More Joe And Paul Please

The latin version from Pupi Campo
about Pupi who evidently is still with us

Pupi Campo was born in Havana, Cuba, on May 1st, 1920. Campo was born Jacinto Campillo, and was the second of five children: Georgina, Alejandro, Armando and Josephina. While dancing in a Havana nightclub in 1940, Campo was noticed by New York club owner, Irving Sussman. Sussman invited the young man to look him up if he were ever in New York City. Campo and his friend Armando Guin, began selling raffle tickets for a nickel the next day, and within a month, Campo took a boat called the Floridita to Miami, and was in New York and knocking on Mr. Sussmans door at the Eden Concert nightclub. Sussman introduced Campo (then Campillo) to the headliner: a young Cuban man named Desi Arnaz. Though the two had never met, Arnaz introduced Campo that night as his good friend from Havana. Campo asked the band to play a mambo, and he began to dance for the crowd. Sussman signed him to a six-month contract for $50 per week. Sussman suggested the name change for Campo as well, and after working as a solo act for some time, he met broadway star Diosa Costello. Costello and Campo were married for eleven years, and performed together. One night, when visiting Costellos good friend Carmen Miranda, columnist Walter Winchell—who was also visiting—suggested that Campo front his own band.

Joe And Paul Robberies

Those commercials must have brought in a lot of business

The Barton Brothers: Cock-Eyed Jenny

Warning: I assume this story may a little risque

More Joe And Paul Please

More Joe And Paul Please

Joe And Paul: The Commercials

from the Yiddish Radio Project
The site and song mistakenly refer to the store's address as Delancey and Stanton. It's Essex and Stanton. Guaranteed this jingle will stick in your head. I wish I knew Yiddish

"Joe and Paul"
Paul Kofsky opened his first clothing store in Brooklyn in 1912. He called it Joe and Paul – inventing an imaginary cohort, Joe, because he thought people would trust him more if they thought he had a partner. By the early '30s, Kofsky, a dapper man with a penchant for paper neckties, held sway over a successful chain, with new locations in Manhattan and the Bronx. Sartorial success aside, Kofsky had a greater ambition: to rub shoulders with the Yiddish stars of the day.
He made his dream come true in 1936 by walking into WLTH's studio and hiring the station's musical director, Yiddish theater composer Sholom Secunda, to write a song advertising his store. As for the singing, Kofsky would handle that himself.
For the next decade, Kofsky spent most of his days shuttling between stations to perform his jingle live on the air and to talk theater shop with his fellow performers. The ad became more than ubiquitous; to many listeners, "Joe and Paul" was Yiddish radio.
So it happened that a young comedian named Aaron Chwatt (who later became Red Buttons) used "Joe and Paul" as the basis for an extended Borscht Belt parody of Yiddish radio. His routine centered on the fictitious station WBVD, whose programming consisted of commercials interrupted by more commercials, each sillier than the last. For listeners of Yiddish radio, the send-up hit home.
Called to service in World War Two, Red Buttons left the hugely successful skit in the Catskills, where the Barton Brothers comedy team picked it up from hotel staff who had learned it by heart. The Bartons recorded the bit in 1947 for the fledgling Apollo label and soon found themselves proud progenitors of the biggest Yiddish party record ever. According to Eddie Barton, three-quarters of a million records were sold in a span of a few months. The song was so popular it spawned a Latin cover arranged by Tito Puente.
Ironically, most people who bought the Barton Brothers' 78 rpm never heard the original "Joe and Paul" jingle, which had always been confined to the range of New York City radio waves. Kofsky, it can be assumed, did not mind the additional exposure.

Joe And Paul: Then And Now

This is the store I was reminded of when I was talking to Joe.