Word: burle
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...Married. Burl Icle Ivanhoe Ives, 36, large (270 Ibs.) as life and twice as natural folksinger (Blue-Tail Fly, Foggy, Foggy Dew); and Helen Ehrlich, 29, his onetime radio scripter; he for the first time, she for the second; in Chicago...
...Alan Lomax went on the air, introduced Burl (Blue-Tailed Fly) Ives, Josh (One Meat Ball) White, Woody (Dust Bowl Ballads) Guthrie and Lead Belly, a Negro minstrel who had done time for murder, and was an encyclopedia of "sinful" songs (TIME, May 15, 1939). Lomax, now a hefty Army private, disapproves of his own twangy Texas voice, uses it constantly to "sell the Archive." At sings late at night in his Greenwich Village apartment, he is often joined by his sister, Bess Lomax Hawes, who has handled the music for OWI's overseas broadcasts. By last week...
...Burl Icle Ivanhoe Ives, 36, a jolly, round (270 Ibs.) "git-tar"-strumming balladeer, sang it on the radio, in nightclubs, on records and on Broadway (Sing Out, Sweet Land!). He made it a hit, and it helped make him one. He called it an "insect song," just one of 350 ballads he had picked up while bumming around the U.S. singing (TIME, July 27, 1942). This month The Blue-Tail Fly turned up in a Burl Ives collection of rediscovered ballads (The Wayfarin' Stranger; Leeds Music Corp., $1). And last week Burl sang it for the movies. Only...
Pink-faced, burly Burl has been on location for eight weeks at Kanab, Utah. In a rumpled, tan coat, baggy pants, and a red bandana around his throat, he looks more like a studio hand than a new star. Now about to be given a big Hollywood push, he well remembers his last trip to Hollywood, fresh out of the Army. He got a runaround. Says he: "Boy, it sure beats all the way they throw jobs at you when you finally land a good one, and the way they hide jobs on you when you haven...
...Some of Burl's arty friends are a little afraid of what Hollywood will do to a natural, free-singing balladeer. He isn't: "I'm strictly a fat boy who likes to set around . . . [and in the movies] you sure do. . . . It's harder on your rear end than it is on your brain...