family was on the road with a show, he is virtually all-Oklahoman.” But if Milwaukee wants to count a record holder of Standley’s unique distinction as the city's own, to paraphrase one of the catchphrases in his lone hit, that seems reasonable, doesn’t it? 

The Journal article cited above was published on the occasion of Standley having signed his second contract to tour with big swing band leader and TV/radio host Horace Heidt’s traveling stage show. He recorded “Book” before a live audience during that gig. Per that article, Standley had bit parts in several movies (though none renowned enough to be listed at IMDb.com, apparently) and appeared in other stage revues, including those helmed by comic Red Skelton and country singer Tex Ritter, as well as one hosted at New York City’s Radio City Music Hall. 

Standley composed “It’s in the Book” as a satire of the sort of stuffy, pompous orators with whom his family’s act sometimes shared bills. Though he was unconvinced of its commercial potential, Heidt thought otherwise and inveigled upon Capitol Records to sign Standley and release “Book” in tandem with a hymn of sorts about his grandma’s lye soap. It wouldn’t be until 1958 when Mort Sahl introduced the stand-up comedy album as a commercially viable format, but Standley’s single, though far removed from Sahl’s topical approach, paved the way for audio comedy recorded live to find widespread public favor. Aided by generous radio play, “Book” went on to sell over 1 million copies and earn a gold record certification award from the Recording Industry Association of America.

Standley never graduated to issuing any material on LP. He never charted again as a singles artist either, though not for want of trying, at least occasionally. “Proud New Father” (1953) was an attempt to exegete “Rock a Bye, Baby” in a similarly faux astute manner as he did with Peep’s plight in “Book.” Perhaps, radio programmers and record buyers were repelled by the implied gore of an infant’s descent from a tree bough?     

In 1956, he broached non-partisan topicality with “Get Out and Vote!” to a similarly meager reception. And the musical revolution of the preceding half-decade or so was seemingly too strong for his 1960 effort, “Rock and Roll Must Go,” to find may takers either (though he gets in some fun digs at Elvis Presley, Paul Anka, Sheb Wooley and others).

youtube.com/watch?v=HuvIn9iEBNE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hE_GBbzaDs0

Standley’s final shot at courting the public via vinyl was 1971’s “O’ Judge Mac.” Though one of his more winsome efforts, the alternately sung and recited poem about an idiosyncratic Tennessee justice set to simple acoustic guitar strums sounds too folksy to have resonated with neither pop nor country audiences of its time. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUoRuzsTLyw

That equates to about 11 years between releases for Standley. It would be another 21 between “Mac” and the funnyman’s 1992 death by pneumonia at age 79 in Van Nuys. Little has been written about all that downtime, and stand-up has gone from Standley’s character-based schtick to more personal and autobiographical explorations of humanity’s foibles. But his work still deserves a proper anthology (“It’s in the Book” holds up as a treatise on the absurdities and redundancies of the English language, among other ways). And he likewise deserves remembrance as a Milwaukeean, however briefly, who contributed to the development of American comedy. 

Also, In Memorium: Before the rise of Carrot Top, Gallagher was the prop humor king. The man born Leo Anthony Gallagher, Jr. and known for his watermelon-smashing Sledge-o-Matic sledgehammer died on November 11 at age 76 of organ failure. 

There was a definite visceral thrill in in his obliteration of fruit and other objects in the spoof of television infomercials that became the focal point of his act. Though he fell out of critical favor after his 1980s heyday, during which he recorded numerous premium cable specials, he continued to tour until the 2020 outbreak of COVID-19.  

Some commentators note an incipient bitterness and nastiness toward his audiences in the 1990s, when he wanted but was passed over for late night TV hosting spots. That dissatisfaction could be on display in his 1997 special shot in Green Bay, “Smashing Cheeseheads.”      

Here's to remembering Gallagher in a more innocent, or at least less destructive, mode before he turned produce into smithereens. On this 1977 clip from NBC's late night (mostly) music series, “Midnight Special,” Gallagher wears his ingenious prop atop his head...