ITEA Journal Volume 49 Number 1 (Fall 2021)

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Tubby the Tuba
By Douglas Yeo

More Than a Melody-More than Oompah

Figure 1. George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp, Tubby the Tuba (© Cosmo, 1945), The Further Adventure of Tubby the Tuba (© RCA Victor, 1947), The Tubby the Tuba Song (© General, 1950; © assigned to RYTVOC, 1955),Tubby the Tuba at the Circus (© Decca, 1950), Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town (© Golden Crest, 1960).

Editor's note: This is the final installment of Douglas Yeo's comprehensive article about Tubby the Tuba that has appeared serialized in eight consecutive issues of the ITEA Journal throughout 2020 and 2021.

PART 8- Tubby the Tuba at the Circus and Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town/Tubby the Tuba Meets a Jazz Band, and conclusion and assessment

Figure 2. George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp, Tubby the Tuba at the Circus (© Decca, 1950).

Tubby the Tuba at the Circus (1950)

Story synopsis:

It is springtime, and Tubby, "a fat little tuba," oompahed when he walks and talks. Tubby sighs "the saddest oompah you ever heard." A bird tries to cheer him up, "Spring is here!" Tubby doesn't think so and he sings that the buds popping open and birds singing don't mean spring has arrived. To Tubby, "I can always tell it's spring when the circus comes to town." Suddenly, Tubby hears a circus band and exclaims, "Now I know it's spring!" A little idea begins to buzz around in Tubby's head. It says, "Why don't you join the circus?" But then Tubby wonders what he would do in the circus. His idea suggests he could be a bareback rider, or a lion tamer, a clown, a juggler, or an acrobat. "You can do anything your heart desires."

Tubby goes to meet Signor Pepperino, the circus ringmaster, and Tubby is hired to carry water for the elephants. A kindly old elephant suggests that Tubby take a look inside the circus tent since the elephants all have enough water. Tubby is enthralled by what he sees, and when he looks up, he finds his little idea swinging away on a trapeze, singing, "Alley oop, oompah, an acrobat you ought to be!" Tubby climbs to the top of the circus tent and, encouraged by his little idea, walks along the tightrope, balanced by his water pails. But Tubby slips and falls, and lands on top of Signor Pepperino. Tubby is sent back to the elephants.

Dejected and crying, Tubby is consoled by the kindly old elephant who tells him that he is not so bad; it's just that he tried to be the wrong thing. The elephant says that he once wanted to be a toe dancer. "Be yourself," the elephant sings, "and do the things that you do best, be yourself, I think that you'd be happiest by being no one else but you." Tubby tells the elephant that the only thing he does best is oompah. The elephant asks to hear Tubby's oompah and as he plays, the elephants all come and encircle Tubby, their trunks swaying to the music. One by one, the elephants get up on their hind legs and begin dancing. Signor Pepperino comes by and exclaims, "What is this? I have never seen the elephants dance so beautifully." The kindly elephant points to Tubby, who is oompahing away with a smile on his face. Signor Pepperino declares that Tubby's magnificent oompah and the dancing elephants will be the main attraction of the circus. He exhorts Tubby, "Play, Tubby, play as you have never done before!" and the whole circus dances. Tubby decides that he "wouldn't change places with anyone in the whole wide world."

1950 was a big year for Tubby the Tuba. Not only did George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp write the runaway single,The Tubby the Tuba Song, but they wrote their third Tubby story, Tubby the Tuba at the Circus. While RCA Victor had released the first Tubby sequel, The Further Adventure of Tubby the Tuba in 1948, Kleinsinger and Tripp returned to Decca to record their new piece, and they reunited with old friends Danny Kaye (narrator), Victor Young (conductor), and Simon Rady (producer) who, together, had made the second recording of Tubby the Tuba (1947). [1]

Once again, Walter Winchell, as he had done for Cosmo's premiere recording of Tubby the Tuba, plugged Tubby the Tuba at the Circus in his newspaper column, writing, "Danny Kaye's hot-diggity recording for youngsters, 'Tubby the Tuba at the Circus.' It rates 3 cheers and 4 lollipops."[2] Cheers and lollipops, indeed. While Tubby the Tuba at the Circus is the shortest of the four Tubby stories (Danny Kaye's recording clocks in at 9:13), the story captured the imagination of the marketplace. It isn't difficult to understand why.

The 1942 edition of Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey's Circus debuted in New York City's Madison Square Garden on April 9. This was a wartime production, the first of the Ringling circuses since the United States entered World War II, and the first night's gate receipts were donated to the Army and Navy relief fund and the infantile paralysis (polio) fund. Among the acts advertised to appear in "The Greatest Show on Earth" was something wildly extravagant even by circus standards, a Ballet of the Elephants with "50 Elephants and 50 Beautiful Girls in an Original Choreographic Tour de Force." And that was not all. The choreography and direction were to be by none other than George Balanchine, and the accompanying music by Igor Stravinsky. [3]

Figure 3. Ringling Brothers Circus, Elephant Brass Band. Promotional poster, c. 1899. Courtesy Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.

Elephants in the circus were nothing new. In fact, elephants and tubas were nothing new. In one of the most spectacular examples of circus advertising hyperbole, the 1899 Ringling Brothers Circus advertised something exceptional on one of its promotional posters. With five elephants standing on their hind legs while playing helicons, the Ringlings assured their audience that, "Nothing like them ever seen before. The funny, wonderful Elephant Brass Band. They play popular songs of the day in time and tune on big common brass band horns, and they are louder than a thousand human bandmen."[4] Step right up. Tuba playing elephants, and they play in tune and in time. Of course! And pigs fly, too. There's no doubt we would have loved to see those pachydermic embouchures but, alas, no photographs or instruments have survived to support the outrageous advertising claim. If they had actually existed, they would have made "The Harvard Tuba" look like a euphonium by comparison.[5]

Figure 4. "The Ballet of the Elephants," Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, Madison Square Garden, New York, 1942. Courtesy Circus World/Wisconsin Historical Society.

But fifty elephants dancing? This WAS something new, and it wasn't just circus advertising hype. John Ringling North, always looking for something bigger and better for his circus, engaged star choreographer George Balanchine (who, on January 12, 1942, then approached composer Igor Stravinsky) to add even more star power to his production. Stravinsky's composition was his Circus Polka, later orchestrated for full orchestra, but originally for the band of winds, brass, and percussion at Ringling's circus. Balanchine's wife, Vera Zorina (born Eva Brigitta Hartwig), was the lead ballerina in the "choreographic tour de force," and during the whole elephant ballet, she was cradled in the trunk of Modoc, the largest Indian elephant in the circus. [6] The fifty elephants (actually, most performances used 30 elephants, still an impressive number) wore tutus, and the combination of Balanchine, Stravinsky, ballerinas, and, of course fifty elephants, was a sensation:

Young John Ringling North, the man who brought air-conditioning and glamor to the big top, has pulled another fancy rabbit out of the hat. This year, for America's diversion and enlightenment, he has plumped the distinguished figures of famed composer Igor Stravinsky and ballet master George Balanchine right into the red-white-and-blue sawdust of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, of which he is president.

To the average peanut-munching circus fan, Stravinsky and Balanchine may be just names. They might be a couple of Notre Dame linemen or an acrobat act. However, they're not.

Stravinsky is a dapper little Russian composer whose music, during the past 30 years, has caused quite a commotion in the top drawer of the artistic world. He has been called a genius, as well as several other things, and he has been an important figure among the long-haired gentry.

Balanchine comes a little closer to the sphere of ordinary mankind, since he owns the enviable distinction of being married to the lovely dancer Zorina. He is famous as a dancer, and as a designer of ballets for stage and screen audiences.

Somehow, North persuaded them to collaborate on an Elephant Ballet, the first in circus history, for this season's shows. How he did it will probably remain North's secret, and a tribute to his genius. To engage Stravinsky to write music for a herd of elephants is like signing Kirsten Flagstad to sing at the Stork Club, only harder.

And for the average impresario, it would be about as easy to hire Heifetz to teach a trained seal to play "Yankee Doodle" on the bells as to get Balanchine to act as dancing master for 50 lumbering pachyderms.

It might be added for those who aren't impressed by elephants no matter what they do, that North has thoughtfully supplemented them with a corps de ballet of 50 girls. [7]

Figure 5. Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, Circus Magazine (© Circus Publishing Co., 1942).

The Elephant Ballet ran for 425 performances. While tutus are not mentioned as part of the elephant's wardrobe in Tubby the Tuba at the Circus -Paul Tripp's script refers to the "kindly elephant" as "he"-the cover of the first recording of the piece (Decca, 1950) shows a dancing elephant in a tutu. And in the 1975 animated feature film of Tubby the Tuba (discussed in Part 6 of this article), the elephants (led by Mrs. Elephant-rather than the "kindly elephant"-with the voice of Pearl Bailey) wear tutus. It is not a stretch to imagine that the story of Tubby the Tuba at the Circus was informed, in part, by Ringling's Elephant Ballet, which took place just a month before Tripp joined the U. S. Army.

Danny Kaye's narration of Tubby the Tuba at the Circus is nothing short of spectacular. He used different voices for each character and infused both his narration and singing with character and imagination. Perhaps this is the reason that the piece was not recorded again until 1996; while Kaye's recording was originally issued on 78-rpm discs, it was re-released on LP (1959) and remains available as a digital download as well as on YouTube. It was not until the Manhattan Transfer recorded their multi-voice version of Tubby the Tuba at the Circus that Kaye's recording finally had some competition.

Unlike its predecessors, Tubby the Tuba andThe Further Adventure of Tubby the Tuba, Tubby the Tuba at the Circus doesn't mention Tubby's bullfrog melody. Its story is about the redemption of Tubby's signature act: playing oompahs. Once again, Tubby realized that it wasn't all about the melody.

Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town/Tubby the Tuba Meets a Jazz Band (1960/1962)

Figure 6. George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp, Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town (© Golden Crest, 1960). Courtesy Stephen Shoop.

Story synopsis:

Tubby the Tuba is "a fat little, glad little, sad little tuba, puffing away but oh so slow." He had spent his life in a prim and proper symphony orchestra but one day, he looked out the window and wondered what the big, wonderful world was like. So Tubby packed up his suitcase with his melody-"the only one he ever had-a few of his best oompahs, and a clean handkerchief." "And Tubby goes to town." He goes uptown, downtown, and across town. Tubby then bumps into a jazz band that was strutting down the street. Tubby greets them but they pass him by, singing, "Can't stop, gotta hop, can't wait, gotta date, ho hum, sorry chum; Hey cats, let's go!" Tubby had never heard music like this, and he runs to catch up to the jazz band.

The band goes into a house and tunes up for a jam session. Tubby asks to join them, and the drum says, "Strike me dumb, if it isn't our roly, poly chum. You a slick chick with the music?" Tubby explains that he's familiar with Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms, and the band says, "Well dig that long hair, is he real or is he square?" Tubby opens his suitcase and takes out his melody. As he plays it for the band, they tell him, "You don't sing it; you swing it!" and they jazz up Tubby's melody around the room. Tubby can't keep up with the band's playing and, concluding that he's "a square," packs his melody back into his suitcase, and prepares to leave.

The trumpet asks Tubby to stay, and when Tubby protests that he doesn't understand the music, the trumpet tells him, "That's jazz for you, man. That's jazz." The trombone then sings a lengthy song ("Listen to your heart") that answers Tubby's question, "Jazz? What's that?" After a few up-tempo verses that end, "You feel like bustin' out of your skin, it's jazz that's got you in a spin, you feel you've got the world in your hand, jazz can make you really understand," the trombone sings a slow, sultry, bluesy ballad.

Tubby loves what he hears but wishes he had rhythm like the others have. The trumpet wonders if Tubby already has it and asks what is in his suitcase. Tubby begins to play his oompah and the piano asks to try it. The drum joins the piano on Tubby's oompah-"Cool man, cool"-and when Tubby asks if they like it, the trumpet replies, "Like it! It's crazy, man, sends me, man, real gone." Tubby then says, "Follow me!" and Tubby and the jazz band go to town. A rollicking jam session follows, and the piece ends with Tubby exclaiming, "Call me cat, there's nothing like an oompah! And that is that!"

After they wrote Tubby the Tuba at the Circus, George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp took a hiatus from their collaborations. Kleinsinger got involved with his archy and mehitabel projects (Part 2 of this article) and other compositions, and Tripp was in the midst of his all-consuming work as producer, director, writer, and actor for his "Mr. I. Magination" children's television show and recordings (Part 3 of this article). They certainly had their hands full, and perhaps thought they had done what they could with Tubby and his friends. Certainly, royalties fromTubby the Tuba, The Further Adventure of Tubby the Tuba, The Tubby the Tuba Song, and Tubby the Tuba at the Circus gave the men financial freedom to explore other projects.

But in 1960-ten years after they wrote Tubby the Tuba at the Circus-Kleinsinger and Tripp came together for one final Tubby story. Harvey Phillips, in his posthumous autobiography, Mr. Tuba, wrote that he commissioned George Kleinsinger to compose Tubby the Tuba Meets a Jazz Band, and in Phillips' "Biography/Resume" (written around 1978), he noted that he commissioned a piece from Kleinsinger in 1959. [8] Kleinsinger, in his only published comments about the piece, made no mention of Phillips, and only said that the piece had been "written for T.V." [9] Tripp said, "Then I came up with another idea. . . while listening to some jazz, I noticed the double bass zoom-zooming the bass background. I wondered if Tubby could play in that low range." [10] How to resolve these conflicting creation stories?

Figure 7. Paul Tripp, early script (with Tripp's annotations) for Tubby Goes to Town (incipit, 1960). Courtesy David Tripp and Suzanne Tripp Jurmain.

Actually, Phillips got a key part of the story wrong. The piece that Kleinsinger and Tripp wrote, and which Harvey Phillips recorded in for Golden Crest in 1960, was not Tubby the Tuba Meets a Jazz Band.[11] It was Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town. One piece with two titles. After its first public performance in October 1962-with narrator Sonny Fox and the Philharmonic Orchestra of Northern New Jersey conducted by Walter Schoeder (although the only review of the performance doesn't mention the tuba soloist's name)[12]-the title changed. A second performance was planned to be done live on ABC television in January 1963. "I use a Dixieland band," Kleinsinger said, "so I'm hoping that for TV we can change the title to 'Tubby the Tuba Meets the Jazz Band.'"[13] As to Tripp's reminiscence, he may very well have spontaneously come up with the idea for the piece while listening to some jazz, and then pitched the concept to Kleinsinger. But as we shall see, it is difficult to discount Phillips' involvement in the composition's early history.

The change of title certainly better reflected the essence of the piece, and the hipster lingo that is found throughout unmistakably ties it to its time.[14] Unlike the previous three Tubby pieces that were scored for orchestral accompaniment, Tubby the Tuba Meets a Jazz Band (note the final title had another change, from "the Jazz Band" to "a Jazz Band") utilizes a five-piece traditional jazz band along with narrator and tuba solo. Harvey Phillips' premiere recording, an LP made in a limited pressing by Golden Crest, quickly disappeared from the marketplace; surviving copies are exceptionally rare. The record is remarkable in several several ways. The recording has two pieces: Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town and Effie the Elephant: Suite by Alec Wilder. Wilder's piece would later be retitled Suite No. 1 (Effie Suite) after Wilder composed several other Suites for tuba and piano. [15] Apart from Phillips' name as tuba soloist and the name of Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town narrator Greig Stewart "Chubby" Jackson, the album covers do not mention the name of the other musicians who play on the disc (although the record label names the collaborating musicians for Effie the Elephant: Arthur Harris, piano, and Bradley Spinney, percussion). Phillips' autobiography lists the musicians for the recording of Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town: Pee Wee Erwin (cornet), Kenny Davern (clarinet), Lou McGarity (trombone), Moe Wechsler (piano), Cliff Leeman (drums), all members of the Charleston City All Stars. [16]

Figure 8. Alec Wilder, Effie the Elephant: Suite (© Golden Crest, 1960).

Phillips' recording of Effie the Elephant also has some different titles than the published versions of the piece. Players today know the movements as, 1. Effie Chases a Monkey, 2. Effie Falls in Love, 3. Effie Takes a Dancing Lesson, 4. Effie Joins the Carnival, 5. Effie Goes Folk Dancing, 6. Effie Sings a Lullaby. But Phillips' recording features different titles for three movements: 2. Effie Daydreams, 4. Effie Joins a Carnival, and 5. Effie Goes to a Barn-Dance. It's unfortunate that this recording remains out of print since it is an important recorded document of a significant piece of the tuba's solo repertoire. And Phillips sounds terrific.

Yet there is more to this record of Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town and Effie the Elephant. The album-and the music itself-has a kind of Da Vinci code, some hidden messages that tie together a number of things.

Figure 9. Bernie Landes, The Elephants Tango (incipit, © Emerson Music, 1954); George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp, Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town, incipit (© RYTVOC, 1960).

While no independent documentation has survived to confirm Harvey Phillips' claim that he commissioned Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town, an important clue to support this narrative is found in the piece itself. When Tubby and the band join together for their final jam session, they improvise on a new theme. Careful listeners will note the similarity between this theme and the melody to Bernie Landes' 1954 hit,The Elephants Tango. [17] And why would tuba players know The Elephants Tango? Because William "Bill" Bell recorded it on his 1957 solo recording, Bill Bell and His Tuba. And why might Harvey Phillips suggest that George Kleinsinger include a nod to The Elephants Tango in Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town? Because Phillips studied with Bell at the Juilliard School of Music from 1950-1953. And why would Phillips know elephants? Because he played in the Kings Brothers Circus in 1947 and with Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey from 1948-1950. And it was while he was with Ringling Brothers that Phillips met Bill Bell. With the pairing of Alec Wilder's Effie the Elephant with Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town, the connections of elephants, the circus, and Bill Bell, it all adds up to a delightful, coded tribute to important influences in Phillips' life. Thus, the final piece in the Tubby the Tuba saga ends not with the famous melody Tubby received from the bullfrog, or Tubby's oompahs, but with a song associated with one of the most influential tuba players of all time, Bill Bell. Nice.

Because Harvey Phillips' recording of Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town was on the niche Golden Crest Label and it went out of print quickly, the piece drifted into obscurity. As a composition for narrator with jazz combo, performance opportunities were few. But in the 1990s, two more recordings-or three, depending on how one counts-of Tubby the Tuba Meets a Jazz Band brought the piece back to life. But its rebirth was not without controversy.

Figure 10. George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp, Tubby the Tuba (© Summit, 1994).

In 1994, Summit Records released a compact disc of all fourTubby the Tuba stories; the pieces were recorded in October 1993. [18] The recording was a vehicle for tubist John Thomas "Tommy" Johnson and the jazz vocal group, The Manhattan Transfer. As mentioned earlier, the Manhattan Transfer transformed the role of the narrator into something much more. The members of the group-Tim Hauser, Alan Paul, Cheryl Bentyne, and Janis Siegel-took on the personalities of the characters in the stories, and they added their signature tight harmonies to the pieces' songs. Johnson's tuba playing is superb and Herbert Jenkel would smile: Johnson's name is featured prominently on the album's cover in the same size print as the accompanying ensemble, The Naples (Florida) Philharmonic, and larger than the name of conductor Timothy Russell. For Tubby the Tuba Meets a Jazz Band, the combo features three of the Naples Philharmonic's principal players-Paul Votapek (clarinet), Matthew Sonneborn (trumpet), and Michael Zion (trombone)-who are joined by Cynthia Dallas (piano) and James Dallas (drums) along with Johnson. All of the performers are named in the disc's liner note booklet, and the accompanying illustrations of Tubby by Jack Graham greatly enhance the whole package. The recording was nominated for a Grammy Award as Best Musical Album for Children of 1993, but it lost to the soundtrack for the movie, The Lion King. [19]

Figure 11. George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp, Tubby the Tuba and Friends (© Angel, 1996).

Also in 1994, trombonist Marco Katz, who had worked for Music Theatre International (the agency that licenses performances of the Tubby the Tuba pieces for their copyright holder, RYTVOC) for several years, became involved in a new recording of several of George Kleinsinger's and Paul Tripp's compositions for children that were to be narrated by Tripp.[20] These included Tubby the Tuba, The Story of Celeste,Adventures of a Zoo, and Peepo the Piccolo. [21] Along with conductor Stephen Gunzenhauser, Katz flew to Bratislava to oversee recording the works with the Radio Orchestra of Bratislava. Following those sessions, John Eastman of RYTVOC asked Katz to produce a new recording ofTubby the Tuba Meets a Jazz Band for inclusion on the album. [22] The piece was recorded in New York City using a combo of leading jazz and studio players: Jimmy Owens (trumpet), Paquito D'Rivera (clarinet), Marco Katz (trombone), Chuck Folds (piano), John Thomas (percussion), Oliver Jackson (drums), and Bob Stewart (tuba). Lee Ulfik conducted the sessions and Tripp's narration was subsequently dubbed into all of the tracks on the album.

The recording was released in 1996 on Angel but, unfortunately, none of the members of the jazz band are named in the album's liner notes; neither is the tuba soloist for the Tubby orchestral tracks named. [23] The playing of the jazz combo is excellent, although the recording adds a new introduction (a lengthy cadenza for trumpet), and the end of the piece was rewritten to provide Tubby with an additional solo based on the song, "Listen to your heart," and a cadenza for Stewart.

Figure 12. George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp, Tubby the Tuba presents Play it Happy! (© Koch, 2006).

In 2006, KOCH Records released three of the tracks from the Angel recording-Tubby the Tuba,Tubby the Tuba Meets a Jazz Band, andThe Story of Celeste-on a CD titled Tubby the Tuba Presents Play it Happy!, but with television personality Meredith Vieira narrating instead of Paul Tripp. While her narration has great personality, Viera's voice is simply not up to singing the songs in each of the works. For most of them, she engages in a kind of Sprechstimme, and when she does sing, the result is, well, not entirely favorable. And in a remarkable slap to the players who actually made the recording possible, the album does not include names of any performers apart from Vieira. To add insult to injury, the Koch recording was released without making new use payments to the musicians. Marco Katz contacted David Sheldon of American Federation of Musicians Local 802 who worked to get the required payments to the players. [24]

As discussed in Part 6 of this article, the 1996 Angel recording of Tubby the Tuba with Paul Tripp narrating was released as a single as part of the Tubby the Tuba book published by Dutton Children's Books in 2006. But in an odd, even awkward bit of cross marketing, the KOCH compact disc, Tubby the Tuba Presents Play it Happy!, uses some of the same illustrations by Henry Cole that appear in the Dutton book and it even advertises the book within its CD booklet. But the book has a companion CD with Tripp narrating (the Angel recording) and the Koch CD that advertises the book has Meredith Vieira narrating. Confused? You probably aren't alone.

Conclusion and assessment

Tubby the Tuba Goes to Town /Tubby the Tuba Meets a Jazz Band was George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp's final collaboration. Three musical stories for orchestra, narrator, and tuba solo, a story for jazz combo, narrator, and tuba solo, The Tubby the Tuba Song, three book and several film releases were enough, and they both went on to other things even as they remained lifelong friends.[25] There is no way to calculate the number of Tubby recordings, books, and sheet music sold, or the number of people who have heard, read, or seen any of the pieces since the Cosmo recording of Tubby the Tuba was released in 1945. Certainly, it ranges in the millions. Many, many millions. And as if that isn't enough to show his ubiquity, Tubby even reached the elite world of The New York Times crossword puzzle. The clue for 5 down: "Tubby, in a Paul Tripp book." Answer: "the tuba." [26]

Tubby also routinely appears on on lists of Desert Island Discs on social media, in articles, and radio. Renowned British author and illustrator of children's books, Helen Oxenbury, included Danny Kaye's recording of Tubby the Tuba on her November 2020 DID list of eight musical works that was broadcast on BBC radio and a BBC podcast. [27] Tubby is everywhere.

Crossword puzzles, Desert Island Disc lists, and sales alone do not verify the importance of Tubby the Tuba. But here's something that does. In 2005, the first recording of Tubby the Tuba (Cosmo Records, 1945) was entered into the United States National Recording Registry as a work deemed "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" by the Library of Congress. It was the third work for children to be so honored, following the induction of The Bubble Book (Ralph Mayhew and Burgess Johnson, 1917; inducted 2003) and Peter and the Wolf (Serge Prokofiev, recorded by Serge Koussevitzy and the Boston Symphony Orchestra, 1939; inducted 2004). [28] High praise, indeed, especially when one considers that as of 2021, 575 recordings have been entered into the Registry and of them, only ten are in the children's recordings category.

History has seen many successful artistic endeavors. Now and then, success leads artists to plan a sequel, hoping to catch the original lightning in a bottle once more. Most sequels are failures. Too often they are made simply to cash in on an idea that was good once but could not find legs on which to successfully stand in a later incarnation. But with Tubby the Tuba, the four stories have stood the test of time, and it would be difficult to argue that the sequels to Tubby the Tuba are of a lesser quality than the original. Of course, the original was the most successful. But each of the sequels has its own, fresh take on the important life lessons of the Tubby franchise. The four stories do not tell a single narrative in a straight line, and each stands well on its own. And each has particular themes that provide listeners and readers with food for thought.

The story of Tubby-"a fat little tuba who puffed away but oh, so slow"-has become a cultural touchstone. Okay, we could have done without the ongoing reference to his corpulence, found in each of the four Tubby stories. While Tripp claimed that, "the tuba isn't a fat instrument, but the tuba had a chubby sound, so I called him Tubby," [29] it's hard to escape the stereotypical, offensive, and untrue trope that tuba players tend to be overweight. But Tubby provides encouragement for the downtrodden, the misunderstood, and those who desire to do great and big things. Tubby stood up to teasing and bullying, he found comfort with friends both new (the bullfrog, the kindly elephant, the jazz band) and old (Peepo), and he summoned the strength to face-with confidence-those who taunted him. When he finally played his melody for his orchestra, he responded with grace and kindness-not vindictiveness-when those who had teased him eventually asked to play his melody, too.

Tubby has even entered the rarified realm of musicology. In The Social and Religious Designs of J. S. Bach's Brandenburg Concertos , author Michael Marissen discusses Bach's innovative compositional technique and ground-breaking orchestrations, and begins his book-its introduction, titled "Bach's Musical Contexts"-with a scene from Tubby the Tuba:

Tubby the Tuba, at a rehearsal, sitting forlornly in the back row of the orchestra: "Oh, what lovely music." (sighs)

Peepo the Piccolo, rushing to Tubby's side: "Here, what's the matter?"

Tubby: "Oh, every time we do a new piece, you all get such pretty melodies to play. And I? Never, never a pretty melody."

Peepo, arms stretched out: "But people don't write pretty melodies for tubas. It just isn't done."

Marissen continues:

Tubby the Tuba captures powerfully the enculturated notion of the orchestral hierarchy. As Tubby's story goes on to show, there is, of course, no inherent technical reason why tubas should not be highlighted with pretty melodies in orchestral music; it just "isn't done." Further explanation is hardly needed. [30]

Marissen is right. Tubby the Tuba was a cannon shot to those who say, "You can't do that," and, "It just isn't done." Long before the U.S. Army adopted the slogan, "Be all you can be" (1980) and Nike coined "Just do it" (1988), Tubby was showing children that it was not only permissible to push against cultural expectations, but one could succeed at doing something unexpected. And you should "be yourself." As a morality tale, Tubby the Tuba checks all the boxes. Perseverance, hard work, imagination, a willingness to take chances, and contentment. Aesop would be proud.

As Tubby's stories unfolded, he played both melodies and oompahs. Melodies are nice and Tubby loved to play them, once he was given a chance. And we all should have a chance. But the oompah in Tubby the Tuba that Tubby derided as his lot in life was redeemed in the next three stories. Tubby learned that playing oompahs was something for which he was uniquely gifted, and that by being himself and doing what he could do best, he could make an important impact. "This," Tubby reminds us when he returned to play his oompahs with his orchestra in The Further Adventure of Tubby the Tuba, "is where I belong, and that makes me very happy." That sense of belonging is at the heart of the Tubby stories.

Tubby the Tuba also had an impact on tubists themselves. While tuba players usually sit in the back row of an orchestra or band, Tubby brought the tuba to the forefront. Hope Stoddard related a story about Joseph Novotny, tubist with the Kansas City Philharmonic, Houston Symphony, NBC Symphony, and New York Philharmonic. When Novotny played Tubby the Tuba in Houston, "he forthwith became a celebrity, at least within all public-school precincts of the city. Shrill voices pursued him everywhere. 'There goes Tubby! Good Old Tubby'" Stoddard went on to say that after school concerts where Tubby the Tuba was performed, "teachers remarked that in the free drawing period, tubas took precedence over bunnies, witches, and supermen." [31] Tubby made tuba players into rock stars.

Before Tubby the Tuba, orchestral composers had certainly recognized the tuba's capabilities as a solo instrument. Among many others, Richard Wagner demonstrated this in his Eine Faust Overture (second version, 1850; the first version, premiered in 1844, scored the part for serpent but it was actually played on a bombardon) [32] as did Gustav Mahler in his Symphony 1 (1887), Igor Stravinsky in Petroushka (1910), and Silvestre Revueltas in Sensemayá (1937). Melodies had been written for the tuba, but not a melody such as Tubby received from the bullfrog at the side of the river. Would Ralph Vaughan Williams have written his Tuba Concerto (1954) if Tubby the Tuba had not appeared a decade earlier? Probably, but it's impossible to say. Eventually, someone would have written a solo for tuba and orchestra. But tuba players didn't have to wait for "eventually." George Kleinsinger and Paul Tripp heard Herbert Jenkel's plea-"You know, tubas can sing, too. Why don't you write me a solo, please!?"[33]-they wrote a piece, and the rest is history. How happy we are.

Paul Tripp; illustration by Chad, Tubby the Tuba (© Treasure Books, 1954)

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Douglas Yeo (yeodoug.com and thelasttrombone.com) is lecturer of trombone at his undergraduate alma mater, Wheaton College, Illinois. From 1985 to 2012, he was bass trombonist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and he served as professor of trombone at Arizona State University from 2012-2016. In 2014, he was the recipient of the International Trombone Association's highest honor, the ITA Award. He is the author of several books including Mastering the Trombone (co-authored with Edward Kleinhammer, Ensemble Publications), The One Hundred: Essential Works for the Symphonic Bass Trombonist (Encore Music Publishers), Serpents, Bass Horns, and Ophicleides in the Bate Collection (Oxford University Press), Homer Rodeheaver and the Rise of the Gospel Music Industry (co-authored with Kevin Mungons, University of Illinois Press) as well as dozens of articles for many music journals and magazines. His newest book, An Illustrated Dictionary for the Modern Trombone, Tuba, and Euphonium Player (Rowman & Littlefield) has just been published.

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Acknowledgements

My long obsession with Tubby the Tuba was made all the more enjoyable by interactions with many people who provided help and encouragement along the way. I am especially grateful to David Tripp and Suzanne Tripp Jurmain, and Fred and Jane Kleinsinger, children of Paul Tripp and George Kleinsinger, for providing me with both personal insights as well as invaluable source materials and photos from their family collections. David Tripp also served as a liaison with the Library of Congress which then provided a number of items that are part of the Paul Tripp Papers. I am also grateful to Louise Eastman Weed (RYTVOC) who generously gave permission to quote lines from the Tubby the Tuba story scripts and provided other helpful information. As a trombonist, I am quite aware that some might view me as an interloper in the world of tuba research, despite the fact that during my long career as an orchestral player, I sat next to and enjoyed unforgettable collaborations with some of the finest tuba players in the business, including David Fedderly, Chester Schmitz, and Mike Roylance. To this end, my good friend, Jerry Young, was particularly encouraging and helpful when I wanted to know who I might contact in the tuba universe to get a bit of information and if what I was writing was on the right track. Jerry is a fount of information and wisdom; I'm deeply grateful for his friendship and support. And Benjamin Pierce, editor of the ITEAJ, didn't even blink when I proposed submitting one of the longest articles to appear in the Journal. I am also thankful for the help of many others who joined me along the way, including:

Eli Aharoni, Lori Azim, David Bonner, Darren Britting (Philadelphia Orchestra Personnel Department), Bridget Carr (Boston Symphony Orchestra Archives), Chatfield Music Lending Library, Brianna Cregle (Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, Princeton University Library), Ron Davis, Andrew Duncan, Scott Friedman, Scott Hansen, Don Harry, John Van Houten, Jr., Andrea Immel (Cotsen Children's Library, Princeton University), Marco Katz, Susan Kleinsinger, Paul Krzywicki, Mike Mashon (Library of Congress), Rosa Mazon (Los Angeles Philharmonic Archives), R. Winston Morris, Kevin Mungons, Eli Newberger, Gary Ofenloch, Kay Peterson (Smithsonian Institution), Gene Pokorny, Mike Roylance, Chester Schmitz, Peter Shrake (Circus World), Jim Self, Stephen Shoop, Leonard Slatkin, Andrei Strizek (Music Theatre International), Gabryel Smith and Sarah Palermo (New York Philharmonic Archives), John Taylor, John Tomasicchino (The Metropolitan Opera Archives), Deanna Swoboda, Herbert and Barbara Wekselblatt, and the helpful staff at Buswell Library, Wheaton College (Illinois).

Unless otherwise indicated, all images in this article are from my personal collection; copyrights are held by the individual copyright owners.

This article is dedicated to the memory of Herbert Wekselblatt (1927-2019),

Tubby's first tuba voice.

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